#I need to suffocate on his chest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earthtooz · 8 months

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x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous.

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.”

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!”

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”

“No one. Now get lost.”

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

“What guy?”

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.

“So why aren’t you apologising?”

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

#i didn't edit this btw don't judge #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham fic #genshin fic

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lxnarphase · 3 months

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i'll give you the fire i keep inside ๋࣭ ⚝

up to the challenge : ⌞no nut november⌝ edition [ pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 ]

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru

☾₊‧⁺...cw : pussy eating, praise kink, begging, premature ejaculation, clothed sex, whiny reader (gojo), smug reader (geto), satoru overestimating himself, suguru 'just the tip' geto

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : it's nowhere near november, but i need to write this. it's based off an old post of mine from 4 years ago! so, i have no excuse 🖤

✧ g. satoru lasts : 2 days

oh, satoru is so confident that he'll easily make it through the entirety of november. the moment he coos to you about how excited he is to participate in 'no nut november' as a challenge against suguru, he's walking around with his chest puffed out. however, he doesn't take into account that you'd be a little upset after he tells you, thinking you have to go a whole month without sex with your boyfriend. but everyone knows satoru is the best boyfriend, right? he'd neeeever let his pretty lil' mochi feel unsatisfied. so, on the second day of November, he's got you up on the kitchen counter, mouth buried between your thighs as he practically devours your cunt, messily licking and sucking at your clit as his eyes roll back just from the taste of you. after all, there's no way he'd lose this way!

it had only been two days since satoru had fucked you, how were you this wet and needy? you were dripping down his chin, soaking his fucking face, and god, he was in heaven. "c'mon, baby, grind that clit into my mouth," he fucking whines, kissing your pussy between slurps, hands holding you spread open for him to keep testing you. satoru's so hard, it hurts, his cock rubbing and twitching against the rough fabric of his sweatpants, but he couldn't touch, he wouldn't let himself. he'd be fine, all he needed was to make sure he made his baby cum. "hhf, 't-toru, 'toruuuu, i-i miss you, i miss youuu," you pitifully whine, pretty eyes filling with tears as you grew closer and closer to cumming all over his face. but just hearing you say that you miss him when it hasn't even been a fucking week almost makes satoru cum, almost. "baby, babyyy, don't say that shit," satoru whimpers, about to pull away from your dripping slit, dizzy from your words. but you don't let him, no, not when you're this close. with the cutest little huff, you look him right in his pretty blue eyes and grab a fistful of his hair, smashing his mouth right back against your cunt as you cry his name. and oh, the noise he lets out against your pussy feels so gooddd, feeling his tongue desperately licking up your cum. god, you were practically suffocating him. all that Satoru could process was you, you, you. jesus, he didn't think he'd be able to leave you alone the rest of the month, not when just going two days got you this desperate...he really was fucking you that good that you got addicted, huh? it's okay because honestly? he missed your pussy so fucking much. "'toru, satoruuu, p-please, i-i don't like this challenge anymore, miss when you stuff me w-with your cum," you whine as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, giving him one last tug into your pussy so his mouth was right over your clit. have you always been this fucking whiny and demanding? god, satoru couldn't remember. but, you didn't realize how seriously all the tugging and those filthy, desperate words of yours would affect him. hell, he didn't know how badly it would affect him. once he separates himself from you, he's avoiding eye contact, and he's getting red. embarrassed. flustered. all it took was a quick glance down to see what the issue was. "b-baby, you...i just...how—" "'toru, did you cum in your pants?"

✧ g. suguru lasts : 2.5 weeks

the only reason suguru decided to participate in this was because satoru roped him into it. not that he didn't think he could do it, but because he knew satoru was going to lose against him. he's so thankful that you're nothing but supportive, eager for him to win this challenge with the promise of a reward of his choosing once he made it to December 1st. it's honestly not that hard. as long as he's able to still be affectionate with you, suguru is content. sure, sometimes he has to stop his imagination, but otherwise, he's fine. at least, that's until he comes home to you wearing the cutest purple thigh highs with little skulls on them. it starts off with suguru pulling you closer, making you stand between his legs as his hands rub up and down your plush thighs...but next thing you know, your legs are over his shoulders as he drags his cock up and down your slit.

"just—just the tip, okay? i can't put anymore in, princess." "suguruuuuu, just! put it in! stop teasing!" those pretty legs of yours would always be his downfall, suguru could never resist them. there wasn't anything even sexual about it, but just seeing how they squeezed your thighs so perfectly...he couldn't help himself. but if he only let himself put the tip of his dick inside that tight little hole of yours, he'd be fine...yeah, he just needed a small feel, and he'd be fine. without any more hesitation, suguru slowly sunk into your puffy pussy, letting out a shaky groan as his head fell down onto your shoulder. shit, shit, shit, it was only the tip, but you felt so good, too fucking good. "g-god, why's this cunt so wet and warm, baby? it's not fair," suguru hissed, lifting his head to look down to where you both were connected. "s'not my fault you wanted to do this dumb challenge," you hummed, a little smug smile on your face. "stop listenin' to satoru, you'll get stupid like him." it made him laugh, you were so amused by him barely holding himself together...and he couldn't blame you, he wasn't the type to break so easily... "s-suguruuu, wait, you said just the tip, that's—suguuuu!" suguru let out the most scandalized gasp when he realized his entire cock was being hugged by your soft, hot walls. it was so cute, though, how you tried to help him, to let him know so he didn't lose. such a sweetheart, weren't you? but, suguru was too far gone. he had slowly begun inching himself inside of you, not even realizing it until it was too late. not being able to stop his hips from moving, thrusting in and out of you, creating a little ring of cream around the base of his cock as his dick dragged against those soft spots inside you that made you keen his name. "oh, princess, angel, you're so sweet, you know that? s-shit, listen to that pussy...she missed this? she missed the feeling of her sugu inside? hm? fuuuck, fuck it, 'm-'m gonna give you what you need, baby, d-don't worry," he says in a needy rasp, pressing his forehead against yours, giving you a delirious little grin. yeah, suguru knew he was going to lose today...he'd be damned if he didn't cum all over this sweet cunt. all because of some stupidly cute socks.

#gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #geto suguru smut #geto smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #𖤐 ── lxnarworks.

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sttoru · 8 months

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“this is one small ass elevator.”

“i personally think it’s pretty big.”

you slap the back of satoru’s head as he makes that comment. you could sense the perversion behind it; that little grin the sorcerer had as if he made the joke of the century only tended to confirm your suspicions.

you repeatedly press the button which closes the elevator doors. you don’t need anyone else with you in this cramped space—it’d only feel more suffocating.

“just a minute, miss!” . . . there goes your peace. a guy places his foot between the closing doors and they open up for him, giving him the chance to ride down with both of you.

it didn’t stop there— more and more people rushed towards the elevator as if it was the only one available. satoru moves over to you the moment he notices how all people started to press together like a pack of sardines. everyone was trying their best to fit in before the doors close and it was getting hard to breathe properly with so many bodies bumping into you.

“baby, c’mere.” satoru smoothly excuses his way through the crowd and stands before you, pulling you to the nearest corner in hopes of giving you some space to breathe.

your back was against the elevator wall and you were facing your lover who towered over you, his feet spread apart a bit to keep himself steady whilst people pushed and pulled in this tight space.

one of satoru’s hands was placed against the wall near your head, the other on your waist to stabilise your body, “you okay?”

“yeah, thanks.” you mumble quietly, yet loud enough to be heard over the chatter in the elevator. you felt much more at ease now that satoru was the only one being so close to you, instead of having strangers press up against you from all sides.

the elevator doors finally close and it rumbles a bit before descending. satoru’s tall figure loomed over you from up close and somehow made him look even taller than he already was. you tilt your head up and were met by two bright blue eyes staring right back at you from behind his sunglasses:

“hey there, pretty.” he giggles, giving you a small wink whilst enduring the unintentional pushes of others against his back. he’ll do anything to make sure you’re comfortable—you’re his priority in any given situation.

you can’t help but smile at your boyfriend’s remark. your chest was pressed underneath his, his warm breath fanning the little hairs on top of your head, hand clutching gently onto your jacket near your waist—all of it was soothing. even when the rest of the elevator was suffocating.

“wanna kiss you.”

your head instantly snaps towards satoru and your face turns hot at this sudden confession. there were so many people in this small place and therefore could easily spot anything you do. it’d be extremely embarrassing if they see you making out with your lover.

you’re fine with PDA, but not to this extent—

“just a quick kiss. pleaaaase?” satoru pouts, being so desperate that he pushes his glasses down to reveal his glimmering blue eyes, giving you a pleading look and a big pout, “ya know i can’t go a second without feeling your touch. hell, not feeling your lips against mine every second of the day is a crime itself and—“

“shush,” you clamp your hand around satoru’s mouth, only for him to give it a playful lick. you push your palm harder against his lips, but your lover takes this chance to lick and even bite the flesh—borderline making out with your hand.

“ew, that’s disgusting.” you jokingly gag and shake your head. you remove your hand and wipe the saliva off on the sorcerer’s black shirt. once freed from your grip, satoru leans in closer to your lips, his thumb and index holding your chin up. his voice sounded like he was utterly smitten with you in the moment;

“hm? disgusting? that wouldn’t be your reaction if i had done that against your pretty little mouth.” satoru grins and steals a kiss before you could process what had happened, “you’d have begged me for mo—“

“all right. that’s enough.” you press your hand against satoru’s lips once more. a dumb mistake, since the childish man in front of you likes to repeat his actions. his tongue wets your palm over and over until you move your hand to the side again, allowing him to steal another kiss and whisper more naughty stuff in your ear.

“you’re impossible.” you mutter in a half-joking tone, hand landing on his mouth for the third time.

“and you love it.” satoru mumbles against your skin, voice muffled yet heard clearly.

neither of you were giving up on this endless cycle, the playful back and forth continuing until one of the two waves their white flag by the end of this elevator ride.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #this is so …… but we ball

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etfrin · 12 days

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— ʙʟɪꜱꜱ | ᴅᴏᴘᴘᴇʟɢᴀɴɢᴇʀ! ꜰʀᴀɴᴄɪꜱ

✧— ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: NSFW | cunnilingus, mentions of blood, murder. tongue fucking, monster tongue. hints of overstimulation, art from Pinterest | lmk if I forgot anything

✧— ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: doppelganger Francis makes you open the door...

✧— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k

✧— ᴀ/ɴ: please give feedback, it's been over a month since I wrote

「ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ」

The doppelganger should have known better than to show up with ‘scarlet milk’ all over his disguise. He had taken care of the D.D.D of this building already. He just needed to convince the pretty girl behind the screen to let him and cause havoc.

He leans in, his face dangerously close to the glass and he smirks. His eyes are dark and a smirk forms on his face. “Just let me in. Does the D.D.D even treat you well? You deserve to be worshiped and I am willing to be on my knees.”

You swallow as you look at him, only a layer of glass separating you and him. There was a familiar ache between your legs from his words. You couldn't remember the last time you had time for yourself, this simple desk job consuming all your time. You tried to remind yourself that this man is a monster.

But if the monster is ready to be a slut… who are you to refuse?

You press the button that gives him access to your office. You glance at the red button, knowing that the moment you're done having fun with him. You'll have to press it.

The milkman, you know his name is Francis, walks in. He doesn't take any time to press you against the desk. The wood digging into your back.

“Pretty human,” he murmurs, his head dipping in between the space of your shoulder. His lips press a soft kiss. You gasp when you feel his sharp teeth on your skin. If he wanted to, he could tear your flesh.

You let out a breath, your heart beating against your chest. You tilt your head to give him more access to your neck. He takes advantage to lick at your salty skin with his long tongue. “Tasty,” he whispered against your ear. For a moment fear freezes you, thinking that he would eat you alive.

Instead, he gets on his knees. The loud thud makes you wince. “I'll treat you better,” he said, “Be a good girl for me.”

You nod before you can even think.

He gets under your skirt, his breath fanning your wet panties. He pressed his lips to the stain of your arousal. His tongue begins to lick you all over your clothed pussy. You put your hands on the desk, your head thrown back as you moan without shame. You feel weak on the knees. The monster has you caged even though it is your thighs around his head.

He continues to press small kisses all over, and the tip of his tongue puts pressure on your sensitive clit, making you cry out. The wet, rough texture of your panties felt so good against your bud. Then he finally decides that it's enough teasing.

He uses his fingers to pull your underwear out of the way. He chuckled when he saw your wet pussy clenching around nothing. You feel yourself getting hotter.

He eats you out without a care. His strokes are short and impatient. You begin to move your hips, grinding your cunt on his tongue. He groans. His hands are on your thighs and his grip on your flesh tightens. He raises his hands until he's cupping the cheeks of your ass. He kneads the soft flesh as he begins to use his tongue to flick at your clit until it's swollen.

Only when he's satisfied, he kisses the bud and begins to fuck his tongue into your walls. It was no easy feat, but you were so wet and it felt like his tongue was longer than normal humans. He chokes on you, his tongue making out with your tight walls. You cry out from the pleasure, knowing that you'll never feel something like this ever again.

Your eyes roll back, your pussy walls flexing on his tongue. You were so close and you knew you surely were suffocating him with the way you pressed your thighs against his head.

“Please- please-” you begin to plead, your body begging to be released. You would begin to cry if the monster denied you this. His tongue reached deeper inside of your walls than any cock did. He pressed his tongue to a soft, sensitive spot and you got dizzy from the jolts of pleasure. You see white in your vision as you begin to cum. You would have lost your balance if it weren't for him.

He milks your essence on his tongue. He makes sure there's not a single drop left when he stops. You had tears in your eyes as you looked down at him. His lips glisten with your juices. He smirked.

“Let me kill those worthless humans. There's more to that where it came from.”

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koenigami · 6 months

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not sure if you allow it, but how does wriothesly react when the reader uses their safe word during an intense session?

tags : fem!reader, smut, crying, use of safeword, aftercare, comfort, +18

It's hot in the room, the constant gurgling of the pipes reminding you that WRIOTHESLEY must have turned up the heating higher than usual. Then why is your body shivering, with goosebumps all over your skin? You can't see him, can't hear him because he has barely talked to you ever since he's returned from his office. Yet you feel his large, intimidating form loom over your body from behind. You can't speak, can barely breathe with his constricting hand around your throat that somehow seems to get tighter by every passing second.

He's immune to your whimpers, to the tears rolling down your cheeks. With each forceful thrust of his, you hear the bed creak and feel your knees get weaker, your body loosing strength until you're nothing but a limp toy for him. You want to get up, push him away, but the grip his other hand has on your wrists while holding them behind your back- He's just too strong.

That's when even the last ounce of pleasure leaves your body and you're left with nothing but dread and panic. "Red, p-please." you barely recognise your own voice, hoarse and frightened. "No more, please, red."

The pressure on your windpipes is gone instantly. You realise it, not by the oxygen that is easier entering your airways, no, because you still feel like you're suffocating. You realise it because his warmth is as well gone in an instant. W-Where did he go?

Rough hands are all over your body, yet they treat you with so much care, helping you turn and lie on your back, soothing down your thighs. One of them at last settles on your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it and wiping the tears away. "Y/n? Sweetheart, you with me?"

You sniffle and press the heels of your palms against your eyes, your chest shaking with more sobs that won't stop racking your body. "I'm sorry, 'm so sorry. I-I don't even know-"

"No, no, don't apologise. There's nothing to be sorry for." Your brain still feels foggy as you finally look over at Wriothesley who's crouching beside the bed, giving you enough space to breathe yet still having his hands all over you, not wanting to let you go. Nonetheless, you're able to notice the tension in his posture, in his facial expressions. "Just try to relax, alright? You're okay now." his hand shifts to your hair, fingers combing through the messy strands until they settle on your scalp, soothingly massaging you there. "You did good. It was too much, wasn't it?"

"Couldn't breathe." you whisper and realise that you feel so small in his presence, but not in an inferior way. Wriothesley may look all brutish and intimidating with a strength that could crush any allegedly impenetrable door in the fortress, but you're well aware that he would never use that strength against people that he cares about. "And, uhm-"

Piercing blue eyes watch as you nervously fiddle with the blanket that he has covered you with. But the little peck he gives you on your shoulder tells you that he wants to let you have a breather and take as much time as you need to sort your thoughts. "You seemed a-angry. You were so quiet and, I don't know. It was..."

"Scary?" he finishes for you, a gentle and reassuring smile plastered on his face that alleviates the pressure on your chest.

"Yeah."

Silence invades the bedroom for a short moment, making you forget that you're miles beneath the water surface, that the room which you share with him belongs to a prison, that a few moments prior your body has been in a fight-or-flight mode. The silence reminds you that you're safe and that all of this, all of him, is home. "Will you come back to bed? And hold me?"

Wriothesley's eyes soften at your request and the timid sound of your voice. "Of course, my love." His knees pop when he eventually gets up, pressing a fleeting kiss on your temple before he picks his pants up from the floor and puts them on. Despite the previous events, you can't help but feel a light heat creep up your neck when you get a sight of his naked buttocks.

"Careful with those wandering eyes. I might think you want to continue where we left off." Wriothesley chuckles when you pull the blanket over your head, a futile attempt to hide your embarrassed expression.

"Come here." the mattress dips beside you and you let him tug the blanket off your head. The warmth and smell of his make you sigh in contentment once he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "I'm the one who should apologise. I was not aware of how much I was hurting you."

The teasing smirk and brief leisurely attitude are gone, replaced by a seriousness that you usually only get to see when he's handling work related matters. He kisses your face again and again, further silent apologies that he hopes will lessen the pain inside your chest. And his. "I was a little irritated, yes, but that had nothing to do with you. Some inmates got their hands on a few bottles of wine." he explains. "Those drunkards started spewing lots of nonsense when I confronted them about it."

What did they say?" you inquire quietly, your eyes slowly but surely feeling heavier. With a palm against his naked chest, you notice the rapid heartbeat but decide to not give it any mind, since Wriothesley's tender strokes along your back are truly not making it easy for you to stay awake and think straight.

He stops his movements for a short moment, clenching and unclenching his fist as his eyes trail over the red, irritated skin of his knuckles.

"Your grace has turned quite soft." "Your little mouse must be doing a great job in bed, huh?" "Why don't you lend her to us? I'm sure we could teach her a thing or two?"

"Nothing you should worry your head about." his voice is merely a whisper as his lips move against your forehead before he buries his nose in your hair and resumes to trace more soothing shapes on your lower back.

a/n : thank you for your patience, dear anon! hope you'll see this since your request has been sitting for a while in my inbox-

#jinx approves. I post.#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley comfort #wriothesley x you #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin smut

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heeliopheelia · 6 months

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐍𝐍

genre: smut ♥ word count: 1.3k ♥ warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, pet names, hair pulling, orgasm denial, overstimulation, eating out

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

a/n: gah dayum even jake lasted longer than me, i need a doctor... did i really outhorny probably the horniest mf on this planet

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG lasts until... November 6th

"Baby, oh my god," Heeseung whines above you, voice higher on its pitch than usually. The overstimulation subconsciously has him pressing you even deeper into the mattress of his bed and your head spins as you look at him through blurry eyes. He's so messy, so lewd and sloppy – and all that only after not even a one week of not fucking you. "Look what you're doing to me. 'm so weak for you, baby."

He rests his head in the crook of your neck, hips working into yours with deep strokes. He's falling apart in your pussy, breathing heavily onto your skin and groping every single inch of your body. The tortuously slow pace is causing the tears to push in the back of the both of your eyes and you clench your thighs around him even tighter.

"You feel so good," you breathe out, the crispy evening air slipping through the crack of your tilted open window and making you shiver as it hits your sweaty skin.

Your arms wrapped around his neck are nearly suffocating him with their hold but he doesn't care for the lack of air, mind only wrapped around making the two of you cum.

"Never doing that again," he mumbles into your neck, hips rutting against yours chaotically. The sound of your moans blends together as you reach your climax in the same time as he spills his seeds inside of you.

His arms tremble on each side of your head, his muscles flexing as he slowly rocks forward to ride out your orgasms. After a moment, he lifts his head up and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose before nuzzling into your warm cheek.

"Never again."

PARK JAY lasts until... November 24th

He was doing so fucking well. There's only less than a week until December and he was absolutely sure he could finish the challenge.

But noooooo... Out of the blue, you've decided that today is the day you finally want to tease him, to make him lose his damn mind and finally fuck you dumb. You can feel his eyes carefully tracing your every move. You put in the effort to sway your hips a little more sensually than usual, to flip your wet hair obnoxiously and let the loose silk robe slip down your left arm, causing your skin to cover with goosebumps only a second after.

And, ah, success, you think to yourself with a small smile playing on your lips as you hear him let out an annoyed sigh, then take impatient strides towards you. You stop in your place when he clicks his tongue and you turn your face slightly to the side, sending him the most confused look you're able to muster.

"Is something the matter?" You ask lightly, facing him fully when he doesn't respond.

That's when his arm wraps itself around your waist and pulls you flush to his chest. He leans down and starts kissing and nibbling at your exposed shoulder, making you slightly arch your back in his embrace. You tilt your head to the side and let his mouth work on your skin.

"You're a bad, bad girl after all, aren't you?" He mumbles into your neck, moving away slightly to look at your face after pulling you even closer to him and grinding his hardened bulge against you.

You suck in a breath when his hand slowly trails up your spine and tangles in your hair, suddenly pulling you down until you're situated on your knees right in front of him. You don't get much to say when he unbuckles his pants and lets them drop to his ankles, his fingers caressing your cheek softly as he looks at you with a wild sparkle in his eye.

"Let's put that pretty little mouth of yours to use now, huh?" He hums, pulling your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with his hands. "Gonna fuck you for all the days we've lost this month."

SIM JAKE lasts until... November 2nd

As hurt as Jake's pride was when all of his friends had laughed in his face at the idea of him even participating in such event, he has to shamefully admit they were right as now it's only the second day in and he's already folding you in half like a goddamn lawn chair. It's a little pathetic maybe – probably, but he really can't find in himself a single cell to care when you're so prettily sprawled out beneath him like now. He's addicted to you and he finds no shame in admitting so.

He pistons his hips into you, thrust almost maddening as his big hands are placed on each of your lifted thighs. The sounds you let out make him only go faster and rougher, the greed for hearing even more overtaking his senses.

"Take it, baby," he gasps out. Your head lolls backwards into the pillows again and you're no longer able to hold yourself up. "Fucking take it all."

You want to beg for him to give you a break after going at it for so long, but you can't. Because you're just as down bad for him, if not even more. You're slipping away from reality and yet you keep spreading your legs for him, ignoring the burning pain in your flexed muscles.

"'m so close," you choke out, digging your fingers into his toned shoulders and finally wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer to your aching body. "Cum in me, please. Want you to fill me up."

He swears you're gonna make him lose his damn mind.

And yes, his friends were right, he is whipped for you. He is unable to go even three days without feeling you clenching on his cock. He is needy and whiny. But he's also the one who has the most beautiful girl crying out his name in the middle of the night for all the neighbours to hear – not them.

PARK SUNGHOON lasts until... November 13th

He really fucking wanted to win this stupid challenge. You're just too tempting. It's like you've been brought to this earth solely for the purpose of making him fail at this bet.

"Such a tease. Not so funny now, huh?"

He uses his strong arms to hold your thighs down and buries his face deeper in between your legs. You're shaking from the overstimulation, being edged for as long as you are, nearly screaming out as Sunghoon denies another one of your orgasms. He bites into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and swats your hand away when it tugs on his hair desperately.

"Do I really need to tie your hands down for you to finally listen to me, doll?" He sighs with faked annoyance, looking up to watch your flushed and fucked out face scrunching up in frown so prettily again. Your mouth is parted open, letting out his favorite sounds in the entire world each time he made contact with your sensitive clit.

He ducks down to graze his lips over your swollen bud and you jerk in his hold, back arching off the bed and head rolling backwards until you're facing the wooden headboard. Sunghoon pays no mind to the hard and dripping cock in his pants – his focus being on you only.

"You always taste so sweet," he speaks suddenly, making you squirm as his breath hits your wet cunt. "Such a pretty doll. Just for me and my eyes only."

And he thinks that this time he'll finally let you come. He'll have to if he doesn't want you blacking out on him from another orgasm denial. So he slips two of his thick fingers inside of you without a warning. He doesn't even need to move them once to have you coming all over his hand with a cry on your lips, toes curling into the bed sheets as your body trembles underneath his touch.

Sunghoon hasn't even noticed how close to his own release he actually was, so with a surprised yelp he feels the sudden rush of pleasure shooting down his stomach and within a blink of an eye his sweatpants are stained with cum. His eyelids flutter closed as he lets out a long and quiet groan.

"There we fucking go."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @seungiesluv @i4kt @heehoonsnemo

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

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Hello lovely ~ gonna request what we were talking about~

Alastors antlers shedding♡ literally? Anything you wanna say about it

Shedding Season

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: Antlers being Shed, Alastor being clingy. 18+ as it does mention Alastor having a rut. Nothing graphic I promise

A/N:This is my take on how he would deal with his antlers shed and how he deals with his rut.

Alastor finds himself needing help with shedding his antlers. You decide to help him out

It started off fine for Alastor, at first it was more of an urge to stay near his lover, you, it didn’t really bother him as he was a busy man and had things to take care of but it got worse after a day or two. The urge to stay in your vicinity got worse as he got even more agitated than before if he strayed away from you or Satan forbid Lucifer or Husker got too close to you. Then it was the constant motion of him rubbing his face into your neck or shoulder when no one was around, you didn’t seem to mind one bit but it agitated him to no end. But the feeling went away once you carefully ran your fingers through his hair, brushing near his antlers and ever so carefully scratching which caused him to pull you closer to him.

Then it was how his body was reacting, how he couldn’t even wear his own coat anymore. It was like every article of clothing was suffocating him and how he hated it so. The best course of action he thought of was hiding in his room away from prying eyes and ears as he snarled out rubbing his horns on one of the many trees in the bayou in his bedroom. He didn’t need you to see how pathetic he looked and felt, his sweet doe would never look at him the same if they saw him like this. He was sure of it. Despite being in his own room, the wind of the familiar bayou felt on his warm body wasn't enough for him. It wasn’t until he heard a knock on his bedroom door that sent his ears turning to the sound and his head snapping up in anger.

“Alastor? Darling?” You called out from the other side of his bedroom door, his heart pounded before he willed his way towards the door ignoring the pain his antlers were giving him. He shakily gripped the doorknob before opening it only a bit. “Yes, Dear?” He asked softly trying to keep his anger at bay as his chest heaved with every heavy breath. You softly smiled at him, “May I come in?” You asked, holding onto the door frame leaning closer to him.

He weighed the options for a moment before eventually allowing you into his room, finally noticing the small basket in your hands, he tilted his head confused. Closing the door behind you he watched as you sat on his chair and waved him over, “Come here you silly deer.” You teased, causing him to huff but he followed your directions as much as he wanted to argue, he knew better. Especially at this moment. You held out your hands to him, the basket on the side of the chair, he slowly held your hands as you pulled him to sit on the ground in between your legs, his back towards the chair.

“Need a drink or something to snack on, Love?” You asked him as he shook his head silently, he was rarely ever silent. You reached up and gently rubbed his shoulders noticing how warm his skin felt. “You’re rut is around the corner isn’t it?” He froze at the mention of his rut as his hand reached up to rub at his face. “Yes..I do believe it’s that time of year again, Cher.” He replied the radio static filter from his voice was gone as he let out a deep heavy sigh.

You reached down and grabbed a cold water bottle to hand to him. “Drink up, Al..I’m gonna try and help you get this velvet off your antlers okay?” You whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. Alastor could only nod and mumble out a warning but you’ve been through this rodeo with him before. You reached down to get the tools from the basket as well as some of his favorite snacks that you got from Rosie earlier today. “They might shed as well, Al..just let it happen okay?” You carefully brushed back his hair seeing as a few strands stuck to his head that was covered in sweat. He could only reply with a hum leaning his head back against you. You were gonna have to get him a cold rag soon as well.

As you began to slowly and carefully help get the velvet off of his antlers he let out a low groan closing his eyes as sweat covered his face and neck. “Want me to go get you a cold rag, Darlin?” You asked softly tilting his head back carefully watching as he opened his eyes, his everlasting smile had dropped a while ago. “No..not yet..” He whispered out, you went back to silently helping him knowing how overwhelmed he gets during these times.

It was only after you had gotten all of the velvet off of his antlers that something hit the floor with a soft thud making Alastor jump nonetheless. You looked over after making sure you had everything put back up and noticed his two antlers had shed, making him grumble loudly as he leaned his head back into your stomach. “Come on, Al..let me go get a rag for your face and neck.” You whispered slowly getting up as he leaned forward watching you. “Take a sip of water and eat up, okay? I don’t need you dealing with your rut on an empty stomach.” He waved a hand towards you but did what you had asked of him.

The rest of the night was spent with him sitting between your legs as you carefully washed the sweat from his face and neck, whispering soft reassurances as he kept drifting in and out of sleep. Soft jazz playing in the background as his shadow carefully wrapped around your body.

He felt a million times better and he knew that the weeks of his rut would be over soon enough with you helping him with how uncomfortable it made him.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader

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yanderestarangel · 7 months

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HEADKANONS MK1 | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 + 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊

TW: smut, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob, thigh fetish, mutual masturbation, degradation, pet names, bdsm, blindfold sex, overstimulation, oral F!receives, afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than 'you'.

Bi Han makes a standard sound when he's close to cumming, it's loud, hoarse moans and he'll curse as fuck off while he feels the familiar tightness in his balls - that is, you can tell when he's going to cum, mainly by the deep grouch sounds that come out of the ropes his vocals of him-as well as liking to cum on your belly or cum on your face, using his fingers of him to spread his essence all over everything. "-Fucking beautiful, dirty like a fucking stupid whore, look at this angelic face and dirty with my cum." -Bi Han said satisfied, looking at the mess he made on you. "-Our night isn't over (Y/N) I'm going to fuck your throat until you can't talk anymore."

Liu Kang likes to have you between his legs, sitting on his dick while he solves some things about the hourglass of time, he takes more pleasure in seeing you having fun, sleepy and drunk with pleasure, fitting your pussy on his fat dick while you I drooled on his muscular chest, leaving a wet trail - he would just say: "-Shhh my beautiful treasure, enjoy, feel stronger on my dick and melt into the pleasure I can give you." -while one of his hands were on your back, massaging lightly.

You were the first person to fuck Raiden, it was slow and loving sex, he was an extremely affectionate man asking you if you were enjoying it enough, where he was supposed to touch that caused you the most pleasure, if you were enjoying it enough to keep fucking him. You fucked on a cool night with a full moon, while the young Shaolin smiled at you, bringing one of your hands to his face. "-I love you (Y/N) and I will never forget this day."

Kuai Liang is a lover of sucking pussy, exclusively your pussy - he would stay 24 hours between your thighs if you let him and he could, stimulating your clitoris with his tongue and sticking his fingers inside your tight hole, licking the sensitive and smooth bundles of nerves while moaning softly against the flesh of your cunt. He loves teasing your clitoris by sucking, licking and rubbing - Liang loves sucking your pussy while looking deep into your eyes, absorbing every moan, reaction and sigh from your lips. "-What a sweet pussy (Y/N), so beautiful, tight and needy, just wanting my mouth, isn't it?" -Kuai Liang removed his mouth from your pussy, his tongue leaving a trail of saliva between your pussy and him. He soon turned you on top, making you ride his mouth. "-Sit on my fucking face, you naughty slut, let me feel that beautiful pussy cumming and squeezing my tongue."

Tomas Vrbada is the type of man who whines and gets overstimulated very quickly, especially eating your pussy, with you riding him, he will whimper and moan as he thrusts his hips hard, using the friction of your creamy, bulging walls for his cock, while he holds your hips tightly, he will cum inside you, but his dick will still be hard and dirty with cum, begging for more. "-Please (Y/N)... Fuuuck... I want to cum again, I need to make you scream, cum for me, squirt with your little pussy on my dick."

Syzoth has a fetish for having his head pressed between your thighs, he loves the feeling of your soft flesh slightly suffocating him, staying between his legs and just masturbating, feeling your dominance with him is the way to make Syzoth cum faster, going and coming with his hand on his own dick while feeling his soft skin. "-Yeesss~ Fuuuck (Y/N), this feels so good, I swear I'm going to fuck you so hard later." -he said salivating, while masturbating between the delicious tightness that you offered him.

Kenshi uses blindfolds on you too, it's a bit of an unfair game, since he can still see because of Sento, but he likes to see you completely at his mercy, seeing your lips twitch in surprise, after all the target can be anyone one, your pussy, ass, mouth and in various ways, from simple penetration to delicious oral, with his tongue and fingers moving in harmony to give you pleasure. You felt him play with your nipples, using an ice cube, removing it and placing his hot tongue later, alternating between the two poles of cold and heat. "-This time I surprised you, didn't I, my love? Totally at my mercy, a beautiful and good little slut." -Kenshi soon returned to playing with your nipples, sucking and nibbling the cold area, going with his fingers to your pussy, it was going to be a long night.

Johnny Cage is a man who loves blowjobs, regardless of the time or day, he loves having your lips wrapped around his dick, he loves sex with you in general, but blowjobs are his weak point, it's a vision of paradise for him. see with your eyes full of tears, looking at him beautifully, totally submissive, he guides your head to the base of his dick, you could feel the heat of his balls on your chin, and Cage's thick, pulsing length teasing your throat. Johnny likes to see you swallow everything, every drop he can he will give you - Your knees hurt as you sucked him, seeing Johnny look at you as he slowly sipped a martini, the taste of the drink and the sight of you there, submissive to him , it was enough for Johnny to cum. "-Yes my good boy/girl, swallow my cock like the beautiful and hungry little thing you are" -Johnny spoke between moans, moving his hips even more, seeking fiction with your mouth. "-Look at the mess you're making on my floor with that pussy, so wet, such a fucking beautiful little boy/girl, I'm going to fuck you until you're a stupid and beautiful mess, just as you should be."

Shang Tsung loves to fuck, your breasts always put him in a good mood after a busy day as a royal wizard. He always gives you a dominant look, calling you a "good pet" when he sees you kneel and show him your breasts, while he used your mouth to drool and lubricate his dick first, pulling out roughly and with a loud sound, inserting his cock between your breasts, holding each of them as he smiled and moaned at you, forcing you to lick the head of his cock in the process. "-Holy shit (Y/N) what wonderful breasts, they are perfection, and all of them are just for me, you are mine, and you will please me like the good little pet you are."

Kung lao likes to do quickies, whether it's mutual masturbation, with you masturbating his dick with your hands and him using his fingers to fuck your pussy while you both moan loudly and needily, or fucking you doggy style in some bathroom at the restaurant. Lady Bo before his work or training - he needs to cum to relieve it, while moving in and out of your pussy, massaging your breasts while covering your mouth with one of his hands. "-Shut your little mouth my love, we don't want to be heard, do we? Just a beautiful little slut desperate for my cock." -Kung Lao pushed even further, taking you to the limit as you trembled against his cock, while he took one of his hands from the soft flesh of your pussy to your ass, slapping his skin.

Reiko likes to have sex toys, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, all to use with you. He likes to fuck your pussy using his dick + the vibrator on your clitoris, increasing your pleasure and even a little pain, due to the intensity - he turns the intensity to maximum - watching you writhe beneath him, or, making you use anal plugs, especially heart-shaped ones, fuck you while moving the plug in your ass back and forth, giving you double pleasure. "-You really are so sensitive, aren't you (Y/N)? Walking around with a plug in that pretty ass, a wet pussy like yours... A perfect slut for me." -Reiko removed your anal plug, making a wet sound, taking the dick out of your pussy and sticking it in your ass and cumming inside.

Shao Khan is not going to fuck you right away, he is a huge man, that is, if you are content with just rubbing your pussy on his dick or his muscular thighs, he will be content with just watching you cum for now, seeing your little body and pussy, on top of his thighs, while encouraging you to continue, as it was pleasurable for him too. "-You are such a needy human (Y/N) just enjoy the pleasure this great General can give you."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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luveline · 8 days

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hi my lovely!! maybe bombshell!reader and spencer struggling to adjust to daily life after his prison stint? maybe he feels suffocated and an argument ensues?? i feel like it would be difficult to just get back to normal after everything that happened !! love you <33

love you!!! fem!reader

“You’ve always had terrible posture.”

“What?” Spencer asks.

You wrap your arms around him from behind. You’re more gentle than anyone he’s ever met, though you're teasing, whispering in his ear, “You sit forward so far you must get knots.”

He’s immediately tense. You take little notice, your nose in his hair, your hand riding up toward his neck, which you spoil with soft touching. He tries to relax. It's all he wanted only a week ago, to have you holding him, to smell your perfume, the stick of your hand lotion or the traces of mint in your lip oil as you kiss the skin just behind his ear. But now it feels like too much. You’re never too much, not for him, and yet.

“Ready?” you ask, bracing your hands against his chest.

You pull him back until he hears a solid click emanating from the mid of his spine, and you laugh quite nicely in his ear. You’re his showful girl, but you’ve taken care since he came back to be careful. This is the cheekiest you’ve acted. His ears are ringing as your fingertips draw a path down his chest. This is a proper hug. His chest compresses tightly, he can’t draw breath.

“Love you,” you say, kissing his cheek. You show no signs of detaching. “You smell really good. Maybe we can get some Indian takeout tonight and just stay all comfy and stuff…”

He can’t answer. He wishes you’d stop touching him. It’s an unfair wish.

“Does that sound okay?” you ask.

He nods, hoping you’ll get off of him once you know the answer. When you stay, he shifts his shoulder and forces out a tight, “Yeah, that’s good.”

“I love you.”

He loves you so much it hurts to say. “I love you too.”

“You’re not feeling okay?” you ask quietly.

“I’m fine.”

You climb off of him quickly. He knows he’s been too mean, worse when you say, “Okay,” in a tone like you’ve choked on something. “Uh, well, I’ll go find a menu.”

You’re not one for filler words —it’s how he knows he’s thrown you for a loop.

Spencer isn’t trying to be spiteful. He’s constantly overstimulated, he has been for three or months now, weeks and weeks of being in fight mode and now he’s home he doesn’t feel home, you’re here but he’s struggling to just accept that things are fine again. They don’t feel fine.

He knows he’s lucky. He feels sick, is all.

After a phone call he hears from the couch where you place an order for all his favourite mains and sides, you return to the living room of his apartment (of which you practically live in) and sit on the far side of the couch. Not too far to miss, but enough to betray how he’s made you feel.

“Don’t sit so far away,” he says.

“You’re being snippy, Spencer. Which is fine. But I don’t want to fight.”

He holds out his hand. “Don’t sit so far away,” he repeats, preface to an apology.

You shuffle across the couch on your knees. Spencer doesn’t want a hug, but he takes your hand and holds it to his chest where his heartbeat goes a tick too fast. Your frown softens as the bump of his pulse registers.

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what it is.”

“That’s okay.” You’re lying at first, then not, “It’s okay, honey. I know you’re– I know this is still bad. I know I’m not being the most help I could be for you right now.”

“It’s not like that,” he insists.

“Well. Don’t be sorry. But please don’t say you love me if you don’t want to say it, Spence.”

He could bite off his own tongue. “I feel like I can’t speak. I think I need to talk to Dr. Kelly tomorrow. I’m so anxious I feel like I can’t breathe.”

He figures he owes you some honesty, but he’s wishing he kept it to himself when he sees the stricken look that lights your eyes. Your mouth turns to a line.

Spencer grabs for your other hand. “I’m fine,” he says again.

“Oh, sure.” You massage his fingers with your thumb on automatic. “You seem totally fine.” You lean in. “I don’t expect you to be fine, you know that? If you’re moody, that’s okay. You can be mad at me if you want, I think you deserve it. But I’m serious, don’t say you love me if you don’t mean it.”

“I always mean it,” he says honestly.

For a moment, you bite your lip, your eyes on his, and he worries he’s not as forgiven as he wants to be.

“I’ll call Dr. Kelly,” you say finally, pulling your joined hands into your lap. “I want you to feel better, babe. That’s all I want.”

He nods, lifting his chin for a kiss you give immediately. The suffocating feeling abates.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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nadvs · 1 month

Text

cam girl (part eleven)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.

He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.

And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.

Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.

His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.

He still doesn’t know how you do that.

Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.

You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.

Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.

He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.

He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.

“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.

“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”

He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.

“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.

You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.

“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”

That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.

“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”

Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.

He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.

So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.

“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.

You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.

“Please?”

Did he really just say that?

The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.

“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.

His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.

“Come here,” he says.

“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?

He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.

It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.

“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.

“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”

“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.

“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”

Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.

“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.

He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.

Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.

You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.

You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.

“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.

“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”

He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.

You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.

He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.

The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.

You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.

When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.

You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.

You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.

Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.

He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.

Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.

He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.

You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.

“Why?” you whine, needy.

“Sit on my face,” he orders.

You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.

You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.

When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.

The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.

Rafe shoves away the thought.

He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.

Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.

“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.

“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you tell him.

“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.

“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”

Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.

“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”

You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.

His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.

Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.

Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.

When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.

Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.

“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”

You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.

“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.

Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?

He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.

But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.

୨ᰔ୧

You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.

When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.

His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.

But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.

The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?

You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.

You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.

After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.

You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.

Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.

You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.

“You should be careful.”

You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” you ask.

“I overheard him talking about you.“

“Sorry?” you repeat.

“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.

He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”

The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.

Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.

You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.

“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.

“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.

Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?

You’ve been found out.

“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”

“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”

“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.

“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.

“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.

“Just say it.”

“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”

This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.

“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.

“They all just laughed.”

Your heart sinks.

Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.

For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.

“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”

“Yup,” you reply, walking away.

You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.

This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.

When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.

You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?

Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.

After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.

Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.

Rafe: where are you?

You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.

You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

{ read part twelve here }

#yay i finished this way earlier than i thought i would #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and readef #rafe cameron and y/n

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itostea · 3 months

Text

my first & last love (gojo x reader)

satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru

tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst

word count: 11k

The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song.

It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did).

Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.

It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing.

You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes.

“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it.

For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time.

“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat.

“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.

His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.

“--I like Getou and I need your help.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”

He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”

It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”

“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”

Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again.

You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.

“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool.

“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself.

“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”

Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”

You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”

“I do.” He says quickly.

You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”

“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”

Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.

Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why.

“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty?

Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”

“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”

“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”

I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it. It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own.

Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”

“Uh the goodness of your heart?”

“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”

“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!”

He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”

“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.”

“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, I mean it.”

Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”

He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead.

Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning.

He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification.

(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come

Him: come ??? cum

(Name): it’s too early to be doing this

He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan

(Name): SATORU

(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS

Him: WHAT

Him: HELLO???

(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA

(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME

(Name): WHAT DO I DO?

Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.

Him: say hi back

Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly

(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn

(Name): jk he just said bye :(

Him: should’ve done what i told u to do

Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.

Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?

Him: yeah why

Suguru: Nothing

It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.

His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop.

Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again.

Suguru: She’s cute

Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.

Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it.

You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake.

The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.

Gojo: omw to ur house

Gojo: ill be there in 10

You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear

Gojo: …

Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?

You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY?

You: so i need ur opinion

Gojo: dude

Gojo: ok

Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine

You: yeah but what specifically?

Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma

Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party

Gojo: no offense

You: but i liked that dress :((((

You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways

Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way

You: wow okay thanks

Gojo: you looked nice

Gojo: ANYWAYS

Gojo: a pair of jeans

Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders

You: really?

Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up

You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day.

You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off.

Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”

“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you.

“Atta girl.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.

On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it.

“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode.

“Game plan?”

“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”

“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light.

“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”

At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.”

Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party.

You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!”

“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.

“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“You’re not–”

“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”

“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you.

For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”

“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”

“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”

You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?”

“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”

“Suguru.”

You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”

You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”

“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago.

You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.

Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?”

Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.”

“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom.

The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.

The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit.

You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders.

“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?”

“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”

In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it.

Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.

You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”

A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I like when you compliment me.”

“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”

The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne.

And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well.

Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?

But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week.

Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on.

If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.

What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another.

You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”

“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts.

“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie.

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was.

Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache.

Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air.

Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid.

If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you.

No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.

He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking.

His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else.

He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”

“Satoru?”

Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers.

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it.

“What’s up Satoru–?”

“Party’s off.”

“What? Wait what are you–”

“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand.

You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less.

The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.

“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.

You only nod. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah I can take you back–”

“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”

For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”

“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace.

You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”

This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”

You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”

“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”

“Today?”

“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”

“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”

“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”

You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”

“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”

Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you.

His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.

Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind.

“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”

“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa.

“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.

“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”

“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”

“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”

“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”

“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs.

You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”

This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”

You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”

“Are you?”

“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”

He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”

“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?”

“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”

He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru.

His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”

“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes.

“Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face.

“Satoru–”

The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more.

“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”

As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you.

“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”

Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”

“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”

You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back.

If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.

He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you.

At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that.

So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?

You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date.

Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.

“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here.

“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be.

It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”

“What?”

“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”

This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.

“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”

When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”

Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”

This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”

“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”

You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”

You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.

“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something.

“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”

Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”

Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”

“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”

“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”

“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”

You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.”

His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”

“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”

You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”

“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor.

If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru.

You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—

The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“

“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”

You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”

She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone.

You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“

“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.”

“What? But you just got here—“

“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave.

Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“

“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.”

You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear.

By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”

“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.

“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light.

“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”

After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing.

Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?

No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you.

Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it.

The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace.

You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile.

“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.

Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name.

“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes.

“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs.

You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in.

You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”

You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you.

“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?” Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth.

He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”

“I–”

“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”

“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder.

“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship.

“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”

“(Name)...”

“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this.

Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed.

He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on.

Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru.

That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind.

When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him.

You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him.

Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms?

He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this.

If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.

You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”

“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”

“I’m not–”

“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”

You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”

“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”

You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”

You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”

He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”

At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”

“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”

You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”

“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”

You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”

“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal.

“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”

The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck.

You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”

He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?”

When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #fluff #angst #satoru x reader #satoru x you

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zarameraki · 1 month

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˖°🕷️ ࣪𖤐 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽-𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 ˖°🕷️𖤐

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 step-father x step-daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 dom daddy and his little girl 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 bj 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 daddy issues 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 4.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: ok look, i was ovulating and i had to write this for some reason. i even wrote a nanami one (but he's your step-uncle). my mind was in the gutter and i wanted to challenge myself to something super taboo. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Here you were, standing on a worn-out welcome mat, staring at the door of your ex-stepfather’s house.

It’s surreal.

A month ago, when your mom dropped the bomb about their divorce, you felt like your world was crumbling. Part of you felt relieved, like you could finally breathe without suffocating under their constant tension. And the other part? Well, it felt like a piece of you was being ripped away.

Last week, when the papers were finalized, making it official that they were done, you locked yourself in your room. The silence was deafening, and you couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling of missing him. Missing Toji. It’s ridiculous, right? He’s not your step dad anymore. He’s just some guy now. Too old, too wrong, too different.

You should just turn around and leave, forget about all this.

But you couldn’t.

Not today.

Not when you’re clutching your hard-earned bachelor’s degree, wearing a stupid graduation gown that felt like a costume. He didn’t bother showing up for your biggest achievement, just like your mother. She was always occupied with her own life to care about you. You were just an accident, a spill on her pile of kitchen table bills.

Toji, though, he was different. He actually paid attention, listened to you, cared about what you had to say. Maybe you’re being stupid for wanting to talk to him, to pour out everything that’s been eating you up for months. But you needed to do this, for yourself, even if it meant facing the reality that he’s not part of your life anymore.

So, you’d driven straight to his residence building, skipping the after parties with your friends. You were twenty-two for fuck’s sake. If you wanted to spend the night celebrating with your step-dad, then that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Enough was enough.

Your trembling finger hovered over the doorbell, each second feeling like an eternity. The sharp pricks of anxiety danced on your palms, and the weight on your shoulders threatened to crush you. But you couldn’t turn back now.

The ache in your chest demanded resolution, an answer to the haunting question that had plagued you since your mother first brought him into your life: Do I want to fuck my step-dad?

Yes. Yes, you very much did.

The clicks of the lock rattled and the door knob twisted clockwise.

Toji stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space as if he had devoured the entire door frame. His twelve abdomen muscles rippled, stark against his skin. Jet-black hair clung wetly to his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. With sweatpants slung low on his hips, a tantalizing trail of hair led downward, drawing attention to the area you often found yourself fantasizing about.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, realization dawning. “It was today, wasn’t it?”

“You’re such an ass,” you spat out, your body trembling with a mix of emotions—his forgetfulness, his proximity to you, the sheer presence of him. But at this moment, all your focus was on the pain of him abandoning you after promising he’d be there. “I was completely alone, Toji. Do you even understand how embarrassing it was to stand there by myself while everyone else had their families?”

“Sweetheart—”

“No. No, you don’t get to call me that. You don’t—You made me a promise, Toji. You swore you’d be there for me.”

“I know,” he murmured, running his hand down his face. “I’m sorry, kid. Come here.” He grasped your wrist and drew you towards him, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around your body, reminiscent of the times he used to challenge you by having you sit on his back during push-ups to prove you wrong about being too heavy for him. “Better?”

“No,” you grumbled, resting your cheek against his chest. He had the scent of spruce and cigarettes that you found strangely comforting. What you wouldn’t do to sleep on his chest for hours, days and weeks. “Toji, I . . . I want to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” he asked, stepping back.

“Can we sit down first?”

He grinned. “Of course, baby.”

With a shy smile of your own, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led you towards the plush couch at the center of the room. Memories of previous visits with your mother flashed briefly in your mind, but they were quickly replaced by the present moment.

The apartment’s decor was simple yet masculine, with red-brick walls lending a rustic charm. A mounted television, a large couch, and a hanging boxing bag added character to the space. The kitchen, though small, was designed in an L-shape, showcasing Toji’s dedication to fitness with his assortment of protein powders and supplements neatly arranged.

As you both settled onto the couch, Toji relaxed back, spreading out his legs and placing his arms on the backrest. His gaze lingered on you as you gracefully removed your graduation gown and placed your degree on his coffee table.

“Your mother allowed you to wear that?” His thumb traced the curve of his lower lip as his gaze roamed shamelessly over you.

The gown you had on was a sleek, satin creation with a daring thigh-high slit. Its fabric was delicate, featuring thin straps and a plunging cleavage that barely contained your breasts. It was no secret that you had chosen it with Toji in mind, especially since your mother had been “too busy” to accompany you on your shopping trip.

“She doesn’t control my wardrobe,” you replied, your voice laced with confidence as you settled beside him. One leg tucked beneath you, the other languidly extended, the slit in your dress showcasing the smoothness of your skin. Toji’s gaze followed the line of exposed flesh before meeting your eyes. “Besides, you shouldn’t be the one to talk.”

His smirk widened when you pointed out his lack of a shirt. “My house, my rules.”

You changed the subject. “Care to explain why you missed my graduation?”

“Work,” he replied shortly.

“Is that so?”

“I got a last-minute call for a match. The prize money was going to cover the next three months’ rent.” Toji was a professional MMA fighter. You had once attended one of his matches for ten minutes before almost passing out from witnessing how brutally he defeated his opponent. His persona in the ring was a juxtaposition to the sarcastic yet caring man he was at home with you.

“Did you win?” you asked, absently twirling the bracelet he had given you for your twenty-first birthday.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone carrying a hint of pride. “I won.”

“Good.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, only to find his eyes fixed on you. “Do you miss home?”

“I am home.”

“You know what I mean.”

He took a deep breath, gazing at the blank television screen. Tilting his head back towards you, he wore a lopsided grin. “I miss you. Does that count?”

Your insides turned to jelly at his words, but you refused to let yourself falter, refusing to become the shy, sweet girl you once were, despite the depraved and forbidden reel playing in your mind.

You missed watching television with your head on his lap. You missed cooking together. You missed doing the dishes afterward. You missed joining him on walks and runs just to spend a little extra time together. You missed dragging him to malls with you and trying on clothes, posing as sexily as you could, but obviously, he didn’t understand the signals. He never did. Even if you’d spend more time with him than your own mother.

Silence ensued around you, only the subtle sounds of your choppy breaths and his composed ones were heard.

“Why are you here, kid?” Toji’s gruff voice cut through the air.

“To see you.”

“Why are you here?”

You held your breath tightly in your chest. “I wanted to talk.”

“About?” He was quick with the question, as if he knew what you were about to say, but wanted to hear it from your lips. Lips that he couldn’t pull his eyes away from. “Talk to me.”

“I—” You felt a knot form in your throat. “I wanted to check up—”

“Bullshit.”

Yeah, bullshit.

What were you scared of? This was the man who cut up fruits for you when you were mentally deprived from crunching for your exams. This was the man who put a blanket on you if you fell asleep reading, even giving a kiss to your crown. This was the man who treated you like you were his own daughter, when in reality, you never were. And he never outwardly called you his daughter, either. You didn’t know why you never saw him as a father figure, but rather, you called him a friend. A really good friend. A friend you’d fallen stupidly in love with over the course of six months.

Toji snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked out of the whirlpool of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

“To you.”

He lifted a brow. “To me?”

Now or never, Y/N. Now or fucking never.

You knelt down and moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. His eyes widened momentarily at your boldness. “Toji, I like you. Hell, I love you. I love every version of the man you’ve been in my life. I know—I know you love me, too. Probably not in the way I want you to, but a girl can hope.” Your words were directed at the dog tag hanging from his neck as you gently placed your hands on his chest. “I did come here to scold you for not attending my graduation, but I also wanted to . . . I wanted to be with you. In more ways than one.”

“You don’t know what you’re talk—”

“I do,” you stated firmly. Your lashes lifted and found his narrowed scrutiny. Unconsciously, his hands rested on your waist, molding to your curves. “I’ve known for a while now. It didn’t click in until you moved out. I swear Toji, it was like I couldn’t breathe without you.”

“Baby . . . ”

“I want you,” you confessed in a hushed tone, your fingers tracing the lines of his broad shoulders, then up to the sturdy column of his neck where his pulsing veins hinted at his emotions. “I know I seem desperate, but I don’t care. You’re not hers anymore. You were never hers.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, Toji. Please, just touch me.” You tilted your head to plant a tender kiss on the sharp angle of his jawline. His faint stubble grazed against your lips as you continued to pepper kisses, stopping just short of his mouth. “Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, they say.”

Toji tightly shut his eyes and took slow breaths through his nose, his inner turmoil evident in the way his head moved back and forth. Your lips traced gentle paths around his face, savoring the closeness and the rush of emotions it brought. Even if he rejected you, you would find solace in knowing you had expressed your love for the man who was once your stepfather. This night might mark the end of your time together, but it also freed you from the burden of hiding your feelings..

“Baby,” Toji whispered, gently caressing your cheek as he drew you closer. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes.”

“You know how risky this is, kid. We can’t just ignore the consequences.”

“I know, Toji.” You leaned closer, your breath mingling with his. “But I can’t ignore how I feel about you either. I want this. I want you. I want all of you. You can do whatever you want to me. I promise I can take it.”

Toji licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. Your mom—”

“She won’t know. I’m planning on moving out soon.” You dragged your hand up and down his soft, bare chest. “I should’ve moved out with you.”

Toji took your hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm. “I don’t think I have any condoms on me.”

“I’m on the pill.”

His eyes narrowed on you. “You’ve been fucking around? Does your mom know?”

“Hey, I had to have a little fun. Gain a little experience for this inevitable night.” Your infectious smile rubbed off on him and he enveloped you in his arms.

“I fuck hard.”

“Good.”

“Last chance.”

“Nope.”

Toji rose on his feet, supporting your bottom with his hands as he took you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, the soft mattress absorbing the weight with a slight bounce. “Fucking knew you had a little crush on me.” He clambered onto your body and held your jaw with his hand. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you touch yourself thinking of me?”

“Every single night. Whether it’s in the shower or my bedroom,” you replied, feigning a pout and raising your hand. “I’m starting to think I’ve developed carpal tunnel from all of it.”

Toji laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face with his calloused fingers. But as his laughter faded into a knowing smirk, his next words sent a jolt through you, leaving your legs weak and your heart racing. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Really?”

He answered by colliding his lips against yours. It was a brutal kiss. Pain and pleasure mingled together in a heated embrace. His tongue shoved deep into your mouth, exploring the source of your daring words.

Pulling away momentarily, he squeezed your cheeks and sucked on your tongue like it was a delicious treat. “Gonna spit in your mouth.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Toji’s cheeks sucked in as he gathered his spit and spat it right onto your tongue. “Swallow.”

You did, moaning as his warm saliva traveled down your throat. “You taste minty.”

“I was just about to crash before your demanding ass showed up,” he teased.

“Well, you should thank me then.” You planted a quick kiss on his nose.

Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip and trailing his moist lips down to your neck. ��You smell so good, baby.”

“I’m wearing the perfume you bought me.”

“You better fucking be. Do you know how much I get off on spoiling you?” His teeth bit your delicate flesh and pulled, making you whimper from the stinging pain. He sucked and bit on different areas of your neck, marking you with his love bites. He then helped you out of the dress and pressed you back on the mattress. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

“No,” you said sarcastically.

“Yeah,” he said, missing the teasing in your voice, “your nipples were in my face when we were talking.” He rounded his tongue around your areola. Gathering your breasts in both hands, Toji switched between suckling at your nipples, biting the sensitive bud that sent jerks in your body, and licking the burning pain. “I saw you undressing once. You know that?”

You lifted a brow. “Uh, when?” And why didn't he do anything about it?

“You left your bedroom a bit open. I came to call you for dinner and instead feasted on the sight of your perky ass and these sexy tits.” He left your nipples numb and discolored from his teeth’s abuse. “You think you’re the only one who got off in that house? No, baby. Not at all. I was in the room right next to you, jerking off to your voice, or your smell.” This time, he kissed you gently and then each of your shoulders. “I had it worse. I had it so much worse.”

“Toji . . . ”

“But you’re here now, and so am I. I’m not fucking leaving. You got that? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

“Yours,” you whispered. “God, Toji, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

Toji removed his sweatpants and boxers, giving you a glorious display of his long, thick cock, corded with veins, sprouted up and proud. You had him like that, and so you gave yourself a mental pat on the back. “Like what you see?”

“Yes,” you said, chuckling in disbelief at the anatomy of him. A surge of confidence washed over you. You slipped off your panties and spread out your legs, shaking your hair back from your face. “Like what you see?”

Toji gleamed at the wetness pooled between your legs, soaking his sheets underneath, sticky and hot. Something feral rattled inside him. He gripped your knees and pried them farther apart, sinking in between.

“Oh, fuck, fuck! Toji—ah!” Your back arched in ecstasy, fingers gripping his scalp as he ruthlessly ate you out. His large palm held your hips in place, nibbling and sucking at your quivering, swollen clit. “Toji, yes, yes, fuck. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You grinded against him with full power, pushing your pussy closer to his mouth. He drank your leaking juices, drove his skilled tongue into your tight entrance, and discovered the sweet, cry-worthy spots inside you.

Soon, he replaced his tongue with three fingers, plunging them deep inside you with a rough and unrelenting pace that sent shivers down your spine. His deep growls were the icing on top.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the bed creaked beneath you. He was exorcising your damn soul out of your body with his holy tongue and his blessed fingers.

“Ah!” You came down like a fucking waterfall and Toji stood with an open mouth, drinking in your essence, lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, cleaning you as best as he could.

You gasped for air, clutching your chest as you coughed or laughed or wheezed—hard to tell which. You felt weightless, incredibly sore, teetering on the edge of passing out.

“Toji . . . am I dead?”

His laughter echoed nearby, then drew nearer until his face came into focus through your haze. “Your pussy tastes just as delicious as your mouth, baby.”

He kissed you and gave you a hint of your release. Toji was a moaner—a loud one—as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he spit onto your tongue again, and ran his own coarse one over your palette.

You closed your mouth and pushed him back by his shoulders. “Let me touch you.”

“Yeah? You want to suck me off, too?”

“Yes, fuck. Please, Toji. Please let me suck your cock.” Your begging made him grunt as he got up on his knees. He moved closer, placing them firmly beside your hips. You sat up against the headboard, gripping his warm, aroused cock, while he entwined your hair around his hand, gaining control over your movements.

You looked up at his smirk and kissed his moist tip, savoring the salty taste. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the idea of taking him deeper into your mouth. It would definitely challenge your gag reflex, but if this was going to be a regular thing, you needed to practice.

“Part your lips for me, kid. Nice and wide. That’s it.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You winked at Toji’s alarmed expression. Oh, how you loved catching him off-guard by acting out of character. “You got a daddy kink, Toji?” You brushed your lips from the base to the head, swirling your tongue around the rim. “Since you love calling me kid, maybe I should start calling you daddy. Isn’t that what you were?”

“You got a dirty mouth on you, kid.”

“Learned it from my daddy.”

Toji hissed through his teeth as you nibbled his tip. “Not dirty enough.” He gripped his length and forced it past your lips. Your nails plunged into his hips, gagging and shaking as he sunk past your uvula. “About time I fucked your smartass mouth with my cock, baby. Be a good girl and don’t tap out until I’ve come down your throat.”

You closed your eyes briefly, gathering your resolve before meeting his gaze again with a playful glint. You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but you were determined not to back down now. So, with a mischievous wink, you silently accepted the challenge.

Toji thrusted his hips back and forth, shoving his girth in and out without giving you space to breathe.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck, you’re so good at sucking your daddy’s cock,” he groaned, his hands gently gripping your hair or caressing your cheek in a way that contrasted sharply with his dominant actions.

“My pretty whore.”

Thrust.

“My gorgeous girl.”

Thrust.

“You belong to me, baby.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

He was a complete monster with you.

Your face pressed against his pelvis, the brush of his happy trail tickling your nose. You knew from experience that most men came quicker if you fondled their balls. You squeezed his heavy, swollen sacs, making him hiss and violate your throat.

Toji couldn’t hold back. His release came with a roar, numbing your scalp from how tightly he was pulling on it. The thin ropes of his release and your saliva formed as he pulled out. You swallowed whatever was left around your mouth. To please him further, as if assaulting your throat wasn’t enough, you lapped at his tip like a devoted kitten. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

That’s all you wanted to hear.

“Turn around,” he commanded, and without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. “What a sight.” His hand glided over your left ass cheek tenderly before delivering a firm smack that made you jolt forward. Toji mirrored the action on your right cheek, preparing you while coating the tip of his cock with slickness from your own arousal. “Gonna put it in now, sweetheart.”

“Finally, Jesus.”

Toji spanked your ass which only elicited a giggle out of you. “Let’s see if you’ll be laughing soon, baby.”

He pushed into you in one-quick go.

You cried out and grabbed the top of the headboard with your sweaty palms. He pulled out just to the hilt then drove back in. The air smelled like your sweat and perfume and sex. Every nerve in your body was alive, your heart pounding fiercely as if trying to escape your chest. Your face flushed with heat, your blood singing with desire.

You moaned and cried and screamed his name, driving him to complete madness with the word “Daddy.” You begged him to go faster, push harder, to have you sore for weeks so you didn’t have to get out of his bed, out of his arms, out of his home. You wanted this to be your home.

Toji spanked your ass repeatedly, skin slapping against skin, palming the back of your head so that your face was crushed on his pillow. It smelled like firewood. Smelled like him. You wanted to steal it, take it home, sleep with it, ride it while whispering his name.

You both came together.

Toji’s hot seed filled your stretched hole. He withdrew slowly, a teasing sensation that left you craving more. With deft fingers, he ensured not a drop was wasted.

You collapsed onto your stomach, catching your breath before summoning the strength to turn and face him.

He exhaled heavily, laying beside you “Fuck, that was . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Best yeah.” You draped yourself onto his chest and kissed his chin. He massaged his fingers through your throbbing scalp, the other hand caressing your numb, bruised ass.

Toji twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Does this make-up for missing your graduation?”

You flicked his forehead. “I haven’t forgiven you for that.”

“Maybe I should miss more of your events if this is the reward I’m gonna get.”

You scowled. “I dare you to repeat that again.”

Toji ironed out your scowl with his thumb. You kissed the pad of his rough finger, twice. “My cards are on the table for you, sweetheart.”

Your lips met his, whispering, “I folded a while ago, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out. With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Round two, kid.”

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peachesofteal · 1 month

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Simple Math / Part Twelve

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, smut. Handjob, praise kink, Simon talks you through it. Feelings of fear and anxiety, self doubt, self consciousness. Small panic attack. Comfort. Domestic slice of life. Penny lore. POV switch. A glimmer of morally grey. One step forward, two steps back.

You almost forget where you are.

Almost.

The struggle is brief, trying to acclimatize to the changes, dark green sheets pooling around you, emerald tones rich and ambient, the sage green comforter pulled up over your shoulders.

You almost forget, but Simon’s bulk is nearly suffocating, and you’re pushed up against Johnny, crowded between two immovable objects, two sky high walls.

He’s got you tucked into his chest, hand pressed firm against your belly, leg thrown over yours. Your hand still rests on Johnny, covered by his own, and you blink blearily at the bolts of morning light streaming in through the windows.

“Go back to sleep.” Simon’s mumbling right over your ear, ghost of his breath sending goosebumps down your arms. “It’s early.” He snuggles closer, shoulders curled over yours like a blanket, blazing heat bleeding from him to you… everywhere. His cock throbs against your ass, folded up against his stomach, nestled against your skin. Your mouth goes dry when you allow yourself to focus, to look, to feel, thighs squeezing together, a lust filled whine building in the back of your throat.

This is new.

You don’t do this… your mind, your body, has always been trapped in a fight or flight, survival mode taking over your core needs and instincts, leaving no room for desire, or affection.

But this... this is different. This is safe.

Your hand drifts lower on Johnny’s stomach. He’s shirtless, satin skin soft under your touch, and it’s almost on instinct when you settle your palm under his navel, a safe distance away from his sutures and graft, hovering north of the elastic in his sweatpants. He’s hard beneath them, outline mouthwatering in the quiet morning, and you lick your lips.

What are you doing?

Simon’s fingers idly stroke that spot on your waist, where your hips fold into the space beneath your ribcage, swirling his touch down your belly and around, steady and safe, an anchor in turbulent seas. Your fingers dip beneath the band, mindful of his hip, sliding through curls, just barely grazing the root of Johnny’s cock.

What’re you doing?

Are you really doing this?

You haven’t touched, or been touched, in ages. It’s foreign, and terrifying, and doubt clouds your head, anxiety rocketing through your veins to your heart, where it triple beats.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothes, sliding a hand over yours, guiding you to where he curls his fingers and yours around the base, tightening his grip into a squeeze.

“I-“

“Want to touch him? Like this?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, scratchy and gritted against your ear. You’re breathing in time, chests rising and falling together, and you nod hastily, too afraid to lose the scrap of courage that keeps trying to flicker out.

“Y-yeah.” You whisper. You do want to, you want to so badly.

Johnny stirs. He tugs at his pants, not quite awake, trying to pull them down, and Simon helps silently, carefully tucking the elastic lower as to not put pressure on his injuries. He blinks sleepily, confused, before finding your face, impish smile spreading across his cheeks, eyes drifting shut again. He’s not wearing anything beneath them, his thick, uncut cock bobbing free at his partner’s urging, and you gasp at the sight. He’s already flushed, bead of pre-come glistening from the tip, and you hesitantly reach for it, Simon’s hand still covering yours.

“Need to start slow.” Simon coaches, both of your hands moving from root to tip together, squeezing at the base when he encourages you to do so. “Don’t want him tensing up, straining his injuries. Nice and- good bunny, just like that.” His cock is blaring hot in your palm, and you work him gently at Simon’s urging, watching his face twitch and eyebrows creasing, bottom lip tugged underneath his top teeth.

“Fuckin- hell-“ He hisses, hips trying to jerk upward.

“Relax.” Simon instructs, stilling him. You keep up the movement, iridescent spend slicking your strokes, slippery sounds filling the room.

“Ach.” Johnny moans, and you throb, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. Simon coos at him.

“Lucky boy, havin’ our bunny take care of you.”

“A-aye.” His fingers tighten in the sheets, eyes still slammed shut, and Simon squeezes your hip.

“You can go a little harder, like this.” He increases the rhythm, tightening his grip over yours, and your hips tilt back, pressing into the hardness settled against your cheeks, pressure returned with a flex of his own. “That’s it, that’s what he likes. Good girl.”

“Si.” His voice breaks. “P-please… d-d-“ He’s unable to get his words free, gasping for air like he’s just gone out for a run, haggard draw of his lungs stretched to the limit as you hold your own.

“I know sweet boy, you’re so backed up, I know. We’ll fix it.” You think you’re going to explode between them, heat and pressure and atmosphere all bearing down on your bones, grinding them to dust inside your skin. You’re not even sure you’re in your own body in this moment, watching from afar, mystified and impressed at your boldness, your courage, your abandonment of the wall you've so steadily remained perched on. “Breathe, Johnny.” Simon reminds him steadily.

The girl in the mirror is nowhere to be found. It’s just you, and Johnny, and Simon, together.

“You’re doing so well.” Simon hums. “Makin’ our boy feel good, what a good little bunny.” Jesus christ. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head, thighs like a vice, squeezing together so tight, desperate for friction against your clit. Your hips are rocking on their own now, small, micromovements pushing you into Simon again and again, Johnny whimpering and crying as the two of you stroke him harder and faster.

“Will you show our bunny how much of a mess you make, Johnny? Gonna come all over our fingers?” Simon pushes him harder, his legs twitching against yours, and Johnny gasps like he’s in pain, nearly crying, on the edge of a precipice.

“Ah, ah- ‘m gonna-“ He explodes in your hands, coating your fingers with creamy spend, rivers of it running down your fist, strokes slowing to a stop as he pants and shudders.

“Oh there it is- good boy, so good.” He tugs until Johnny is empty, and then raises your hand to his mouth, lips closing around your fingers to lick them clean.

You feel faint. Johnny smiles lazily. “Well, good mornin’ to ye too, bun.”

“I-“ What are you going to say? You don’t know what came over you? Sorry? Good morning? Everything evaporates on your tongue, happiness burning to ash.

“You alright?” Simon asks, rubbing your hip. Still, no words come. All you can do is stare at him. “Bunny? Hey.” He shifts, and Johnny tries to sit up, bliss morphing into concern.

“Pretty girl.” He holds your hand, thumb rubbing against your knuckles, and you try to remind yourself to breathe.

What are you doing?

“Everything’s okay.” Simon is on his knees now, dipped down in front of you, cradling your jaw. “You’re okay, bun. Just breathe for us.” He rubs your back, and Johnny keeps his fingers curled against your pulse point. They steady you, anchor you, and you surface again, free from the wave of black water trying to drag you down.

“S-sorry.” You hiss, chest less tight. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Lay back.” Simon urges. “I’m going to go get a towel to clean up, stay here.” You nod, cuddling close, your head resting on Johnny’s chest, his touch slow on the back of your neck.

“Ye’re with us, bunny. Ye’re safe.” You close your eyes with a whisper.

“I know.”

The unsteady peace of the morning doesn't last very long. It’s not too soon after Simon gets Johnny cleaned up that Penny is awake, baby monitor sparking to life, dragging him from the other side of the bed and down the hall.

“How did ye sleep?” Johnny murmurs, still holding you close.

“Good. Great, actually. How are you uh, feeling?”

“Okay. Hip is throbbin’ but I imagine it’ll always be like that from now on.”

“It will get better. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” His thumb brushes your cheek.

“Come here.” You inch closer, bringing your faces together and he kisses you, soft and delicate in the early glow of the day. “Dinnae like ye being so far away. Need ye close. Helps me feel better.”

“You’re such a brat.” You tease, but can’t help giving him another kiss, basking in his warmth. He pushes back against you, flushed. Tan skin warmed bronze and rubicund on his cheeks, almost pink. His eyes are a brighter shade of blue, clear like Caribbean waters, lips swollen, and bee stung. He looks… so fucking hot. Like Hercules, a hero, tired after battle.

“You sound like Si.” His hand lingers along the curve of your hip, inciting the riotous butterflies into a flurry, heat simmering in your belly. “I like these.”

“My sweatpants?”

“Aye. They fit ye well.” He peeks over, and you giggle despite yourself. He makes it so easy, to feel weightless, free, smiling as handsome as ever, long strands of mohawk falling into his eyes.

“Think you need a haircut.”

“I do. Si usually does it, but I think he’ll be nominatin’ ye this time around.”

“I can’t cut hair!”

“Ach, ‘ts not that hard. Ye just trim a little off the ends and be done wit’ it.” You roll your eyes, and the door cracks open, revealing Simon and Penny, sippy cup in hand.

“See? He’s right there.” He hums, holding her steady, her arms already reaching for where Johnny waits. “Da’s right here.”

“My wee lamb.” He cuddles her into his good side, kissing and cooing, letting her bounce on the bed. “Hey princess. Ye have a good breakfast?”

“She’s on another banana kick.” Simon sighs, kissing his forehead, and then turning to you. “Okay?” He checks in, focused and concerned, and you nod.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Forgot to ask how you slept…” He eyes the bed.

“Good, yeah. I… slept really well.”

“Guess ye’ll just have to sleep in here for now on.” Johnny quips, fingers preoccupied by being dragged towards Penny’s mouth. Sleep in here for now on? Like, with them?

Pen coos, tipping towards you with a chubby little smile. “Bunny.” She babbles, fingers straining.

Your hand finds hers, holding on to keep her upright. “Good morning to you too, little miss. Sorry I neglected you.” You sign ‘good morning’, one of the few you know from work, and she claps, thrilled. Simon beams.

“Yes, she’s terribly neglected.” He sits at Johnny’s side, mindlessly stroking his leg, massaging and working the muscle in his calf. “How do we feel about getting you downstairs?” He nods, and you roll over, sliding off the bed to lumber towards his crutches.

“Nice and slow.” His fingers brush yours as he takes them, and a shy smile works across his face.

“Ye’ll help me?” Simon tsks, but you sigh playfully.

“Of course.”

Getting Johnny settled is easy. You build him a nice little nest with the pillows from the couch, fluffing them for support, making sure he’s comfortable, until Simon reminds you to take it easy.

“You’re not at work, let me do this.”

“I don’t mind…”

“I do. Sit.” He leans you back into the cushions, settling you both, plopping Penny down between you. “If you keep an eye on her, I’ll get breakfast.” She crawls into your side with her sip cup, and you try not to tense when she curls up against your ribs. Her feet press against Johnny’s thigh, and he cups them both in one hand, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every little piece. Deep breath. You can do this.

“Isnae she the bonniest thing ye’ve ever seen?” He breathes, and you nod.

“She really is. The cutest.”

“She looks like ‘im.” He murmurs, and you blink, glancing down at the baby. Like who?

“Like…” the curiosity falls out of your mouth in a hurry, and you grimace. He gives you a weird look.

“He didnae tell ye?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s his. Simon’s.”

“Wait, I thought…” You don’t what you thought. You assumed she was adopted, or something else. “She’s…”

“We got turned down by every agency, ye know. Two dads, active combat roles.” He leans forward, tickling her arm, and her eyes light up, like she’d forgotten he was there. You help her straighten, and she scoots over closer to him, trying climb him like a jungle gym. “Ah, Penny. No. Da’s hurt.” He makes the sign for what you assume is hurt, his pointer fingers motioning towards one another. “Hurt, Penny. Da is hurt.” He does it again, and she cocks her head. “Here, sit here, there’s a girl.” She settles easily after that, completely captivated by the old Disney movie Johnny flicked on. “Anyway, no one would let us adopt a baby. Felt like it was goin’ be impossible, and we almost gave up. Then we met Pen’s mum.”

“You knew her?”

“Aye. She’s special. Gave us a chance.” Something green and snappish curdles in your stomach. It’s illogical, insane, and you try to beat it back. “We didnae know, obviously, who the dad was goin’ be but, I’m so glad it was him.”

“Did you…”

“Do it naturally?” He wiggles an eyebrow. “Nay. We both donated and she did it at home.”

“And... Simon said she's not in Penny’s life?”

“Not right now. She will be again, one day. She jus’ travels a lot and is really committed to her job. Has no parental rights, nothin’ like that. But she’s not against seeing Penny, the adoption is open.”

“That’s great.” Adoption is delicate, you know. There’s no one size fits all when it comes to nature of it, and you’re relieved to hear it sounds like they have something that’s healthy for Penny, and everyone involved.

“Sorry, thought he would’ve told ye.”

“It didn’t come up, and I didn’t want to… pry. He mentioned she was deaf when I asked about the sign language.”

“Eh, pry all ye want. Ye’re in our life, ye should know these things. And aye, she’s fully deaf. Travels as an interpreter for the U.S. military. Works with some important guy at the top. Dinnae know much about it.”

“That’s really cool.”

“We’re very grateful to her.” He strokes some of Penny’s curls from her forehead, and you look closer, watching for similarities, her chubby cheeks and chestnut dusted dark blonde hair now starting to look reminiscent of Simon, the longer you study her.

“I’m happy for you guys.” He glances from her to you with a beautiful smile, so handsome it makes your chest hurt.

“Me too.”

“I think,” Simon brings two plates with eggs and toast, handing one to Johnny before placing the other on the table by your knee. “We should have a bit of a lie in on the couch, easy day. Bun’s still on leave of absence, and you’re not going anywhere.” He shoots Johnny a pointed look, who holds his hand up as if to say, who me?

“A lie in sounds grand.” He postures, grimacing with a shift. You instinctively try to move towards him, a hand on Pen to keep her in place, but Simon beats you to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ jus’ my hip.”

“Let’s eat something and I’ll get your pain meds.” You nod encouragingly.

“Better to take them with something in your stomach.”

“Is it goin’ be like this all the time? Two nursemaids cluckin’ at me?”

“Probably.” You laugh, and Simon shakes his head.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Johnny murmurs, voice low. Penny is upstairs, asleep for her morning nap already, both guys settled back on the couch, a tangle of limbs.

“No.” you whisper. Simon’s head turns, drawing his eye, but the exchange is fleeting.

“How’s your shoulder, bun?” Johnny murmurs, and you half shrug.

“Better. The steroid helped a lot.” The room is heady, and you’re cocooned in its warmth, blazing heat radiating from Simon trying to lull you into a nap like Pen’s.

“Ye can sleep, pretty girl.” Johnny smirks. His legs are thrown over the larger man’s thighs, one gingerly cushioned, the other, lackadaisical and bent.

“It’s so warm in here.” You offer as an explanation, and he agrees.

“Aye. Si’s a furnace.”

“You run pretty warm yourself.” Simon chides, but nods encouragingly at you.

“I need a shower.” It is tempting, to curl up on the couch between them, slip away into safe and comfortable dreamland but… not without a shower. You’re overdue.

“Okay. We’ll be here.”

There isn’t much in this world a shower can’t fix.

Or at least, that’s how this one feels. It’s scalding, so hot the room steams up within a minute, and you relax under the spray, letting it wash over the soreness in your shoulder, cascade down your back.

You linger in it, soaking up the quiet moment, raising your face to the water over and over, letting it rinse you clean.

By the time you get out, you almost feel like a brand-new person.

If only…

“How was yer shower?”

“Good.” He tries to fidget on the couch, rocking back and forth to make room for you. “Don’t Johnny, you’ll hurt-“

“I’m fine.” He grunts. “I’m still me, ye know. I know ye didnae know me, before, but I dinnae need help wit’ everything.” Your heart cracks.

“I know you don’t.” You think back to your vulnerable patient, the one who cried about being separated from his family, and how far he’s come. It fills you with pride, and something so foreign, so strange, you don’t even recognize. A massive swell of affection, of care. “I’m just… programmed, you know?” You try to soothe him, and he grumbles until you’re slipping into his side, turning to press your face in his chest.

“Sorry, bun. Didnae mean to get frustrated.”

“I know, Johnny.”

The baby monitor crackles.

Johnny shifts restlessly.

“What is it?” you murmur, and he huffs.

“I want to get her. Hate feelin’ useless to my own daughter.” You could…

“Do you… do you want me to grab her? Bring her down here for you?” His eyes light up.

“Would ye? Si’s just in the kitchen, dealing with some laundry. If ye could-“

“Yeah, I got her.”

“Ye’re sure? Yer shoulder…”

“It’s fine, promise.” He holds your jaw briefly, tongue dashing out to lick his lips, and then he kisses you, wet and messy, breathlessly.

“Thanks, bun.”

Penny’s room is dark. You’ve seen it in passing, but never really been inside, and when you flick on the light, she’s already standing in her crib, little face wet with tears.

‘Shhh, it’s alright!” You’re not sure she will calm for you since you’re not one of her dads. You’re practically a stranger in her life, but she reaches for you anyway, arms stretched out, hands grabbing in mid air. “Okay, okay, here we go.” You support her weight with your good arm, tucking her up on your waist, setting her easily on your hip.

At least they’re good for something.

“There we go. Ready to go downstairs, see Da? Yeah?” You babble, surprised to feel her nappy still dry, and she tilts her head back, pretty eyes and gob smacked expression locked onto you.

Fuck.

“Hi, baby girl.” You whisper, backs of two fingers gentle on her cheek. “You really do look like your dad, don’t you?” Something springs a leak, cracks slivering wide, a failsafe crumbling in your chest. It stops working, stops processing, because tears are suddenly flooding your eyes, making it hard to see.

Penny coos. You try to take a deep breath.

Get it together. You’re holding their baby.

Deep breath.

Pain long buried and forgotten clangs on the rusty iron encasing your heart. It bangs against it, pleads to get out.

For a second, it steals your breath. Almost forces a sob from your throat. Raw edged agony beats wildly through your veins, sharp and acidic, poisoning you from the inside out.

You shove it back where it came from.

You need some air. You need some space, some distance... something that will lessen this feeling, this despair.

“Alright,” you croak. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

“Where’s…”

“She went up to get Penny.” Simon nods, thumb slipping the monitor’s volume crank higher, head cocked.

“Hi baby girl… you really do look like your dad, don’t you?” He glances at Johnny, who shrugs sheepishly.

“I let it slip.”

“Did you explain everything?”

“Mostly. Didnae want her to think we were together or anything like that.” Simon nods, satisfied, and Johnny’s toes curl a little. He loves seeing that expression on his face, the proud one, the nearly smug one, and he’d do anything for it, again and again. Johnny tilts his chin for a kiss and he obliges, deep and slow, gentle hand on his chest. “You were so good for us earlier. How’re you feeling? Anything sore?” The blood rushes back to Johnny’s cock from the praise alone, and he blushes.

“I feel good.”

“Do ya?”

“Aye. Wanna play with our bunny s’more.” He grows hotter under his clothes, but Simon shakes his head.

“Don’t push it. We’ve talked about this. You have to let her set the pace.” He knows, and he tries, but after this morning, all he can think about is your hand on his cock, your mouth on his, the dazed, lust filled expression on your face as your hips rocked in time with your strokes.

He wants to show you everything they can give you; the way real love is supposed to feel. Not painful and terrifying. But beautiful, and limitless.

“She’s ready for more.” He protests.

“She’s not, Johnny.” He’s using that tone, the one Johnny knows not to argue with, so he concedes.

After all, he doesn’t really want to push you. He wants you to trust them. Love them.

He wants you to feel safe and comfortable. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

“Alright,” your voice sounds heavy, broken. Simon’s head snaps up. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

Penny is dancing in your arms, clapping her hands together with some sort of sign you don’t seem to understand, babbling nonstop.

“Someone’s awake!” you declare, and Johnny holds his arm out, beckoning.

“There they are.” Simon ruffles his mohawk. You almost falter, stuttering in your stance, but your lips quirk into a tiny smile.

“She’s still dry.” You explain, placing her in his side. He wants to pull you down for another kiss, but Penny insists on one instead, open mouth seeking his nose like a bird.

“Ach, alright wee lamb, alright.”

“You okay?” Simon is cautious, trying not to encroach too much when you’re having a hard time, something he’s been instilling in Johnny too. Giving you space, giving you time.

“Bunny? Ye wit' us?” You’re in your head again, drifting. Here, but not really, and he tries to pull back towards them, to safety. To love.

“Yeah, I… uh. I have to run some errands.”

“Where?” Simon asks sharply, and Johnny tries to sit up.

“I have to go to the hospital, fill out some paperwork for leave, and I need to swing by apartment… get some clothes and stuff.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, no that’s alright. You guys hang out. I won’t be too long.” You look uncomfortable, twisting and turning, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Let me drive you, at least. I can’t stand you taking the train all over the city.” You laugh.

“I’ve grown up on trains and been fine, besides...” You motion to Johnny and Penny on the couch before your arms cross, sprinkle of defiance that has him casting a quick glance to see Simon’s jaw flexing. What choice do they have?

“Alright. Well, text us to check in yeah?”

You’re gone for hours. Simon takes to pacing, and Johnny can’t soothe him, can’t hold him in the way he wants, can’t walk over and throw his arms around him the way he should be.

It hurts.

“What’s dad doing, hmm Penny? What’s he doing?” He coos, pointing to where his partner is checking his cellphone for the tenth time. She babbles something unintelligible back to him, chin tipped back, gazing in wonder.

Simon’s stress softens, hardness still lingering in worry lines, mouth taut. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, settling on the couch opposite where Penny is sitting up against Johnny.

“It’s okay. I’m worried too.” He commiserates. It’s the same kind of agony in his heart, the same taste is his mouth, from when he was in hospital. Helplessly laid up and watching you work your way through whatever is chasing you. He clears the lump in his throat. “She’ll be back soon. Right? She wouldnae…” panic erupts in the bottom of his stomach. “She wouldnae just, leave.”

“We don’t know what she would do, love. She’s scared, and she’s smart, and we don’t know who she’s running from.”

“Maybe ye should’ve followed her.” He groans, and Simon gives him a look.

“Thought you didn’t want me doing that now?”

“I dinnae.” He chews on his lip. His abdomen is throbbing, and he reaches for Simon’s hand.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Simon soothes, rubbing a thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“Everythin’ would be easier if I wasnae like… like this.” He grits, frustration laden voice cracking. He’s a mess. A burden, can’t take care of his own family, help Si with Pen, or you. All he can do is lay here, and-

“Shhh. Don’t say that.” Simon cradles the back of his head, mouth pressed against his forehead. “You’re alive, that’s all I care about. You came home.”

“Feel like I should be doin’ more.”

“The only thing-“ Penny grunts, and Simon plops a finger in her fist, letting her yank and tug on it. “The only thing you need to do is get better, focus on healing. I’m here for the rest, okay?”

“Okay.” He whispers, eyes heavy. The medications knock him out, but it’s better than before, when he was stuck inside dreams, bound to a bed.

“Get some rest, sweet boy. I’ll wake you when she’s back.” He’s already losing the battle, stupor dragging him back under, and bliss clouds his head as he begins to drift.

“‘Kay.”

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