#best scene to air on the cw

[omgeto]

☆ GIMME, GIMME MORE — GETO SUGURU

summary: you were just a stripper who had no desire to fuck with any customers, but there was just one you couldn’t shake. once he laid his eyes on you, he wanted you. and with every little piece of you he got — he wanted more.

wc: 6.5k (my longest fic ever, lord help me) its a lot of plot with a nice chunk of smut

cw: afab!stripper!reader, angst to fluff, smutty smut, you fuck in his car, you fuck in a private room (i remembered condoms this time) so mdni sassy geto, if you squint.

an: listen to this song to feel the vibe, I love me some geto and I’ve yet to do a fic for him so I hope you enjoy this one.

the entrance to the high-end club exudes an air of opulence, with its glimmering lights and sophisticated clientele. geto suguru strolls in alongside his best friend, gojo satoru, the low hum of the music washing over them. the glances around, a mixture of boredom and detachment etched on his face. this isn't really his scene, but gojo had insisted on a night out.

as they find their way to a table, surrounded by plush seating and an atmosphere of indulgence, geto's attention wanders. the dancers on stage move with practised sensuality, but his gaze remains distant. until, that is, a change in the music's tempo signals a shift in the performance.

the spotlight illuminates the stage, revealing a figure that seems to command the room's attention effortlessly. you move with a fluid grace, your body swaying in time with the sultry rhythm. the way your hips move, the confidence in your eyes, it's as if you own the room. gojo's earlier detachment gives way to fascination he can't deny.

he couldn’t take his eyes off the way you were sliding down the pole, leaning forward in his seat to see more of you. the star shaped nipple covers and the gem encrusted thong you were wearing left nothing to the imagination. but still he couldn’t help but picture it all off of you, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a closer look. 

gojo nudges him playfully. "not bad, right?"

geto’s response is a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes remain locked on the captivating dancer. his heart races as he watches you command the stage, a magnetic presence that draws him in despite his earlier disinterest. he couldn’t help but feel that you were dancing for him, call him cocky but the way your eyes were locked on him as you threw your ass back against the pole — he knew that was just for him. he looked around the room and saw that everyone else was just as captivated by you as he was.

“she’s the best performer here, she doesn’t do private dances, she doesn’t even do a long set,” gojo brags to geto but he’s barely listening, his eyes too focused on you, “this is as much of her as we can get.” 

as the performance reaches its climax, geto’s lips curve into a slow smile. gojo’s grin is knowing. "looks like someone's found their muse." geto’s tears his gaze away just as you exit the stage, his interest piqued.

“you’ve got a request,” your boss announces insistent and smug, cornering you immediately after you exit the stage.

“you know i don't do requests, i come here, i do a 30 minute set and i leave remember?” you retort, stepping to walk straight past him, but he stops you, standing in front of you to block your path.

“this is a request you can’t refuse,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips. your eyes narrow at his words, already feeling a sense of unease.

“oh i think i can,” your intention is clear as you step forward, intending to brush past him and continue on your way. but he remains unmoved, determined to stand in your path, his stance a physical barrier you can't easily circumvent.

“there’s a special guest tonight, someone who’s willing to pay handsomely for a private performance,” he explains, his tone implying much more than his words reveal.

you pause, folding your arms, sceptical. “how much are we talking about?”

he names a figure that makes your eyebrows shoot up. It’s a significant sum, the kind that could cover your bills for months, or even help you save for a future beyond the club. but still, you hesitate.

“like i said, i don't take request,” you conclude, brushing past your boss.

“i don’t think this particular patron will like that,” he tries to argue, following directly behind you.

“ask me if i care,” with those words, you step forward once more, your purpose clear as you attempt to carry on. but his presence remains a persistent shadow at your side, his attempts to sway you far from over. 

his argument falters momentarily, but he regains his composure quickly, his tone becoming insistent. "this particular patron isn't accustomed to denial. I don't think he'll take kindly to it."

a defiant smirk tugs at your lips, your patience waning as you find yourself driven further by your own principles. "well, here's a thought—perhaps he should learn."

with that final retort, you pivot on your heel, striding purposefully toward the locker room. the temptation of the significant sum and the vague promise of this special patron tug at the edges of your thoughts, but your determination remains resolute.

“if you don’t do it your fired.” he calls out after you, a desperate final attempt to get you to agree.

you knew you were going against your better judgement, but you turn back to face your boss and with a deep sigh you agree, “fine, i’ll do it. but you owe me.”

with simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface, you push open the door to the private room, your entrance punctuated by the subtle swish of the heavy fabric. the air within was charged, a blend of anticipation and tension, as you found geto suguru lounging on the plush sofa, his presence an unwelcome sight that intensified your irritation.

your words come out abruptly, a firm reminder to both him and yourself, “i don’t fuck clients,” you state, a touch of defensiveness in your tone. you wanted to establish your boundaries, to make it clear you wouldn’t be swayed easily.

he chuckles, catching you off guard, his amusement evident. “thats nice…” he adds, with a hint of playfulness, “i just wanted to talk anyways.”

“to talk?” you question, surprised at his request, as you knew what went on in the private rooms and talking was far from that.

“yeah, just wanna get to know you,” he explains casually, his eyes studying you.

“i don’t do time wasters,” you complain, ready to leave the room, “and i don’t have time to waste.”

“even if im paying for your time?” he bargains, raising his eyebrows, “im sure your boss told you the pretty expensive bill im footing just for your time.”

crossing your arms, you met his gaze with a steady one of your own. “look, mr…?”

“just call me suguru,” he interjected with a smile that held a hint of charm.

“alright, suguru,” you continued, your tone resolute, “i'm not here to entertain idle chit-chat. i’ll dance for you for an hour and thats it. just abide by the club rules, otherwise im out.”

“why don’t you take private requests?” he inquiries, disregarding your comments.

“because i don’t have to,” you respond nonchalantly, “why are you so persistent that you pay for my time. there’s tons of other great strippers in this club.”

“because i want you.” he shrugs.

“well too bad,” you mock, “just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy everything.”

“everyone’s got a price,” he argues, chuckling softly, a condescending tone underling his words, “ah, but isn't that the way the world works? everything has a price, even principles.”

the audacity of his statement ignited a fire within you, your voice heated with defiance and scorn. “you think im for sale? you think i’d compromise my integrity just for a fat stack of bills? you’re delusional.”

“oh but isn’t your integrity already compromised,” he teases, raising his eyebrows, “is miss, ‘i dont do private dances,’ not in a private dance with me right now?”

“you know wha–” 

“i changed my mind. i don’t want to talk anymore,” there was a shift in his tone, amusement danced in his eyes, “strip for me.”

you were pissed. but you couldn’t actually argue – he was right. he was paying for your time and he could spend it anyway he wanted to. you’d rather have him silently watching you anyways than talking to you. 

the music blared through the speakers in the room, and you immediately straddled geto, you could feel his dick harden underneath you. the only thing separating you two was the thin layer of fabric of your thong. 

you could see him smirk at you, but you ignored him, grinding your hips down on him to the beat of the music. his starts to trail down your sides, but you give him a pointed look reminding him of the rules – no touching. he surrenders his hands placing them besides his head, content in watching you dance on his lap.

you moved off of him, using the pole that was in the room, his eyes stayed fixed on you. you wanted to put on a show for him, so you move your body expressing a mix of sensuality and power, your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge you further, to push your boundaries even more.

the hour was eventually up, and geto didn’t say anything as he left, he just leaves a fat stack of bills on the table, and for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue, “is that it? you’re just going to leave?”

“well the hours up, no?” he responds, checking his watch, “and, i’ve paid you for your time.” you couldn’t argue with that, so you remain silent watching as he turns his back on you to leave the room.

“suguru,” you call out, getting him to pause, “wait.”

“i thought you didn’t fuck clients,” he smirks, coming up from in between your thighs, “but i am not complaining”

“s-shut up,” you exhale, you’d like to believe that you didn’t expect this to happen, but you knew that was a lie. you didn’t get far out of the club, in fact you didn’t make it out of the parking lot. the back of geto’s car seemed to be perfect with the way he was eating you out. 

the feeling of geto sucking on your clit, had your head empty. his head being pressed between your thighs makes your back arch as you push up against his face. he laps against your folds, drowning in your wetness. 

“‘i don’t do private dances,’” he mocks your previous words, amused with himself, “oh if only you could see yourself now.” he enjoyed you like this, pinned under him, your pussy dripping all over his face, you were a writhing mess; no longer complaining to him about his actions, you were reduced down to moans and incoherent sentences, the only thing he could hear clearly was his name.

“suguru ah s-shit,” you curse, as he presses down on your clit, “do you always talk this much?” you tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his face closer in your pussy, his nose deep in your arousal. he was practically inhaling you, swirling his tongue deep inside, trying to taste every inch of you.

“‘m close suguru,” you whine, thrust up against his face aiming to reach your peak on your own.

“calm down princess,” he teases, pulling his lips away from your pussy, “didn’t know you were this eager.” he presses his lips down on yours, making you taste yourself as his hand goes behind your neck to hold you in place. “see how sweet you can be?” 

he takes his dick out of his pants, quickly putting on a condom, not even giving you much time to think before he’s slamming into your cunt. your eyes widen as your pussy stretches, and geto can only bite his lip as he feels you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

he was merciless, gripping his hands on your tits, as he pistons out of you. he could only focus on how your cunt tightens around him with every push. you were pushing yourself down on him, fucking him right back. you didn’t care for his praise, you just wanted to cum.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name. 

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, clawing at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“suguru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, swiftly pulling out of and leaving his cum all over your stomach. you release onto his car seats, your cum spilling out of your pussy, pooling into his car seats.

after coming down off your high, you come to your senses. “this doesn’t change anything.” you remove yourself out of his hold, pushing him off you.

“you really gonna say that after i gave you the best time of your life?” 

"'best time of my life?'" you echo, a smirk tugging at your lips as you gather your belongings, "someone's cocky."

“i'm starting to feel you like me that way,” he teases, his words a playful challenge.

you roll your eyes, not willing to engage in his banter any longer. "goodbye, suguru," you reply, opening his car door. "don't return to the club."

“oi princess,” he calls after you, “you left your thong.”

“keep it.” you wink as you step outside of the car, “think of it as a souvenir.”

“why would i need that, when im going to see you again?” you don't respond, shutting the car door with a smile on your face as part of you hoped that he did return.

geto did see you again, practically every day after that. it became a consistent routine, he’d book a private room for a couple hours, you’d fuck, you’d talk and see each other whenever he wanted. he came when he needed you – and he always needed you.

as a stripper, you’ve always had one rule ‘don’t fuck with clients,’ but the moment that geto suguru laid his eyes on you – you were his. there was something about him that made him different from all the other patrons, although they were all snobby rich guys, the way that geto carried himself made you feel like he was worth breaking your rule. or at least that's what you told yourself. 

you didn’t just fuck each other – sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to get to know you. and you could tell he was starting to catch feelings that you weren’t prepared to deal with. however, despite him being rich, there was something endearing in knowing that he went out of his way, every day, to pay just to see you. even when you were mean and standoffish.

you always spoke for longer than you expected – longer than he even paid for. geto surprised you, he was actually interested in talking with you. as the minutes turned into an hour, the conversations flowed in unexpected directions. you found yourselves sharing stories, discussing interests, and laughing at each other’s jokes. geto’s charming demeanour and genuine interest gradually chipped away at your initial reservations.

“did you always want to be a stripper?” he asks, you had just finished fucking and he still had an hour left of paid time with you, and he was going to use it.

“do you always pillowtalk?” you retort smartly, evading his question.

“who would’ve thought you’d still be this bitchy after being fucked so good,” he jokes, pulling you into his hold that you quickly ease into, “girl just answer the question.”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, “i needed the money, i loved to dance, so being a stripper was a no brainer to me.”

“do you like working here?” 

you shift slightly in his embrace, your fingers idly trace patterns on his chest. "liking it? well, it pays the bills, if that's what you're asking."

his fingers brush against your hair in a soothing gesture. "but is that all? just a means to an end?"

you sigh, a mixture of vulnerability and honesty in your tone. "i mean, it's not like i dreamt of becoming a stripper when I was a kid. but it's a job that's allowed me some financial stability, even if it's temporary."

geto's voice was gentle, his curiosity evident. "temporary for how long?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. "i don’t know, i haven’t thought that far. i just wanna make money.”

"well, if you ever get tired of dancing, i can always buy the club for you." his response was unexpected, a mixture of humour and absurdity. “i think you’d make a good boss.”

“ha, if you did that i’d know that you’re truly obsessed with me,” you chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “i know you enjoy this place, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"maybe, but you're worth it." he grins, his playful demeanour unwavering. "you're more than what you do here, you know."

a soft, ironic chuckle escapes your lips. "funny, coming from someone who's always here."

his grip on you tightens slightly, his voice holding a trace of seriousness. "perhaps I come here because I want to be around you. not just the dancer."

it was as if his presence had chipped away at the walls you had erected, leaving you exposed to a whirlwind of feelings you hadn't anticipated.his gaze, unwavering and intense, held yours as if searching for a sign—a spark of recognition that you too were experiencing this undeniable pull.

"suguru," you begin, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the distance between you, "this... whatever it is between us, it can't be as simple as you wanting to be around me."

he smiles softly, a gentle curve of his lips that holds both understanding and patience. "you're right, it's not simple. but isn't that what makes it worth exploring?" his words were a delicate melody, an invitation to step beyond the boundaries you had created.

you met his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. the weight of his presence was undeniable, a force that had drawn you in and left you yearning for more. but your insecurities whispered caution, reminding you of the differences that set you apart.

"suguru," you admit, your voice softer now, "i've never let anyone get this close. it's complicated, and I don't even know where this could lead."

“it doesn’t matter where it will leads,” he says, “what matters is that you like me? right?”

his words hung in the air, a direct question that pierced through the layers of uncertainty and vulnerability that surrounded you. the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his question settling like a delicate veil over the intimate space you shared.

your breath caught, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause. the truth, the raw honesty that had eluded you, stood before you—bold and unyielding. you looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and patient, as if he was giving you the space to find your own truth within the question.

your voice, soft and tinged with a mixture of trepidation and longing, finally found its way to the surface. "i..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. but in the depth of his gaze, you found a strange sense of comfort, an assurance that you could be honest without judgement.

"maybe," you admit, your voice a whisper that carries the weight of your emotions. "maybe i do like you, suguru." the admission felt like a release, letting go of the barriers you had constructed to protect yourself.

a slow smile curved his lips, a genuine expression that lit up his features. it was as if your honesty had unlocked a door, allowing both of you to step closer to a truth that had been waiting to surface. he replies with deep content, "maybe is a good start," 

the room felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite define, a tension that simmered beneath the surface. your eyes held his, a silent conversation that spoke volumes—an acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.

as you lay there, cocooned in the aftermath of both physical intimacy and heartfelt conversation, an internal struggle brewed within you. your heart was stirred by the sincerity of geto's words, by the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every interaction. yet, amidst the warmth and comfort, a sense of bittersweet uncertainty gnawed at you.

the boundary you had set, the rule you had vowed to uphold, wavered under the weight of emotions you hadn't anticipated. you were drawn to geto, but a tangle of reservations held you back.

in the embrace of the night, you found yourself torn between the allure of a connection you had come to cherish and the lingering fear of what being with him might entail. 

“you’re here early,” you comment, seeing geto in his usual seat. at this point, you were practically excited to see him, happy to go to work knowing that he’d show up.

“i guess i thought i’d change things up a bit,” he mutters his tone of voice off, “we’ve got to make this quick, though” he starts to undo his belt, “i’ve only got an hour till my next meeting.”

“wow no talking today?” you ask amused. geto usually is the one that likes to take his time, he always says he prefers to stimulate your mind before anything else, but today was different.

he gives you a pointed look, not bothering to respond so you continue to say, “an hour?” smirking as you straddle his lap, freeing his dick, “i think that’s more than enough time.” 

“new outfit?” he muses, pulling at the straps of the lingerie you were wearing. you nod, focusing on stroking his dick, “red’s your colour, i like it. but i’d rather see it off you.” suddenly, he rips off your bra and forces you up to take off your panties. you bend down to take off your heels, but he pauses you, “keep those on.”                 

“get my fingers wet for me,” he commands, dragging you back onto his lap. you happily comply, taking in two fingers into your warm, pouty mouth. he caresses your jaw as you greedily nibble on his fingers. 

he pulls them out thoroughly coated with your saliva and shoves them into your pussy. you gasp at the contact, and crumble into his side but he forces your head up with his hand pressing a rough kiss to your lips. 

“w-whats with you today?” you query, as you see the look on geto’s face – something was off with him. although you couldn’t deny the pleasure you were getting from his current roughness, you were used to a gentler geto.

“nothing,” he dismisses you, slipping in another finger into your soaking pussy. his thumb rubs against your clit as his fingers easily glide in and out of you. you felt like you cum off of his fingers alone, you grind down hard against his fingers aiding yourself in reaching your climax. but just as you were nearing, he swiftly removes his fingers landing a fat smack against your clit, “i know i said i had to make it quick, but i didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

geto swiftly puts on a condom, raises you up slightly before slamming you down on his dick. he smiles as your legs wrap around his back, pleased by the sound of your heels clacking together. you shudder as he immediately fills you, your pussy stretching, taking all of him. 

he thrusts into you hard, and you try to meet his pace and fuck him back as hard as he was doing to you – but you were no match for him. you were practically a ragdoll as he hammered into you, your arms flinging around his neck to hold yourself up.

“f-fuck,” you moan, clawing at his back, “im gonna cum.”

“hold it,” he demands, continuing to give you strong, relentless strokes. your head falls into his shoulder in submission, you were already gushing all over him, but he keeps going, hard and fast. he lifts up your head, and presses a soft peck against your lips before saying, “cum.”

geto movements turn sloppy as he finishes into the condom. you release all over his dick, shuddering as you feel your peak surge through you. he presses one more kiss to your neck, before you move off of him. 

“are you good?” you finally ask him, as you put back on your outfit, “you seemed a little out of it tonight.”

he shifts on his feet, his restlessness palpable as he watches you. "yeah," he mumbles, looking around the room at everything but you, his fingers fumbling with his belt as if seeking something to anchor himself. "i'm alright."

"you sure?" you persist, a touch of concern pushing you to press further. usually, you wouldn't challenge him this way – because whatever he says goes in the time that he pays for. but the stark contrast to his usual demeanour gnaws at your thoughts. "i just want to make sure that you're okay–"

"didn't I say I was alright," he sneers, a defensive edge entering his tone, "it's like you don't listen or something."

“see, there is definitely something wrong with you,” you snap, screwing your face up at his tone, “since the usual geto that walks up in here knows that he’ll have my heel shoved up his asshole before he can talk to me like that.”

your words hang in the air, the charged tension growing thicker as you each hold your ground. he shifts his weight, his gaze flickering toward you briefly before skittering away. the air seems heavy with unspoken words, a tangible unease settling between you.

"i've actually been wondering how long we're going to be doing this for," he finally says, his voice low, almost as if he's reluctant to voice the thought.

“this?” you question, a confused look appears upon your face as you fold your arms. you knew what he was getting at – you just wanted to hear him say it, “you mean my job.”

his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "oh, I didn't know it was your job to fuck the customers here. I thought you were just a stripper… not a prostitute." 

his words hit like a jolt, a rush of emotion flooding your senses as you absorb their implications. your jaw tightens, a surge of frustration warring with a pang of hurt. "don't be condescending."

he chuckles, the sound a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. "why not? you seem to be a pro at it."

“fuck you.”

“y’know, i’ve figured a lot about you in these times we’ve spent together – despite the fact that you don’t talk much,” he starts to say, his grin getting wider with every word, “i’ve worked out that you liked to be chased, you like the fact that I was intrigued enough to make you break your dumb ass rule, you like the fact that even after I managed to break down your pussy walls, I still wanna take your rude ass to dinner.”

his words cut deep, the truth laced with a mocking tone. you glare at him, the mixture of attraction and anger churning within you. he was right in a way – you did like the chase, the thrill of his attention. 

"you really have it all figured out, don't you?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. his observations stung because they hit too close to the mark. but there was a small part of you that reminded yourself that he was just like the rest of the rich assholes that strolled through the club – and he was proving you right in this very moment.

“well suguru, i’ve worked some things about you.” you sneer, “you’re not the first wealthy lame that has walked into this club demanding more from me than a lap dance and some ego stroking–”

“but i’m the first to get it though aren’t i,” he interrupts, his tone teasing, “what does that say about me?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms defensively. "it says that you're just like the rest of them, thinking you're different, thinking you're special."

his gaze narrows, the spark of something more intense gleaming in his eyes. "oh, I never said I was different. but I am special, darling, and you know it.” you huff defiantly, sitting back down on the couch – this was an argument you couldn’t. because although he was cocky, he was right.

geto joins you, his hand coming gripping your thigh to get your attention, “look i don't want to be doing this with you, all i want is to spend time out with you outside these four walls,” he says as you gnaw on your lip, considering it, “it would be nice to see you with some clothes on for a change.”

he holds your gaze, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the storm of emotions you've stirred. his vulnerability is a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes, and it catches you off guard. for a moment, you're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings – his words tugging at something deep within you that you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

but then, you remember the rules you've set for yourself, the boundaries you've fought so hard to maintain. no matter how much he may want to blur those lines, you can't afford to give in.

without giving him a direct answer, you shift slightly, his hand sliding off your thigh as you put some distance between you. your gaze flickers away from him, focusing on some distant point in the room as you compose yourself.

"well, hour's over," you finally say, your tone a touch colder than before. "leave the money where you usually do."

his face falls, the vulnerability replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to protest or say something more, but the words seem to die on his lips. the atmosphere between you turns tense once again, the unspoken words and desires hanging heavily in the air. 

you don't meet his gaze as you move to gather your things, your actions brisk and efficient. you've mastered the art of detachment, of creating a barrier between yourself and the clients who come and go, no matter how they may affect you.

as you head toward the exit, your heart beats a little faster, a mix of regret and longing that you refuse to entertain. this is how it has to be – business, no matter how much your heart might argue otherwise.

behind you, you hear him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and resignation. the door clicks shut behind you, the echo of the room's tension lingering in the silence.

he never returned after that. days turned into weeks, and still, geto's presence remained absent from the club. while you hadn't expected him to return, a small part of you had held onto a glimmer of hope that he might. but the weeks turned into months, and the emptiness left by his absence lingered.

life settled back into its routine – the dimly lit stage, the rhythmic music, you danced, you entertained, you put on a show. yet, there was an ache within you, a void that refused to be filled.

as time went on, you found yourself replaying memories of his presence in your mind – the teasing glint in his eyes, the genuine concern in his voice, the way his smile could light up a room. the connection you had shared, brief as it was, had left an indelible mark on your heart.

you missed the daily banter, the way he would surprise you with his insights, the simple pleasure of knowing he was there. the club felt different now, as if it had lost a part of its vibrancy. the nights were quieter, the laughter more subdued, and the glamour that once surrounded your performances felt somewhat dimmed.

despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the longing that had settled within you. you had a taste of something more with him, a glimpse of a world beyond the club's confines. and now, as you danced under the neon lights, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find that connection again.

the longing in your heart grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been. yet, even as you missed him, you were grateful for the moments you had shared – moments that had shown you a different side of life, a side you had almost forgotten was possible.

as you stepped into the club again to start your shift, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach. the club, which was typically alive with the pulsating beat of music and the murmurs of patrons, was eerily quiet. it was as if the very essence of the place had been stripped away, leaving behind an empty void.

confusion crept into your mind as you glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or life. your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the sound feeling unusually loud against the backdrop of silence. what was going on? had something happened that you weren't aware of?

just as you were about to turn and leave, the sense of unease growing stronger, your eyes land on a figure sitting on the main stage. your heart skipps a beat, a mix of surprise and a rush of emotions flooding over you. it was him – geto. he was here, his presence filling the void that had gripped the club.

he sat there, as if he belonged on that stage, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as he watches you. the familiar, cocky smirk was ever present on his lips, and despite the confusion that clouds your mind, a warmth spreads through your chest at the sight of him.

as you draw closer, his smirk softens into a genuine smile, a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. the air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty hanging between you. your heart races in your chest, the space between you charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"suguru," you finally breathe his name, your voice a mere whisper in the stillness.

he stands, his movements fluid and confident, as he closes the distance between you. "hey," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that echoed through the empty club.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“let’s just say there’s new management here” 

“you bought the club.” you interrogate, “why?”

“i don’t know, im a guy with a lot of money, so i bought a business.” he shrugs blatantly lying, “that’s what guys like me do…”

"you missed me," you conclude, with a grin.

he nods, "I guess I missed you...or whatever," his facade drops immediately. "it's just after you rejected me, i was pissed. all i wanted to do was to show you that i actually cared about you, for you to give me a chance.”

“and buying the club was the most logical way for you to show me that you care?” you argue. “you didn’t have to do that,” emotions swirled within you – a mixture of surprise, hope, and a spark of something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. before you could respond, he took a step closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours. it was a simple touch, but it held a promise, a connection that went beyond words.

"why do you always have to be so difficult?” he questions fiercely, “why can’t you just let me show you that i do care about you?”

the weight of his words hung in the air, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw the vulnerability, the sincerity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. “why do you care?” you retort, almost childishly. you knew that he cared, you knew why he cared – you just had an affinity for making things difficult. 

he rolls his eyes at your hard front “if it was anybody else, he would’ve given up a long time ago. but for some reason you were worth it. “because i see you for more than just the standoffish dancer who doesn’t let anyone get to her, im sure you know this by now.” he pulls you closer to him, into a strong hold. “now will you stop fronting and let me have you – all of you?”

you nod with mock reluctance, practically melting in his arms, “but what about my job? I’m not gonna stop being a stripper just because of you.”

“and i wouldn’t even ask you too,” he says quick with reassurance, “besides i find it hot that everyone gets to see you this way but they just can’t have you like i do.” he starts to work your top off your body, unhooking your bra, exposing your tits, “like just imagine, a crowd full of people watching me fuck the shit out of you — wanting you so badly, but not getting to touch.”

“we can’t do this here,” you gasp out as his fingers start to toy with your hard nipples, pinching and twisting them.

“why not?” he smirks, “you’re the boss aren’t you?”

“me, but i thought you bought the club.”

“you’re the one who said if i bought it you’d know that im truly obsessed with you,” he reasons, his lips pressing a kiss under your ear as he whispers, “do you get the picture now?”

“like I said you really d-didn’t have to do that,” you say, “i was the one that fucked things up here. you didn’t have to buy a whole business for get me to tell you that i like you.”

“oh so you do like me,” he comments sarcastically, “who would’ve thought.”

“shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest as he laughs, “i am sorry though. i don’t know why i pulled you into my little game, i knew i liked you a long time ago — but I just couldn't bring myself to admitting it. and I'm sorry for that .”

“it’s fine,” he reassures, “i knew dealing with you would be a challenge — granted i didn’t think it would be this hard — but i knew in the end it would be worth it.” his hands lower down your body, shimmying your pants off of you, “so now you gonna show me how sorry you truly are?”

AN: um so this was A LOT my longest fic ever, please lemme know what you thought since I am SOOOO UNSURE ABOU THIS ONE. thank you to my baessss @kazushawty @satoruhour for beta reading (I owe you two my life) also ur boss was pissed asf to find out that the club he owned was bought and given to you when he was the one that basically got you and geto together in the first place. ill make a part two where gojo comes back to the club to see the pretty little stripper who's got all of his besties attention looool jk

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen angst #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you

[willowbelle]

Wasted

❤︎ roronoa zoro x fem reader ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

cw: tipsy sex, dom!zoro, sub!/slightly bratty reader, zoro is a tease, zoro is commanding, teasing, edging, arm-pinning, thigh-riding, oral (blowjob), wall-sex, spanking, creampie.

summary: reader is a strawhat. zoro and reader hook up after a party on the sunny. ;) strawhats know what's up.

word count: ~4,400

tagging: @bby-deerling @eelnoise @3v37773 @laylaloves-ed @shamblespirate @lowkeycasanova @maddddstuff

Wasted

A celebration was in the works for your crew following a recent victory. 

The horizon blushes with hues of orange and pink, its kiss with the sky mirrored by the gentle lapping of waves against The Sunny's hull.

Above, strings of shimmering lights twinkle like stars, casting a soft glow upon the gathering, as if the cosmos themselves had descended to partake in the festivities.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the deck of your ship transforms into a stage, bathed in the golden embrace of dusk, setting the scene for an evening of celebration

Amidst the joyous throng, laughter and music fill the air; liquor on your tongues.

Luffy whirls Chopper around in a playful dance, while Usopp and Franky share a merry jig, their spirits soaring in the jubilant atmosphere.

"Hey, Chopper, check this out! I'm gonna be the Pirate King of the dance floor, too!" Luffy exclaims with a wide grin, his enthusiasm contagious.

Chopper giggles, clinging to Luffy's arm as they whirl around. "You're doing great, Luffy! But try not to spin me too fast, I'm getting dizzy!"

Luffy chuckles, slowing down his movements slightly. "Sorry about that, Chopper! But hey, we've got to celebrate our victory properly, right? Dancing is the best way to do it!"

Chopper nods eagerly, his tiny hooves tapping along to the beat. "Absolutely, Captain! Let's keep dancing until the sun comes up!"

----

The ambiance is one of warmth, brightness, and sheer exuberance, a testament to the camaraderie and triumph that define the partygoers.

In the bustling midst of The Sunny's jubilant celebration, a lone figure perches at the makeshift bar, silently observing the lively scene unfolding before him. His eye is fixed on you, even amidst the swirling dance floor.

Your movements are graceful and carefree, dancing along with Nami and Robin as you giggle drunkenly. 

As you sway and twirl with the girls, lost in the euphoria of the moment, you catch a glimpse of the swordsman seated at the bar. His eyes seem to linger on you, a silent observer amidst the festivities. You can't quite place the expression on his face – is it longing, admiration, or something else entirely?

Despite the haze of alcohol clouding your senses, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. The music pulses around you, the beat thrumming through your veins, but his steady gaze holds your attention like a lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog.

With each playful spin and merry laugh, you find yourself stealing glances in his direction. Zoro’s always been mysterious, but tonight, his stoic gaze feels… different. 

“Too much to drink, y/n?” Nami giggles, “You keep looking at Zoro. He’s so boring, sitting there all alone,” she scoffs playfully.

“Oh shut up,” you giggle, playfully swatting at the navigator’s arm, “Says you! You can barely stand up straight!”

As you continue to dance with Nami, your mind can't help but wander back to the mysterious swordsman at the bar. Sensing your distraction, Robin gives you a knowing smile and gently nudges your arm.

"Lost in thought, dear?" Robin's voice is soft, barely audible above the music.

You nod sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "I can't shake the feeling that someone's watching me," you confess, casting another glance in Zoro's direction.

Robin follows your gaze, her expression thoughtful. "Zoro does seem particularly focused tonight," she observes, her eyes flickering with curiosity. "But perhaps it's not boredom that keeps him seated there alone."

Her words pique your interest, and you turn to her with a quizzical expression. "What do you mean, Robin?"

Robin offers you a reassuring smile, her gaze steady. "I've learned that sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Perhaps Zoro has something on his mind that he's not quite ready to share."

----

As the music swells and your drinking continues, your curiosity gets the better of you. Excusing yourself from the dance, you navigate through the lively crowd towards the lone figure at the bar.

With each step, the anticipation builds within you, mingling with the alcohol-induced courage coursing through your veins. As you draw closer, you notice the subtle tension in Zoro's frame, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he meets your gaze.

With a light sway in your step and a playful giggle escaping your lips, you approach him, the warmth of the alcohol coloring your cheeks. "Hey there, lone swordsman,” you chirp, “Mind if i join ya?” you don’t even wait for his response before sliding onto the stool beside him with a less-than-graceful plop.

Zoro's expression softens, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he gestures to the stool, "Be my guest," he replies gruffly.

Zoro arches a brow, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like someone's had a bit too much fun," he observes, amusement evident in his tone.

You giggle again, nodding enthusiastically. "Maybe just a little," you admit, feeling a sudden burst of boldness fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. "But I couldn't resist coming to chat with the mysterious Zoro."

A chuckle escapes Zoro's throat as he leans back against the bar, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of intrigue. "Mysterious, huh?" he muses, swirling the contents of his drink thoughtfully. "I like the sound of that."

Perching on the stool, you steal a moment to take in his rugged features, the dim light casting shadows across his face. There's a quiet strength about him, an aura of mystery that draws you in.

"Sooooo, what's with the solitary act?" you slur playfully, “Why don’t ‘cha join us out there?”

Zoro chuckles, a low rumble that reverberates through the air. "Not my scene," he grumbles, taking a sip from his drink. "Besides, someone's gotta keep watch."

"Fair enoughhhh," you reply, your words trailing off as you glance back towards the dance floor where the party shows no signs of slowing down. The music pounds in your ears, and you find yourself swaying to the rhythm even as you sit at the bar.

For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the music providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you steal glances at Zoro, you can't help but wonder about the thoughts swirling behind his enigmatic gaze.

With a tipsy grin, you lean a little closer to Zoro, feeling a sudden surge of boldness. "You knowww," you begin, your words slightly slurred but filled with earnestness, "I've been thinking about you."

Zoro's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, his gaze shifting to meet yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Oh, really?" he responds, his tone tinged with a hint of intrigue.

"Yeah," you continue, a playful lilt in your voice. "I mean, you're always off doing your own thing, being all mysterious and brooding... It's kinda hard not to think about you."

A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of Zoro's lips as he listens to your rambling confession. "Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," he remarks, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You nod enthusiastically, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his response. "Definitely," you affirm, a playful twinkle in your eye. "You've got this whole mysterious thing going on, and I gotta admit, it's pretty intriguing."

Zoro's gaze softens, a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes. "I'm glad you think so," he replies, his voice quieter, now, more sincere.

"You've been thinking about me, too, right?" you tease, your words laced with playful skepticism. You flirtatiously twirl a strand of hair between your fingertips as you await his response. 

Zoro's expression softens, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he admits before taking a sip of his drink, "But what makes you so sure of that?"

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of being on his mind. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," you quip, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "I mean, who wouldn't think about me?"

A low chuckle rumbles in Zoro's chest as he shakes his head in amusement. "You've got a point there," he concedes, his gaze intense as it lingers on you.

Emboldened by his admission, you take a sip of your drink before continuing. "It’s pretty obvious, you know, i've noticed all that staring," you toy, a hint of bashfulness creeping into your voice.

Zoro's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. "Have you now?" he teases back.

You nod, feeling a rush of boldness coursing through you. "Yeah," you reply, a flush creeping across your cheeks. "And I have to say, I kinda like it."

A flicker of something unreadable dances in Zoro's eyes as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Well, then," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "Maybe we should do something about it."

As Zoro's breath grazes your skin, sending a surge of anticipation coursing through you. The air crackles with tension, each moment stretching out as you wait for his next move.

With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his. "I think that's a fantastic idea," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft music that still fills the air.

Zoro's gaze darkens with desire as he closes the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that ignites a fire deep within your core. In that moment, all doubts and reservations melt away, leaving only the raw, undeniable passion that burns between you.

With a shared breathless smile, Zoro gently takes your delicate hand in his calloused one, his touch causing sparks to erupt beneath your skin. "Come with me," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, “Too crowded here.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest as you follow him through the dimly lit corridors of the ship. Each step brings you closer to an unknown destination, yet you trust in the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

----

As you walk together in silence, the air thick with anticipation, you steal glances at Zoro, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his fitted shirt and the intensity in his eyes. Despite the darkness of the corridor, you feel a warmth spreading through you, fueled by the promise of what's to come.

Finally, you arrive at Zoro's quarters, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, you're enveloped in the intimate glow of candlelight, casting shadows that dance across the walls.

Before you can even catch your breath, Zoro presses you firmly against the wall, his strength evident in his forcefullness. 

With a hunger that matches your own, Zoro leans in closer, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. It's as if he's staking his claim, pouring all his pent-up desire and longing into your lips. 

“Mm,” he groans lowly into your mouth. 

Filled with a surge of daring, you lift your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, urging him closer. You revel in the intoxicating taste of him—a mingling of sea salt and booze—it electrifies your senses. His presence is overpowering, emitting a primal scent of sweat and masculinity, tempered only by a faint hint of weak cologne. 

Your tongues collide in a fierce, passionate dance, each movement conveying a raw hunger and urgency that leaves you breathless. It's as if you're drowning, and his mouth is your lifeline.

You feel the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smirk at your desperation, and in a swift, decisive motion, he seizes the opportunity to grasp your wrists firmly. With a firm yet gentle touch, he maneuvers your arms above your head, pinning them against the wall as he presses his body against yours.

“Needy thing, aren’t ya?” he grins wolfishly, making heat pool in your core. 

With a low growl, he leans in closer, his lips trailing a path of fire along your jawline and down to your neck. 

Your head instinctively lulls back, giving him more access to your throat. 

“Mm, Zoro,” you huff lustfully, “Want you so bad…”

As he continues to sloppily kiss down the column of your neck, he brings his right knee up to slot between your legs, making you gasp softly into his mouth.

“Come on, baby,” he groans.

Zoro's hands abandon their place around your wrists, descending to grip your breasts firmly. His calloused palms mold your soft flesh, eliciting a small squeak of delight from your lips.

“F-Fuck,” you curse softly. 

As you continue to rock your hips against him, the heat between you intensifies, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak. His touch is urgent, his kisses hungry, as if he's determined to consume you entirely.

"Do you like that, y/n?" he growls against your neck, his voice thick with desire. "Losing yourself on me like this?"

Driven by an insatiable need, your hands find their way to his back, your nails digging into his muscles as you cling to him desperately.

"M-mhm," you whimper in agreement, unable to form coherent words as you lose your composure.

His grip on your breasts tightens, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You can feel the primal urgency in his touch, the intensity of his desire mirrored in the way he ravishes you.

But suddenly, he stops, making you whine out at the loss of contact as he slowly pulls away from you. 

His eyes are hungry as you looks you over. Iris moving up and down your form like a predator stalking its prey.

“Get on your knees,” he grumbles lustfully. 

His command sends a shiver down your spine, and yet, you obey immediately, sinking to your knees before the swordsman. 

As you lower yourself, you feel a surge of heat pooling in your core, the anticipation of what's to come making your heart pound within your chest. 

Without a word, he reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gently guides your head forward.

You inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you feel his warmth close in on you. And then, you do as you have been silently told, pressing your lips to his skin, kissing him with a fervor born of pure desire.

His arousal is evident; rock hard and pulsing beneath each press of your lips to his crotch. 

His toned arms snake down, deftly tugging at his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers in one fluid motion. His cock springs free, bobbing against his muscular abdomen, a potent symbol of his arousal.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the sight of the man before you. He’s magnificent.  His cock is big, thick; looks heavy, even. 

As your eyes roam over him, he notices your reaction and smirks, a self-satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. He takes your chin between his fingertips, tilting your gaze upwards to meet his.

"Don't drool now," he teases, his voice laced with smug confidence, knowing damn well how well-endowed he is. 

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing with desire as you meet his gaze. His confidence is intoxicating, his dominance igniting a primal hunger within you that demands to be sated.

With trembling hands, you reach out, unable to resist the temptation before you. Your fingers trace along the length of his cock, marveling at its girth and hardness.

He groans softly at your touch, his eyes darkening with desire as he watches you with hungry anticipation. Encouraged by his response, you wrap your hand around him, feeling the weight of him in your grasp.

"Fuck," he breathes out, his voice husky with need. 

You continue to stroke him, your movements becoming more confident as you explore every inch of him eagerly. 

His breaths grow heavier with each stroke, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward to meet your touch.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps. 

You comply eagerly, parting your lips to accommodate him as he guides himself towards you.

He watches you intently, his gaze smoldering with lust as he revels in the sight of you submitting to him so willingly. 

With a groan of satisfaction, he slides into your mouth, filling you completely with his hardness. You take him eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue.

As he fills your mouth, you can't help but moan in pleasure, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

"Mm," you moan around him, the sound vibrating against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

Encouraged by your response, he begins to move, thrusting gently into your mouth as he sets a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall back, “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

You revel in the praise that falls from his lips, a delicious affirmation of your obedience. 

You can feel the thick tip of his cock meeting the back of your throat with each thrust, but you dismiss the discomfort, you just want to please him. 

As you continue to take him deeper, you can feel the intensity of his desire growing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he nears the edge. 

But instead of welcoming his orgasm, Zoro catches your face in his hand, holding your jaw to make you halt your efforts. 

"Stand up," he commands huskily, his voice thick with need as he withdraws from your mouth.

You giggle playfully, wiping the drool from your chin. "Jeez, Zoro," you tease, "On your knees, open your mouth, stand up,” you mock, “What's next? You want me to do a handstand?"

Zoro smirks, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Do you want me to fuck you or not?" he grumbles, his tone laced with desire and impatience.

Your playful demeanor melts away at the threat of his words, replaced by a surge of arousal. With a playful roll of your eyes, you comply, rising to your feet and turning to face him, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you await his next move.

With a firm yet gentle hand, he guides you towards the wall, pressing your chest-first against its cool surface. The contact sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your arousal.

As you’re pressed breasts against the wall, you can feel the heat of his body against your back, his presence looming over you with an almost palpable intensity. 

He presses himself against you, his hardness pressing into the small of your back.

You gasp at the contact, the heat of his arousal searing against your skin as you feel the full weight of his desire pressing into you. It's a delicious torment, the promise of pleasure mingling with the anticipation of what's to come.

"Feel how much I want you," Zoro's voice is low and husky against your ear as he presses himself closer, his breath hot against your skin.

You tremble at his words, “I-I want you, too, Zoro,” you whine. 

He lets out a low growl of satisfaction, his hands trailing down your sides as he pulls your hips back to get you closer.

"Good," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear from behind, “Tell me how bad you want it, y/n, Or I won’t give it to you at all.”

Your breath hitches at his ultimatum. "I want it so bad, Zoro.” you whimper needily,  “I need you to fuck me. Please."

You can’t see his face, but you swear you can feel his familiar smirk as he speaks against your ear, "That's what I wanted to hear," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

With a firm grip on his cock, he guides the tip to nudge at your weeping entrance, teasing you with the promise of entry. You gasp at the sensation, your breath catching in your throat as you await the intrusion.

He begins pressing himself inside you, groaning at the feeling of you stretching out around him. With each inch, he delves deeper, filling you completely with his throbbing hardness. The sensation is overwhelming, sending waves of both pleasure and pain coursing through your body.

“O-Oh, Zoro-!” you cry out weakly.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your skin as he bites along your nape, 

"Sh-Shit," he curses through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pleasure, "So tight-" His words trail off into a guttural groan as he buries himself deep inside you, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped by your warmth.

You gasp at the feeling of him filling you completely, your body pulsating with pleasure as you surrender to the intoxicating intrusion. 

His hand snakes up to grip the back of your neck as he finally begins to thrust in and out of you.

“Fuck-!” you whimper, your attempts to dig your nails into the wall futile against the onslaught of pleasure.

With a firm grip on your neck, he develops a steady rhythm, keeping you pressed against the wall as he moves in and out of you. Each thrust hits your sweet spot with precision, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through your body.

“Shit,” he groans, “You squeeze me so tight-”

A symphony of moans and gasps spills from your lips, mingling with his own guttural groans of pleasure. The room is quickly filled with the rhythmic sound of your bodies colliding, a passionate cacophony that echoes off the walls.

With a sudden motion, he pulls back slightly, his hand leaving your neck and landing firmly on your exposed ass, delivering a sharp spank that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

You gasp at the sudden sensation, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of the delicious sting. The impact leaves a tingling warmth in its wake, heightening the intensity of your arousal.

"Zoro," you whimper, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desire, your nails digging into the wall as you brace yourself for more.

Encouraged by your response, he delivers another spank, each strike awakening a primal hunger within you.

With each spank, he relishes in the way your body reacts, the way you gasp and arch towards him, begging for more.

"Such a slut for me," he growls, "You like it rough, don't you?"

You whimper in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure courses through you, mingling with the sting of his touch.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "Let me hear how much you enjoy it."

You moan in response, the sensation of his hand against your skin driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

The pace of his thrusts never falters as he grants you with more delicious spanks.

He’s thrusting rougher, now, impressed with how much you can take.

"You take me so good, y/n," he groans, his voice strained with desire and admiration. The praise only fuels your arousal further, spurring you on as you both chase the heights of pleasure together.

“Th-Thank you, Zoro,” you whimper weakly, “You fuck me so good-”

You're both teetering on the brink of release as he continues moving in and out of you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing moment. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear, matching the rhythm of your moans as you both surrender to the pleasure of the moment.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, his voice strained with desire, "I'm so close..."

You whimper in response, the pleasure overwhelming as you feel the heat building deep within you. With each thrust, you edge closer and closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

With a final, desperate thrust, you both topple over the edge of ecstasy. Zoro groans as he spills inside you, unapologetically painting your insides white.

And with that, the tension that had been coiling within your lower tummy finally snaps, releasing a torrent of pleasure that sends shockwaves through your veins and straight to your head. Colors explode beneath your eyelids as you're consumed by the intensity of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation.

In that moment, there's only the two of you, engulfed throes of pleasure.

----

The following morning, as the golden rays of sunlight filter through the windows of the ship, you and Zoro emerge from his quarters, your steps in sync as you walk side by side. There's a subtle ease in the air between you, a silent understanding of the shared intimacy that had transpired between you the night before.

As you enter the dining room, the crew's eyes dart up from their breakfast plates, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Sanji's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips, while Nami's eyes sparkle with mischief as she exchanges a glance with Robin.

Nami's mischievous grin widens as she leans back in her chair, her eyes flickering between you and Zoro. "Sounds like you two had fun last night," she quips, her tone dripping with playful innuendo.

You feel a flush creep up your cheeks at her teasing remark, but before you can respond, Zoro interjects with his usual gruff demeanor. "Mind your own business, navigator," he retorts, though there's a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

Luffy, ever oblivious to subtleties, beams at the two of you, his mouth already full of food. "Morning, guys! Did you sleep well?" he chirps, completely unaware of the implications of his question.

You exchange a glance with Zoro, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you both share a silent understanding. With a shrug, Zoro responds in his typical gruff manner, "Like a log."

#zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa x female reader #zoro x female reader #zoro fic #zoro fanfiction #zoro fluff #rorona zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #zoro roronoa x y/n #ronoroa zoro #roronoa zoro fanfiction #op x reader #op x you #one piece smut #zoro smut

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓, 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔? | lyney, neuvillette, wriothesely x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: established relationship, fluffity fluff !! art by @/puna_822 on twitter, edited by me!

⤷ shh!! secret relationships with the fontaine men ₊˚ෆ

— Lyney will keep the secret well, of course. He’s a jack of all trades, and a little bit of misconception is nothing taxing for someone who can trick the eye with just a simple swipe of his hands.

…Though, his personality often brings much more to deal with behind the scenes. His every action is designed as a ruse, trying to draw any and every reaction from you - whether it be making you irritated as can be or practically burning from his smooth words. He’ll at the red on your face with a light smirk gracing his lips. “Embarrassed, now, are we? Mhm, best wipe it off your face though, lest anyone find out~”

Dealing with the magician was a headache. A delightful one, but painful nonetheless. He has a habit of saying whatever he wants, and it doesn’t help that he’s so good at it too. His tongue can twist poems out of thin air, or pickup lines at the drop of a hat. The number of times Lynette had glanced over at you with a concerned gaze was far more than you could count, and it would be only a matter of time before another carefully crafted sentence sent the entire mirage into collapse. The two of you had only decided to keep your relationship private in the first place due to work affairs. It’d just make things more frustrating if people were aware of the connection. In earlier weeks, you had tried to confront the man about the entire predicament, but he had only laughed it off with a shrug of his shoulders and a jesting beam. 

“Oh, don’t tell me that the words I tell you every day still make you so flustered? Archons, you really are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Although, for you, I suppose I’m no different…” 

When Freminet had eventually voiced his worries, gently holding your hands and saying, “A-Are you okay? Your face is really red, are you sick? Should I walk y-you home?”, there was no other choice but to shake your head, cover your flushed cheeks as best you could with a hand, and tell a blatant lie that there was nothing out of the ordinary.

There most certainly was, and it was the cat-like man who stood off to the side, a sly smirk on his face and one of his eyes closed in a wink. Not helping, Lyney.

When would the day come for you to be the one to make him flustered? Perhaps it was sooner than you thought, on his opening night for the new season. You weren’t sure if he had expected to see you in the crowd, but as he was performing his wonderous tricks, eyes sweeping over the hundreds present, his shimmering lilac eyes locked onto yours. His professional smile stretched a little wider, and as he pulled a dove out of his hat with a flourish of his arms, beamed. The astonished look on your face was something he’d be sure not to forget.

As soon as the lights dim onstage, he hurries off of it, giving Lynette a quick farewell and combing back his unruly hair with his fingers. He spots you standing by the exit, holding… a bouquet of roses in your arms? They were a beautiful sight, yet paled in comparison to how ethereal you looked in the moment, the spotlights afar illuminating your face with a glow and your eyes sparkling with delight. This always happens when the two of you are alone - he’ll switch from verbal affection to physical, and this time is no exception. He sweeps you into his arms, slotting his lips against yours as he pulls you into a deep kiss that leaves you breathless and red. However, this time, the blush dusting your cheeks is not only on your face but his, as he takes the flowers in his arms with a bright smile. 

“For me, love? Come now, I can’t possibly keep how good we are together from everyone else, can I?” ₊˚ෆ

— Neuvillette is… an interesting case. For starters, he’s baffled at the concept of keeping the relationship a secret. Elaborate that you don’t want to ruin his reputation as a perfect, just, and stone-cold judge, and he’ll oblige… reluctantly. He still doesn’t understand - just why can’t he show you how much he loves you in public?

For now, he’ll have to chalk it up as more human affairs that he’s deemed too complicated to figure out. Ground rules have been laid out - no mentioning the relationship, no telling anyone either… not even the melusines, which was a fair case, since they’d be sure to spread the news faster than wildfire. The mortal realm is far more puzzling than it seems, he concludes somberly. An unfamiliar world that was arduous to coexist in. It’ll be alright, though, as long as he can intertwine his fingers with yours and look into your eyes and-

“N- Sir Neuvillette… not here!” You chide quietly, slowly withdrawing your hand from his. His face falls into an instant, brows furrowing. He’ll bite his tongue, for your sake, and remain silent, yet his fingers twitch. Archons, his hands feel so much better when they’re in yours. The man watches with dejected eyes as you whip your head around anxiously, before gesturing for Neuvillette to bend down. He complies, and matches himself to your height, yet immediately pauses any motion as soon as he feels your lips brush against his forehead. You brush a stray lock of his behind his reddened ears, a grin curving on your lips.

“Don’t be too disappointed, okay? I don’t want it to rain on my way back home~” You beam slyly as you lean away, witnessing Neuvillette’s expression undergo several stages - downcast, shocked, flustered… and then a small smile graces his expression.

“I’ll see you when I get home. Don’t wait up for me. The case might run late.” Neuvillette chuckles to himself, straightening his posture as he softly pinches your cheek, laughing at the way you begin to pout. It’s something the melusines told him to do, and he’s glad he listened - your face is soft, and he has to hold himself back from kissing you. He can hear people around the corner, their voices growing closer. “Get home safe.”

“Love?” Whenever the dragon enters home, he’ll call you by the name he’s unable to call you anywhere else - something he loathes with a burning sensation in his chest. “Are you…” His voice fades as he sees you curled up on the couch, eyes closed and chest slowly rising and falling with every breath. Had you tried to stay up for him? Cute. He takes you in his arms and brings you to the bedroom, carefully arranging the pillows and blankets around your sleeping form. You stir in your state, lids slowly fluttering open as you stare at the man above you with drowsy eyes.

“Neuvi?” The use of his nickname makes his heart flutter. It’s utterly incomparable to what you call him at work, “Sir Neuvillette.” Too rigid. You giggle at the sight of him, still half-asleep, and cup his face in your hands. “Welcome home… did I fall asleep? Ah, I’m sorry, I guess I was too tired…?”

The smile on his face won’t leave.

Yes, moments like these allowed him to continue this strange human practice.

He places his hands on yours, reveling in your warmth.

“Sleep, love.” ₊˚ෆ

— Wriothesley’s used to being professional. If he wasn’t, his work would be a lifetime more demanding than it was at the moment - although, perhaps even that’d be easier than keeping himself away from you until watchful eyes are no longer present.

He’s touchy whenever he’s with you. He likes leaning into your figure, even if you’re shorter than him, just to take in the way you embrace him back, but he loves the feeling of your fingers with his even more. It makes him feel… giddy, light, like he could drift away with the slightest breeze.

And that’s an issue. In order for you to remain safe, he’ll have to stay hushed about you being his lover. He’s made enemies, that much is natural. Of course, he’ll comply with your wishes to keep the relationship private. You could tell him to eat dirt and he’d do just that. Things like that are second nature now. Before, he had no trouble lasting weeks, or months in the Fortress of Meropide at once. After all, there was no driving incentive to head back to the city of Fontaine other than greeting the melusines, dropping off official papers, or, his guilty pleasure, ordering bags upon bags of tea from the mainland, so that he’d have more than enough to drink at the fortress. Now that you were here, however, how could he possibly stay away longer than a few days? If your hands in his were what made him float away, your smile brought him back, with a racing heart in his chest and a smile spread across his features. He’d give the world to see your smile, since it was his world. A single laugh from you would cause the background to fade to white, and rouse his heart and face into a flustered mess.

The prisoners notice a difference. Of course, they don’t know who this mysterious person the duke is seeing, but all they know is that they’re certainly working wonders. On miraculous, wondrous days, they'll even catch a glimpse of a smile on his face while he’s sitting at his desk, sifting through paperwork. As time passes, the news only grows more widespread, eventually reaching the ears of the ludex himself. It’s true, there is an apparent change - one that he captures on the duke’s more frequent visits to land. For a while, fables and tales of Wriothelsey’s mysterious lover spread throughout the city from ear to ear in hushed, excited whispers.

He’ll tease you about it, of course, but he’s really just rather intrigued. Has he really changed that much after meeting you? He doesn’t think so, but he wouldn’t put it past himself. “Darling, darling…” He repeats your petname when you don’t immediately react. “Darling, c’mon…” He can feel the pout creeping on his lips.

“Impatient, are we, Wrio?” You sigh as you turn away from your work, and his icy eyes light up in an instant. You stroke your hand through his hair gently, carding your fingers through the soft, dark strands, and you can see the way Wriothelsey simply melts under your touch. “You’ve been seeking me quite often these days, haven’t you?”

Maybe he has changed. Staring up at you with half-lidded eyes and a smile playing on his lips, feeling his ears warm, perhaps that conjecture has been solidified as the truth.

“Is it so wrong to wish for you, darling?”

(a/n) ngl i kinda hate this fanfic. everything about it. everyone seems so ooc and the prompt is barely even mentioned ew ew ew not my best work by far please dont tell me writers block is coming back i hate that big bad scary thing

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #lyney genshin #lyney x reader #lyney #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #wriothesley genshin #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #reader insert #genshin drabbles #x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin fanfiction #lyney x you #wriothesley x you

[chrollohearttags]

armin + his love for titties..no other words…

cw: fingering, tittysucking, squirting, nipple orgasm, pet names (daddy, sweetheart, pretty, my love) mention of lactation and breeding/pregnancy, him with a tongue ring

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*: .･*:｡.･*:｡.･

so it’s no secret that Armin is obsessed with your body. Baby loves all of you from head to toe..sometimes a little too much. He can’t help it when he sees you in those sundresses, walking around with that thick ass swaying every time you take a step. Or in your bonnet and boxer shorts, walking around the house with that pussy looking all plump in them, so much so, he bends you over right where you stand and fucks you until you’re a dripping mess. Especially when the two of you are smoking on some chill shit, your legs resting in his lap and he’s watching you lick his blunt for him..he’s ready to pounce, imagining that tongue gliding up and down his shaft..but honest to goodness, the thing he adores most are those pretty titties. They always look so delectable, sitting up in your tank tops or cropped shirts. Practically seconds away from spilling out when you’re riding him like a bull. Bouncing on his dick and those beautiful breasts are right there in his face. It just so happens when you two are watching a movie one night and you’re wearing something very revealing that he can’t stop staring. Not giving a damn about what’s on that screen.

“Hey, come here.” Waving you over nonchalantly with two fingers, still glaring down at his papers and bud as he assembles them. Dressed in the exact attire that always got him riled up; those tight tank tops and tiny shorts being swallowed up by your ass, you’d shuffle over to your boyfriend, stretching your legs across his lap. He’s rubbing on your calves and eyeing you up and down as he passes his blunt for you to lick..and of course, get the first hit. You guys relax and enjoy each other’s company as per usual. You were focused on the movie but his eyes were elsewhere. Fixated on the bounce of those beautiful breasts each time you reacted to the scenes; jiggling when you laughed at the two men getting chased by a dog or when you jumped from a scary scene. It was when one in particular frightened you so badly, due to a multitude of spiders appearing that you screamed and Armin saw this as a perfect opportunity. Patting his thigh, he’d usher you into his lap and cradle you close. “It’s okay, babe. It’s just a movie.” But much like anything this man done, it was calculated. Down to picking this particular flick because he knew it’d drive you straight into his arms and he’d in turn get you straight out of your clothes. It was while you were being held by him, that you’d suddenly feel his hands creeping up your shirt, relaxing there like he had done so many times before. Gently kneading his fingers into the soft flesh of your tits, lightly pinching your nipple in the process. It was something you were used to..he would absentmindedly squeeze them at random times, just always craving that physical touch and contact. But tonight, he wanted a little more…

“What are you doinggg?”

“What? I can’t kiss my pretty girl?..”

mumbling into the crook of your neck as he placed soft pecks along your jugular, suckling on your throat…while he did so, those hands sitting idly inside of your shirt, tugged those breasts out of their respective spots and exposed them to the cool air. Your nipples were already rock hard but he’d waste no time playing with them and increasing that sensitivity. Rubbing slow, gentle circles around the brown buds, he’d let his pouty lips rest on your jawline before trailing back up to your lips. You could feel the steel of his tongue ring all over your skin and then inside of your mouth as your tongues clashed once more. Those sloppy, slow kisses were always the best and you couldn’t get enough. By now, the movie has become a sheer afterthought and your beautiful body was the only thing he was tuned into..

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that?”

mumbling as he always did when he was needy and starved for your touch. Pinching and playing with them, Armin eventually worked his tongue down to flick each of them and grope your breasts in the process. He was completely and utterly fixated on your body..attending to your every need and desire at the moment. And of course, his own…

“ ‘Min….”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Just relax..”

soon, you’d find his palms roaming up and down your skin..gently and delicately touching you. As if you were fragility in its purest form. So loving and sweet. But he couldn’t help himself when had someone so damn fine all to himself. Snaking his tongue out, Armin would let the cool metal of his piercing make contact with your areolae and then proceed to slurp on them. Meanwhile, his fingers were trailing lower and lower, eventually sinking down behind the elastic of your shorts. The entire time, his eyes didn’t stop meeting yours, just to ensure that you were focused on him and him solely. But he didn’t have that worry about..especially when those digits made home inside of you and between those dripping folds. In a matter of seconds, you’d release a loud gasp before your head fell back to your shoulders and onto him again.

“Oh my God…yes..” whimpering so sweetly that it elicited a loud moan from you, causing his cock to twitch from behind his sweats. Tugging them down your hips to give him more room to work them in and out, letting them delicately twist around inside of that tight little sex. “You’re so wet, baby….feel good when I suck on these pretty titties while I’m fingering you?” But that much was apparent by the way you were trembling from both sensations. He was absolutely infatuated with the way your nipples stiffened in his mouth. How soft, supple and plump your breasts were..his mind couldn’t help but to shift to the thought of getting you pregnant. Oh, how full and juicy they’d be then..leaking that sweet milk. That’s when he’d hone in on rubbing your nipples with his opposite hand; stimulating each one with constant friction. It felt so fucking good, you had to all but bolt yourself to the couch as to not shoot up. But what he did notice was how tightly you were contracting and he knew that you were experiencing something euphoric:

“Aww, my baby’s about to come just from getting her nipples sucked..so cute. Your first time having that happen, huh sweetheart?”

“Y-yes! I love it so much!..”

chest heaving and crying ensued as you felt you were nearing that inevitable climax. Your eyes would cross once more before he’d pull you by your chin to face him. His digits began to pump a little faster, reaching that spot..as always, he’d hold your hand and talk you through that nut. “Good..that’s all I want to hear, baby. All I want to hear. Now come..let it allll out.” And you didn’t hesitate, letting that building pressure release in a stream of squirt..one that shot all the way up his arm and bare chest. He was so amazed at how that pussy responded to him. Shaking and gasping, (y/n) clutched his forearm and rode out that orgasm on his fingers. He’d quickly adjust to place a soft peck to your temple and rub your face to ensure you were alright.

“I-I came so hard!…so-sorryyy.”

“Aww, don’t apologize. You were perfect, baby..daddy loves when you come so hard for him..” making you melt within his grasp; letting you bury your face into his chest. He understood your body to a science and he’d spend every second worshiping you. So as long as you let him have his fun..doing everything to keep you satisfied and make that beautiful body tick.

#cherry’s drabbles 🍒 #aot x black reader #black fem reader #aot drabbles #aot #armin arlert #armin snk #armin x black reader #armin x fem reader #armin imagine #armin drabble #armin artlert #black reader #black reader smut #armin x y/n #armin attack on titan #attack on titan armin #armin aot #armin arlet headcanons #armin smut #aot au #aot smut #armin arlet imagines #anime drabble #black reader insert #cw pregnancy #cw sex mention #cw sex talk #cw spiders #cw breeding

[meowzfordayz]

look me in the eyes; tell me you love him

Author’s Note: this is FILTHY. 😳 I’m in love. 😌 Ending is purposely ambiguous, but def not bad/sad.

look me in the eyes; tell me you love him

Geto Suguru x Reader x Gojo Satoru

Word Count: ~3,400

CW: 18+NSFW, anal, cheating, cream!pie, c!m eating, degrading language, double!p, explicit language, Fem!Reader, spit, squirting, threesome

Kinktober 2023

~faqs~

“Y’know, you could’ve waited five minutes, just in case I forgot something.”

Fuck.

—

It’s hard to respond to Suguru’s deadpan remark when Satoru refuses to relinquish your mouth, candy sweet tongue swiping greedily along your bottom lip, pointedly ignoring his best friend posted up in the living room doorway. Your ass sits perched on the couch’s armrest, shocked and anxious eyes meeting your boyfriend’s frosty stare, breasts bare while your delicate skirt flares out innocent and pretty, legs spread to make room for Satoru’s ministrations. His large, slender hand remains occupied between your thighs, nimble thumb keeping your panties aside while his index and middle fingers pet teasingly at your soft, warm folds.

“Don’t grip her so tightly,” Suguru mutters darkly, stalking toward Satoru’s other hand as he kneads roughly at the plush of your hip, “She’ll bruise.”

“Oh I know,” Satoru replies, nonchalant and smug, promptly reaching up for your cheeks, squishing your face with a grin, “Now listen.”

Against his better judgment, Suguru halts his advance, stomach twisting at the dazedness in your eyes, your gaze dropping as Satoru slips his fingers into your heat, undeniable squelch of slick and desire blurring Suguru’s vision while Satoru curls his fingers so precisely and familiarly, your body jolting at the pressure.

“What a slut,” Suguru snarls, rooted in place as your head falls backward, a strangled moan building in your chest, Satoru’s fingers moving faster and faster with more and more dexterity, the sound of your essence coating his fingers becoming louder and messier, staining your skirt as he approaches the crest of your orgasm with practiced ease, “This isn’t the first time my best friend has had his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt, is it? The way your breath catches, the way your knees jerk… how long have you been fucking?”

“Suguru,” you finally whimper, pushing limply at Satoru’s wrist, “I’m so sorry.”

A displeased growl draws your attention, Satoru frowning disappointedly even as he continues chasing your orgasm, fingers jabbing sharper, your pathetic mewls spurring him on.

“Damn right you’re sorry,” Satoru hisses, “Why the hell are you saying the name of the guy who isn’t about to make your stupid cunt cum?”

“That guy,” Suguru interjects bitterly, “Is your best friend. How about you quit blocking my view, and at least let me watch my bitch cheating on me.”

Laughing amusedly, Satoru acquiesces, unceremoniously flipping your skirt up to reveal your glistening pussy, shifting himself just enough for Suguru to see how eagerly your hole flutters around his fingers, “Your bitch? At this point, I’d say she’s our bitch. I’ve been fucking her whenever you’re gone for months.”

“Let me guess,” Suguru snorts, no longer frozen, striding closer till he can feel the air vibrating with Satoru’s domineering bite, “Something about asking for forgiveness rather than permission? Bet that was your thoughtless process.”

“Sure was,” Satoru singsongs, grabbing your face once more as you begin shaking, “That’s right bitch, fucking squirt all over your boyfriend’s nice pants. Show him how you like to cheat on him, show him what his best friend is capable of.”

Suguru’s mouth curdles with disgust and begrudging interest as you climax, your legs quivering too familiarly while Satoru slaps wetly at your cunt. Your poofy skirt paints a scene of naivety around your waist even as a visible puddle collects on the sun faded floor beneath you, the couch’s armrest suffering the same fate as your cum dribbles between your asscheeks.

“Well, you are capable,” Suguru sighs, nose crinkling when Satoru casually flicks the remnants of your orgasm onto his pants, a nasty smile accompanying the scent of your sex while you lean limply into Satoru’s side.

With a low hum, Satoru pets lightly at your head, his cock straining in his trousers with satisfaction as your cum sticks to your hair. Glancing downward, he notes Suguru’s own erection, a sizable bulge that you’d gushed about not infrequently, gears clanging when you tug plaintive at the hem of his shirt.

“Whaddya want?” he nearly coos, comfort settling in at your adoring pout and Suguru’s somehow ebbing temper, “Both of us?”

Your eyes widen at Satoru’s forbidden suggestion, Suguru’s jaw twitching. He must be so pissed you think, tears quickly brimming as realization knocks you from your high. You’d shove Satoru if you could trust yourself to balance, still reeling from your climax, beginning to tremble as Suguru fails to acknowledge you.

“As often as you ride this cock,” Satoru drawls, confidence rising, “I can’t seem to escape your yapping about his,” chin jutting toward Suguru, “Dick. So maybe you could give us both a try. We’ll figure out who you really love.”

And part of you immediately recoils, teeth gnashing at the implication of your cheating equating to loving, wondering far too late if Satoru might actually like you a little. If, perhaps, the tender, soapy showers and playful, gentle cuddles weren’t merely for his ego. If his constant availability and willingness to fuck you within an inch of consciousness—to then build and nurture you back to coy flirtation and unguarded laughter—should’ve been a redder flag. If, in fact, it was heart shaped.

But a bigger part of you surrenders, intrigued by the chance to feel your lovers together. Desperate to earn Suguru’s forgiveness. His approval. And much too aware of the precum leaking through his pants, almost licking your lips at the prospect of angry, possessive fucking.

“Suguru?” you say carefully, pussy clenching at the prompt disdain in his eyes, his expression so bored yet so ready to devour you.

“Tell me you love him,” Suguru murmurs, a succinct, seductive demand, “Look me in the eyes, and tell me you love him.”

“Wha-”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, readjusting his crotch in an exaggerated, languid movement, “I mind a lot. I fucking hate you,” the unzipping of his pants filling the room with a choked anticipation, “But what’s done is done. So you have two options,” resting a patronizing palm on your bare shoulder, smirking as your body gravitates away from Satoru, “You can tell me the truth, and my best friend and I will fuck your cunt and ass until we are sated… or you can lie to me and sit here while my best friend and I cum on your fucking whore face.”

Your ending is clear, the fragility of your position—and the wickedness of their friendship—stated point and blank. You don’t need to spare Satoru a glance to know he’s celebrating internally, his cockiness and blatant disrespect being rewarded in a roundabout manner as usual. And you don’t need to press Suguru further, his intent to punish you confirmed, a surprisingly promising future ahead should you play your cards right.

“Fuck my cunt and my ass,” you whisper, core stirring as Suguru’s pants hit the ground, his briefs soon following, Satoru’s impressed whistle—Not bad, not bad—and Suguru’s consequent scowl reminding you of how dearly you love Suguru’s cock.

“Not quite,” Suguru tsks, stroking his cock with a dreadful calmness, palm on your shoulder lowering to cup your tit, “Tell me the truth.”

“I…” you falter, feeling Satoru’s obliques stiffen against your cheek, his hand firm in your hair as Suguru’s remains on your shoulder, “I can’t…”

Suguru strokes himself faster, balls already tightening from your earlier performance, expression growing more bored and less primal.

“Ilovehim,” you gasp, Satoru’s eyes shutting at your confession, “I love him and how he’s memorized me from head to toe. How he can make me cum over and over, how he cleans and cherishes me,” gulping for air as you fixate on Suguru’s cock, so red and swollen and shining with precum, “But… but I love you. I love you and how you’ve accepted me through ups and downs, how you make me feel stars. How I feel known by you, inside and out. How I believe I know you, enough to make you happy.”

“Enough to cheat on me?” is Suguru’s tart retort, “With my best friend. You’re so-”

“Suguru.”

Satoru’s interruption startles you, his voice silken honey as he smoothes the furrow of your brow, deftly unzipping his own pants, determined to match Suguru’s pace. Eyes rolling, Suguru grabs your thigh, forcing your legs wide, mouth a thin line as Satoru’s underwear pools at his ankles.

“Complaints?” Satoru winks, grabbing your other thigh, brushing your cheek with his free fingers—your cum flaking onto your face—for a fleeting moment before nudging you upright, “Does she get any prep?”

You lick your lips properly now, the heat and allure of their hands spreading you open making your pussy tingle. Suguru’s cock waits heavy and engorged in his grasp, an unassuming yet devastatingly thick six inches with a perfectly mushroomed tip to compliment his foreboding stature. Meanwhile, Satoru’s curves slightly upward, elegantly cruel at eight inches, slim and pink as his flared tip drools precum.

“Prep? For this bitch?” Suguru punctuates his slur with a smack to your nipples, delighting in your yelp as he meets Satoru’s zealous gaze, “I’m sure she gets plenty, fucking around with multiple men.”

“Multiple?” Satoru snaps at that, mood simmering at the thought, “No, Suguru. Just me. Just me… and you.”

Suguru doesn’t have the patience to argue semantics, tugging roughly on your tit to guide you off the couch’s armrest and onto the couch itself, Satoru’s hand migrating from your thigh to your ass, whimsical skirt torn from your waist, lazy thumb prodding at your asshole as you brace yourself on all fours. A glob of spit lands on your back, and then your asscheek, Suguru pinching and twisting your nipples with unperturbed harshness as he watches Satoru’s thumb trace a heart through the spit before sinking into your hole. You hiss at the intrusion, ill prepared for the intense sensation of using spit for lube, groaning when Satoru immediately spits on your ass again. His thumb slips farther and farther into your asshole as he continues spitting, relishing in how his spit beads and then drips onto the cushions below, your pubic hair drenched and glistening.

“Does this mean you’re fucking her ass?” Suguru queries, admiring the pained scrunch of your face as Satoru switches from his thumb to both his index and middle fingers, tolerating the impromptu preparation to bask in your obvious physical discomfort.

He gifts you a chastising kiss, forgetting your tits for a second to cup and caress your cheeks, softening the pain in your expression.

“Actually,” Satoru grins behind you, something devilish and orchestrated to which only Suguru is privy, “I was thinking your monster girth would do a better job of breaking this tight fucking ass, and I know she loves when I abuse her cervix.”

Choosing to disregard Satoru’s baiting reference to his own claim to your pleasure, Suguru nods in agreement, squatting to your eye level as you whimper faintly, Satoru shoving a third finger past your gradually relaxing muscle.

“Satoru’s being so considerate,” Suguru says, saccharine and sarcastic, “The jerk’s always compensating for something,” sneering as he knocks your arms out from under you, your asshole suddenly empty as Satoru withdraws.

Suguru maneuvers you like light weight as he slinks himself beneath you, your mouth smooshed into his chest for a brief respite. And then you’re being flipped onto your ass, slippery from Satoru’s ministrations as Suguru’s cock slides hard and fat between your asscheeks. Suguru’s arms catch your legs and hook around your knees, pulling backwards till you’re bent in half, palms forcing your head downward while your tits squish into your kneecaps, your asshole and cunt presented to Satoru as you struggle to breathe.

“Marvelous,” Satoru murmurs, smiling to himself as he reaches tentatively, “Uh… Suguru, may I?”

“Yeah, yeah, touch my dick,” Suguru snorts, “How else is it gonna get into her asshole?”

“Touché,” Satoru laughs, grasping Suguru’s cock almost cheerfully, appreciating its heft as he guides your pelvis high enough to position the tip, “This thing is solid.”

Glowering, Suguru mutters, “Thanks,” hips shifting until he feels his precum smearing on the pucker of your ass.

You gasp when he thrusts upward, a fearful, eager noise, unable to even wiggle in Suguru’s ironclad grip. His tip bumps a couple times—clumsy and large—against your hole, Satoru letting out a dramatic sigh before providing greater assistance. Satoru’s long fingers curl fully around Suguru’s shaft as he persists in shallow thrusting, a guttural groan accompanying a loud exclamation—Fuck!—when he finally bullies himself into your asshole.

“Atta bitch,” Satoru chimes, enraptured by the sight of your skin stretched to its limit around Suguru’s cock, rim fluttering around the foreign feeling, your hands balled into fists at the tearing pain.

“Suguru!” you wail, gut churning as his shallow thrusts grow increasingly deeper, ass burning with every selfish rut as he ploughs through the immense friction, your hole receiving little opportunity to recover as he builds a staggering tempo, “Suguru, Suguru, Suguru!” drunk on the suffocating drag of your asshole clinging desperately to his cock, slowly but surely swallowing him whole, “FUCK!”

Head woozy and neck aching, the pain maintains pace with the pleasure as you watch Satoru grab his own cock, leaning over to spit on your sternum—you swear he mouths Mine, or maybe it was the endorphins—as he places his other palm on the underside of your thigh. Suguru pays Satoru no mind, speed barely lessening though your body remains relatively steady due to your restrained pose. You imagine taking Satoru in your pussy will be easier, it’s a more natural feeling after all, dazed on the cock in your ass, clit terribly neglected as your cunt clenches excitedly. But you’ve never been doubly penetrated before.

You’re sorely mistaken.

The initial push is as expected. You’re soaked from Satoru’s fingering, the plethora of teasing and warnings, and Suguru’s relentless fucking into your asshole, pain having reasonably subsided albeit still stinging with an unsympathetic roughness. Satoru’s pretty cockhead slips right in, his slimmer width hardly interfering with Suguru’s rhythm. You moan at the fullness, and Satoru’s poorly concealed whine makes Suguru smirk. Encouraged by your response, Satoru thrusts forward, hands resting casually on Suguru’s knees—who tries, and fails, to resist flinching—Satoru’s head pitching backward to display the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. A mewl fills the air as Satoru’s cock slides farther into your pussy, Suguru undoubtedly bruising your legs to counter your weak squirming, the stuffing of your ass and pussy coming to overwhelming fruition.

“So fucking beautiful,” Satoru gushes, fixated on how perfectly his cock disappears into your cunt, finding himself nearly winded as well from the newfound pressure of a second cock fucking into the hole beneath him.

“Pah,” Suguru grunts, hiding his dilated pupils and bitten lips in your nape, stamina far from waning as his brutal fucking continues, “Stop praising the whore and start ruining it.”

Shaking his head with wry amusement, Satoru’s meandering pace carries on, simply fascinated by the pleading glaze in your eyes, asshole sensitive to the touch as Satoru circles a playful finger around your rim, taut and clenching as Suguru’s cock flexes from the feathery stimulation.

Just when you worry Satoru’s forgotten about the hole he’s supposed to be fucking—Silly girl—he fucks himself in, balls brushing the base of Suguru’s cock as you scream, writhing hopeless and exhausted when Suguru plunges himself in to the hilt too.

“Mmm,” Satoru rasps, “You truly are a whore, huh,” tip twitching against your cervix as your cunt throbs erratic and velvety around him, “Falling in love with me while dating my best friend, letting us destroy your slutty holes to try and make it up to both of us,” spit trickling from his too sweet mouth to your puffy folds, “I can’t believe we fit in here,” tapping your clit with a handsome grin, moaning outright when you convulse, “You must really love us.”

You cum at his words, so cherry red and persuasively picked, Suguru relaxing slightly to allow you a complete orgasm. They fuck you through your climax, the sticky sound of slapping balls and viscous essence quickly edging you toward another. There’s cotton in your head, legs tiring even with Suguru’s support, trembling from exertion; what else could explain the dizzying fuzz hazing your perception? Suguru’s cock shoves ridged and ruthless into your ass, Satoru’s thrusting more lubricated but deep in your cunt, your poor cervix pulsating from every graze of his tip.

“Please,” you beg, whimpering hollowly as you cum again, walls beginning to constrict in a subconscious urge to cease their thorough fucking, “Please, please, please…” whining as Suguru’s grip tightens once more, sweat dripping from you onto Suguru abdomen, from Satoru’s brow to your bellybutton, “Cum for me.”

They exchange a look, Suguru reluctant but sated, Satoru willing and proud. You’re mumbling now, a mishmash of Suguru and Satoru and Can’t take it, pain blossoming stronger than before as their thrusts hasten, a sloppy finger rushing back and forth on your clit creating minimal relief, fierce and implacable as it coaxes a final, mangled orgasm from you. You manage a broken sob as you climax on their cocks, Suguru immediately releasing your limbs, his arms hugging sturdy and devoted around your shuddering frame, cum flooding your holes as they synch their highs. Suguru is silent when he cums, labored exhales the only indiction of his effort, teeth marking your neck with soon-to-fade divots. And Satoru is loud. Cursing and groaning while he pumps load after load into your swollen pussy, your folds a creamy mess as he fucks his cum out of you, spurred on by Suguru’s low growl when his spend inevitably leaks onto Suguru’s cock.

Satoru pulls out first, eager to watch their cum dribble from your holes, Suguru following shortly after. They unceremoniously readjust your depleted form, slumped ass off the couch, tits resting in the dampness left by Suguru’s body. Brown eyes glinting, Suguru uses his foot to nudge your legs apart, snickering as cum promptly oozes from your cunt and ass to the floor. Satisfying strings stick to your inner thighs, air escaping your pussy with a quiet queefing sound, a wet farting noise making Satoru giggle as your asshole gapes, bubbling with cum.

“So where does this leave us?” Satoru piques, kneeling to jab greedily at your cunt, pushing his cum back into your hole with a lewd schlick, chuckling when you clench weakly, struggling to keep it in, “She’s a loose bitch now.”

“Dunno,” Suguru glances away, arms crossing, “We should get dressed.”

“One moment,” Satoru grins, knees hitting the ground with a soft thud as he spreads your asscheeks with his palms, licking nastily at his lips, “I want a taste.”

Suguru scoffs, watching with morbid curiosity as Satoru flicks the tip of his tongue across your cunt, your protesting whimper lost beneath his giddy moan, cum coating his mouth. Locating his briefs, Suguru slowly clothes himself as Satoru dutifully cleans your pussy, licking himself from your quivering folds and bud, sticking his tongue hungrily into your hole as cum drools down his chin, smirking to himself as a nearly imperceivable orgasm shivers through your body. As Suguru zips his pants, Satoru traverses to your gaping asshole, Suguru’s cock feebly attempting to harden again when Satoru locks eyes with him, mouth covering your hole before he pointedly sucks.

“You’re fucking nasty,” Suguru grumbles, tossing Satoru his underwear.

Satoru hums pleasantly, the vibrations causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into the couch, cum trailing from your ass to the backs of your knees.

“And that’s why she needs both of us,” Satoru quips, nuzzling your asscheek with a smug smile, your head raising slightly at his affection, “That’s why she loves both of us.”

—

“There were easier ways to arrange a threesome than falling in love with Satoru,” Suguru mutters, eyeing your post shower glow with resigned endearment.

“But would they have been as fun?” you ask, pressing a fond kiss to his forehead.

“Nah, definitely not!” Satoru declares, arms slinging over Suguru’s shoulder and around your waist, “And by the way, I’m flattered.”

I love you Suguru murmurs into your hair, flicking Satoru’s ear beyond the edge of your vision. And I love you you trace into his hand, fingers intertwined against Satoru’s lower back.

#one shot #modern au #kinktober 2023 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #suguru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #suguru x reader x satoru #satoru x reader x suguru #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader x geto #satosugu x reader

[sleep-deprivedracoon]

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

word count: 3680 Summary: Satoru doing his best to get you out of your downward spiral. He failed Suguru but he won't fail you. Author's note: based on this prompt. I think I speak for most of the fandom when I say we all need some extra fluff and love from Gojo after the week we've had with the anime and manga. So this one is for all of us Gojo wives. Ngl, I am literally shaking right now as I dare to post this. I don't know if y'all will like this or if this just flops. CW: depression, food habits, angst, implied relationships, patterns of isolation, fluff, angst to comfort, helplessness, mentions of smoking

Satoru Gojo stood before your door, an unusual sense of foreboding gnawing at the edges of his normally self-assured demeanor. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, one that clashed against the confident façade he typically wore like armor. He couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something was terribly wrong with you, something that went far beyond the physical injuries. It had been weeks since you returned from that mission, and something had changed in you—It was as if something was tearing you apart from the inside.

He'd delved into the mission reports, scouring through the details, looking for any signs of what might have transpired. The mission had been a success, technically flawless, with only a handful of unfortunate bystanders caught in the crossfire. You'd managed to take down a first-grade curse with no fatalities—by all accounts, it should have been considered a triumph. So why had it left you so shattered?

As the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side, his sharp eyes caught the flicker of a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Your smile, once a beacon of light that never failed to brighten his day, now seemed a mere shadow of its former self. It was as though the spark within you had dimmed, leaving behind an empty echo of what used to be.

"Toru," you greeted, your voice a little too forced, a little too brittle.

Gojo pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation he couldn't quite put into words. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that had become second nature to him, a silent declaration of affection. “Hi, sweets.” he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

As he held you, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, that the ground beneath him was unstable. He hoped beyond hope that he was merely overthinking, that you were stronger than he feared. But deep down, he knew. He knew something was fundamentally wrong.

You gently pulled away, and he followed you into your apartment, his senses immediately assaulted by the disarray that greeted him. Sure, you were a chaotic person, but there was usually an organized chaos to your living space. Books strewn haphazardly on shelves, art supplies scattered on tables, and the comforting scent of incense in the air—all elements of your usual environment. The chaos was familiar, a reflection of your vibrant, unpredictable personality. But this... this was different. There was an air of neglect, a sense that even your usual disorder had lost its usual rhythm. He took in the scene—the scattered papers, the toppled books, the forgotten articles of clothing strewn across the floor. Each item seemed to whisper a tale of neglect; a story of a mind too preoccupied to care for its surroundings. He saw the remnants of a once vibrant spirit, now muted and worn.

He followed you into the kitchen, concern etched into his features. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

You mumbled a half-hearted "yes," but he wasn't fooled. He opened your fridge to place a few drinks, and his heart sank at the sight. It hadn't been stocked in a while; the shelves almost barren. It was a stark contrast to the usual assortment of ingredients and snacks he was accustomed to stealing. He glanced at you, silently noting the tired lines etching your face, the weariness in your eyes that belied your attempt at a smile

You stood beside him, trying to deflect his concern with a forced smile and a weak excuse. "I've been lazy, just ordering takeout."

He glanced at the trash can, noting its emptiness. He saw right through the lie, but he didn't push it. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, taking in the disheveled state of your hair, the dullness in your eyes, the weight loss that had left you looking frail. It was a familiar dance—one he had witnessed before, with someone else he had cared for deeply. That smile you offered him, that empty, hollow smile with closed eyes, it hit him like a tidal wave of dread. It reminded Gojo of Suguru after Amanai's death—their once lively friend reduced to a mere shell, hiding behind a facade. The parallels between you and Suguru's descent sent a shiver down his spine.

The weight of helplessness settled like a leaden anchor in Satoru Gojo's chest. He cursed inwardly, the bitter taste of regret mingling with the dread that had consumed him. How was it happening again? Why was it always the ones he cared for the most? The memory of Suguru, his once-vibrant friend reduced to a mere shadow of himself, haunted him. He had failed Suguru, and that failure still weighed heavily on him.

The mantra of his own strength echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. He was the strongest, but in this moment, he felt powerless. Weak. Useless. Helpless. As you stood before him, offering a smile that barely masked the turmoil within, you felt so distant, so far away. It was as though an impenetrable barrier had risen between the two of you.

It had started weeks ago, with your return from that fateful mission. Even then, something had felt off. You had been fatigued, weary, and Gojo had been there for you, trying to help you unwind and recharge. But you barely spoke of the mission, your words guarded, your gaze distant. In the ensuing weeks, he had watched as you withdrew, not just from him, but from their students. He noticed how you declined Nobara’s invites to go shopping, how the playful banter with Megumi had all but disappeared. Even your calls with Yuta who was overseas had become brief, the once-lively conversations now reduced to strained exchanges.

He caught a whiff of smoke around you one evening, a scent that hung in the air like a lingering secret. He knew then, without needing to ask, that you had turned to cigarettes for solace. There were signs, always signs. The subtle shifts in behavior, the hollow looks, the moments of silence that stretched on longer than they should. But he had chosen to give you space, believing that time would allow you to heal and find your way back. It was a mistake, one he deeply regretted now as he saw the signs he had missed piling up.

Gojo's gaze settled on you once more, his heart heavy with concern. You had lost weight, your eyes dulled, your once-lustrous hair now a tangled mess. It was as though a part of you had withered away, leaving behind a hollow shell. The pain in his chest intensified as he realized that he couldn't afford to stand by and watch you slip away. He had to act, to break through the barrier you had unknowingly erected around yourself. But how? That was the question that haunted him as he searched your eyes for a way to reach you, to pull you back from the abyss you seemed to be falling into.

He turned to you, his eyes tracing the weariness etched into your features, the fragility in your frame. "Sweets," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of concern and determination. "We can't keep going on like this. You don't have to face this alone.”

As Gojo's concerned gaze bore into you, he couldn't help but notice the immediate defensiveness in your body language. Your chuckle, dry and forced, cut through the air like a fragile attempt to push his worries away. "I'm okay, Toru," you insisted, your voice wavering just slightly.

"(Y/n) …" he urged; his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to pretend with me. I can see that something's eating at you. You can rely on me, you know that, right? I'm here to shoulder whatever burdens you're carrying."

You met his gaze, eyes guarded, and shook your head, a hint of stubbornness in your expression. "Toru, really, I appreciate it, but I'm okay. You're worrying unnecessarily.”

You remained closed off, a wall of resistance that he couldn't breach. Your insistence that everything was fine felt like a dagger to his heart, but he understood that pushing you further at this moment could risk you shutting him out completely and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.

So, he accepted your words, even as they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Alright, sweets. Just remember, I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

Ordering takeout seemed like the most rational thing to do, a glimmer of normalcy in the midst of the storm. He chose a spicy Chow Mein with Gyoza on the side, knowing it was a combination that never failed to put a smile on your face. As the two of you sat in silence, he couldn't help but notice how you toyed with your food, pushing it around on the plate rather than really eating.

He teased gently, "You know, you're starting to remind me of a kid being forced to eat their vegetables. Come on, at least take a few bites for me."

You glanced up, a faint glimmer of amusement in your eyes, and complied, taking a few bites to prove a point. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It was through these small steps, he realized, that he needed to slowly guide you back from the darkness that threatened to consume you.

After dinner, he bid you farewell, his footsteps heavy as he walked away from your apartment. Once out of your sight, he clutched his hair in frustration, a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him. He couldn't bear to see you like this, not again. He couldn't let another person he cared for slip into the abyss.

With a determined exhale, he removed his shades and reached for the black blindfold that he rarely wore when it was just the two of you. He tied it securely and looked back at the window to your apartment. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't let you slip away. He would fight for you, even if it meant stepping into the darkness alongside you.

-------------

In the days that followed, Gojo remained steadfast in his determination to pull you out of the suffocating depths of depression that had ensnared you. He knew he couldn't do it alone, and admitting that fact was a monumental step for someone as self-reliant as him. It surprised even Shoko, who had known Gojo for years, to witness his newfound vulnerability.

He started with small, manageable gestures, well aware that overwhelming you would only push you further away. Slowly, he began to tidy up your apartment, one step at a time. He organized the scattered papers, straightened the toppled books, and restored a sense of order to the chaos that had overtaken the space. He did it in small iterations, so as to not catch you off guard.  He knew that even the semblance of cleanliness and organization could bring a sense of calm. Another day, he arrived with a bag of groceries, quietly slipping into your kitchen to prepare a meal. At times, he found himself sneaking food into you, taking advantage of moments when your mind wandered elsewhere. He'd feed you, offering fruits and treats while you mindlessly chewed on it, lost in thought. It was a silent promise that he was there to support you, to ensure you took care of yourself.

Then came the day he dragged you out, insisting that you join him and his students for a shopping excursion. It was an attempt to remind you that there was still joy and fun to be had, even in the midst of the world's worries. He made sure to bring his students along, Yuji and Nobara, who shared a single brain cell with their hairbrained schemes, and Megumi, who often found himself the target of their antics. As you wandered through the bustling market, you couldn't help but be drawn into the silliness that surrounded you. Yuji and Nobara's playful banter, Megumi's exasperation, and the way his students relied on you for the silliest of things slowly began to chip away at the darkness within you. There were moments when you couldn't help but smile, caught up in the absurdity of it all. Watching Yuji and Nobara embark on their ridiculous plans, seeing Megumi squirm in embarrassment, witnessing the camaraderie among his students—it all served as a poignant reminder that life held moments of levity, even in its darkest corners. Gojo reveled in these small victories, each one a testament to your gradual recovery. His approach was slow and deliberate, mixing moments of genuine concern with his signature goofiness.

"Hey, sweets," Gojo said, nudging you playfully as Yuji and Nobara attempted to outdo each other with their ridiculous purchases. "You see what I have to deal with every day? They're a handful. Why do I always end up taking care of brats?” He sighed in exaggeration.

The sound of your giggle was a melody that resonated in the depths of Satoru Gojo's being. He couldn't help but be drawn to the warmth in your laughter, a glimmer of the vibrant spirit that still lived within you. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, a gentle caress that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He leaned into the touch, his heart leaping at the connection.

"You know," you teased, patting his cheek affectionately, "you adopted these brats yourself. You're such a mother hen, Toru."

His lips curled into a playful smirk. "Well, what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for the misfits." He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "And I'm glad that this mother hen has you as my favorite rooster to come back to whenever I need a break from these rascals."

Your laughter, though still fragile, filled the room, a welcome sound that eased the weight in his heart. He was getting closer, step by step, to uncovering the vibrant spirit that resided within you.

------------------------

Several days later, the Tokyo Jujutsu High planned a retreat to an Onsen resort in Gunma. The students shared rooms, and Gojo, in his usual annoying fashion, had managed to finagle Yaga into assigning you to share a room with him. After all, you were both teachers and adults—it shouldn't have been a problem.

Gojo sat on the tatami floor of your room, dressed in a yukata, having just returned from the baths. He sipped on cold coffee milk, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere of the traditional inn. When he heard the sliding door open, he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. You looked ethereal in the Yukata, the fabric draping gracefully over your form. Your hair was still damp from the baths, strands clinging to your skin in a way that made his heart race. There was a newfound fullness to your cheeks, a healthy flush to your complexion that spoke of progress.

In that moment, he realized just how far you had come. The bags under your eyes were still there, but the overall transformation was striking. He clicked his tongue several times, pulling you gently to the tatami floor in front of him. He reached for the towel that hung around your shoulders and scolded you gently, "Sweets, you need to dry your hair properly. You'll catch a cold like this."

His fingers moved through your hair with a soothing touch, the room enveloped in silence save for the rustle of fabric and the soft hum of the night outside. He was meticulous, his actions deliberate as he dried your hair strand by strand. As he continued to pat your hair dry with gentle strokes, he noticed that you were trembling. Frowning, he stopped, his concern growing. And then he heard it—the soft, muffled sniffle that escaped your lips. In an instant, he turned you around to face him, his eyes widening as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes.

Before he could say a word, you began sobbing, your shoulders shaking with the force of your emotions. You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn't brush away your tears or offer empty reassurances. Instead, he let you cry, allowing the dam you had built around your emotions to finally break. He could feel the warmth of your tears soaking through his yukata, the shudders that racked your body, and the tremble of your hands as they clung to his robes. It was a raw, vulnerable moment, and he was there to bear witness to it, to share in your pain and offer his silent support. Gojo's touch was gentle, his hand stroking your back in a steady, rhythmic motion. He didn't speak, understanding that this moment was about you and your release. His heart ached with each anguished sob that wracked your body, but he remained a steadfast anchor, giving you the space you needed to let it all out.

As your sobs began to subside, your words spilled out in a torrent of emotion. You spoke of the mission, of how it had torn open old wounds, making you confront shadows from your past. The cursed technique of the first-grade curse had exploited your own memories, forcing you to relive the pain and uncertainty.

Gojo had been privy to your painful past, as you had confided in him long ago. He understood the emotional scars that had marked your journey, and now, he could see why you were descending into darkness.

Your voice trembled as you confessed your fear. You longed to return to the person you used to be, but you were terrified that you had lost yourself in the process. The fear that in losing yourself, you might also lose him gripped at your heart.

Gently, Gojo cupped your cheek, his sky-blue eyes locking onto yours. He removed his shades, allowing you to see the sincerity in his gaze. "No matter what version of yourself you present to me," he said, his voice soft but resolute, "I will love you. Whether you're happy, sad, angry, or anything in between, it doesn't change a thing. If you somehow turned evil, I'd love you. If you don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore, I’d love you. Even if you transformed into a worm, I'd love you. I will love every version of you that has been and that is yet to come, (Y/n). " He couldn't help but inject a touch of his signature playfulness into the moment. "Well, unless you turn into Gakuganji," he added with a mock shudder, "then you might be pushing it. But hey, I'll even love you if you morph into that old fart. Just… just don't test me on that one." He kisses your trembling lips gently. “I don’t think my heart could handle that.”

A small giggle burst from your lips, and you playfully swatted his arm, the sound like a gentle chime amidst your tears. It was a moment of relief, a brief respite from the weight of your emotions. Gojo couldn't help but chuckle in response, his grin boyish and goofy. “I will always love you (Y/n). Even if you lose yourself, I will walk with you to help you rediscover yourself. I am great at helping people find things. These six eyes are here for a reason, you know?”

You gently shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to kiss Satoru Gojo on his lips, your gratitude and affection evident in the tender gesture. "Thank you," you whispered against his lips, "for being you."

His lips curved into a soft smile as he returned your kiss, savoring the warmth of your affection. "It's been my pleasure, (Y/n)," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “After all, nobody is best at being Gojo Satoru other than Satoru Gojo himself.” He winks.

You continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know what you've been doing, Toru. All these days, you’ve been taking care of me, helping me even if I didn't want to admit it to myself. But I needed it, and I needed you."

Gojo's eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "If the roles were reversed, you would've done a far better and more efficient job," he admitted, a hint of shame coloring his voice. "I should've seen it sooner, (Y/n)."

You silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips, his mock pout making you smile. "Don't blame yourself, Toru," you murmured. "I didn't want you to find out, and it's not your fault. I feel lighter now than I have in days, although I am still struggling to cope.”

In response, Gojo spoke with unwavering determination, "I'll be here beside you, sweets. However you want and in whatever form you need.

“Whatever I need huh?” A wistful smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe turning myself into Gakuganji would help," you mused, a playful glint in your eyes. “won’t it, Toru?”

Gojo groaned dramatically, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His fingers danced along your sides and ribs, eliciting giggles and laughter from you as you squirmed beneath his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. His fingers attacked your sides and belly, evoking peals of laughter from you. The tatami floor beneath you seemed to come alive with the sounds of your giggles and Gojo's playful laughter. As he tickled you mercilessly, Gojo's thoughts were clear—he would do anything to keep that light in your eyes, to see you smile, even if it meant turning into Gakuganji himself. Anything at all. And with every joyful laugh that filled the room, he knew he was one step closer to bringing you back to him.

Taglist - @hiraethsdesires Note to @hiraethsdesires: thank you, Hira. I thought I'd never be able to get back into writing again. I thought I had lost it. But it felt so nice to dive right into this again. The first character I had ever written for in this blog was Gojo. It feels just right to get back into it with him again.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen one shot #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo oneshot #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru oneshot #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo angst #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru angst #gojo x you #gojo sensei

[eiightysixbaby]

the boy is mine (leah’s edition)

my little slice of input for @carolmunson’s writing challenge 🩵

cw: best friend!eddie x fem!reader, kissing, a couple flirty comments, nothing else really just fluff! (1.9k)

prompt rules: the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer. props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook. dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order): "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" // "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true." // “and you like that?" // "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Your heart is thrumming excitedly in your chest before you’ve even thrown your car into park. The sun is just starting to set, blanketing the trailer park in a cozy golden hue. The air is sweet when you step out of your vehicle, and you take a deep inhale to calm your giddy body.

You don’t need to be inside the trailer to hear Eddie’s guitar. The melodic sound of his acoustic’s strings dance in the summer evening’s breeze, carried right out of his window and into your waiting ears. You smile to yourself, looking down at where your sneakers flatten the grass with each step you take. Climbing the front steps and nearly knocking, then deciding you never need to knock at Eddie’s, you swing open the trailer’s door with a gentle pull. There’s a squeak of its rusting hinge, a sound you’ve grown entirely used to, and it protests once more as you close the door behind you just like you knew it would.

“Ed?” you call out, toeing off your shoes in the doorway.

He doesn’t hear you, which doesn’t surprise you. Knowing him, he’s completely lost in whatever song he’s trying to learn. If you’re lucky he’ll have actually remembered your plans tonight, and you won’t walk in on him butt-naked or something.

The trailer is bathed in warm lighting, the lingering scent of a cigarette hanging in the air. You trail down the hallway, fingers fidgeting with each other as you go. His door is already open a crack, but you give a gentle knock anyways.

The smile he gives you when you appear in his room is radiant, his eyes so fond and eager to see you. He sits cross-legged on his bed, hair pulled loosely off of his face. He looks beautiful, as he always does.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you, a pet name you’ll never tire of hearing from his lips. “Sorry, I promise I didn’t forget you were coming, I just kind of got distracted playing—”

“It’s okay, Ed,” you cut him off, sitting on the floor at his feet. Your chin rests on his knee, looking up at him. “What’re you practicing?”

“Well, uh,” he starts, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s new. Something I wrote.”

“Oh?” you perk up, curiosity peaked.

“I haven’t perfected it yet, though. Honestly I’m not sure if it’s even any good,” he continues, his face reddening slightly. You notice him reach out to grab the notebook that sits beside him, holding it protectively. That’s his lyric book, you know it is, because he usually lets you flip through it whenever you like.

“Hey, don’t be like that. You’re good at songwriting, Eddie.”

“You just say that cause you’re my best friend, ‘n you have to,” he rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at you despite it.

“That’s not even true!” you defend. “I mean, yes I am your best friend, but no I’m not saying it because I have to.”

You look at him so earnestly, your voice so sincere, it nearly makes him crumble. You stare at each other for a moment, something hanging in the air between you, before he clears his throat.

“You, uh, you want anything to drink? It’s been hot as tits out there all day,” he says, standing up and laying his guitar flat on his mattress.

“Did Wayne make any more of that lemonade?” you ask, looking up at him hopefully.

He laughs, a bright little sound. “Yeah. Knew you’d want some, so I asked him to make another batch. C‘mon,” he says, holding his hand out for you to take.

He hoists you up from your spot on the carpet, not letting go of your hand on your journey to the kitchen. You can’t help but yearn for the warmth back when he eventually lets go, opening the fridge and pulling out the pitcher. Perching yourself on the countertop, you watch as he rummages around for glasses.

“I ran out of like, nice cups. Is this okay?” he asks, presenting you with a red plastic cup with a Care Bear on it. Somehow, after coming to this trailer weekly for over a year now, you’d never seen this.

You snort, accepting the now-filled plastic kid’s cup. You rotate it in your hands, marveling at it. “I didn’t take you for a Care Bears type-a guy,” you wiggle your eyebrows, taking a sip of the sweet and sour liquid.

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, though there isn’t a hint of anger in his tone. He smiles while he says it, pouring his own lemonade into a coffee mug.

“Listen, I’m just saying. They’re very like, sunshine and rainbows! Happiness and love!” you say, pitching your voice higher and waving your hands as you speak.

“Okay? And?”

“And you like that? Forgive me for being taken aback that you, Edward Munson, lord of all things dark and off-putting, are a Care Bears enjoyer.”

That glorious laugh leaves him once more as he moves to stand beside you, his back pressing against the counter and his side brushing against your thigh. You flush at the contact, trying to keep your composure.

“Okay, well, first of all,” he starts, looking at you with a tilt of his head. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. There’s literally a bear called Grumpy Bear. Y’know, he’s got the rain cloud? He’s always like, super pissed and mopey.”

“One angry bear doesn’t take away from the overall happiness of the show,” you inform him, earning a scoff from him. “And, the bear on this cup is literally Tenderheart Bear. You own a cup with the leader of the happy bears on it.”

“What’s wrong with Tenderheart Bear?” he asks, holding a hand over his heart as if he’d been mortally wounded. “He initiates all of the new bears, makes them feel welcome. Tenderheart Bear is to Care-A-Lot what I am to Hellfire.”

You laugh, nearly spitting your lemonade all over the kitchen floor. “I know you did not just use that analogy.”

“Oh, I so did,” he says, raising his eyebrows so they’re hidden behind his bangs. Setting his cup down, he moves to stand between your thighs, palms gripping the counter on either side of you; caging you in. “And if you don’t stop dissing the Care Bears, we’re gonna have a problem.”

You’re probably meant to laugh, to shove him away or keep mocking him or just anything that keeps the mood playful. But instead your focus goes entirely to the warmth of his body pressed right up against yours. Your lips part, attempting to get words out but failing, your gaze moving between his gorgeous brown eyes to his mouth and back again.

He scoots in a little bit closer, you feel it, and you watch the way his tongue wets his lips. His eyes don’t leave your face, neither of you saying a damn thing as that unspoken something once again hangs between you.

He speaks suddenly, then, his cheeks pink. “You know, uh. You know that song I was working on?”

You nod, still utterly unable to pull words from your brain.

“It’s about you.”

Your eyes soften, your heart pounding inside your chest. “What?” you ask gently, seeking out more.

“It’s about you. I wrote a song about you. Because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you, every second of every day. And not in the way friends think about each other, this is like, so totally breaching the lines of friendship—” he rambles, no longer making eye contact, gesturing with his hands as he goes on.

“Eddie,” you interrupt, yet he keeps talking. You giggle to yourself, speaking louder this time. “Eddie!”

He stops. He almost looks… scared? Like if he stops talking, if he leaves room for you to respond, you’ll make fun of him or get mad or leave. Or all three.

“I think about you, like, every second of every day.”

“Not in the way that… friends do…?” he asks, his eyes so full of hope it makes you want to scoop him up and never let him go.

“Not in the way that friends do. Definitely not in the way that friends do. I wore this top today hoping you’d think my tits look good in it, so,” you joke, admitting some of your own vulnerability to take the pressure off of him.

And he laughs, softly at first, then a booming, wonderful sound. “Your tits do look good in that top. I thought that the second you walked in,” he grins, covering his eyes with his fingers, peeking through two of them.

You start to laugh with him, until tears are coming out of your eyes, your foreheads pressed together. His hands reach up to cup your face, noses touching.

You smile, getting out the last of your giggles as your lips nearly brush so many times. Up close he’s prettier than ever, you can’t even count how many times you’d wished you could pull him this close and kiss him breathless.

He makes your dreams come true when his mouth meets yours, so tender and warm as your lips move together. It feels like your heart stops for a moment, only to immediately restart when his fingers card themselves through your hair, deepening the kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he takes the hint, scooping you off of the counter and walking you over to the couch. Your head rests on the plush throw pillow, the one you know to be embroidered by one of the neighbors who has a little thing for Wayne.

His weight presses on top of you, your body dipping into the cushions beneath you. It feels surreal, kissing your best friend. It also feels right, like maybe you should’ve been doing it all along. You can hear the crickets chirping in the grass outside, the ambient summer sounds waltzing in through the window. It all makes you feel so safe, being here with him on this cozy evening. There’s no doubt in your mind that this is where you should be. That this is how things should be.

His tongue parts your lips, slipping into your mouth as a content sigh escapes you. Your hands tug his hair out of its ponytail before your fingers tangle themselves in his curls, swirling your tongue around his. He tastes like vanilla frosting, a guilty pleasure food that he’ll eat by the spoonful when no one’s looking. You know he’s always got a tub in the pantry, and it makes you smile into the kiss to think about him indulging in his secret snack.

When he finally pulls back for air, his eyes hold so much adoration. You both just stare at each other for a moment before bursting into what feels like your millionth fit of giggles.

“Eddie?” you say finally, your voice soft.

“Yeah, sweets?”

“Can I hear that song? I don’t care if it’s not done yet. It’ll be perfect, no matter what.”

“Yeah. I’ll play it for you. Come on,” he says, pressing one last peck to your lips before he’s dragging you back to his room.

You grab your forgotten cup of lemonade on the way, smirking to yourself as you do. “I’m totally telling Dustin about your Care Bear Hellfire thing, by the way.”

“No you are not!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 15 - Noncon

Ghost x Reader - 4.6k (on ao3)

summary: You find yourself cornered in a Maze of Mirrors. (Reader POV)

cw: noncon everything, face fucking, pussy slapping, degradation, kinda a wedgie? like a front wedgie? is that a thing?, orgasm denial

note: if you like this (or hate it but like the concept) read Halloween Haunt by Harley Laroux <3 her erotica is top tier

You’ve always loved Halloween - always been the kid with the scariest costume in class, always had the house decorated with uncomfortably realistic decorations. When your sorority sisters dressed up as black cats and sexy witches, you spent hours painting the most realistic zombie makeup you could. (Your sisters complained for months that you ruined the pictures, but the frat boys had all thought your makeup was far more interesting than theirs. God, you do not miss college.)

Regardless, you’ve always been known to love any and everything scary. There’s something about the thrill of a scare - the creeping horror as you start to realize what’s coming, the ultimate reveal - that always gets you a little squirmy in your seat. Your first crush was Skeet Ulrich in Scream - specifically the scene where he’s covered in blood, licking his fingers. 

You get all those ooey-gooey good scared feelings as your friend drags you through the decently crowded fairgrounds. The actual fair - the one that comes yearly, that no one ever calls anything but the fair - had left only two weeks ago, so this travelling fair had set things up in mostly the same arrangement and, you suspect, to trick certain people into thinking they were the same company.

You’ve already forgotten what your friend said the event was called. She hadn’t needed to give many details to convince you - you heard travelling circus, horror themed, interactive workers, and you were in. The branding isn’t very strong anyways, the only place the name was displayed was the entrance booth, and none of the workers seem to wear any sort of logo, so you don’t feel too forgetful for letting it slip your memory so easily.

You’re not very impressed with the fear factor so far. You hadn’t done too much makeup (hadn’t wanted to risk being mistaken for a cast member) but since it’s the night before Halloween you’ve got a half-done costume on - a clown. Just some white face paint, black lips, and overdrawn triangles around the eyes, a little smudged to make it look like you’ve been chasing someone down and working up a sweat. Your hoodie and tennis skirt look a bit out of place, but you’d wanted to be comfortable since you hoped you’d be spending your night running from actors.

But even a face full of makeup feels like it might’ve been too much effort for this place. Most of the costumes look like they’re from Party City at best - some of them even look very lazily hand-made - and none of the workers seem particularly interested in scaring people. Still, the crowd is easily amused and even a wave or a feint towards a customer has shrieks ringing in the air every few minutes.

You sigh a little disapointedly as you and your friend linger on the edge of the fairgrounds, off to the side and in the dark so you don’t have to deal with the crowd. She pulls out a cigarette and offers you her light.

“I’m sorry,” she says, lighting the stick between your teeth when you lean forward. “I really thought it would be scarier than this. Some of the posters…” she exagetates a shiver. “I thought they’d at least have better costumes.”

You eye a man in a werewolf mask across the pathway, pissing into the dirt. He’s got a flannel and jeans on, and the mask is a little bit crumpled like he pulled it out of a Walmart bin this morning. You’d bet money the flannel was just a happy coincidence he noticed when he showed up for work.

“Yeah,” you sigh, blowing out a lungful of smoke and watching the actor try not to get his dick stuck in his zipper. “Not really your fault, though, these things always look scarier in the ads. Wanna get out of here soon?”

You pass the cigarette to her. “In a bit,” she replies. “I want to try and find some food first. You hungry?”

You shake your head with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust anything cooked here, honestly. Might just pick up something on the way back.”

She passes you the cigarette for one last breath. “Well I’m too hungry for that. You good on your own for a bit?”

You crouch down a moment to stub out the cigarette, leaving the butt in the gravel. “Yeah, sure. Might see if these fun houses have anything worth seeing in them.”

“You should!” She smiles over her shoulder at you as she starts off to a more well-lit section of the fair. “You never know, maybe they stick the real scares in there!”

You give her a final wave and shout, “Here’s hoping!” at her back as she leaves. 

You linger outside for a little longer, scanning the few structures nearby to decide which one you want to waste a few tickets on.

There’s a Freak Show, but you already know you’d be horribly disappointed if you went in there, something labeled a “House of Horrors” that you’re sure is as much a scam as the freak show, and a few games that have cheap prizes lined up above them.

Across from you, with no lights around it and just one attendant - slumped over, hopefully sleeping - at the front, is a House of Mirrors. Figuring it’s the least likely to be a waste of time (and knowing the kid won’t wake up to charge you), you head over to the building.

The closer you get the more you worry about if he’s asleep or dead, but his snores rattle the little tickets resting on his desk so you figure he’s just a slacker. It’s almost too easy to get by him with all your tickets safe in your pocket. There’s no one else around the darkened corner of the fairgrounds, but you’re quite sure no one would bother snitching on you this late at night. All the parents with little kids left hours ago, leaving mostly teenagers and adults of varying ages left to wander the park.

There’s music playing from speakers that you can’t see, an old clown-themed song that sounds like it’s playing on a scratched up DVD. You’re pleasantly surprised as you make your way through the dusty lobby and into the main section of the building, creatively labeled MAZE OF MIRRORS.

Their branding could definitely use some work, but you’ll give them points for ambience - the lights are turned so low that it’s nearly too dark to see, making all of the mirrors even more difficult to spot. You find yourself a little spooked as you start to make your way through the maze, grinning to yourself.

It’s a shockingly difficult maze, you quickly discover. The music is so loud in some spots that you can hardly hear your thoughts, and so faint in others that you think it might be turned off. The maze itself is a series of either tight, tiny hallways or large open rooms. Whoever designed it clearly knew how to take advantage of the space they were given, the maze feels ten times bigger than it looked on the outside as you wander through.

You know the trick to mazes - keep one hand on the right wall and eventually you’ll find your way out - but it’s fun to just wander around the place, so you let yourself get stuck wandering in circles. You’re glad your friend isn’t here to see how many times you manage to walk into a mirror fully confident that it’s not there, only to whack yourself in the face. For how low maintenance the rest of the fair is, you’re surprised that the hall of mirrors is what they focus their upkeep on.

You’ve been in the maze for about five minutes when you see him.

He scares the shit out of you at first. You spot him behind you in a mirror - one you’d just walked into, which is the only reason you can see well enough to notice him - standing at the entrance to the hallway you’d turned down. He’s clad in all black, except for the skull mask over his face. You think he’s just something taped onto the wall with the way that he blends in, but then that mask titls to the side and you’re struck with the bone-deep knowledge that you’re being watched.

“Shit!” You shout when it first registers that he’s not a piece of paper, one hand coming up to clasp at your erratically beating heart while the other steadies you against the mirror. He doesn’t move past tilting his head a bit further, and after a moment you relax.

You don’t turn around, but you study him a bit in the mirror. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of his body, but he’s big. He looks like he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the mask, and he must be wearing gloves to cover his hands since you can’t see them.

You huff out a laugh as you let both of your hands fall to your sides.

“You got me good,” you call, glancing over your shoulder. You almost jump again - he’s closer than you’d realized, but too far away for you to touch. “I didn’t even see you follow me in here.”

He doens’t say anything. You turn around more fully, leaning back against the mirror and crossing your arms across your chest.

“You gonna start chasin’ me now?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow. You’re playing up the sass, but it’s always fun to mess with theme park employees.

The man takes a few steps forward, heavy boots thudding against the cheap wood flooring. He really is an intimidating bastard, far scarier than any of the other actors you’d seen so far.

“Well?” You call out, standing up from your spot. “Do I get a head start?”

Still no answer. He rolls his head on his neck, then steps to the side and walks into one of the connecting hallways without sparing you a glance. When you step closer to see which direction he’s chosen, he’s already gone.

You huff another laugh to yourself, shaking out your limbs and bouncing a few times on your toes.

Now that you know there’s someone in here with you, the thrill of a scare is starting to get you worked up. You hope they don’t have any rules against physical contact between actors and customers, just imagining the skeleton man tackling you has shivers running up your spine.

You don’t bother to be any quieter as you keep wandering through the maze. You bump into just as many mirrors, continue to question the speaker placement, and keep an eye out for any skeleton masks lingering behind you.

You see him a few more times, always behind you, always just out of reach. He gets progressively closer everytime you spot him. You're reminded of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who - every time you look away, he gets closer.

It’s fun. More fun than you’ve had all night.

He finally catches up to you what you guess is about half an hour later. Youre just turning another corner, thinking about how it’s been a bit since you’ve seen your shadow, when a hand plants itself firmly between your shoulder blades and shoves.

You’re sent to the ground with a cry, palms scraping against the floor. There’s a gloved hand collaring your throat before you can think to do much more than catch your breath, hauling you up and holding you in the air.

Your eyes fly to the mirror less than a foot away, staring wide-eyed at the image reflected.

There’s you, in your messy clown makeup and hoodie, being held up by a giant swath of black behind you. He’s not ducking down at all, his feet planted on either side of your splayed legs as he towers above you. The way you’re being held up, your head doesn’t even reach his belt buckle. The contrast of your shock and discomfort to his plastic mask has your thighs clenching, just a bit.

He doesn’t duck lower, just tilts his head in that now-familiar way of his and pulls you a little further up. His hand is absolutely massive, thumb resting beneath one ear and his fingers resting below the other. You choke a bit as you’re lifted, knees scrambling beneath you.

This close to the mirror you can see his eyes - bright blue, surrounded by black paint, and staring back into yours.

He lowers his head, his free hand tugging your hair until you lean back and look straight up. The hand on your neck shifts to hold you in that position, his other hand lifting to pull the black part of his mask up.

He’s white, with thin lips and a broad jaw. You pant as you stare up at him, incapable of processing what’s going on.

His jaw works for a moment, lips twitching, and before you realize what he’s about to do you feel something wet splatter against your cheek.

He spit on you. Who the fuck does that? Being tackled and manhandled is one thing but spitting? You recoil reflixivley, lips curling as you reach up to try and wipe disgusting liquid off.

“What the fuck-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence you’re yanked forward by your neck.

You yelp as you’re thrown from between his thighs, hips twisted awkwardly and head slamming back against the mirror. You cry out at the sharp pain at the back of your skull, but before you can think of doing anything there’s a hand around your neck again, a body crouched in front of you - over you - keeping you from doing anything.

You gape up at the actor, panting and surprised. None of the other employees even got close to touching customers - half of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there - what the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he just take his job way too seriously

He’s far too close to you now, your nose nearly brushing where his shoulder be, his boots on either side of your thighs, his chest pressed so close that you can’t do anything with your hands.

The hand not around your neck comes up to your cheeks, grabbing them both in one hand and pinching until your lips pucker up. You squirm, letting out a noise of surprise and pain when his thumb and pointer finger dig in between your teeth to force your mouth open. One eye squeezes shut at the ache, but there’s nowhere for you to go with him caging you in.

This time when he spits, it lands right in the little hole he’s made for himself. With how close he is, you see the way his lips twitch up in the corners.

You try your best to get out from under him, hands pushing at his shoulders and legs desperately kicking. But he’s like a statute above you, hard as stone and immoveable. 

He leans so close that his lips nearly brush yours, meeting your glare with a spark of amusement. 

“Like how it tastes?” He purrs, chest rumbling against yours.

You make a noise somewhere between offended and annoyed, trying to throw yourself every which way for even an inch of freedom. All you manage is a tighter grip on your jaw and neck, leaving you wincing.

“Lots more where that came from,” he promises.

It’s insultingly easy for him to manhandle you, and you curse all the times you swore to yourself you’d finally start taking self-defense classes. You can barely manage a single blow, and when your hands or feet do make contact he doesn’t even flinch.

There’s absolutely nothing you can do as you’re wrestled to the floor. He gets you flat on your back then kneels over your head, his knees so close that you worry he’ll squeeze them together and pop your head like a berry.

He doesn’t give you a chance to sit up, planting one heavy hand in the center of your chest and leaning his weight forward, knocking the air out of you. You finally regain the ability to speak when his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it right above your face.

“What are you-? No, no, get the hell off me!” You shout, desperately pushing at his arm and trying to get enough leverage with your feet to squirm away. “Don’t you fucking dare- help! Somebody help!”

Your screams go ignored, blending right in with that stupid clown music and bouncing off the mirrors just to come straight back to your ears. Your noise doesn’t deter him at all, and he’s got his belt off and jeans yanked down despite your resistance. 

“No, no, no, don’t- stop, please, you can’t-” you gasp, eyes flying wide as you find yourself staring up at his cock above you. 

He doesn’t give you any warning, just grabs your jaw, holds it open, and sheathes himself down your throat.

Your limbs spasm, every instinct in your body screamin to get away as he slips right past your gag reflex. You’re terrified that you’ll vomit and choke on his cock, the fear dousing you in icy cold and leaving you limp for a minute. All you can think about is breathing around the intrusion in your throat, finding some way not to suffocate and die on a sticky mirror maze floor.

“Finally,” you hear him grunt from above you. He grabs both of your wrists, easily ignoring your weak pulls and tying them together with his belt. “Somethin’ to shut you up.”

You try and make a sound around his cock, yanking your hands away and panicking even more when you feel how firmly tied they are. You make another sound, insitively trying to cry out even with something stuffed in your mouth.

He moans above you, lowering himself to his elbows over your body. “Yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Mouth feel’s fuckin’ heavenly.”

You go silent, determined not to give this piece of shit anything he wants. Tears pour down your temples and across the tops of your ears, and your throat burns.

His hips move slowly against your face, grinding himself as deep as he can get before pulling out just a few inches and sliding back in. He’s got an unfairly large cock, and there’s already an ache developing in your jaw from just seconds held so wide open.

His foreskin catches on your teeth when he pulls the whole way out just to fuck back in, and you’re sharply reminded of the fact that you have teeth.

When his cock bottoms out, his balls resting against your eyes, you bite down, praying it’s enough to break skin.

It’s not. Instead of blood pouring into your mouth and a screaming man falling off of you, you hear the man snarl, pulling his dick out entirely and slamming it back down your throat so harshly that it feels almost like he’s punched you in the face.

“No fucking teeth,” he snaps above you, and you feel his weight shift back onto his knees, then his hands grab at your thighs and throw them open. He flips your skirt up and before you can think to bite down again lands a stinging slap against the gusset of your underwear.

You nearly scream around his cock, hips snapping closed to try and smother the pain. He only growls another sound, using one hand to hold you open and the other to rain down a series of progressively harder smacks.

Your breath hitches as you sob, hardly able to get any air in around his thrusts as he starts them back up again. Every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, he lands another hit to your poor pussy. You can’t help but wail around him.

“There it is,” he moans, the sound loud and unrestrained. “God you feel good screamin’ around my cock. Good fuckin’ hole, huh?”

He punctuates the last four words with slaps, leaving his length inside your throat and going back to that horrible grinding against your face. You go silent again, using all of your willpower to keep from screaming. What little thought is left in your head is used to figure out how best to breathe through your nose without choking on snot.

He doesn’t smack you again, but you feel his fingers trace around the edges of your panties. Your hips wiggle against your will, just trying to get away from the violation. One of your legs is pinned to the floor by the thigh, but the other oscillates between going limp and trying to get leverage and force your body up.

His fingers hook around the gusset of your underwear, but before you can even worry about him touching you there, he pulls them up towards your body.

He does it with such force that you’re left squealing, hips flying off the ground to try and lessen the pressure against your clit. His hand pulls so far up that you feel it resting nearly at your belly button. You can’t help the little gasping, gagging noises as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth again.

You hear - you feel - him laugh, swaying his hand from left to right. Your hips try to follow naturally, just desperate to alleviate any of the pressure you can.

“Like a little puppet,” he murmurs, yanking even further up, moaning when you scream.

He lets them go only a few thrusts later, big hand smoothing the fabric down over your cunt. You can feel that it’s stretched out, a little looser around the meat of your pussy, and the thought only makes you cry harder.

But you go silent again. It’s the one thing left in your control - even pinned to the floor, hands tied, legs useless, mouth stuff, you can decide how much noise you make.

He doesn’t like that. He groans a little when you go quiet again, tapping your thigh sharply.

“No, come on, make your little noises again. Feels real nice on my cock.”

This time you’re ready for the smack against your vulva, and you remain silent. You stay silent for the next three too.

His hips work with a little more force again, balls smacking against your face and leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut. After the next slap his hand doesn’t lift again, just rubs over your vulva slowly.

It’s pure luck on his part that he happens to rub over your clit. It’s a pure lack of luck on your part that you moan at the sudden and unexpected pleasure, completely taken off guard.

He stills above you, then slowly repeats the movement. You’re helpless to the little whimpers coming from your throat, and you curse the fact that you’ve always been loud during sex. He zeros in on exactly how to rub your clit unreasonably quickly, fingers sure through the fabric of your underwear.

“That what you need?” He rumbles a laugh above you. “Pain won’t make you noisy, but pleasure will? I can work with that.”

Before you can even begin to question what that means, your underwear are tucked to the side, and there’s a face buried in your pussy.

He doesn’t bother taking any time to explore or try and learn your body, just dives tongue-first to your clit. His technique of lick first, figure out what feels good later unfortunately works on you, and you’re left writhing beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure and moans muffled.

He groans agaisnt you, too, lips vibrating against your clit in a horrible and delicious way. “There you go.” You can barely hear him over the sounds of your own choking, especially with his own voice muffled in your folds. “That feels good, keep going.”

You don’t want to, but the magic he works against your clit leaves you no choice. You can’t help the hitched cries spilling from your lips, even if they make you cry all that much harder as you hear them.

He doesn’t take much longer to come, and you’re torn between resenting the fact that it’s your sounds that get him off and being glad that he does so he can get off of you.

He comes with a loud groan, sent right into your cunt and dragging you far too close to an edge you do not want to see, and sends thick ropes right down your throat. It’s almost a kindness that you can’t taste him, only have to swallow as quickly as possible so you don’t choke. The movements of your throat only draw out his orgasm though, and you’re locked in a terrible cycle for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t get you off. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not.

You gasp when he finally pulls out of your throat, taking uninhibited breaths for the first time in far too many minutes. You can’t shut your jaw from the pain, but you also can’t kick your legs when he kneels up more fully.

He’s silent as he takes back his belt, and no matter how much you beg your arms to move, they remain still on your stomach. He shifts off of you, and you whine wordlessly when he grabs a handful of your hair, wiping his flaccid cock off in it.

Still, you don’t move.

He stands and redoes his belt silently, the jingle loud even with the clown music still playing. You stare up at him, and he holds eye contact with you. For some reason, you can’t look away.

He crouches down again before he leaves, and you can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t touch you sexually again, though, only reaches out and pushes your jaw closed with two firm fingers.

You hate that he still has the mask pulled up, because it means you can see his smirk.

“That was fun. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

He’s gone before you manage to understand what he’s said, and the tears start all over again when you do.

—

It takes you a while to scrape yourself off of the floor. You only catch sight of yourself in one mirror before you stare at the ground.

Your makeup is ruined, teartracks running down your temples and both cheeks. There are smudges along your jaw where his hands grabbed. Your lips are swollen and red. It could not be more obvious what’s just happened to you.

You plant one hand on the wall to your right, and keep your eyes firmly planted on your sneakers as you leave the maze. You feel almost detached from yourself, unable to truly understand what happened, what it means.

The throbbing between your thighs is distracting. You worry you might chafe from how soaked your panties are.

It doesn’t take long to find your friend once you finally make it out. She takes one look at you and laughs, teases you about having fun without her. You can’t bring yourself to correct her, and she picks up on your tone quickly, dropping the subject.

The two of you walk silently to your car. You hate it, but you can’t help but scan every actor. Thankfully - or maybe not thankfully? You don’t know anymore - none of them are even close to as big as the masked man in the hall of mirrors was.

You tuck your hands beneath your armpits as you finally make it to the parking lot, walking as quickly as you can get away with without running. Your limbs go a little looser as you get to your car, mind relaxing as it recognizes how close you are to safety. 

You freeze when you finally make it to the driver’s side door, lungs going still and heart beating so quickly you worry it’ll pound right out of your chest.

There, sitting in the driver’s seat, is a skeleton mask sewed onto a balaclava.

#this is not very edited but i am BEHIND #this was originally gonna have like two more scenes but then it started to annoy me #i am coming to you again to confess: i did not read through this #ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #kinktober #kinktober day 15 #bo writes #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kinktober 2023

[space-matt]

right person, wro- ight time

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: lifelong best friends, but with hidden feelings.

Can one night change everything?

request: yes -> anon

cw: use of y/n, angst, fluff (?), mention of sex

author’s note: hello everyone!!! Here I am back after a long time, but I wanted to take a break from writing.

At the moment some of my stories like ''Breaking promises'' are archived because I'm revising them and changing some things, if you want you can take a look here -> masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

As you watch Matt and his girlfriend engage in a passionate display of affection on the couch, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. Jealousy and anger course through your veins as you long to be the one in his arms. The scene before you seems like a cruel reminder of what you can't have.

You have known Matt, and his brothers Nick and Chris, for as long as you can remember. Your mom's close friendship brought the four of you together, and you've been inseparable ever since.

You've shared countless memories together, from taking warm baths as toddlers to navigating the ups and downs of adolescence.

Your feelings for Matt first emerged when you were just eight years old. While his siblings ran around and teased each other, he was the only one who pushed you on the swing, making you feel safe and cared for. 

Or how that time in middle school he was next to you when coming out of the bathroom, he noticed a red spot on your butt and promptly gave you his sweatshirt to cover you up.

Over the years, your attachment to him only grew stronger, even as you had flings with other boys. You never acted on your feelings, though, afraid of ruining the strong bond you had built with him over the years.

Now, as you watch him with his girlfriend, you can't help but wonder what could have been if you had been brave enough to take a chance on love.

As you sit on a cushioned chair in the cozy kitchen, you turn towards the stove and place your phone on the wooden table, emitting a snort of frustration. Chris, who is equally exhausted by the ongoing show, rises from the couch and comes to hug you from behind, enveloping you in his strong arms.

"God, I can't stand them anymore," he whispers softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

"Don't tell me" you reply, your eyes still fixated on the screen of your phone, as you use one hand to scroll through social media and the other to caress Chris's hand, which is resting on your chest.

At times, you find yourself wondering why your heart chose Matt over Chris, especially given that Nick is off-limits. Chris is so caring, kind, and affectionate with you that you have thought several times that he actually has feelings for you.

However, you try to suppress this thought because if it were true, you would disappoint his heart by telling him that the person you love is his brother.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

As you lay on Nick's bed, you stare up at the ceiling, taking in the intricate patterns of the plasterwork. The guy sitting beside you is completely absorbed in editing the video that they plan to post later on that evening, with their headphones on and their eyes fixed on the computer screen. 

Suddenly, a loud and jarring sound reverberates throughout the house, causing you to raise your eyebrows in confusion. You listen carefully, and a few seconds later, another door slams shut, confirming your suspicions that something is definitely wrong.

Your heart racing, you get up from the bed and begin to move cautiously towards the stairs, your senses heightened and your mind racing. As you make your way down to the living room, you can feel the tension in the air, and you can see that Chris is lying on the couch, his face contorted with concern.

You approach him and ask in a hushed voice, "Was that Matt making all that noise?"

He nods his head, his eyes meeting yours with surprise. "Yeah...apparently Perrie dumped him" he replies.

Your voice drops to a whisper as you consider this news, and you say, "Uhm...I'll go check on him..." You walk towards his room, feeling a sense of trepidation in the pit of your stomach. As you approach the door, you can hear the sound of muffled sobs coming from within, and you know that you need to go in and try to help him through this.

You stand outside Matt's door, knocking a few times, but receive no response. You call out to him, "Matt...it's me, please open up" and lean your forehead against the door. Only when you hear the lock click do you lower the handle and enter the darkened room.

As you step inside, the scene before you breaks your heart. Matt is lying on his stomach on the bed, his sobs echoing throughout the room. Without a second thought, you move to his side and embrace him, whispering "Shh...don't cry please, she doesn't deserve you" while gently caressing his back.

Through his tears, Matt manages to speak, "She...she's everything to me." A beam of moonlight enters the room, illuminating the bed you are sitting on, and you can't help but notice how red his otherwise clear eyes have become.

A spontaneous gesture starts from you as you take your sweatshirt sleeve to wipe away his tears. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and taking his hand, offering your support and patience.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain as you saw your close friend Matt in such a vulnerable state. His head was bowed, and his eyes were shut tight as he let out a deep sigh. You knew that he was going through a tough time in his relationship, and your heart went out to him.

Despite your sympathy for his situation, you found yourself thinking selfishly at that moment. Perhaps, you could finally have a chance with him. You pushed that thought aside, knowing that your emotions were taking over your rational side.

Matt looked up at you, and you could see the sadness in his eyes. He began to speak, but his words trailed off as he struggled to find the right ones. You squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

"She says she wants to take some time to think, and... she doesn't know if she loves me like before" he finally managed to say, his voice trailing off again.

‘’Ow Matt.. I’m sorry’’ you reached out to him, stroking his cheek as he rested his head against yours. At that moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes. You could see the pain etched on his face, and it broke your heart.

As you sat together on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, your mind began to race with a million different scenarios. You wondered what the future held for you and him. As if in response to your thoughts, you saw Matt's figure approaching you, his gaze fixed on your lips.

''Matt what are you doing?’’ You ask when you find yourself an inch from his lips feeling your breaths grow heavier; 

With a gesture, his lips rest on yours and you can't help but think how soft they are and how long you've been waiting for that moment.

The rest comes on its own: removed all distance remains you, lying on his bed sharing what to you was perfection, Love. To him, it was pure distraction, Sex.

At least that was what he thought at that particular instant.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a few rays of sunshine coming in through the window, casting a warm glow on the room. As you turn your head to the other side of the bed, you notice that the mattress beside you is empty, and a sense of loneliness washes over you. Wrapped naked in the brown sheets, you feel a deep longing for the person who was lying next to you just a few hours ago.

You look around the room and see your clothes scattered on the floor, which reminds you of the events that took place the night before. You recall how you finally confessed your feelings for him, and you think he reciprocated them. It was like a turning point in your relationship, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

However, you don't want to arouse suspicion, so you quickly put on your clothes and quietly walk out the door. As you step into the open space, you notice his figure sitting with his head in his hands. You wonder if he's feeling the same as you. 

You glance around and realize that the other two boys are still sleeping in their rooms, completely unaware of what happened between you and him last night.

As he senses someone's presence, he turns to see who it is. It's you, and you’re standing there motionless. You ask him what's going on, but he remains silent and instead, keeps looking at you. You remain in your position, unsure of what to do next.

Finally, he breaks the silence, "Y/n, we need to talk," his voice is low and serious. You understand that this is not going to be a simple conversation, and you head towards the sofa to sit down. He follows suit.

He stares at you for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he says, "What happened between us can never happen again... it was a mistake." His words hit you hard and you feel like someone has just stabbed you in the heart.

The words < It was a mistake > echo in your head, and you can't believe what you're hearing. Your mind is racing with all sorts of thoughts and feelings.

Mistake

Mistake

Mistake

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, your nose burning, and your mouth becoming dry. It's as if a flood of emotions has suddenly been unleashed, and you can't control it. You try to hold yourself together, but it's too late, and you break down in tears.

You look at him with a mix of confusion and hope as you try to decipher what he is trying to say. "I thought that...I thought that you finally reciprocated my feelings and that...we were making love" you stammer, your heart sinking as you realize the truth.

He looks down, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, y/n. I was confused, and you were there to comfort me. I didn't understand anything anymore" he says, his words heavy with regret. "I'm not in love with you, y/n, but with Perrie"

You feel like the ground has opened up beneath you. It's like the world has stopped spinning and you are trapped in an endless moment of pain. You want to disappear, to run away from this unbearable situation, but you are frozen in place.

You sit there on his couch, tears streaming down your face, as the anger slowly grows more and more. How could he lead you on like this? How could he use you like that?

"How can you say that to me now? Tonight, you didn't think that way when you were inside me, huh?" you say with all the hatred your body could muster at that moment. You get up without waiting for his answer, your mind racing with a million thoughts.

You go towards the front door, slipping on your shoes, and taking your jacket from the coat hanger. The spring breeze kicks in, causing you to clench the fabric covering your shoulders. You slip your hand into your pocket, pulling out your car keys, which you shortly use to lead you toward your home, pulling up with your nose.

You feel lost and confused, your heart shattered into a million pieces. All you can do is cry and wonder how you will ever be able to trust anyone again.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

Since that fateful night, two weeks have passed and that feeling of having been just an afterthought only invades your body, and it becomes even heavier when sitting on the couch eating ice cream, you get a notification after days of silence

| Chris: | Wassup ‘ma!! Where have you been? Nick and I miss you :(

As you read his message, it felt like the weight of the world had come crashing down on you. You were slowly sinking into an almost hysterical cry. It was because you had decided to completely cut off all relations with Matt. And, as a result, you had also cut off your two best friends since they lived with him.

You had thought about meeting them outside, but your appearance would have aroused several questions, and declaring that you had sex with their brother would have definitely not been the response you wanted to give.

You lowered your gaze to your belly and started caressing it while tears streamed down your face. The worst thing was when you realized that you were five days late for your period. You panicked and ran to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, and it came back positive.

| You: | Hi, sorry I've been busy with several things... I miss you too <3

A few minutes later your phone lights up again

| Chris: | Did you hear?

A confused expression appears on your face at his question

| You: | Heard what?

Those seconds seem to last minutes, those minutes hours as your anxiety surges.

| Chris: | That moron of Matt got back together with Perrie

Crack

That's what your heart does for the umpteenth time as more tears are released from your eyes that have now turned red.

Out of frustration, you throw the phone across the couch, but it bounces causing it to fall to the floor.

C r a c k

''Fuck'' you pronounce as you stand up to see the distasteful accomplishment. You pick up the phone and see that the screen is half shattered but still working ''Fuck'' you whisper thinking how life is so unfair to you.

| Chris: | Are you still there?

You try to recover by taking a deep breath

| You: | Yeah... sorry but I'm tired, I'm going to go to sleep. I love you.

You cut the conversation short not wanting to know further details

| Chris: | goodnight Love yaa 2

You sit on the couch, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. You close your eyes, trying to control the tears that are forming in your eyes. You take a deep breath, but the feeling in your chest only intensifies. You can't take it anymore, and you know what you have to do. It's something you've done before and something that comes naturally to you - you leave.

You get up from the couch, with a heavy heart, and head to your room. You grab your computer, returning to your comfortable seat, and immediately type into the search engine < flight from LAX to Boston >. You skim through the options, and click on the first website you see, noting that the earliest flight is the next morning. Without thinking about it, you buy a one-way ticket and book the cab that would pick you up.

Immediately after making the transition, you get up and return to your room. You take a deep breath and look around. You know you have a lot to do before you leave. You walk towards your closet and take out your huge suitcase. You begin to stuff all your clothes inside, carefully folding them and making sure everything fits.

You know that this is not going to be easy, but you're determined to leave everything behind and start fresh.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

Over the past two months, you have received numerous messages and phone calls that you haven't responded to. Even Matt has tried to get in touch with you, but you decided to change your phone number to avoid any contact. 

When you arrived your parents were somewhat surprised but very happy to see you. You always had a beautiful relationship with them, especially with your mom, your best friend. Although with some fear, you explained the whole situation to her including that you were pregnant with Matt.

The decision to keep him/her is not yet final but you know you have two shoulders to count on and that no matter what, they are there for you.

Slowly your belly begins to become more noticeable, and with the arrival of summer, it is almost inevitable to miss it.

''Darling are you ready? MaryLou and Jimmy are waiting for us'' you hear your mother calling you from downstairs.

You look at yourself in the mirror trying to fix your shirt as best as you can, and to hide the small bump ''Yeah I'm coming'' you reply picking up your bag and then going down the stairs and closing the door behind you heading for the car ''Here I am'' you announce to your parents sitting in the front seats.

The Fourth of July has always been celebrated with the Sturniolo family, between barbeques, swimming in the pool, laughter, and the company of little dog Trevor you have only good memories in your mind.

This year you accepted only because you heard that the three boys would not be there due to several setbacks.

The drive between your homes is fortunately short because nausea begins to set in, and even more so when after stepping out of the car you are invaded by a very strong smell of barbeque.

Immediately having hugged MaryLou and Jimmy, you notice how the house is decorated from top to bottom ''Wow MaryLou you did a great job this year'' you tell her smiling ''Oh don't thank me but those three in the garden, rather go to them, we'll take care of this'' she replies pointing outside

< Are they here? All three of them? Weren't they supposed to be on the other side of the United States? What do I do? Do I run away? Do I stay here? What the fuck do I do? >

Your conscience does nothing but have question after question. You look at your mother for help but she is so busy helping her friend that you see yourself forced to give a big sigh and head for the garden followed by Trev.

''Oh my gosh y/n where the fuck have you been?'' Nick exclaims as he gets up from his chair coming toward you wrapping his arms around you ''Why did you fucking disappear? Literally no fucking messages or fucking calls'' he pulls away looking you in the eye concerned but all you do is stand silent.

Matt and Chris are also standing but neither of them seems to have any idea of moving from their position. Matt still regrets how he behaved while Chris is disappointed and angry at you.

He still doesn't understand how out of all the people you could erase from your life you chose to add him; 

And it is true, in the last few years a wonderful friendship has grown between you where Chris sees you as a reference point when his brothers become too annoying, you were and, despite everything, you are his rock.

''Sorry'' is the only thing you can utter looking away so as not to meet their gazes.

''Only sorry can you say? You are so selfish! You thought only of yourself abandoning everyone, you abandoned me'' Chris pronounces in a harsh tone approaching you, doing nothing but bringing tears to your eyes

''Say something, speak the fuck up. What do you have to say for yourself?'' Chris continues waving his arms in different directions leading you to take a step back ''Chris please you're scaring her'' Nick says hitting him on the arm ''I don't fucking care, I want to know why'' the smaller one replies to him always looking at you.

The tension in the air is palpable, and you feel a sense of helplessness wash over you as you try to explain your actions.

At that point Matt couldn't stand that situation anymore ''It's me'' he exclaims making everyone turn their gazes in his direction ''What you?'' Chris asks confused ''I'm the reason she ran away'' he says lowering his gaze ''And what about you? What the fuck happened?’’ Nick asks as he sits waiting for someone to speak, but silence reigns among you as you hear your parents' voices in the distance.

''Me and y/n had sex the day Perrie dumped me'' Matt pronounces in a whisper, almost not making himself heard ''Speak up motherfucker'' Chris says putting even more agitation on you ''Oh Jesus Christ me and Matt had sex, but it was just a one-night stand for him, which it wasn't for me since I'm madly in love with him. I thought by getting away from him and consequently from you, I wouldn't suffer but I feel like shit about it and even more since I found out I'm preg- '' you say all in one breath freezing as you realize you've told your little secret.

The silence between you and your friends seems to last forever, as you try to process what just came out of your mouth. "Are you pregnant?" Matt asks, approaching you. You nod, almost instinctively, bringing your hand to your belly. 

"Why did you keep it to yourself, y/n? You know we'll always be there for you" Chris says, his tone softening, almost as if your revelation made him forget the months that passed without any interaction from you.

You try to explain, "I don't know...I was scared and I still am now. Besides, knowing that Matt was back with Perrie made me feel bad, so I did the only thing I could do: go back home." You sit down next to Nick, feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable.

Matt then reveals that he and Perrie are no longer together, and Nick and Chris decide to leave the two of you alone. Matt takes a chair and places it in front of you, his tone calm but agitated at the same time. "I know what I told you that morning and what I'm about to tell you sounds like nonsense, but..." He takes a deep breath before continuing, "After you left that morning, I felt like shit. I shouldn't have treated you that way and I shouldn't have made you feel like just a spare tire."

He pauses for a moment before continuing, "That night kept resonating in my mind, and I thought that getting back with Perrie would make me my old self again, but I couldn't. And I can't get your name out of my mind. I feel that these feelings I've always had I tried to bury and deny myself...but fuck y/n, I'm in love with you." His words enter your brain like a hypnotic spell, leaving you stunned and speechless.

''I was really hurt about it Matt...all these years hoping that one day you would look at me with different eyes but you only had them for other girls, to you I was just your best friend...'' you confess looking into his eyes 

‘' I'm really sorry, if I could go back I would tell the me of 14 years to go to you and not to be afraid to say how I feel'' he says taking your hand in his while with the other he caresses your cheek 

''I hate myself for making you feel this way all these years'' Matt says in a whisper, shifting his gaze from your eyes to your mouth.

''A little bit too but I love you so much'' you say making your lips meet in a passionate embrace, a rush of emotions floods over both of you. The weight of past regrets and missed opportunities seems to dissipate in that single moment. The tenderness in Matt's touch and the sincerity in his words have touched a deep part of your heart. 

With your hands still intertwined, you take a deep breath, ready to embrace the future together, knowing that your love is strong enough to overcome any obstacles that may come your way.

--------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @blackhorses-posts

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #romantic #romance #space matt #one shot

[konigsblog]

I’m sorry this is a ramble but this thought plagues me and I just can’t write so . Spare me my agony here; older stalker Konig.

He sees you at work, some pretty young thing at a seedy diner or bar, barely old enough to be employed there at all. Too young to be working, you’re something he thinks should be housed away and pampered like some dumb pet, so silly of you to not settle down already. Low hanging fruit is what he takes you for, with how naive and innocent you seem; no concept of the world, of seedy men like himself with too much time and money on his hands, his red flags too visible to anyone who knows what to look for. And you poor, poor thing have no clue what he’s like, his faux charm and large tips and solid build blinding you of his true intentions.

He watches, becomes a regular, gets to know you and make small talk and leave fat tips and cheesy compliments that make you giddy and flustered despite the odd air he has about him or the way your coworkers whisper that he’s no good. Eventually his regular appearances turn into him staying til close, then offering to walk you home his possessive streak covered up by vigilant protectiveness that leaves you dizzy with his little touches to your arm or the small of your back, the nearly parental way he kisses your forehead at your door.

Little did you know he’s been planning the whole time; memorizing your work schedules, your daily schedule, the things you eat or drink, places you go on your days off, watching you through your apartment window or sneaking in when you’re out of the house to raid your dirty laundry or leave a gross surprise of his cum in your leftovers. He’s a shadow in your life, always lurking in the background of every scene no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Eventually he’s sneaking in when you’re asleep, so silent for such a behemoth of a man, so he can paw at your soft and prone form while he pants and spills into his hand like a dog in rut while you’re none-the-wiser, unaware of the way he smears his soiled hand on your skin, your cunt, your pillow or sheets.

When he finally takes things further, too determined to do anything but hoard you all to himself, he’s so sweetly condescending as he relays just how long he had planned everything, how cute and stupid you were to never realize what he had been doing all this time, the bits of himself he left around your apartment, on you, inside of you as a precursor to him claiming you fully. You’ve already consumed so much of his seed, you’ll be fine taking it from the source like a good girl Schatz, nicht? Sure his cock is big, but he knows the best ways to stretch your tight hole already, so you’ll be fine! Just stop thinking and let him have you already, he’s worked so hard for you, your the center of his world. His stupid little Liebling, pathetic and confused as she struggles against her bindings and his hands, no choices left but to plead until her voice dies and give herself over to him, because nothing could convince him to accept no as the answer.

anon, my jaw is on the floor, i absolutely adore older stalker-könig and his creepiness. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

CW: RAPE/NON-CON, AGE GAP, STALKING. 🪦🕊️

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. 18+

my brain rots at the thought of könig sliding inside for the first time, holding your wrists down beside your head as he begins rocking gently. the way he cocks his head to the side almost mocking you, taunting you for being so easy, so pliant, and so vulnerable and naïve around him. the faux sympathy and empathy leaves you longing for his sweet praise, but when you're slapped for falling for the mask he puts on, you sob harder with his slicken cock hammering against your cervix, stuffed inside that inexperienced cunt. it's as if you wanted this to happen, to be used and controlled as if you were a puppet, with your inappropriate and flirty comments after each cheesy, overly sweet compliment he gives you, unaware of his seriousness, how this was a part of his plan to reduce you to a mutt, with your purpose being to serve a man, könig.

he hides himself so well, and you take the bait, falling for the façade of a gentle, older male with sweet intentions. looking back, you can only let out pitiful and pained cries as you connect the dots and realise your stupidity, finally realising what you fell for, how stupid you must look on your back begging for him to stop when he'd given you so many hints and chances to flee, your voice becoming quiet and strained as you plead. the rough texture of his old, scarred skin over your mouth to silence you, against your soft and supple skin, your body shaking with each thrust, showing you what you're worth, what your purpose truly is.

könig shows you what reality is, getting you out of your stupid head, that's doing you no good as he continues with his violation and assault. he teaches you that life isn't fantasy, how you don't know everyone and their intentions or who they truly are, or how you'll fall for it and become a wolf's prey within seconds due to your kindness and naivety, how you never accuse anyone and hope they mean well, too naïve for your own good and assuming the best about everyone. leading you to be forced to take every inch of the man's experienced, hung cock, with your eyes glistening and horrified, and the smell of him on your bedsheets reminding you, or the cum stains along your shirts and panties.

or, perhaps the bruises and marks he leaves along your skin as a warning, or maybe as a sign of ownership - who you belong to, who owns you.

how could you be so foolish? :(

#orla speaks #tw: age gap #tw: age difference #tw: rape #tw: noncon #tw stalking #tw kidnapping #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig modern warfare #modern warefare ii #könig mwii #könig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig cod #könig call of duty

[frankieburieshisdead]

ℬ𝓇𝓊𝒸ℯ 𝒲𝒶𝓎𝓃ℯ 𝓍 ℳ𝒶𝓁ℯ ℳℴ𝒹ℯ𝓁 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

cw: NSFW

~ You liked modeling enough. It was exciting, and new, and you got to meet a bunch of people you otherwise wouldn't. For instance, if you could go back to the skinny, slightly effeminate brace face in rural Smallsville and tell him he would be hanging off the Bruce Wayne's arm at a promotional after party in Gotham he would laugh in your face. But here you were, and here he was, all 6ft (6'7? 6'8? God he was intimidating) wrapped around your shoulders, two of the girls from the shoot on his other side. You didn't know either of them very well, but they we're kind to you whenever you crossed paths, and it was always nice to see more black models in the industry.

~ So why did you feel so much vitriol towards them? This ugly feeling curling in your stomach every time Wayne leaned slightly towards them, slightly away from you. You chopped it up to star power, pure unadulterated charm that came with being one of the richest men in the Americas, but as long as it had been, you still remembered what it was like it have a crush.

~ It was hard to not have a crush on Bruce Wayne. He was confident, ridiculously so, but not the kind of confidence that made you feel small. When you arrived, he asked you "Do you like dark chocolate? I can't stand the stuff but for some reason people keep giving it to me." You could see he was lying, and that maybe he had just wanted to give you an expensive box of chocolate without making you feel like you owed him anything. It made you feel special.

~ It didn't take him long to invite the whole party back to his manor. His home was beautiful. Like a castle in one of the picture books your gran used to let you borrow from her job at the library. You told Bruce that, and he had smiled so genuinely you hadn't stopped blushing for the rest of the night.

~ You ended up asking yourself up to his bedroom. One of the bottle girls had popped the cork right over you, drenching your pants in sparkling cider. She had been so apologetic, and you hadn't wanted to make a scene, so you stumbled up the stairs in into the nearest unlocked door you could find. You closed the door behind you, stripping out of your soaked jeans to dab them clean in the joining bathroom.

~ "Not that I'm complaining, but I have to say it's not everyday I find pretty boys stripping out their clothes unprompted in my bedroom." You must have jumped about a foot in the air, hiding behind your thread bare trousers. "Oh god Mr. Wayne I'm so sorry, I just needed- there was this champagne girl- and well-"

"Relax, I'm just teasing." You looked at him properly now, his weary tone bleeding past your initial embarrassment. He was propped up against the bedpost, shirtless with one hand clamped firmly over his ribs. There was a mean purple blotch under his fingers, and his chest rose and fell in stutters. He was in pain.

"What happened?" You were across the room the next second, pants forgotten on the floor as you scooted next to him in your briefs. There was a slight blush across his chest and cheeks. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe you were.

"Got into... a brawl. Nothing serious don't worry." You got the feeling he liked that you were worried. You wondered how many people worried about Bruce Wayne. You had seen an older man in butler attire fussing over him when the party first got here. You hoped he was looked after.

"Well... I best get going." You were inches apart now, you could feel his harsh breath against your top lip.

"Best." He replied, curling his lip to mirror your Midwestern accent.

You fell into him first, crashing your lips against his as his arms came to grip your biceps. He lifted you with an insane show of strength, you squealed into his mouth, ending off in a giggle. He gave that genuine smile again.

~ You were straddling him now, grinding down on a ever hardening length. He gasped into your mouth, squeezing almost painfully as he pressed you firmer against him. He was massaging the v on your waist, teasing just above where you wanted him.

"Can I?"

You nodded manically against his shoulder, the both of you generating a frantic energy. He dipped down, palming you through your underwear.

"Protection?" You managed to pant out, remembering every talk your granny had drilled into you since you came out.

"Bedside drawer."

~ 3 hours. You kept going for 3 hours after that. He had taken you, knees pressed up against your shoulders, hitting all the right spots until you had come dry and untouched. He was still hard inside you, panting and you squeezed your way through your orgasm. He was kind, clearly straining to not thrust forward while you were so sensitive. You hooked your legs behind the dip in his waist and tugged him forward. A dare. The result of which had you on your hands and knees panting and keening after your third, fourth? climax. He was good afterwards as well. Sweet. He held your head up as he poured water from a sealed bottle down your throat, petting through your slim locs. You woke up tucked against his side, unsure if he had even slept a wink as he stared down at you. He had to go, but he had arranged one of the cars for you as soon as you wanted to leave. The butler, Alfred, had cleaned and dried your jeans while you were asleep, although Bruce had made it clear you were welcome to his extensive wardrobe. You giggled, imagining getting back to your apartment in a pair of 1000$ tracksuit pants with the ankles rolled up to your calves.

~ When you finally made it back to your apartment, you patted down your jeans, pleading to whoever was listening that you hadn't lost your keys in the chaos of the previous night. Instead, you pulled out a neatly folded parchment paper, thumbing it open to find barely legible handwriting reading:

555-0199

Call me if you liked the chocolate.

END

#dcau #dc #fanfic #bruce wayne #queer bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x male reader #x male reader #x male y/n #oc #y/n #dc smut #x reader #might make this a series idk #romcom tropes

[zanarkandskylines]

₊✩‧₊⇢ deception.

『 ♡ -  pro hero!bakugo  x villain!reader 』 cw; angst/break-up ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — idk, popped into my head when favorite crime came on. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“I can’t do this anymore.”

His words cut through the air, sharper than any knife you’ve held.

“Ha-ha, real funny. You can cut the act now.”

Your hand hovers over his cheekbone when he grabs your wrist, your touch just out of reach. His grip tightens, a silent threat to tell you he's serious.

“I mean it. It’s over.”

Know that I loved you so bad, I let you treat me like that.

Your heart sinks. “Wait a minute, Ka-”

“Don’t say my fuckin' name.” Bakugo's eyes are dimmed, their usual flames extinguished. "You don't get a say in this."

"What the fuck? What do you -"

"I turned you in."

And I watched as you fled the scene, doe-eyed as you buried me. One heart broke, four hands bloody.

The words bounce off the walls of your dark apartment as they leave his lips. The gravity of the situation comes down on your shoulders, the weight of his words crumbling around you.

"He got in my way, I didn't mean to hurt him!"

You drop to your knees, tugging on his cargo pants with a pout on your lips. You knew exactly how to make him fold, to get him to stay - turn on the waterworks and seduce him.

"Don't do this...you told me you loved me!"

You hurt his best friend, took away something he worked his whole life for. In the blink of an eye - gone. The number one hero, Deku, injured beyond recovery and forced to retire at the age of 25.

I say that I hate you with a smile on my face.

He scoffs, shaking his head at your pitiful plea as a sinister grin creeps over his lips. "And now I fuckin' hate your guts."

Bakugo knows it was you. He's a goddamn idiot to have ever gotten involved with scum like yourself. Sleeping with a villain - what the fuck was he thinking?

All the things I did, just so I could call you mine.

You rocket to your feet, finger pointing roughly into his chest as your face twists into a rage.

"I thought you hated him! I did you a fucking favor!"

Your confession was the final nail in the coffin.

"Fuck. You."

Sirens are sounding outside, red and blue lights flooding through the windows of the apartment. You can't say you didn't see this coming, considering your entire relationship was based on a lie.

Lie or not, you really did love him. And you hated yourself for it.

The tears welling in your eyes aren't for show as you turn on your heel.

"I hope it was worth it."

Running for the balcony door, you smash through the glass - a desperate attempt to escape your impending fate.

I hope I was your favorite crime.

Bakugo stands in the darkness of your empty apartment, wondering how he got here in the first place.

He won't - no, can't - love you. You're everything he hates and rival all the hero ideology he stands for.

You were, in fact, his one and only crime.

💥tags; @slayfics

#bakugo x reader angst #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo angst #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo imagine #bakugo drabble #villain reader #angst #my hero academia angst #☆.rei writes

[calypsocolada]

KISS | denji

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: afraid for your life you promise a kiss to a devil. cw: aged up characters, blood, kissing, fluff, cussing wc: 2.7k

--------------------------------------------------------

Honestly, what were you thinking? Denji is a single minded person. If there is a goal in his head he will do just about anything to get to that goal. That goal being various things to do with girls. You knew better than to ask him for anything, let alone promise him something. That something being a kiss.

Just a kiss.

Something spoken in the heat of the moment. Your back against the wall, death knocking on your doorstep. It was stupid really. A devil got the better of you. Most days you were quite proficient in a fight. But after a late night of drinking with friends, woken early and thrown into a fight you didn’t exactly have the best chances. Blame it on the throbbing hangover or just your survival instinct kicking in but you made the stupid decision to promise that if Denji got you out of this devil infested cave you would kiss him. You’re not even sure why that promise left your lips and honestly it was embarrassing, even more embarrassing that Denji practically tripped over himself to do just as you said. It was like watching a man be possessed. He tore those devils to shreds and when he was finished walked over to you all full of himself, offering his hand to help you off the floor. The cave was stained in blood. Denji was covered in it. It looked like that scene from the horror movie you watched with Aki a few months ago. The one with the girl in the pink dress winning homecoming queen only to be doused in pigs blood. You slapped his hand away, slipping and sliding on your way to your feet. 

“Disgusting.” You commented, wiping blood off your hands.

“Hey!” Denji called after you as you headed back towards the entrance of the cave, feeling your way along the walls. You could hear him sliding on the blood as he followed you out. “What about my kiss?” He asked. Honestly you’d forgotten what you said a few moments ago and his words were like a slap to the face. You and Denji joined the Public Safety Division around the same time, he was a few months older than you but acted like a twelve year old boy. Obsessed with things that made your blood boil. You tended to stay as far as possible from him. 

“It was a joke.” You said, slipping and almost falling but Denji grabs you and hoists you back to your feet. 

“A joke?” He asks as you push his hands from you and huff, straightening. 

“Yes, a joke.” You scoff, seeing the cave entrance in the distance. 

“Jokes are supposed to be funny. You owe me a kiss!”

“I don’t owe you anything!” You growled over your shoulder. 

“So promises mean nothing to you?” He calls back after you. You don’t answer him, just hurry out of the cramped cave into the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air. Your clothes and skin were covered in devil blood, your hair matted with it. You practically gagged, reaching for your cell phone. “Y/nnnnn?” Denji says in a sing-songy type voice. 

“What?” You snap.

“I will bug you day and night for that kiss, you know that right?” He jests as you turn to look at him. Just like you he was covered in blood. 

“Denji,” You start through clenched teeth. “I thought I was going to die in there.”

“Uh huh.” He hums, attention like a dog. 

“I said something stupid, just forget it.”

“It wasn’t stupid.”

“It was very stupid.” You growl, turning away from him as you message for a ride.

“It wasn’t!” Denji aruges. “You promised a kiss. I am looking forward to it.”

“It’s just a kiss. Any girl can give you that.” You sigh.

“I don’t want a kiss from any girl. I want one from you.” He clarified, you turn to look at him.

“Me specifically?” You ask and Denji nods his head. “Why?” It was no secret you couldn’t stand Denji, you argued with him all the time and criticized him. Denji scrunched his face as though you said something outrageously stupid.

“Why? You’re hot that's why! Like one of the prettiest girls on earth.” He stresses. You furrow your brows, amusement on your features.

“Oh really?”

“Really!” He asserted. You shook your head. 

“Denji, I was scared. I thought I was going to die.” You stressed, running a hand through your hair. “I would’ve said anything to have you save me.” 

“And I would’ve done anything to save you. Which I did. By the way.” Denji says, taking a step towards you. You step back, shaking your head.

“I’m not kissing you.”

“Just one kiss.” He interrupts. “Just one quick kiss, it doesn’t have to be long.” You stare at him for a moment. He really wanted a kiss badly, it was written all over his face. 

“You’re crazy.” You shook your head.

“You’re beautiful. Now can you kiss me.” He takes another step forwards. You roll your eyes.

“I am covered almost head to toe in Devil blood.”

“So?”

“So?” You echo. “It’s disgusting. And you're covered too.”

“So we go home, clean off and kiss after.”

“I. Am. Not. Kissing. You!” You stressed, heaving a sigh as you pointedly turned away from him. It was quiet finally and you knew Denji would be pouting behind you but you didn’t care. You weren’t kissing some devil. Especially since it would be your very first kiss. It wasn’t going to happen! 

Your guys’ ride finally showed as you and Denji loaded in. It was silent between you two the whole ride and you’d say it was awkward but it wasn’t like you guys were friendly before this moment. Something in you felt sort of guilty. Denji looked like a kicked puppy as he stared out the window. Like he was a kid with candy and you smacked it out of his hand or something. It was just a stupid kiss, someone else will come along one day and kiss him and he’ll forget about it. Or even would probably forget about it in the next hour.

But Denji didn’t forget. He wasn’t mean to you, just quiet. It was weird. He was quiet getting out of the car and walking into the house. Didn’t sing at all in the shower like he usually did and was quiet at dinner, which Aki noticed and was very concerned over. He gave you a look and you just rolled your eyes with a shrug. After cleaning up the table, Aki went off to bed as you and Denji did the dishes. He didn’t say a word for the first fifteen minutes and honestly it was driving you insane. Sometimes his incessant talking was annoying but right now you missed it. You passed him a clean dish and sighed. 

“Are you seriously still upset?” You asked quietly, not wanting to disturb Aki. Denji dried off the dish and put it away, grabbing the next one. 

“I was looking forward to it.”

“The kiss? Seriously?” You asked as he looked at you.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because it’s me you're talking about kissing.” You say, amused. He fully turns to you, cocking his head.

“Are you unaware that you're one of the prettiest girls in existence? Seriously? Of course I want to kiss you, I’m not that stupid.”

“Keep your voice down.” You hiss.

“Why? Scared i'll wake up your crush?” He whispers teasingly, you give him a sharp look but the blush that creeps on your cheeks is answer enough for him. He starts belly laughing, a loud laugh that has you yanking your hands out from the water and slapping it over his mouth. Your other hand grabbing him by the front of his shirt and yanking him forwards. 

“You are fucking annoying.” You hiss angrily, he laughs beneath your hand as you pull back, turning away from him. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so scared to kiss me.” He whispers as you turn, eyes slicing to him.

“Scared? You think I’m scared.”

“That’s what this is right?” He asks, his mouth tilting up in a smirk. “You’re scared you’ll fall in love with me.” Your brows shoot up and a scoff of a laugh escapes your lips.

“No, that is definitely not it.” You shake your head.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He jests. 

“Seriously, it’s not, devil.” You hiss as he shrugs his shoulders. Annoyance floods your system as you reach and turn off the water, grabbing a towel. He watches you closely as you toss the towel at his chest, he grabs it, drying off his own hands. “I’ll prove it to you.” You say stubbornly, his brows shoot up as he realizes exactly what you were going to prove. He turns to face you. “Then you can stop walking around like a wounded puppy, now come here.” You direct and he does just as told, taking a step closer to you. You inhale, blowing your breath out sharply. You’d never kissed anyone before but you’d seen people kiss in movies and on the street so you also took a step closer and definitely ignored the way your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met his this close. Your hands shook so you flexed your fingers, hiding your nerves well enough. You hesitantly reached both your hands up and placed them on either side of Denji’s face, his cheeks burned beneath your touch, his eyes darting from your own to your lips. This was so stupid. Just hours ago you’d rather die than relinquish your first kiss and now here you were about to give it to Denji of all people. You swallowed nervously, sucking in a quiet breath. Both of Denji’s hands, which were at his sides, now moved to your hips, causing you to jump. “What’re you doing?” You ask, he looks at you apologetically. 

“I don’t know, it just felt right.” He says and although your moments from smacking his hands away something about it did feel right. And not wanting to investigate that idiotic feeling anymore you just pushed it out of your head and swallowed down your nerves. 

“Whatever, okay,” You breathe out. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” You say and his fingers on your hips tighten slightly, pulling you just the smallest bit closer as he nods his head, eagerly. Your heart does a funny flip in your chest because now you two are mere centimeters apart. It's a stupid thing really, it’s not like you harbored some deep feelings for Denji… Right? You shook your head externally and huffed, yanking his lips to yours in a final effort to get this moment over with. Denji gasped slightly as your lips met his. His eyes shooting open in surprise. If he was being honest with himself he didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. He’d known you for months now and you were well above being teased usually. Sure he was very very bummed when he thought you wouldn’t kiss him but since he thought it would never happen this was a total surprise. Like hitting the lottery. A one in a million thing. And he would not take this for granted. You pulled back a second later, his eyes still open as yours opened to meet his. For a second you two just stared at each other, blushed red. You cleared your throat, your voice a bit high as you spoke. “There, now you can leave me alo-” His arms slipped around your back, his eyes falling closed as he leaned down closer to you, your lips slotting together in harmony. Your breath hitched in your throat as Denji pulled back, taking you with him as he practically lifted you off the floor into his arms, your legs kicking out behind you. Almost as though the little space between you was too much and needed to be eradicated. It was just supposed to be a quick peck but you couldn’t pull back. You felt something shocking like electricity as the kiss deepened, as he set you on the ground and you buried your fingers in his hair, his hands grabbing your hips as you two walked back, his back practically slammed into the fridge.

“Oh uh-” Aki’s voice gasped from the hall. You yanked back away from Denji, red faced and embarrassed. Aki looked amused, like he was holding back a laugh. You covered your face, turning back to the dishes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He says, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“You didn’t.”

“You did.” Denji says at the same time as you. Aki heads back without another word but you could hear him snickering down the hall. You turn the water back up, getting back to the dishes. You feel Denji slide next to you as you give him a clean dish to dry.

“Can we do that again?” He whispers, your stomach dropping as well as the dish in your hand. 

“Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.” You say, embarrassed and flushed with emotions that you never thought were even remotely possible. Denji knew this is where things were headed but it didn’t stop the pain he felt when you reinforced that.

“Thank you.” Denji says quietly, you swallow, biting your lip. “You’re a good kisser.”

“Okay.” You snap slightly, just wanting the thick tension and jarring want to subside. All the quiet did was reinforce the tension and awkwardness. You two finished up the dishes and headed back towards your rooms that were right across the hall from one another. Denji turned to you before you could slip away and grabbed your arm softly. You turned, hoping the nerves weren’t showing on your face.

“Are you-,” He scratched the back of his head, he seemed like the nervous one. “Are you mad at me?” He asks as you furrow your brows, shaking your head. 

“No.” 

“Oh good,” He breathes out. “Because it’s killing me not to kiss you again.”

“Denji,” You said in surprise, eyes glancing at Aki's door. You didn’t like Aki the way everyone thought you did, he was more like the cool cousin you wanted to impress. Denji catches the look and swallows. 

“Oh, I see.” He says almost dejectedly. 

“It��s- it’s not like that.” You say with a sigh. 

“You don’t have to lie, I get it.” He says with a sort of forced kind smile. 

“I’m not lying.” You snap quietly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s not like that.” You stressed as he pursed his lips and nodded his head. He didn’t believe you obviously and the jealousy on his face was apparent. “I’ll prove it.” You say as Denji just watches you. You yank him by the shirt back against your lips and that familiar buzz in your stomach flutters again. Kissing Denji felt like tumbling off the side of a cliff. Freefalling towards something certain to kill you. That was until his arms tense around you and that freefalling slows to a gentle stop. There was nothing gentle about Denji until he kissed you. He seemed like a different person entirely in this moment and you needed space before you did something stupid so you pulled back, his eyes are still closed and that’s the first time you think Denji looks beautiful. It freaks you out. 

“Good night.” You say hoarsely, slipping out of his hold into your room, pressing the door closed. Your heart is thudding in your ears as you step back until the backs of your knees hit your bed and you fall on it. You stare at the door, willing your heart to stop beating so erratically, flexing your shaking hands. You kissed Denji three times and each time was better than the last. As unbelievable as that was. 

Denji watched your door slam in his face as he staggered back, blushing and dizzy. He couldn’t contain the smile that plastered to his lips as he balled his fists, pumping them in excitement. Denji only had eyes for you, he thought you were so cool and calm and collected. Always level headed and smart. He thought the world of you but never really thought you’d feel anything but annoyance towards him. But clearly, he was wrong, and he’d do anything to keep it that way.                      

#chainsaw man #denji #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji x reader #denji x you #fem reader #csm x reader

[star-centric]

Ooo somewhat angsty request: when would be the first time MC saw each of the obey me brothers cry, and what's the best way to support them in that situation?

PAIRINGS: Obey Me Brothers x Gender Neutral!Reader

NOTE: *rubs hands together menacingly* I’ve been waiting for this one 😈 I definitely see myself exploring this idea again in the future (or even redoing this, idk yet tho 👀)

CW: angst (but not soul crushing), all of the guys are very vulnerable in this, gender neutral reader, minor spoilers for the first game (don’t worry, it’s not about *that* scene), no NB spoilers since I’m behind in the game </3

When you see LUCIFER cry for the first time, it was late at night, where he believed that he was the only soul awake in the house- until you poked your head in the study, concern etched on your face.

He had one of his cursed records playing, the gentle music softly filling the air as he poured another glass of Demonus, gloves long forgotten. The simple smile he wore on his face only was a mask of what he was feeling.

He looked so…tired. So defeated.

“I try to give my brothers a good life- a life not only reminiscent of the one they lost from before, but a life even better than that. A life that they deserve.” He began, finger toying with the rim of his glass. “But I failed.”

You remained quiet as Lucifer let out a bitter laugh, “I failed- I let all of them down. I let down my brothers, I let down Lord Diavolo, I let down Michael, I let down my Father- all of them. I‘ve became a disappointment in the Celestial Realm, and I’m continuing to do so even now in the Devildom.”

You’ve never seen Lucifer so vulnerable before- you’ve always seen him act so unbothered, his pride refusing to let him reveal too much. He’s always been the one to lead, the one his family would go to for anything, the one that would sacrifice himself without a moment’s hesitation. He was the glue holding everything together, but everything wears thin with time.

He picked up the glass, swirling it around before setting back down with a harsh thud, sighing.

“I’ve let you all down. And that in and of itself is unforgivable-“

Lucifer flinched when he felt your hand on his cheek, thumb gently wiping under his eye. He was confused for a moment before he felt something wet trail down his other cheek. He wiped at it only to notice his vision getting a bit blurry-

How long has it been since he cried?

A few of his tear drops landed on his documents below, yet as he glanced up at you, you didn’t say a word. You didn’t point out how unguarded he was being, you didn’t interrupt him- you merely listened and wiped away his tears with a gentle smile lining your cheeks.

Lucifer couldn’t stop his tears after that, and he found himself grasping onto you as they continued.

When you see MAMMON cry for the first time, it’s in your room.

He was avoiding everyone today including you, and while it left you worried, you gave him some space. When you got back to your room, you noticed the door ajar- and when you opened it fully, you noticed a figure curled into your bed, a mop of messy white hair poking out from your blankets. You peeked over to see if he was asleep-

You didn’t have time to react as he grabbed and pulled you down to him.

Mammon buried his head into the crook of your neck and tightened his arms around you, hiding his face completely.

You wanted to ask what was wrong- what he was going through, for him to talk to you- but no words needed to be exchanged as he shook in your grasp, feeling your shirt getting damp. You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore.

All you did was comb your fingers through his locks as he quietly sobbed.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there, curled up against one another, but he eventually went still, soft snores passing through his lips.

It didn’t matter what the issue was- whether it was just a bad day or worse- you would always be there for him.

When you see LEVIATHAN cry for the first time, it’s in the privacy of his room.

You were binge-watching a new anime, one that had you both invested. It was about an immortal finding love after centuries- you were surprised Levi wanted to finish watching it after discovering it was a romance, but you were glad nonetheless (even if he couldn’t hide his flushed face).

You were nearing the end of the series when you heard sniffling.

You glanced to see Levi with tears building up in his eyes, threatening to fall.

You tried to look away but he already caught you staring.

The tips of his ears were burning red as he flinched, “Don’t- don’t look at me MC!”

“Levi, you know there’s nothing wrong with crying right?”

“Sti-Still! It’s embarrassing!”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! It’s sad, it’s emotional-“ you explained. “If it makes you feel better, I kinda want to cry too.” Which wasn’t a lie- your eyes were starting to sting a little. You knew how the outcome was going to be for the main characters, but it still felt like a gut punch to see.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Levi, so you gently linked your pinkie with his. You were happy that he didn’t flinch away from you this time.

“Just know that you’re not alone, okay?”

Levi shyly nodded his head, and you felt him slightly squeeze your pinkie. He knew that he wasn’t, but that wasn’t what got him emotional.

What got him emotional was seeing the immortal, holding their elderly lover in his arms as they passed on. The lover aged as time passed, but the immortal stayed the same- except they were alone again like how they were centuries ago.

No matter how many happy moments the characters had in the show together, it was bound to end in tragedy.

And it brought Levi back to reality.

Back to the reality that he would eventually lose you in the same way.

When you see SATAN cry for the first time, it was in his demon form.

You’ve seen him before like this after he lashed out in the past, spiky tail whipping furiously behind him, green eyes showing nothing but fury. You know that he tries to keep his anger under control, but it still got the best of him at times.

But you didn’t see any anger this time.

You only saw anguish.

There Satan was, kneeled on the ground with tears welling up in his eyes with ripped and scattered objects tossed around the room, a result of destructive rage from before.

“I’ll never been seen for myself, will I?”

Satan’s eyes stayed on the ground, never meeting your own. “I’ll only ever be seen as my sin, as an extension of my older brother- never as myself.”

He shoulders trembled as he let out a bitter laugh that filled the room.

“I know I shouldn’t expect anything different. I should be used to it by now, but- why does it still bother me?”

His smile did nothing to hide his pain, crystal tears cascading down his cheeks.

“Why does it still hurt MC?”

You joined him on the floor and pulled him in your arms, holding onto him as he broke down.

When you see ASMODEUS cry for the first time, you thought it was a ploy at first.

You’ve seen Asmo bring tears to his eyes on a whim when he’s trying to get his way or be dramatic, so to see the same thing happen now wasn’t anything new. You were painting each others nails when you asked him if he’s ever been in love before-

“Of course MC! I love all of my fans dearly and they love me-“

“No, not that kind of love. Like true love- has someone ever told you they love you genuinely?”

“Hm, I don’t…”

When you saw the dejected look in his eyes, you became aware that it wasn’t a ploy at all.

You didn’t look up when he went quiet, concentrating on finishing the final coat on his nails. It wasn’t until you saw something wet drip onto his hand that made you glance up, seeing a single tear roll down his cheek with a forced smile.

“…I don’t know.” He choked out.

Asmo always soaked in the admiration from his fans- but that’s all it was, admiration. They loved the Asmo that they saw in the Fall, the Asmo that they saw on Devilgram- they loved the Asmo that they saw, but did they really know him enough to say they truly love him?

Did they love the Asmo you see or Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust?

“People love me and I love my fans, but why does it still feel so empty?” The smile on his face that he was so used to flashing soon fell, more tears steadily rolling down his flushed cheeks.

Despite what his sin is, Asmo did believe in true love. He believed that one day he found find someone to pour his heart and soul into and get the same in return. Even after he fell and lost his beautiful wings, he still held on to his wish of finding that person.

He started to imagine that person was you.

But he was scared that you didn’t picture him that way. That you only saw him as the Avatar of Lust.

For once, Asmo felt insecure, and he could do nothing but soak in the warmth he was afraid of losing as you held him sobbing.

When you saw BEELZEBUB cry for the first time, it catches you off guard.

You only went to grab some water, waking up and walking to the kitchen in your dazed state.

It wasn’t a surprise to see Beel there with a meal- but it was a surprise to see him wiping away tears, food untouched.

Any sleepiness washed away when you rushed to him, already by his side, asking him what’s wrong.

“I had another nightmare.” He sniffled, refusing to make eye contact with his body tense. “About Lilith.”

Your breath hitched- Beel told you once about his nightmares, but never what it was about. You only assumed how horrible it was from the faraway look he had in his eyes. It never crossed your mind that it was about his sister-

“I saw her MC- it’s always the same,” Beel balled up his fists, baring his fangs. “I’m always too late to save her- why couldn’t I save her?!”

He was no longer hiding his frustration or tears, which were freely rolling down his cheeks. All you could do was listen as he tried his best not to break down under the kitchen lights.

“You protected her, Beel.” You softly spoke, reaching to hold his hand. “You all did more than enough to protect her, and I know that she doesn’t blame you.” You lightly squeezed his hand, “She knows that it’s not your fault. None of it was.”

You’re not sure how long you sat there holding Beel, sobbing out broken apologies to his dear sister who would never hear them.

When you see BELPHEGOR cry for the first time, it was in his sleep.

You spent the night in the twins room, bundled up next to him as you were beginning to doze off. Belphie clung on to you, mumbling something incoherent as he slept. But before you could get lost in your dreams, you felt his grip growing tighter around you.

You brushed off the minor discomfort, only turning to then hear something that truly woke you up-

Belphie whimpering.

You blinked away any sleepiness, turning to see his face twisted in pain, fresh tear staining his cheeks. His hands were clenching onto you tight, whimpering soon turning into a chorus of “no” and “please”.

You shook him awake before he could continue, hair stuck to his forehead as his eyes shot open, panting. He scanned the room before landing on you, pulling you closer into him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. No doubt he had a nightmare.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Belphie took a long pause. “…Everyone hated and blamed me for everything, for all of our problems. You all forced me to leave, and I was casted out of my home- again.”

You did nothing but soothe him as you felt him tremble again, your neck becoming damp as he started to quietly sob. “You know that won’t ever happen Belphie-“

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just- stay with me…please?”

“Of course.”

You felt his tail wrap around your waist as he sobbed out a thank you. You combed your fingers through his locks, lulling him back to sleep- hopefully to better dreams.

#writings.txts #messages.txts #obeyme.txts #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #obey me x y/n #obey me luci x reader #obey me lucifer x you #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x you #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #obey me satan x you #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #asmodeus x reader #beel x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphagor x reader #obey me belphie x reader

[deblklesb]

[Three Strikes — Abby x Reader OneShot]

[established relationship, fem! reader, MDNI]

CW: name calling, semi-public masturbation, dom!abby, humiliation, degradation, pussy slapping, face grabbing, dacryphilia, edging, sub!reader, after care (more like middle care i guess?), the safeword isn't mentioned but it's already established too.

a/n: this took me TOO long to finish but i did it!!! anon tell me if you enjoy it, i truly hope you do 💗💗 reblogs keep the word turning y'all

word count: 3,6k | not proof read

The whole day Abby couldn't keep her hands to herself, but it was driving you insane.

On a beautiful, sunny day, you both were at a family party. Her father was retiring from the hospital and everyone was celebrating this new phase of his life. There was tons of food and a bunch of relatives, children running around, a nice music filling the air and the smell of the barbecue being prepared were messing with your senses already.

As a very socially embarrassed person, you always tried to keep a good impression in front of her family: being in your best behavior, smiling to each relative, answering questions and engaging in conversations as well as you could. Demanded too much of your social battery, but at the end of the day you could always try to put an effort for her, it was worth it.

But here's the thing: today, Abby wasn't in her best behavior. She kept touching you, kissing your neck, pushing you to empty corners, sneaking out to her old bedroom just to have an alone time. You both couldn't do much, so it was frustrating and painful and it was killing you inside. That ache between your legs grew at each sneak out, you always ended up with heart racing and bewildered in front of her relatives later, trying so hard to keep your mind in the right place. For God's sake, you had to hide a prominent bite from her 58 year-old aunt during a conversation, and the whole time Abby was looking at you from the other side of the room like she could undress you, with those piercing blue-eyes, from afar. The heat crept up your body; damn her and her effect on you.

"You have to stop!" Your voice cracked when she kissed your shoulder, strong hands on your waist pulling you closer while she bent to taste the skin on your cleavage. More time and you would surrender completely inside that bedroom, making a scene that would send her grandma into a cardiac arrest. Still, you had both arms around her shoulders.

"Just a little bit, hun…", her voice would make you crazy. "You're looking so good, being all polite today"

"Fuck, Abigail Anderson!" Finally you pushed her, adjusting your dress even though all you wanted was to come back and let her do her thing with you. Then you held her face and stared at her. "You have got to stop!"

And it was the look in her eyes that said it all: you were never demanding, never this aggressive, and it was the first strike. Not seriously, like in a relationship dynamic, but more when talking about… Sexual dynamic. She was the dominant one, you love to surrender, and talking back is a no-no. You could already feel that ache growing just by her expression. Fuck, maybe talk back wouldn't be that bad…

"Okay", was all she said, face still between your palms. "I got a bit carried away"

And she didn't say anything further. Although the conversation ended there and you gave her a small kiss before leaving the bedroom, something in the back of your mind reiterated that it wasn't as simple as that.

Later, after lunch, you got up from your place to drink a glass of water and when you came back those same hands pulled you closer, while she opened space for you to sit comfortably on her lap.

"I remember Abby always asked to go to the hospital with me. No matter how much I refused, she kept asking. One time, I swear, she cried until I agreed to take her. No doubt she ended up working inside a hospital", her father was talking and making people chuckle about it. Abby, on the other hand, roller those beautiful eyes and smirked.

"Come on, dad! Don't need to expose me like that"

"There's not much to expose, love, we all know you're a brat", you murmur under the hem of the cup, before sipping the water.

It was a simple comment only for her to hear, but apparently it went louder than expected and now a bunch of people were laughing.

"Damn right! When she was little I had to deal with scenes when she wanted to watch cartoons", her aunt said back.

Your face heats up, insides twirling under the aspect of being in the center of the attention, and while smiling fondly your girlfriend rests her face on your arm.

"That's strike two, babe", why the fuck her voice always sounds so good when whispering?

Her hand presses your waist and you clench the thighs, almost choking with the water.

The moment passes as a sign on the road, and when you notice you both are saying good-byes to everyone. The night is fresh and starry, and as Abby drove to your shared apartment you kept looking at her.

Calmer now, with the thought of going home in mind and the relief of not being around that many people, you relax in your seat and take in the sight of her.

Her eyes are locked on the road in concentration, lips calling for you as she keeps driving. Her side profile is really gorgeous, just like every other detail that makes you quiver just by thinking about it. You distinctly remember being so intimidated by her at first, because she was so serious and stressed.

You both met at the hospital, when you had to check in due to an injury so bad people thought you needed surgery. Abby was the professional at the emergency, and after taking a look at you she ran out to receive another patient, pretty much stressed out with the movement in the room. You barely talked, since you were in pain and trying to hide the embarrassment of needing an emergency treatment because of a stupid game.

"You said you were doing what?", she asked when she came back to check on you.

"Dancing on a coffee table", you murmur, pain significantly less intense after the medication.

"Now why would you do that?" She was looking at the medication bags, but you still felt your face getting warm and looked to the other side.

"I lost a game", and after she chuckled you rolled your eyes. "Come on, I'm sure I'm not the most stupid person in this room"

"Oh, you're absolutely not!" Her voice was different now, and when you turned back at her a fond smile adorned her pretty features. After adjusting the bags, she leaned over closer to your ear. The sudden lack of space startled you, but there was no time to process before she started talking again. And that was the first time you melted under her voice. "See that guy there? Swallowed a bunch of small plastic soldiers just to show off to his friends"

"What?!", you widen your eyes while she laughs, a cute little giggle.

"Last week a woman got here with a deodorant cap inside of her"

"What? But how-", the answer to the unfinished question comes when she just looks back at you, eyebrows a little bit arched, and then you're feeling your face getting warmer again. "Oh… Jesus"

And you both laugh together.

Looking back, you still don't know how you'd end up with her. But as much of an unexpected event, you're so glad you did it because you get to love the most amazing woman on earth.

"Why are you looking at me like that, babe?" She smirks when noticing you staring, all cocky and flustered. You're so dumb for her.

"Nothing", you smile back, a hand traveling to her thigh. "Just admiring you…"

"Liking the view?"

"Too much" An idea sparkles so bright you can't deny yourself the opportunity. You have to contain the smile, but not later the words come out. "You were very touchy today…"

"Yeah, you look too nice in this dress, still can't believe you put it on just to impress my family", she chuckles, a hand caressing your own exposed leg. "You know you didn't had to"

"I was kinda in the mood", she just hums in response, eyes on the road. "Y'know, it was a big surprise you didn't take advantage of it to touch me more, you were so clingy…"

"I didn't… Well, I certainly thought about it. But why are you talking about it now, you sure didn't let me go further then"

"Because we were in your family house and I didn't want to cause a scene", your fingers on her leg travel further in between her thighs, and then your free hand is doing the same with yourself. "But I can't deny I surely thought about it too"

She looks at you briefly, already getting the idea you're setting here. You know very well the traffic won't let you get home that fast, and how she takes driving seriously so she won't do anything while there. So Abby won't touch you at all… But that doesn't mean you can do it yourself.

"No. Don't do this", her voice is warning, serious now, and you recognize the tone because it's what she uses with you in the bedroom.

"But love, you won't be doing anything, you can drive", she hates every second of it as soon as your legs separate a bit and your hand go down inside your dress. She hates it, because all she wants it's to touch you herself.

And so you do. You fucking masturbate in the car, moaning and biting your lips, arching your chest, letting yourself go by the sudden desire that hits your body as soon as you get to see Abby in all her glory in a most private place.

By the time you get home, the adrenaline of the situation made the high easier and so you're soon hopping out of the car, legs kinda shaky. But your girlfriend was now pissed, fuming, silent and serious - and, oh, after so many times in that relationship you learned that silent and serious Abby is the most dangerous Abby.

She doesn't say a word on the elevator, the waiting thickening the tension as you both stand close inside the moving cabin. Her fingers are uneasy, like she's restraining herself to act up, and you just can imagine where they will be later that night.

As soon as the doors open, she walks out and goes on a beeline to the door. Glancing at her, you almost stop on track with her stare, so fucking piercing it could unravel you.

That was probably too far.

"That was strike three", she whispers as you unlock the door.

You expected her to take you as soon as you both get inside, but she doesn't. Instead, she proceeds like per usual, still restless, but your mind just stops functioning for a second because she's acting casually. Taking her shoes off, going to take a shower, making small talk.

The tension inside of you keeps growing, anxiety creeping, and a bit of disappointment making you pout everytime she gets closer but doesn't act. At some point she just gave you a peck on the lips and called you cute, but went sitting on the couch to watch something you were definitely not interested about. The sight of her in sweat pants and tank top made you quiver, why is she so fucking hot all the time?

In the meantime you also showered and changed clothes, and after all you end up standing in the living room, staring at her.

This isn't fair. She spent the whole day trying to get into you, and when you're finally ready she just ignores you? Leaving you needy like that?

"Abs, what's that all about?" You finally puts out, still standing.

"What, babe?" She briefly looks at you before turning to the TV again and it makes you extremely mad. She definitely notices the single shirt covering your body and stays quiet.

"You're… You're ignoring me", your demeanor changes, less pissed and more sulking.

"What? What are you talking about, come here", she taps the place next to her on the couch, where you sit. Her big, warm hand rests on your thigh as she looks at you more attentively. "What is it?"

"It's just… I thought you were… We would- You know", the words are a mess. It frustrates you to not be able to communicate, but after that overstimulating day you want nothing more than to step back and relax. Processing words it's not a part of the ideal scenario.

"Oh, you mean… You thought I would fuck you?" She's still casual about it, which deepens your sulking. You nod, receiving an arching of her brows. "Oh, so this is what this is about?" Before you can answer, she just throws: "You were so caught up in your little game that you forgot that stuff doesn't go just as you wish… Poor baby, sometimes you're such a dumb slut", she sulks in mocking.

Your face gets warmer as you find it harder to speak, too stunned. And she chuckles.

The sudden humiliation gets into your body in the form of a wetness between your legs and a sinking sensation in your stomach, the two things added to a deep need to look away. But you refuse to, you can't let her have that much so soon.

"Do you want me to take care of you?"

"Yes", you nod again, legs instinctively turning to her a bit as you lean closer now. Her hand caresses your skin, thumb going down in between your thighs as she looks at you like she's playing.

"What's the magical word?" Her breath reaches your face and you are so close now, the desperate need to kiss her growing inside. Fuck her.

"Please", you whisper, nose touching hers.

"Open your legs", she instructs.

You obliged, her hand traveling to hold your leg in that position whilst the free one lightly touched your core. The anticipation for long was consuming you from inside out, and the additional contact, just where you needed, was igniting the fire.

"Oh, look at that…!" She smiles at the perception that you're not using panties. "My sweet slut it's showing off"

The experience passes like a blur into your mind until she finally takes your shirt off and lays you down into the couch. After she almost made you cum once but left you hanging there, whiny and desperate, so close to begging after just a moment of her touches.

You moan so loud when she holds your face into a strong hand of hers, and the other sinks two of her fingers into your wet pussy. It's not just the overstimulation after you got so close to that high. It's all the tension from before, the way she keeps laughing and chuckling at the way you move your hips and her stare.

"Taking it so well, you're such a whore right?" You nod, remembering how she doesn't like when you don't answer. "Yes, yes you are. Needy and ready for being fucked, this pussy dripping when you think of me", you nod again and again.

Inside that river of sensations you scratch her back and arms. She gasps, digits massaging your insides as you tip into that high again.

Just the grip on your chin and the closeness would be enough to get you drunk on her massive presence. The way some strands of honey-blonde hair fall around your face, her bulky body on top of yours, the heat radiating from her. It's madness, it's like hypnosis. But right now she also fucking you so raw, so deep, and you just wanna scream with the amount of feelings inside. Your hips buckle up and your nipples are hard with the exposure, you just wanna come all around.

"Abby, please, I wanna… Fuck, I'm gonna-"

And she fucking retracts again. Her fingers get out from between your walls and you moan in desperation, small nails digging into her flesh the best it can as tears start to come.

"Fuck no, no, no, no", you shake your head, absolutely helpless with tears rolling down your face, before your girlfriend slaps your exposed pussy.

"Hungry bitch", you squeal with her velvety voice, body trembling under the slaps. Your core is already so fucking sensitive but it doesn't hurt like someone outside would imagine. No, the sting makes you clench around absolutely nothing and you think you just get wetter with pleasure. "Why are you crying, hm? Tell me, fucking say it"

"I wanna come, fuck", the pronunciation it's not the same since she's still holding your face, but you don't care. You'll let her humiliate you like this, have you begging for more, if it meant you could come just once with her fucking you. "Fuck me until I come, Abs, please"

Your face heats. She really can get you like that after edging you just twice. Any other time you'd take more of that torture, but not today. Not after a whole day of teasing.

"My mouth of my fingers, choose fast", and she fucking keeps going with all the teasing because she knows you can't function that fast in moments like this.

You freeze for a second, still processing the question, when she slaps your pussy once more and you clench, moaning. That would make you cry again.

"Mouth or fingers", her tone it's firmer but you can see she's enjoying this whole thing. She's probably soaking wet herself.

"Mouth! Mouth, your mouth"

And she's soon kneeling in front of the couch, lips connecting to your dripping core as fast as she can and you gasp. Her face between your thighs is a sight to be admired, especially considering the way she seems so hungry. Abby eats you out like a starving woman, using her tongue in the best way while her strong hands push your legs open. The vision, added to the sensations of the wet contact and the explicit sounds, makes you tremble.

Riding her face like a desperate, you hold her head and pull it in the direction of your pussy, like that way she'll do more, your high will come faster. But really it doesn't make any difference to her, or she's just keeping the same tempo to piss you off. In spite of that, the way her tongue tortuously laps your core starts to take moans and gasps out of you. You're already too stimulated, something tells your body won't wait for long before tipping down into that high again. And Abby knows it.

Deviously, she increases her ministrations gradually and holds you in place. The contact of her hands on your thighs almost makes your skin burn. Your nipples rigid against the cold air, toes curling and choppy breaths, eyes rolling back; you're a mess now.

Heat blooms in your core and a chill runs through your body, and then you're moaning louder. It's coming strong, and as soon as one of your hands grabs a cushion you call your girlfriend's name in warning. Abby goes faster, enjoying the view of you losing your mind on her mouth, without saying how much that makes her wet.

When you start to murmur her name non-stop, almost crying again, hips twitching and legs shaking, it comes. And it's cathartic the fact that she lets you finish this time. The release is mind-blowing.

Your back arch, every single sensation almost disappears for a second because you can only focus on that orgasm.

Abby holds you in place when you start to move, your legs trying to close around her head and your body contorting, trying to put a break into the overstimulation. She doesn't let it, though, continuing to taste you in her tongue and groaning against your soaked pussy.

"A-Abs!", you scream, pulling her hair again.

With a last fat lick, the blonde finally backs away with a devious smirk.

You still have twitching hips when she kisses your abdomen, trailing the caring act up your front until she can kiss your chest. Abby holds you by the waist and her heat involves every inch of you when she pecks your shoulder.

It all seems to pass through your vision like an out of body experience, but in contrast the tactile sensations are loud. You like having her close like this, and soon you're holding her face with all the care in the world to peck her lips over and over, still catching your breath.

"You okay, babe?" Abby smiles when you nod in response, faces so close you can feel her breath mixing with yours. "Wasn't too much?"

"It was perfect, love"

You wanted to stay like this forever and so as soon as she gets up you're making a face of discontent.

"Won't you… I wanted to make you feel good too"

Unlike yours her body still has all the clothes, which you just noticed because she decided to move away. Her hair is kinda messy and despite the look being to stay at home the woman still looks so gorgeous.

Thinking about the fact that she almost took your soul out minutes before, it's unfair you don't get to make her come too.

"Drink some water, sweetheart, and then we can continue. Okay?" Her voice comes from the kitchen, and you just get to verbally agree before she returns with a glass in hand.

The blonde sits next to you on the couch, caressing your neck and shoulders as you sip the liquid.

"You didn't think I would do just this after your joke in the car, right?" She whispers, smirking when you roll your eyes. Her hand rests on you exposed thigh, sensitive skin sending the feelings straight to your core. "You think you'll be that bold while I ride your face?"

#abby anderson #abby tlou2 #abby x reader #deblklesb #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader smut #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson oneshot #one shot #oneshot #abby anderson x female reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson the last of us #tlou2 fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou abby #tlou2 abby #tlou2 abby anderson #ficblr #tlou fic

[another-lost-mc]

I have a question about your OCs…what can turn their rough mode (on a bed) on? 👀

biggest turn-ons

featuring: azra, karasu, zekhan

cw: nsfw / mdni. gn!reader. soft incubus!azra; horny!karasu; feral!zee; demon form sex mentioned (all three); pet names (baby, dear one, darling, bunny, beloved); oral sex (reader and karasu receiving); rough sex; sex in semi-public places (karasu's office and the fall); mentions of sexting (dirty texts and videos or audio); costume play (mc wearing a bunny outfit); teasing; consensual predator/prey kink and fear play (tame and intense scenes); dom/sub undertones; monsterfucking (zee’s demon form specifically).

word count: 6.1k (thank you meg and daisy for supporting me in these dark times)

a/n: some of these ideas are plucked from their nsfw alphabets and expanded on: azra / karasu / zekhan.

AZRA

Azra can easily control when he shifts into his demon form and he wears it often. For ordinary work nights at the club, he prefers his usual suit and coat. As a powerful lust demon, he naturally feeds off the sin radiating off the patrons in the club and he shifts forms naturally when the lustful feelings start to build up inside him. He is usually in his demonic form during casual sexual encounters and reverts back to normal once the afterglow subsides.

He's more conscious about wearing his demon form around you. It's not the most frightening or extraordinary demonic appearance you've seen in the Devildom, but he is still nervous about what you think of him. He doesn't want to scare you.

Azra has a lot of sex but he is starved for genuine affection and love from others. Demons use him for his money or his body, and in the past he did the same.

Taking the time to get to know him and still being able to love him the way he is? Nothing affects him the way you do, a rare vulnerability he allows himself to indulge in because it means he gets to have you. Even the smallest bits of kindness get his heart all twisted up, and he can't resist the urge to return his feelings the best way he knows how.

The first thing you learn about being Azra’s lover is that a single kiss can quickly spiral out of control. The sweet glide of your lips against his leaves him thrumming with desire that darkens his eyes, and his fingers tremble as his hands roam eagerly across your body. His demon form is on display in its naked glory when he starts backing you carefully into his bedroom until you bump into the edge of the bed.

He resists the urge to rip your clothes to pieces and forces himself to take them off slowly, one layer at a time, until they’re scattered carelessly on the floor and your naked body is bare and pinned beneath his. The soft sheets cushion you as he lowers his body gently onto yours and he positions himself between your legs.

He groans into the open-mouthed kisses he smears across your skin while you whimper his name and card your fingers through his unruly curls. He's hard and leaking against the inside of your thighs and his tail twitches in the air behind him.

He slides slowly down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and the faintest marks behind as his mouth slots itself over your arousal and he strokes you eagerly with his talented tongue. He grinds his hips against the mattress to try and relieve the pressure of his throbbing cock, but he doesn’t want to come unless it’s inside you.

Your soul is consumed by fiery lust and it satisfies him in a way no one else’s sin has ever affected him before. He groans your name between soft, sucking kisses and gentle flicks of his tongue against your entrance, and it sends shivers through the rest of your body. His hands hold your shaky thighs steady where they rest on his shoulders, and by the time he drinks down the release you spill across his tongue, you're stretched and ready for him.

You're still reeling from your orgasm when he moves up the bed and positions himself between your legs. He hooks one of your legs against his hips and pushes it up slightly, giving him the perfect angle so he can sheathe himself inside with one smooth stroke.

"I’ll go slow next time, baby, I promise," he murmurs against your lips, lifting his hand to brace himself against the headboard. "But I don’t think I can wait anymore."

He starts fucking you with deep, heavy thrusts, and each one draws a little hiccuped gasp or moan from your lips. He crashes his lips against yours and moans and pants into your mouth. The wooden frame cracks slightly from the pressure of his fingertips and the headboard thumps against the wall, but all you can hear are the strangled groans and curses he muffles into the crook of your neck.

His rhythm picks up speed and his thrusts grow wet and sloppy with his cum when he finally spills inside you with a growl. He tosses his head back and his eyes wince shut from the sensitivity, but he can’t resist the urge to fuck his seed back inside you, not when you writhe helplessly against his sheets and dig your fingers into his back and beg him to keep going.

You’re smothered beneath his body as he stuffs you full with his cum, and his tail coils around the leg wrapped around his waist to hold you in place so he can reach between your bodies and stroke you in time with his desperate thrusts instead.

By the time you come around his cock, you’re both drunk from lust and love and utterly insatiable.

“Don’t stop,” your broken whimpers plead where you press your forehead against his shoulder, and you lave your tongue across his hot, sweaty skin. “Want more of you.”

“I won’t stop, baby,” his raspy voice promises as he rises to his knees and brings your legs up to sit on his shoulders, and he folds you in half so he can fuck you properly. “I can’t.”

KARASU

Karasu uses his wings often, but he rarely shifts into his full demon form. He usually has excellent control over that part of himself, except when he's in bed with you. If things get particularly intense (or if he's in a more dominant/aggressive mood), he might shift to his full form without meaning to. He's so careful with his talons that you might not even realize it at first, unless he clenches the sheets on either side of your head or you catch a glimpse of sharp, black claws before his hand disappears between your legs.

It doesn't take much to get him in the mood. He’s a wonderful contradiction of a demon who accepts your praise or your teasing hints of degradation in equal stride. He’s so easily aroused by the most innocent words or gestures and even the simplest compliments make him feel a little desperate.

Wearing something he bought for you gives him a sudden itch to take it off you again. Wearing something of his means he gets to leave his scent on you in more ways than one by the time he has you on your back or your stomach underneath him.

Sending his D.D.D. dirty messages when he least expects it is almost guaranteed to give him an aching erection no matter where he is or what he’s doing. A flirty text or a suggestive photo that shows him a hint of naked skin is more than enough to leave him panting while his erection stirs to life and presses against the zipper of his pants.

And then there are times when he’s the one trying to entice you to be a little naughty. He sends you filthy texts while you’re at RAD and describes whatever wicked fantasy he dreamt about last night, or he recites in excruciating detail all his dirty thoughts while he fisted his cock that morning.

He calls you and leaves you sweet messages to have a nice day and to think about all the ways he plans on touching you and kissing you and fucking you when he sees you later.

Sometimes you have a bit of free time in your schedule, so perhaps a little visit at his office would do you both some good.

Karasu is so considerate.

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing. You wake up each morning to a sweet-as-sugar message on your D.D.D., or if you stayed overnight in his nest, he wakes you with a line of sleepy kisses along your shoulder and a soft, "Good morning, dear one," murmured huskily into your ear.

He would argue that caring for you is simple, a natural instinct that stirs inside him to provide for you and make you smile and keep you safe. Your comfort is his utmost priority.

Sometimes that means pushing you away from where you're nuzzling against his aching erection through his suit so he can slide off his jacket. 

"Wait," he asks breathlessly, handing you the bespoke garment that crumples in his twitchy grip like paper. "Sit on this, darling." 

If you're so eager to kneel on his office floor in an eager rush to suck his cock, the least he can do is make sure your knees won't be too sore afterwards.

His stifled whimpers and moans start to fill the office and you've barely touched him; the anticipation of what’s to come is enough to leave him a trembling mess. His fingers clench the armrests of his chair while you flick open his belt and tug down the zipper with a jovial little hum.

The tip of his cock glistens when you tug down his boxer briefs, and he exhales a sharp little whine when you lick at the salty beads oozing slowly from the tip. His chair shakes from the tremor in his thighs, and his hips twitch and jerk restlessly while you lick broad, thick stripes along his shaft before easing him between your lips. He's hot and heavy on your tongue, and you wrap your fingers at his base where his dawny-soft black hair cushions your fist. You pump him slowly, smooth and wet from the spit pooling in your mouth and dripping down his cock, while your head bobs up and down his length in a steady rhythm.

He's so lost in the hot, wet vice of your mouth that he doesn't notice that his glasses slip off the bridge of his nose and clatter or the floor, or that the armrests of his chair are ruined by deep, scraggly lines where his nails scramble to find purchase.

All that matters — all he cares about — is that you don't stop.

"I'm—I'm close," he whines noisily, panting deep in his chest. His back arches away from the chair and he pushes deeper into your mouth, but he stammers out an apology when he realizes what he’s done.

You curl your fingers around the curve of his hip to encourage him to move and to take what he wants from you. He hesitates for a moment, but then a shaky hand rests gently on the crown of your head, not pushing you down but simply holding you there. His fingers twitch helplessly against your scalp as his hips jerk into your mouth and the noises and choked pleas tumbling from his lips grow louder and more desperate.

A loud, monotonous chime from his terminal startles you both, and he whines so pathetically at the interruption. It’s a weekly meeting he forgot about, boring and unnecessary but mandatory, and he nearly curses in frustration.

Voices stream quietly into the room as the program pops up on his monitor. Your shoulders slump slightly with a deflated sigh, but his hand on the back of your head keeps you from moving away. When you shoot him a questioning look, he glances at the screen and back to you again, and he nibbles on his bottom lip while he contemplates his choices.

He should compose himself and bid you farewell until this evening when he's finished work for the day, but that’s easier said than done. You’re still kneeling at his feet, your bright eyes are glassy and wet and dark with desires of your own, and your lips are plump and shiny and so utterly kissable. His abdomen twitches with the disappointment of his interrupted release and he can only imagine how desperate you are, even though you’re hiding your own needs while satisfying his own.

It's not like he ever needs to speak at these meetings anyway, and knowing that, it doesn’t take him long to decide at all.

He confirms his camera is off and he's muted on the call before he pulls gently on the back of your neck and urges your mouth towards his cock again. His spontaneous burst of greedy lust warms the blood in your veins and shoots straight to the spot between your legs. You’re throbbing from your own neglected arousal and it certainly doesn’t help that he lets out the most sinful, desperate moan when you take him back into the wet heat of your mouth.

He cradles the sides of your face gently when you begin moving up and down his cock with renewed vigor. His hips are rocking of their own volition now, shallow and arhythmic but still so needy, and you know he must be close. When you glance up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s utterly entranced by the sight of your fingers pumping his shaft while you suck on the dark, pulsing head of his cock before sliding your lips down his length over and over again.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—!” His high-pitched whine serves as a warning so that you can move your mouth away if you don’t want his seed in your mouth, but your lover is nothing but considerate, and you reward him by taking him deeper than before, teasing your gag reflex and letting him feel you choke on his cock.

He covers his mouth to muffle himself as he spills down your throat with a sharp gasp and a wailing cry, and your lips drag along his cock one more time as you pull back just to hear him whimper from the sensitivity. He watches with a heavy, half-lidded gaze and swallows hard when you wipe a smear of cum from the corner of your mouth and lick it clean.

He goes completely still for a moment, but then his cock twitches with renewed interest and he pulls you off the floor and into his lap. He breathes your name with utter reverence when he slides his hand into your pants and feels how soaked you are between your legs. His fingers stroke you gently and you let him taste himself when you lean forward and kiss him.

You rock your hips and coax his hand closer to where you want it most while your thighs shake on either side of his hips. Warm puffs of air against the soft skin of your neck makes you shudder in his embrace, and he murmurs sweet praise while he fucks you with his greedy fingers (and his tongue after that, and then his cock when he’s hard again and he finally bends you over his desk).

ZEKHAN

Compared to the others, Zekhan has the most control over his demonic form. Even if he accompanies you to a party at the prince's castle, he's one of the few demons in attendance that hides his demonic appearance. It's very rare that he would shift into it by accident, although a wrath-driven rage could trigger that. 

He doesn't want to use his demonic form in bed with you, at least not right away. It will take a long time before he's comfortable letting you see it. The scars on his body are more prominent in that form and he's self-conscious about them. It's also a bit more animalistic than some of the other demons you know, and he's worried about your reaction to his wings and claws and ears.

He will shift into his true form for certain predator/prey-type games you play together, but he's usually obscured by darkness. That gives you the chance to explore him slowly and at his pace while letting him indulge in the rare sensation of your hands or mouth moving across his body. 

A lot of things turn him on, but he's a bit more disciplined about curbing his impulse to act on it right away. He likes to tease you and let the anticipation build. Sending each other dirty texts while he's at work (or while you're at RAD) are a guaranteed way to stir his interest.

Although he tries to be gentle with you, he's the most feral if you tease him with an opportunity to play one of your little games together. He's happy to indulge you with whatever level of excitement (or fear) you're comfortable with; you're his prize at the end either way, and that's enough to satisfy him.

Once you're in a relationship, Zee realizes his biggest mistake is underestimating you. He knows you'll be attending tonight's bunny event at The Fall for the first time since you arrived in the Devildom. What he doesn't expect is for you to walk through the front doors, surrounded by the Avatars of Sin, in a bunny outfit of your very own.

He can only assume that Azra and Asmodeus conspired to keep this secret from him, and what a lovely secret it is. The bunny ears on your head bend slightly at the ends which gives them a floppy appearance. They would look ridiculous on most people, but on you, they’re positively charming. The colourful jewel-toned ears bounce slightly with each step you take, and the colours suit you so beautifully that it confirms for him that this outfit was custom-made for you.

He spots a flash of white when you turn around to speak to someone, and he realizes there's a little tail attached to the back of your suit too.

Fucking hell.

He tilts his head to the side as he drinks in your appearance and considers all the delightfully wicked things he’d like to do to you. It’s calculating, almost predatory how his golden eyes darken as lust pools behind them. Something primal stirs deep in his chest the longer he stares at you. You're the tasty little treat that's stepped into his domain, and he'd love nothing more than to devour you.

As if you can hear his thoughts, you look around until you catch his piercing stare from across the room; even from that far away, the glint in his eyes is positively hungry. You can’t help but stare doe-eyed as he wets his mouth, running his tongue slowly along his bottom lip and teasing you with the tiniest glimpse of his fangs.

His sensitive hearing picks up your sharp intake of breath, and he smirks at the flustered expression on your face before you concede and finally look away.

He carries on with overseeing the final preparations like nothing happened while you walk away with the others and head further into the club. A chilly sensation spreads through him that he can only describe as longing when you finally step out of his view, but he ignores the feeling for now.

Besides, the evening is just getting started.

ZEKHAN: I came to visit you on your break but you're not resting with the others. Where are you hiding, bunny?

YOU: Come find me and you'll see. 🐰

ZEKHAN: A tempting offer.

ZEKHAN: Beloved, I'm asking you sincerely.

ZEKHAN: Do you want to play that game right now?

YOU: Yes I do.

YOU: Please? I know you do too.

ZEKHAN: Such a naughty thing.

ZEKHAN: Very well. Stay where you are, hm? 

YOU: If you don't hurry, I might finish before you get here.

There are several places in the club you can hide from him. He’s shown you most of them himself when he originally gave you a tour when you were a new arrival to the Devildom. Later on, he realized how convenient they were when he was desperate to fuck you somewhere you wouldn’t get caught.

This particular game requires a certain amount of privacy and space. He searches the obvious locations first - the staff break rooms, the mostly-empty offices on the second floor, the cluster of private rooms patrons can rent for the evening - but finds no trace of you or those floppy ears or that cottony-soft tail.

When he finally picks up the faintest whiff of your scent near the door that leads to the basement, he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Of course you’re clever enough to lead him somewhere cool and dark where there’s very little risk of being interrupted.

There's only a sliver of moonlight that shines through one of the tiny windows near the basement ceiling. It only takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, and he groans when he finally spots you leaning against the wall across from him. The buttons of your shirt are undone and he can see the strip of naked skin where it falls open. He notices a moment later that one of your hands is under the waistband of your pants and he can hear and smell the scent of your arousal as you stroke lazily between your legs.

A soft sigh falls from your lips and makes his mouth run dry. Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze at last, and it’s so satisfying to see the desire swirling in your dark eyes is strong enough to match his own.

He crosses the room in an instant and there's a faint gust of air as his wings manifest and open wide with a leathery snap. He maneuvers you quickly as if you weigh nothing and bends you over a rickety old table, yanking your tedious clothes down and out of the way until he can finally touch your bare skin with his clawed fingers.

You stare transfixed at the monstrous shadow on the wall as he stretches you open with his thick fingers first, carefully so he doesn’t scratch you, and then his cock once you’re slippery with his spit and lube. His lips brush against your temple and behind your ear, littering your skin with soft kisses while you adjust to the feeling of him stretching you open. His hips rock in a slow grind until you're ready and then he moves slowly at first, thrusting inside you with slow strokes that slowly gather speed with every desperate, whiny moan that he pulls from your throat.

He makes a questioning sound when you reach over your shoulder and offer him your fingers, still sticky from when you touched yourself earlier, and he sucks them eagerly into his mouth with a growl as he starts fucking you in earnest. Your fingers slip from his mouth once he's licked them clean, and he traps them gently between his teeth before you can pull them away completely.

His pace quickens and his thrusts grow more forceful when you push your hips back and match his rhythm. One of your hands ends up tangled in his hair while your back arches against his chest, and he breathes hot and damp against the back of your neck and grunts in your ear.

You can barely hear the obscene squelch your bodies make as he fucks you senseless, or the creak of the wobbly furniture supporting your combined weight, or the scratching sound of his fingers digging into the wood for leverage.

Your body clenches around him and when he feels his orgasm approaching, he reaches between your legs and strokes you in time with his thrusts; you finally come with a cry, and he follows behind you with a raspy groan of your name. He fucks you through the aftershocks of your pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts and finally stops once you've milked him dry. His body shakes from the overstimulation of fucking his cum back inside you.

By the time your thighs stop trembling and he turns you in his arms, all evidence of his demon form is gone; only the slight pulsing glow of his golden-yellow eyes remains. He kisses you softly with just a hint of tongue and teeth while you both sigh into each others’ mouths.

As always, he came prepared. He reaches into his suit jacket and slips his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose first before he pulls out a small packet of wet wipes. He kisses your thighs and nips playfully at the sensitive skin while he wipes the slick and cum away; he’s satisfied you’ll still smell like him but now you can finish the evening more comfortably.

He straightens your clothes for you and as he buttons up your shirt, he leans forward and kisses the bare skin that slowly disappears from view. One more kiss and a murmured I love you is all you have time for before he leads you back upstairs, and he smirks when you walk away with the slightest hitch in your step.

(You're only a few minutes late returning from your break, but no one bothers to ask where you were - they can already guess.)

A more intense version of this little game involves waiting until the event is over and taking a short drive to the outskirts of the city.

The quiet anticipation in the car is nearly suffocating, and Zee glances at you with a guarded look from the corner of his eye. He drives one-handed and steers the car expertly to your destination while the other rests on your thigh; it feels like a fiery-hot brand through your clothes.

He seems unaffected by the lust radiating off both of you like a fog, but the tips of his fangs peek underneath the hungry curl of his lips. When you glance down at his lap, there’s a growing wet stain where his hard and eager cock strains against his pants.

The location he takes you to is a large patch of forest at the back of Azra's estate. It's far enough away to give you both the privacy you need, but it’s close enough that help is nearby if anything goes wrong. The area is scouted regularly to make sure there are no dangerous creatures lurking inside the woods that might harm you while you’re alone and vulnerable.

Zee drives the car to the end of the dirt road that ends near the tree line. He exhales sharply through his nose and puts his glasses in the glove compartment before getting out of the car and walking around the vehicle to help you out of your seat.

He’s usually sweet and affectionate before these types of games, but tonight he rests his hands on your shoulders to keep you from stepping too close to him.

"I love you." His voice is rough but his eyes burn with the steady glow of his body overcome with sin, and you learned how to read the emotions in his gaze by now: love, desire, hunger.

"I love you too."

His hands slide up your neck and brush the sides of your face. "Colour?" he asks quietly. His thumbs rub soft circles into the dimples of your cheeks when you smile.

"Green."

Something in the air shifts, like cool air roiling over you before a storm, and he circles you slowly - the way a predator would - until he stands at your back. There's a familiar ruffle of fabric and leather behind you, then he smooths his hands gently over your shoulders. A clawed wing curls around the side of your body and strokes your cheek with surprising tenderness.

"Time to run, bunny." Hot breath tickles your ear when he leans forward and kisses the words into your skin. "Don’t stop and don’t look back."

The growl in his voice causes goosebumps to break out across your skin and you freeze. Normally he waits for you to make it to the woods before he changes form but so many things about tonight are different.

What does it say about how much he trusts you that he would do it so soon?

And what does it say about how uncontrollably desperate he is for you?

But you don’t have time to contemplate the answers to either of those questions, not when feet shuffle behind you in restless anticipation. 

You take one hesitant step forward, and then another, until you're running into the dark forest that welcomes you into its maw. The trees looming overhead block most of the moonlight and you slow down while your eyesight adjusts. Your D.D.D. is in your pocket, but illuminating your path with the flashlight would be cheating; it’s also a visual signal to him that you want the game to end, and it’s far too soon for that.

The branches high above your head rustle in the night's cool breeze and ambient noises of the forest echo all around you. You can’t be sure how long it’s been, but it’s curious that you've not seen or heard any sign of him behind you. Sometimes he likes to call out to you teasingly, goading you into some sort of response that will lead him closer to your position. He can be so mischievous and playful when he brings you here, but tonight the tension of his unusual behaviour settles uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach.

You recall how stiff he was earlier, how restless he was like he couldn’t wait to sink his cock or his teeth into you. You remember the rumbling growls in his chest on the drive here, the way his hand shook on your thigh. You realize he’s not patient enough to play a drawn-out game tonight, and the implication is terrifying and arousing in equal measure.

The forest might be safe for you to venture in alone, but there are still other creatures that live here. Small Devildom rodents skitter across the ground and up into the trees. Birds with unfamiliar hoots and caws watch you from above with their strange, unblinking eyes. The occasional snap of a branch or the sudden rustle of leaves startles you like thunder; the sounds carry on the wind and it's impossible to pinpoint where they're coming from.

You shriek more than once when you spin around and look for a pair of golden eyes peering at you from the darkness, but there’s nothing there despite the heavy sensation of a weighted gaze searing into your back the moment you turn around again.

A sudden, startlingly loud crash nearby rips a scream from your throat and your eyes catch movement in your peripheral view. When you squint into the distance, you can see a splintering branch hanging precariously from one of the tall trees before it drops to the ground.

Was the branch already damaged and it finally gave way on its own?

Or was it broken by the weight of something stalking its prey from high above?

You carefully step back away from the tree as if you expect something - or someone - to jump out at you from the undergrowth, but nothing happens.

You stumble into something warm and solid behind you and strong arms wrap around you to keep you from falling, and a hoarse scream dies in your throat when he covers your mouth with his hand.

So this is how the game finally ends.

He utters your name in a raspy whisper close to your ear; his voice sounds as rough as yours does. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes when you sag against him, even though adrenaline and fear slowly fade from your still-trembling body.

"You did so well." His praise soothes your rattled nerves and you lean further back against him. His hand slides away from your mouth until it rests above your hammering heartbeat.

His skin feels feverishly hot against your back and he’s slightly damp with sweat. You’re lost in the cloud of his scent, one that's so perfectly him, something fresh and earthy like wet leaves after a thunderstorm.

"Zee." His name is a broken whimper that falls from your lips. His other hand slides down your front and his fingers tease along your waist before dipping down into your pants. He curses under his breath when he feels the hot, slick proof of your arousal between your legs.

"Colour," he grits out, a strangled plea that betrays the desire coursing through him. 

"G-green, please, green," you answer with a hiccup.

He removes his hand from your pants so he can push you to your hands and knees on the forest floor. He shushes you when you whine at the loss of his fingers and he drapes himself over your back, a move that feels protective as much as it does possessive, and he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep and savours the scent of your sweat and perfume and arousal and fear on his tongue, and his hips jerk and grind his erection against the swell of your ass.

"Want you," you whine pathetically when you wiggle your hips back and encourage him to give you more.

"I'm here.” The tremor in his voice betrays his fraying self-control but his promise sounds sincere. "You have me."

Hot, open-mouthed kisses sear across the back of your neck and along your jaw as he grasps your chin and tilts your face towards his. You can't see him through the watery sheen that pools along your lashes, but you catch a glimpse of his lust-darkened eyes and the bulky shape of his wingspan at his back. When his mouth presses against yours, it's less of a kiss and more of a desperate glide of tongue-against-tongue between deep, shuddering breaths and needy moans.

"You're so perfect," he whispers thickly as he pulls away from your mouth and flicks his tongue against your ear. He braces himself with one clawed hand digging into the earth while the other tears at the front of your shirt. Buttons pop from the seams as the flimsy fabric gives way to his sharp nails and inhuman strength.

He leans back on his knees with a shuddered sigh as he rips the fabric away and exposes your bare back to him. He rubs up and down the grooves of your spine and trails his fingers over the curve of your hips. "You’re so, so lovely like this. Fuck, the things I want to do to you."

You rest your cheek on your arms when he pushes your chest down and encourages your back to curve into a deeper arch. Firm hands grip the sides of your pants next and tear them away next, followed by your flimsy underwear. The cool night air chills your bare skin until he leans over you and warms your body with his own.

You’re utterly trapped beneath him, naked and vulnerable in a way that should fill you with shame or fear, but his words are genuine and his touch is gentle. 

Perhaps this little tease would go on a little longer, but you know he’s already testing the limits of his self-control and you don’t want to wait anymore either.

You’ve wanted this all night, and you need him now, desperately.

“Show me then. I want you to, please.”

You squirm with anticipation when he lets out a rumbling growl close to your ear. Something hot and heavy, slick with a generous layer of lube, moves between your legs and nudges at your entrance with the faintest bit of pressure. The tip of his cock teases you with shallow dips as he stretches you open slowly, each stroke sliding in deeper, inch by agonizing inch. He teases the sensitive spot inside you until he finally buries himself to the hilt with a snarl, and you answer with a startled cry as the pulsing emptiness inside is deliciously filled by him.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises darkly as he starts moving at a brutal pace, and his clawed fingers dig into your hips and pull you down onto his cock to meet each of his deep, perfect thrusts. “Now take it.”

Azra has a vague idea of what happens when Zee takes you to the forest behind his house. He doesn't need or want the details as long as you're both happy and unharmed. However, it takes him far too long to notice that your visits to the woods coincide with certain parties at The Fall, and he's genuinely confused as he looks over preparations for the upcoming bunny event.

"Wait, we had to buy another bunny outfit?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he reads over the invoice in his hands. "What happened to the other one? The last event was only a month ago.” Now that he thinks about it, he vaguely recalls ordering a new uniform for you then, too. "This must be the third one we've replaced by now."

Zee pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a hum. "The fourth, actually. If it helps, I still have the bunny ear headbands." His lips twitch into a remorseful smile, but the gleam in his eyes is far too pleased for his apology to be sincere. "Unfortunately, the rest was...unsalvageable."

return to: oc masterlist | obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me oc #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me oc x reader #gn!reader #x reader #my oc: azra #my oc: karasu #my oc: zekhan