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courtingchaos · 10 months

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Teeth

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Summary: You and Eddie are freaks. He has a little accident, you have a fun little hobby, and he shows you how he really feels about you’re whole Deal.

Warnings: Teeth. I mention them a lot. Blood, cursing, sex.

A/N: Did I start another blurb series before even publishing the series I was supposed to start last month? Shut the hell up oh my god why are you up my ass about it????

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie hooks his chin on your shoulder while you stare at the giant shadow box on the wall.

“Are they all human teeth?”

“Mhm.”

“Isn’t it illegal to own human remains in the US?”

“Well, remains and bones are different categories.”

He knew that would set you off, your phone pulled out for google to fill in your blanks. Eddie laughs at the first result, The Bone Room, and the two of you get a good chuckle out of it for a solid minute.

“Okay so I was wrong, but do you want to own a random set of teeth? What if they’re haunted?” Eddie watches your reflection in the glass front and can’t help but laugh when your eyes go big.

“One could only hope.” You whisper.

“Okay Morticia.” He leaves you to peruse the case of teeth while he wanders over to the weird clown doll corner. This was another little oddities shop you’d found online and asked to go to and he was more than happy to oblige. He also liked weird shit and there was usually a record store close to these kinds of places and of course you needed to find a coffee shop and it would always turn into a fun day date for the two of you.

When he finally gets away from the dolls he finds you at the main counter looking into the glass display while the clerk explains the jewelry inside.

“What’d you find?” He asks, bending directly in half to stare at the tray of rings in front of you.

“More teeth.” You give him an over the top smile that he returns, snapping his jaws at you while the poor woman behind the counter watches your flirting. She tells you prices instead of paying the two of you any mind and you hem and haw while Eddie just takes his wallet out to slide his card across the glass.

“Ed.” You don’t even look up at him when you warn him.

“Which one was it? Is it the big molar? It’s the big molar isn’t it?” He gives the clerk a scoff. “Can you believe this? I take her out here and she thinks I’m not buying her a tooth ring?”

In the cafe you’d found ahead of time you inspect your new ring while he chews on his straw, watching your rub the crown of the tooth.

“You really didn’t have to buy me this.” The barista comes over then with your coffee and a massive croissant. “Or that.”

“What? It’s a sweet treat for my sweet treat.” He tears a piece off and wiggles his eyebrows. “Also a sweet tooth for my sweet tooth.”

“Now you’re pushing it, Munson.”

“You love it.” He pauses when you kick his boot under the table and it turns into a violent round of footsie.

“Can I ask why teeth?”

“I don’t know. I just think they’re neat.” You shrug and fiddle with the ring on your middle finger. “They make a cool sound if you click a handful together. Very satisfying.”

“Yeah?” The smile is evident in his voice, even if you don’t look up to see it. “Sure there’s nothing else?” He goads, waiting for you to look up and narrow your eyes at him.

“And maybe I also want to crunch them like a sugar cube.” You make the exact face he thought you would and it makes him feel a warm coil of familiarity.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“I knew you wanted to do something weird with it.” His laugh turns into a cackle when you discreetly bring your hand up to click the ring against your front teeth.

“Okay so if it’s loose like…No I mean I can see it moving in the socket…ugh god, yeah…alright…” Your tone doesn’t give Eddie any hope and when you scrunch your face up while the dentist office tells you something longwinded, he sighs.

“How much? Oh shi- yeah okay. Thank you though.” You hang up and shoot him a steady look. “Guess.”

“I’m gonna loose it?” Eddie says, bag of frozen green beans held against his cheek.

“No shit.” You set your phone down and make your way to him leaned back on the couch. “You could potentially keep it for a cool $600 though.” Your hand replaces his on the slowly thawing bag and the sharp intake of breath isn’t from the new pressure on his bruise.

“$600 for one tooth?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck it, I’ll just pull it.” Eddie sighs at the ceiling and closes his eyes. He’d been fucking around, trying to swing his guitar around his shoulders during practice. Had actually managed a few turns but when you’d come to pick him up he wanted to show off. A fast toss over his shoulder and he didn’t see the corner of the body barreling for his cheek.

Your loud gasp and a lot of blood down his front later, he was in pain and slightly humiliated but definitely not out $600.

“Will you help me?” He gently rolls his head your direction, his cheek cradled between veggies and your palm.

“Of course.” You smile sadly at him. “It’s gonna hurt though.”

“Yeah but I like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you slap his chest, t-shirt still stained red.

“Come on, ladykiller.”

In the bathroom he braces his hands on the counter while you try to find the best angle to pull his tooth out at.

“I’m trying to not just have my whole fist in your mouth.”

“That’s hot.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie grins at your flat look. You blindly grab the pliers from behind you on the vanity and take a deep breath before holding his mouth open.

“Please don’t bite down.”

“Eye hot yuh yiked hat.” He’s drooling around your hand and trying to be cute. It’s unfortunately working on you.

“Not like this, no.”

He feels the pliers on his tooth, a gentle tug while you rearrange and then you look at him. Eyebrows scrunched and a concerned look in your eyes. “You okay?” He nods. “This is gonna hurt baby, I’m sorry.”

He barely has time to process what you’ve said. He was waiting for a count down but instead you’ve yanked once, swiftly and without remorse. There’s a small clatter where his tooth bounces around in the sink and then he feels the pulse of pain. A new rush of blood floods his mouth and he doubles over the sink to spit and moan.

“You didn’t even warn me!”

“You would have bitched out and you know it.” You rub his back while he pouts and keeps spitting into the sink. When you disappear to get him a glass of water, he rinses out the sink and picks up his tooth to inspect it. “What tooth is this anyways?”

“The tech said she thinks it’s a premolar from what I told her.” You answer as you come back into the cramped bathroom. He pulls his lip back to stare at the dark space between teeth.

“You don’t already know which one it is?”

You just roll your eyes. “She did say it was good that you didn’t crack it, could have been worse.” You shrug and Eddie holds out his hand to you, tooth sitting in the middle of his palm.

“It looks cool.” He says, rolling it around until you pick it up gingerly and inspect it. There’s a little bit of blood stuck in the root but you keep turning it over, running the pad of your finger over the ridges.

“You’re gonna keep it right?”

“Duh.” He laughs. You hand it back to him and help him clean up from his traumatic afternoon.

A couple of aspirin and a hot shower later and he’s ready for bed, just waiting on you to finish in the bathroom. He watches your shadow under the door where light seeps out and runs his tongue for the umpteenth time through the new space in his teeth. He’s not trying to make it worse but it’s a foreign void that he can’t stop fucking with. The bathroom door opens and you’re already staring at him, head cocked to the side. “I can see you tonguing that spot from over here.”

“You’ve got a spot I can tongue.”

You don’t respond, just turn off the lights on your way into the bedroom where you climb over him on the bed. Before you can drop onto your side he grabs your thighs to hold you above him.

“Thanks for not laughing at me.”

“You looked pretty cool, right up until you smashed your mouth.” You brace your hands on his chest and lean in close. “The blood really distracted me.”

“Yeah that was quite a bit.”

“Still hot.”

He grins and you can spot the missing tooth in the dark before he pulls you in by your chin to give you a kiss. When he opens his mouth to deepen it, your tongue immediately finds the new space like his had. He laughs into the kiss and sits up on his elbows to be closer. It’s a slow make out session that he has no intention of taking further, mostly delighting in you running your tongue along the inside of his mouth, probing.

“What are you laughing at?” You ask, annoyed at him huffing into your mouth.

“You keep trying to feel it with your tongue.” He grins at you in the dark, features highlighted by the light seeping in through the curtains.

“It’s a new spot in your mouth for me to tongue.” You mumble and Eddie says something about tonguing your new hole and it devolves into a slap fight that ends with you two sleepily kissing again.

For a few weeks his tooth kicks around the house in a little ring box you had laying around. Jokingly he stuffed a scrap of ribbon in it and called it a coffin, started giving a eulogy to it every night after dinner.

“Craig had the toughest job-“

“I thought he was Neville?”

“I changed it. Craig is a working man’s name.”

“In what country?”

“Coal country.” Eddie jokingly bangs his fist on the table and continues on about Craig and his 52 family members.

Wayne comes by for dinner and sees this little atrocity and just stares at it for a good while, you and Eddie tight lipped trying to not laugh at his blank expression.

“I don’t know what to expect when I come over here, ever.” He’s not judging, in fact he’s almost too accommodating when him and Eddie disappear after dinner for a smoke on the balcony and he gives his nephew pointers on what dremel bit to use so he doesn’t crack the tooth.

“A matching necklace? Christ Eddie don’t tell me you knocked out two teeth!”

“No! I bought the ring for her, this was just a mistake.” Eddie gestures at his mouth and Wayne chuckles at him.

“Always gotta show off.”

“For her? No shit. If I don’t, she’ll realize how much better she can do.”

Wayne tilts his head and fixes Eddie with a stern look. “You know how I feel about that.”

“I’m kidding.” He tries to wave him off.

“Well I’m not. Who else is gonna bring her home a tooth on a chain?” Eddie can see how that makes Wayne shudder, even when he’s trying to be forcefully reassuring. He pats his uncle on the knee before standing and stretching.

“True. There aren’t any many of my kind left.” He says it wistfully, staring off the balcony into the dark until Wayne huffs at him to get inside and help with the dishes.

The bit dies off and the ring box ends up on your nightstand. Eddie thinks it’s a pretty romantic gesture the way you’ve given it a prime spot next to your Dracula figure. He also knows you’ll notice it missing so he takes the tooth when he gets home before you and knocks the box over and when you notice he plays dumb.

“Oh no, did you knock it over?” “No I haven’t been in your nightstand.” “Why would I take it?”

He brings it with him to work and Wayne refuses to touch it, instead standing off to the side and letting Eddie drill the minuscule hole. He texts you on his lunch and tells you he’s got some extra stuff to take care of, running late, don’t worry about dinner. He uses the extra hour to run by the antique store and buy a chain and he gets so lucky because you’re in the shower when he finally comes home.

Ring box stolen from your drawer and left oh so carelessly in the middle of the counter next to your big water cup. He doesn’t even change out of his shop clothes, just sits and waits for you to come out.

When you do, you give him a kiss in passing and then stop short in the kitchen. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s this?” You hold up the small red box and gently shake it at him.

“I made you something in art class today.” He says bashfully and leans over the arm of the couch to dangle his arms while you laugh at him.

“Aw, did Mr. Munson help you with your finger painting?” You pout at him and he flips you off. Your laugh cuts off when you open the box to stare at the necklace.

“Is this your tooth?”

“Yeah, I lied.” He grins at you, “I staged the crime scene.”

“You scum.” Your giggle gets him off the couch, the scrunch of your face makes him cradle your jaw, your whispered ‘thank you’ earns you a kiss and before you can fumble with the chain he’s pulling it out of your hands to loop it around your neck. He does the clasp up and smooths a hand down over the tooth.

“Oh you make that look better than I ever did.” His dimples push through his warm smile. “Almost like it was made for you.”

“God you are laying it on thick today huh?”

“I mean it, everything I am is for you.” He holds you close while you fiddle with your new jewelry. It’s so small for such a significant thing, at least to you. Especially when he starts talking like that. Eddie notices your pensive turn and pulls his head back to look down at you.

“Did I…did I read this wrong? Is it too much?” He knows he’s bad at that sometimes. He knows you like this stuff but maybe wearing a familiar tooth is a step too far. Maybe it feels like a weight around your neck instead of a thin rope of silver. It’s his turn to get quiet and he tries to pull away but you latch on around his ribs.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me and it’s really weird and I love it a lot.” You mumble into his chest where your cheek is pressed tight. “Thank you.”

He watches you the rest of the night playing with it. Twirling your fingers through the chain and rolling the tooth around, staring down at it and once tapping it against your own teeth like you did with the ring. It gives him a new affection for you, to see you admire something he not only made you, but something that’s wholly him.

Later when he’s waiting for you in bed while you wander around and look for your phone, the intrusive thought he’d been keeping in finally breaks the surf of his mind.

“I’d knock out all my teeth for you.” He says it into the quiet and you pause at the foot of the bed to tilt your head at him.

“That’s so sweet.” You giggle quietly, the look you give him is contemplative.

“No I’m serious.” He leans up on his elbow to look you square in the eyes. “I’d hang ‘em all on a silver chain, drape them on you like pearls.” His stare gets a weight to it that makes you feel rooted to the spot. “I’d make you an altar out of them. Give them to you like little offerings.”

“You make it sound like I’m a deity you need to please.”

“Oh but you are.” He rolls up off his elbow to crawl towards the end of the bed and kneel in front of you. “Everything I do is in service to you and your good favor.” He splays a hand over his bare chest and you know he’s doing a thing but his wide eyed eagerness on his knees is doing it for you.

“And you’d hand over your teeth just for that?”

“I’d hand over my life.” He grabs your hand and presses it over his heart. “I’d leave imprints of my teeth all over you and then hand them over on a platter.”

“Why is this so hot?” You mutter at him, your body flush with heat suddenly.

“I know, keep playing along.” He whispers back, eyebrows twitching upwards. “I’m simply a vessel for your happiness and if that means sacrificing pieces of myself,” his hands settle up behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss, “then I’ll pull them all out by the root and leave them on the steps of your temple.” He keeps pulling you back until you have to catch yourself and climb over him, his lanky frame unfolding under you.

“Does that make you a patron or a priest?” You straddle his hips and break away from the kiss to stare at him, necklace dangling down against his cheek.

“I’m your most devoted follower.” He whispers in the small space between you two, eyes searching. “I’ve pledged my life to you.” His fingers dig in to your bare thighs. “Not for just a reward in the afterlife but in the hopes that you’ll grant me one look at your divine form.”

“Eddie!” You laugh at him and sit up, face and neck hot from his praise.

“What? I mean it! All of that for one…touch.” He slides his palms around to grab your ass and you laugh harder.

“That’s all you want? Just a touch?”

“Well maybe a long, continuous one.” He tries to slide his hands up further but you stop him at your hips. He looks determined to feel up your sides but your grip on his wrists holds tight.

“You wouldn’t want to anger your god now, would you?” His eyes widen at your sudden boldness. When you can tell he’ll sit still you unhand him to pull up the hem of your shirt slowly. “You give me a lifetime of servitude for a single touch?” Before you pull it over your head you give him a wicked a grin. “I’ll reward you with your single wish.”

He understands the game but his hands still twitch when you toss your shirt to the side, chest bared to him. You wiggle around until you get your underwear off, his hands still attached to you. He gets one touch and he won’t waste it, not now that you’re fully naked over him. You pull his boxers down, hands grazing sensitive skin and he pushes his head back into the pillow with a groan.

He clenches his jaw when you grind down on him, sliding over the head of his cock. His eyes rolling when you lean back and brace yourself on his thighs. You gasp with every roll of your hips and he whimpers.

“God damnit can I please touch you?” He grinds out through clenched teeth. The wet slide of your cunt has him breathing shallow and fast, the urge to buck up and fuck you settling low in the base of his spine. “C’mon, don’t I get some kind of fu-uck…” He stutters when your nails drag over his thighs. “You gotta show me some k-kind of mercy.”

“I’m already wearing a piece of you Eddie.”

His chest rises and falls, nostrils flared while he breaths heavy against his own willpower. The tattoos on his arms jump when he digs his fingers into your hips harder, an anchor he has to keep in place until you tell him he can move. “Why don’t you show me just how devoted you are?”

His first instinct, his first want, is to push you back and hold you down and make you sob about it. He’d like to hitch your legs up over his hips and make you remember the feeling of him deep inside for a few days.

But that’s not how you treat a goddess.

He slides his hands up your back with care when he sits up, his lips pressing softly into the space between your breast. He kisses up and over the necklace, warmed by your skin under it. Kisses up your neck until he has to pull your head down to meet his lips again. His fingers don’t grasp like they did a moment ago. They dance light over your skin, along the edge of your hair. They trace up under your jaw and over your cheeks, down your nose. He follows their path with his mouth, gentle kisses following gentle touch.

Your hips don’t move as rapid as they were and he uses it to his advantage. He presses up until he hears that gasp when he breaches you, soft heat clenching around his cock almost enough to set him off. He basks in the moment too long and you try to move your hips down against his but he makes a sound of protest, something in the back of his throat like a whine. “Give me a second, I’m having a moment with divinity.”

Your laugh travels through you, vibrations under his palms when you test his resolve again. Another gentle roll and he lays his face into the crook of your neck to mouth at you. Tongue running flat up the tendon on display when your head tips back and he finally buries himself fully. Your fingers wind in his hair while he snakes a hand between you, thumb finding your clit and you both groan when your movements speed up. He’s already too close, got himself all wound up in the role play but he needs you to finish first to put a nice bow on this evening.

“Y’really like it?” He pants against you.

“Of c-course I do.”

“Y’gonna wear it every day?” You nod and whine when he puts more pressure on his thumb. “Let everyone know what kind of freak you are.” You keep nodding and grinding down on him and that line of heat licks up his spine fast. “Gonna show everyone aren’t you?” He can feel your thighs trembling around his hips, knees digging in on every downward movement. “C’mon baby, wanna see it.” It takes him a lot of effort to pull his head up to watch you. Your chin tilted up, mouth hung open and panting, all for him. He can feel the tension building in you and can see the crease between your brows. The low whine that crawls out of your throat and goes on and on when he finally hits your peak.

He huffs, almost laughing at the way you break, amazed as always at the way you react to him. You sit flush against him and grind and pull his hair and his eyes roll back in his head, a line of curses spilling out of his lips that you catch with your own. He comes fast and hot, the edges of his vision going spotty while you keep his head steady and swallow all his grunts. In his foggy thoughts he can feel you run your tongue over the new space in his mouth, the feeling just foreign enough that it makes him shiver before he laughs again at your interest.

It takes a moment for you both to come down, you slouching into Eddie and making him fall back against the pillows, still out of breath.

“So I take it I’ve won your favor.” He grins up at the ceiling, running his hand over your back.

“You keep calling me a god, you can have whatever you want.” You roll on your side and nuzzle up under his outstretched arm.

“Don’t teeth have something to do with prosperity?” He snaps his fingers behind your head. “With all these new adornments, we’re gonna be swimmin’ in it baby.”

“Oh so that’s why you worship me, for my money!” You poke his side hard enough he flinches and curls around you suddenly, locking you into a hug and pinning you down on the bed. His lips brush your ear when he speaks lowly to you. “I worship you because you deserve it, the prosperity is a perk.” He keeps you close for a while until you both get too hot, sticky skin separating under cool sheets. He still has to touch you though and his foot finds yours while he reaches over to play with your necklace.

“I’m glad you’re cool with this.”

“I’m glad you’re cool with this.” You laugh. “We could have been having a much different evening otherwise.”

(Sacrifice for the read more)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #My Fic #My Work #Freak Like Me

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yuphoric · 4 months

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STOCKHOLM SYNDROME ❥ yuuta okkotsu (m) | part 1

➵ summary: Yuuta Okkotsu is head over heels (read: pathetically) in love with a girl who wouldn’t even spare him a second glance. When the opportunity to call her “his” arrives on a silver platter—that is, when she loses all her memories—without thinking, he grabs the opportunity to claim himself as her husband.

➵ pairing: obsessive stalker!yuuta okkotsu x f!reader ➵ word count: 1,163 ➵ warnings: MINORS DNI – stalking & obsession (for future drabbles? chapters? smut)

author’s note: ALL LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! <3 inspired by the 1D fanfic i read 9 years ago (“illegally yours” by _DaniMoon_)… ALSO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS……….. the yuuta brainrot was just sooo... bad i wrote all of this in one sitting SCREAMINGGGG

Yuuta Okkotsu is a well-calculated man; he’s a “mastermind” as Taylor Swift would say. He’s smart, and he’s careful. He’s everything but stupid.

However, when it comes to you, he becomes stupid. Stupidly in love. All thoughts of intellect trashed at the deepest corner of his mind, all reasons of rationality ignored. Even back in high school, he’d admire you from afar—too insecure to even place himself in your world. He never deemed his world worthy to accommodate you; you who he defines as perfection, you who shines brighter than any of the constellations combined.

When this seemingly perfect chance to have you, to love you, falls beneath his feet; he takes it—he grabs it.

His day started like his usual routine. He greeted the kind barista named ‘Yuuji’ behind the counter and bought his usual coffee order from the small café he frequents at. He sat at the plush chair (technically, could be labeled as his own by how much his ass sat on it) near the window, catching sight of the beautiful morning scenery—

You.

You, at exactly eight in the morning, arrive with the usual twinkle in your eye. Yuuta falls in love more every day with the sight of perfection. In these typical mornings, you always carry a digital camera, taking pictures of your usual subjects; like the shop’s designs that change weekly (Last week, he recalled it was designed with cute little balloons to celebrate the owner’s birthday), the baristas which have become your friends, and the pastries layed out inside the glass display. He always wondered when he could be the subject of your pictures.

Once Yuuta hears the soft jingle of the shop’s bells, you dash over the counter and greet Yuuji. If someone would ask Yuuta what you usually order, he could easily recite it: “One sea salt latte and a banana muffin, please.” On days you feel like ‘experimenting,’ he knows that you would instead order a double shot of espresso and a puff pastry.

While he tries to not seem obvious stalking—admiring—you, he couldn’t help himself to let his eyes wander on your body. Especially when today, you wore the pink miniskirt he loved seeing on you, how it perfectly hugs your waist down to your thighs. After you pay, you walk to your designated seat: the one near the counter, just beneath the air conditioner. He shakes his head, turning back to his table; his hand grasping the ballpoint pen he brought to messily sketch the you of today on his journal. His ordered drink is neglected at the side, his focus on your sketch and his view of you by the corner of his eye.

Today seems like any other day.

Until it wasn’t.

The bells ring once again at the entry of another man with dark hair bunched in a top knot. Yuuta watches as your eyes light up at the sight of this man, and he could swear he feels his stomach lurch. Who is this man and why is she so happy to see him? The grip Yuuta had on his pen tightened, similar to the feeling of his vulnerable heart. Do you have a boyfriend he never knew of?

For the next couple of minutes, he watches the sequence of events play out. First, Yuuji delivers a tray of two different drinks and two different pastries on your shared table. Second, the sweet conversation you introduced to this ‘top knot’ (read: ‘top one asshole,’ as Yuuta conjured in his head) seemingly turned sour instantaneously. Then currently, Yuuta watches the back and forth of free flowing arguments between the two of you.

How dare this man hurt you?

Someone as perfect as you?

The chatter in the shop couldn’t mask the heated conversation you shared with the man across your seat. Yuuta desperately wanted to intervene; to say something, to wipe the leaking tears away from your face—but he stayed still. He remains unmoved. What else could he do, anyway? He watches as your emotions get the best of you; your face displaying emotions of frustration and anguish. Yuuta vowed to himself not to make you feel the way you do right now because of the asshole you were with, to not see these expressions on your pretty face.

You stand up, and Yuuta hears the loud screech your chair evokes as you trudge your way out. The ‘top one asshole’ remains seated, his back turned against Yuuta. With no other thought passing through his head but you, he follows your lead outside the shop. His coffee remains untouched, pen now bashed in his jean’s pockets and his journal pinched between his fingers.

He, himself, couldn’t calculate his next few actions.

Yuuta follows the blue sedan car you drive; he strikes closely behind you, not too near, but not too far either. His eyes zero in your form, maintaining the pace of his motorcycle. He hopes you don’t notice him following him for the past couple of minutes already; of course, he just wanted to ensure that you were safe—that you were okay. He was just worried, that’s all.

After the three alternating turns and the two highways you drove, the road the two were driving at started to get steeper. The cars and other transportation devices started to lessen and lessen. Yuuta feels the sweat start to drip down his neck, the helmet he wears starts to loosen, while he continues to push down all the weight of his body on his seat to control himself. He sees your car get faster than a lightning speed, your car evoking a loud screeching sound.

What the actual fuck were you trying to do?

You seemed frantic, displayed through your driving. In a matter of seconds, you started to lose control of your car. Yuuta watches your car fishtail like a wild animal, spinning repeatedly until you hit a light post.

He feels the adrenaline rush through his veins, as he pushes his motorcycle behind you. The exhilaration overcame his body’s fatigue from the extensive, one-sided pursuit. The reverberation of the screeching continued to pierce the tranquility of the road, resonating in the middle of almost nowhere. Yuuta feels his heart race, but not because he's in love with you; rather, it’s because he worries you got seriously hurt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Yuuta mutters to himself as he sees dust erupt from your car’s tires, casting a cloud that obscured his view of you. He catches up to your swerved car, him haphazardly pushing down on his rear brake pedal. “What the fuck happened?”

He cautiously approached your car, his heart stuttering against his ribs. Yuuta peers through your car’s cracked window, only to see head laid on your headrest with your eyes closed. His gut wrenches at the sight of the blood seeping through the wound on your forehead; fortunately, the cut wasn’t too big, but it was deep.

What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

a/n: will post other parts to this!! planning to make this multichaptered?? I JUST LOVE YUTAAAAAA.....the brainrot is so bad imnfdndsbhjhbascdhjdajchhjajksjkjsdkdnwkejkdjw pls lmk what u think <33

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lunargrapejuice · 2 months

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family + loyalty

chapter one: mafia & mangoes | 9.1k+ words

satoru gojo x fem!reader | mafia au

chapter warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit sexual content, illegal activies, alcohol drinking, profanity, jealousy, pet names

series masterlist

the navy blue sky starts to brighten into an early morning azure, the sun's rays peeking from behind the city's buildings, just as you knock on the hollow metal door at the back entrance of the hanami ninth night club. the routine clicks of the locks follow shortly after and you're welcomed with a tired, if not slightly hung over, smile from shiro. even this early in the morning he’s dressed in a brown suit that’s a bit big on him, his dark brown hair slicked back and smoking a cigarette.

this was how he looked every time you came by, you swear his suit was the exact same too, but this morning in his slouched, bloodshot eyes, he looked particularly haggard.

“you’re one of my more demanding business partners, you know that?” he says, blowing smoke from his cigarette to his side before tossing the still burning bud on the ground and stomping it out with his shining designer shoes.

“you complain yet answer every time i come knocking,” you retort, holding back your smile, knowing this is just how he was with you.

the morning air that’s not quite warm enough for the t-shirt you’ve chosen to wear lingers on your exposed skin as he flips through the cash you hand him. he knows you’re good for it, you’ve been doing business with him for over a year now and you’re not about to ruin it nor are you dishonest by nature. but you know it’s just routine and wait patiently.

he pockets that cash and steps closer inside, leaving the door open so you can hear him while he grabs your things. “don’t get it wrong, i like doing business with you little lady,” his voice muffled as he moves further back into the club. “you may only be a small time customer but even still, your business is appreciated. even if it means gettin’ up this early on a saturday morning,” he return with the wooden crate full of goods. “here you are,” gently he places the box into your arms ensuring you can support the weight before letting go. “see ya next week?”

you smile and nod, shift the crate to sit more comfortably, “see you then. thanks again shiro.”

he waves goodbye as you turn around and begin to head back into the main street. it’s not far to your destination and you take your time enjoying the early saturday morning that brings a normally unseen beauty to this side of the city. the dozens of small locally owned shops around this area are at least an hour away from opening and the streets are almost empty aside from the handful of early risers taking leisurely walks and the coffee shop that has the sweet, nutty aroma of their specialty coffee lingering in the air. it wasn’t so bad getting up this early when you got to take your time enjoying the little things like this, if anything it helps you prepare for what would be another busy day. the calm before the not-so-bad storm.

and yet, a storm nonetheless.

as you round the street corner, you support the heavy box with one arm and your hip as you search through your bag for your keys. wallet, chipstick, receipts from the grocery store, loose change but no keys. you make a mental note of how messy your bag is since it’s nearly impossible to find what you’re looking for. just as you’re about to put down your things and dump out the contents of your purse on the sidewalk your fingers find the keyring-

“getting into trouble, are we?”

you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden and unexpected voice from behind you, almost dropping the box and your found keys barely hooked onto your index finger in the process.

with a racing heart you try your best to think clearly, were you about to be caught? get arrested? god dammit, you knew you shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable with this dealing just in case you were caught in the open like you were right now.

“did i scare you? sorry about that, sweets.” his teasing tone doesn’t say he’s actually all that sorry.

in your hurry and the sudden fright you hadn’t registered the voice of the man behind you but the nickname is a dead give away. and now that you think more about it, who else would meet you here this early in this morning if not your number one customer?

“good morning satoru,” you greet, unable to hide the shakiness in your voice or the fact that your heart rate has not gone down since he made his appearance. you swore it was echoing in the quiet street, only growing louder when he comes into your view, his figure towering over you.

“what’s got you so jumpy?” his dark sunglasses may hide his playful eyes but you know it’s there and see that the smirk on his lips is devilish. “doin’ something you shouldn’t be?”

your breath hitches and slightly paranoid thought passes through your mind, making you fill with guilt and worry.. did he know?

“haha, i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply but god you barely even believe what you’re saying. “i’m just trying to get to work and you show up out of nowhere,” not that it’s an actual complaint and you don’t sound the least bit mad. you liked seeing satoru very much.

he's got the looks of a man chiseled by the delicate hands of the gods themselves and it doesn’t help that he wears gorgeous, perfectly fitted suits and ties that bring out his already breathtaking cerulean eyes from under his snowy, messy undercut. he may be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

he lifts an eyebrow, no doubt questioning your odd behavior and a little convinced you really were doing something you shouldn’t be but when he smiles wider, almost like he knows your secret or knows he’ll pry it out of you, you think you would spill it if he asked.

“you’re a terrible liar,” satoru says through his smile and takes the box from you, standing behind you as you unlock the doors to your little bakery and follows you inside.

you don’t mind him coming in before the bakery is open, it's not the first time and you're sure it wouldn’t be the last. it was a few months ago he wandered in dressed in a similar black suit that he’s wearing today and ordered one of everything you were offering. he's come in almost every day since then and spent enough money that his funds alone could pay for the rent on the shop but truthfully, even if he didn’t spend a small fortune here, you enjoy his company more than you’d like to admit out loud.

satoru places the box down next to the cash register and leans against the counter, silently watching you tie your apron over your light blue jeans and black shirt, preparing for the weekend morning rush.

aside from miwa, who was god sent working the front of the bakery, you basically run this place by yourself. you baked, you bought supplies, you balanced the books and dedicated your life to this bakery. a dream you shared with your parents once, one you hope they could be proud of had they survived that fateful day.

“tell me, what were you up to this morning?” satoru questions when you come to open the box from the opposite side of the counter. you pretend the shimmer of his beautiful eyes don’t affect you as he pulls down his glasses and flashes his baby blues at you, batting light lashes to try to get it out of you.

you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks under his flirtatious gaze, your heart hammering under his attention and his playfully sweet tone that might get any person to spill their secrets. “i told you - nothing!”

your denials are not convincing even to your own ears and his devious expression, still partly hidden by his dark glasses, told you he wasn’t believing a word you were saying but he knew he was close to getting what he wanted.

he was right before, you are a terrible liar.

“you can trust me,” he adds and your heart lurches like it believes him. “i won't tell. i’m just curious about what kind of trouble you’re getting yourself into,” he smirks, pulling off his glasses entirely, leaning in closer to you.

you can feel the butterflies from your stomach in your throat as you find it hard to speak with his scent filling your nose, his warmth palpable but still so far away. it's not fair, you think, he knows just how to fluster you and ever since you met him he’s been shameless in doing so.

what started out as compliments you thought was just him being nice, or just enjoying your baking, had turned into intense flirting starting after he showed up as you were locking up one night about a month ago and pleaded with you that he’d pay anything for whatever you had left over from the day. just as you do now, you found it impossible back then to say no to his charm and ended up spending the whole night at the shop talking over cake and mochi.

“come on sugar, tell me.”

“fine!” you break your gaze away from his and focus on the box, hoping you're hiding your burning cheeks well. after you’ve opened the box you grab his hand, putting the contents he wanted to know so badly about in his palm.

his mouth opens slightly, eyebrows knitting. “a mango?” he questions, looking between you and the fruit in cute confusion.

“yes, a mango that could get me into some trouble. it’s imported from africa, but it’s against customs so i buy them and some other fruits and sugars.. illegally,” you whisper the last word as if someone might hear you even though the shop is empty besides the two of you.

satoru chuckles in amusement but to your surprise, he doesn’t tease you. “why all that trouble for a mango?”

“for someone who eats the goods i bake almost every day you should be able to tell the difference from the other fruits i use versus other places you’ve been,” you tease, taking the fruit from him. “these mangoes are sweeter and creamier than ones you would get here. i’m hurt you can’t tell the difference,” you clutch onto your chest dramatically.

without skipping a beat, he says in an oddly serious tone, “i thought it was because you make them that they taste like that.”

it’s as if your heart is doing somersaults in your chest as you stare at him. god dammit, why did he have to be so adorable and handsome? you might be more happy about it if you knew he wasn’t like this with every pretty girl and handsome man he sees. you’ve seen it first hand with some of your other customers. it didn’t stop you from indulging a bit. his attention is nice and harmless flirting never hurt anyone. right?

the chiming of the bell above the door breaks the trance he had put you in and you’re thankful for the interruption before he was able to poke fun at your flustered state or see the crush you had on him written all over your face.

“morning miwa,” he greets your assistant and only employee.

miwa has gotten quite used to satorus presence in the bakery as well. not long ago she insisted that you should go out with him despite his flirty nature. ‘he’s so beautiful. i bet he’s strong too,’ she sighed dreamily before going on about how she could never go after him, as her heart was already spoken for, and you have his attention so you must go for it.

easier said than done miwa.

“morning mr. gojo,” she replies, pumping her light blue eyebrows at you when she passes by, as if to say ‘go for it girl!’ before disappearing into the back to clock in and get ready to help with preparations for the morning rush.

you roll your eyes at her and turn around to return to your own preparations.

satoru watches intently as you cut mangoes, mix dough, run into the back to place things in the oven and get the display case ready simultaneously. he’s sat and watched you prepare for the morning rush a few times by now but you still find the time to talk with him, admire him as he texts on his phone but quickly pull your gaze away when his eyes find yours, and reply to the other questions he has about your illegal activities.

where are you getting them from? you sure they’re trustworthy? how much are you paying? is this the only dealer you’ve worked with? and the questions go on and on.

“i thought you said you were a businessman, not a cop.”

you try to play it off innocent but a part of you is worried that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to tell him. you trusted shiro and whatever means he used to procure your imported goods and you know better than to tell anyone of him or what he does for you.

he hasn’t said it out loud but you’re not naive. your little deals are only small time compared to his normal business but he didn’t need anyone looking into him for any reason. you weren’t about to get in the middle of that or find out what the consequences might be if you did.

“i’m no cop,” he answers with a sneer. “just looking out for you, don’t want you to get ripped off.”

a small ‘oh’ comes from under your breath and you avoid his eyes. were you being too paranoid? maybe but you’d rather be safe than sorry in situations like this. after all the effort you put in for this bakery; all the money, sweat and tears you poured into this shop and your treats, losing them wasn’t an option.

truthfully you don’t believe he is a cop and feel the truth in his words when he says them, though you aren’t sure exactly what it is satoru does for a living but it’s better you not tell him of shiro.

“i appreciate that,” you mean it honestly despite your defensiveness before. “i shouldn’t say more though..” satoru may be attractive, easy to talk to and affecting your heart more than you want him to but indulging his curiosity to the full extent was not something you could do this time around.

the phone in his pocket begins to ring before he can reply. relief, you’re thankful to end this conversation quickly before he can press more.

he motions with his finger to give him a moment and turns the other way to stand closer to the door of the bakery. you focus your attention on the dough in front of you but it’s hard not to listen in when the shop is so quite.

“what is it? … this early? ... k, be there soon. … no, i’ll call him and we’ll meet you there.”

he doesn’t sound pleased when he hangs up and immediately goes to make another phone call but you don’t stay around to listen to what he’s saying. instead you slip into the back to get the pastries from the oven and put a couple in a to-go box for satoru.

he’s just getting off the phone when you return and searches his suit pockets for his car keys. “sorry sugar, duty calls.”

“as if i’d let you hang out here all day anyways,” you tease, coming around the counter to stand in front of him and hand him the togo box, stopping him when he reaches into the wallet. “it’s on the house today.”

his smile could melt your heart and it almost distracts you from the unreasonable amount of yen he drops into the tip jar; way more than what the treats you’ve packed for him cost.

“you don’t ha-”

“i’ll see ya later,” he gives you a wink before slipping his glasses back on and taking the bag from your with a brush of his fingers against yours, making his way out the door. “don’t get into too much trouble without me,” he calls behind him but doesn't look back.

you are trouble, you think, watching him leave and hating the disappointment you feel when his tall figure disappears into the distance as the bell chimes when it closes. you know you shouldn’t be falling for customers and especially ones such as satoru gojo at that- an undeniable flirt. you had your fair share of experiences with men like that in the past and normally stay far away from them but something about satoru has you unable to hold back and, even if it’s to your dismay, he knows just how to pull you in more.

honestly, he seemed rather shallow at first. nothing more than good looks, sweet words and money but the more time he spends around you the more mysterious and deeper he becomes, even still. you can tell he’s really dedicated to his work and works hard. he’s never said exactly what he did besides being a ‘businessman’ but plenty of times it called him away and each time he went without question, not without his dilly dallying. more than that, just today his comment about how he wanted to look out for you didn’t seem like the man you had first thought he was. he didn’t seem like the type to care about other people's business and if they’re being taken advantage of but you could tell he was honest when he said that, none of his normally teasing and playfulness behind his words.

“i don’t understand why you two haven’t gone out yet,” miwa breaks you from your thoughts, coming from the back with two large trays of jelly filled donuts, melon pan and other goodies to fill the display case with.

you sigh, overthinking about what could be if this were more than a little crush between a baker and her handsome customer with an insatiable sweet tooth.

would you say no if he asked? probably not. you doubt anyone says no to gojo. is it a good idea to go out with him though? you honestly couldn’t say.

it’s not that you were looking for commitment, being a small business owner took up most of your life and you were fine with that; living the dream you had since you were a child, fulfilling what you shared with your once complete family, meant more to you than falling in love. baking was the only love you needed; it didn’t leave and came in all sorts of different comforts.

you could always make something delicious that made people smile, that was a reminder of a bitter sweet past or a brighter future. like the first taste of a comforting treat after a long day or the familiar scent of a pastry shared by two lovers long ago. seeing those moments and more unfold because of what you baked was enough for you, it brought you happiness in its own way after so much of your own loss.

you aren’t even sure if you could handle a relationship, if it was in the cards for you, but maybe going out and sleeping with him, getting it out of your system would be the way to go. just maybe it would quiet or stop the bubbling feelings instead of you. or maybe it would make it worse.

but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about what lies underneath those designer suits and you know satoru thinks he plays it cool when you wear small summer dresses or plunging necklines and tight pants but you’ve caught those cerulean eyes lingering on your figure more than once.

the other side of this dating coin was going out with him and ending up falling for him; getting yourself caught in something you didn’t particularly want to be a part of. it’s not that you couldn’t put in the hard work that relationships require, though it may be hard to find the time but for the right person you would give it your all. but was it worth the potential loss? could you even handle any more loss?

satoru didn’t seem like the type to settle down and you weren’t interested in playing games with a man who liked to play them exclusively. putting your heart out there for more than just baking was easier said than done but there was always the possibility your heart didn’t need to get involved, despite how unlike you that was.

a part of you wonders if your heart is already wading deeper than the ankle deep waters of those unbelieve blue eyes.

none of it even matters though because he hadn’t asked you out and it would be inappropriate for you to ask him out as the owner of an establishment he visits frequently... or maybe it’s the thought that the rejection would hurt just too bad and then you’d likely never see him in your little bakery again, which seems much worse than the rejection, that stops you. your little flirtatious moments when he dropped by were enough, it didn’t need to be more. for your sake and his.

but a girl can still dream.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this shit right now. doesn’t he know it’s only eight in the fucking morning?”

“what the hells gotten into you this morning?” geto questions, tossing the black duffle bag into the back of the cadillac with a loud clunk and a slam of the door. there were no off hours with a job like this, both of the men knew that and accepted it, not that it stopped either of them from bitching every now and again but satoru was unusually irritated today. “you know the boss likes these things dealt with quickly.”

both men slide into the car, gojo behind the wheel and geto stuck with all the items left in the front seat by his companion. he tosses what he can in the back or sticks it in the center counsel but satoru can feel sugurus eyes on him the entire time.

he doesn’t look back at his partner as he turns on the car and puts it in drive. “there’s nothing quick about this.”

he knew suguru couldn’t argue about that. there was absolutely nothing quick about chasing someone that was already a full 12 hours ahead of you, even if you have good intel on where this problem may be. countless things could go wrong and there would be hell to pay if they couldn’t finish the job and bring back what was taken. not that he or geto are worried about that. they were chosen for this job because only they could see it through better than anyone else.

it makes gojo a little less sour knowing they asked him and geto to fix this little problem together since no one else was capable of handling it but he hadn’t had nearly his fill of asking about whoever it was his pretty little baker did illegal business with.

before he can think about his subconscious calling you ‘his’, satoru catches his companion opening up his white togo box full of an assortment of goodies and immediately puts the car back into park after not moving an inch. he wasn’t going to get a chance to stop for more treats while on this mission so he’d have to make them last and he wasn’t planning on sharing anyways.

“these are mine,” satoru reaches over and shuts the lid over sugurus fingers, moving the box to his lap aggressively.

“what? are you five years old all of the sudden?”

“shut up. she made these for me and i’m not sharing,” he reaches into the box not caring what he grabs out because no matter what it was it was bound to satisfy his craving.

bite sized mango turn over, and damn were these illegal mangoes good.

he can’t help but smile at the memory of you all sweet and guilty. worried over illegal mangoes. your innocence is so cute. he didn't know what kind of trouble to expect you to get into but that was not it.

gojo knows suguru recognizes the mochi and sakura leaf logo of your bakery, various boxes and containers were always in his apartment or car and gojos raved about your cakes and mochi like it was made of gold. he made geto try it so could he understand the craze from his best friend who has no impulse control and a sweet tooth from hell but satoru also knows he’s dropped plenty of hints he thinks you’re attractive as well so it’s no wonder he keeps going back.

“she makes them for everyone, dumbass. that’s her job.”

“i’m still not sharing.”

“a paloma and extra shot of tequila, please,” you order before your butt even hits the cushion of the bar stool.

slumping into the seat you close your eyes and let out a long exhale. it’s been a long and exhausting few days with miwa on vacation with her boyfriend, kokichi, and you running the bakery by yourself. she works so hard, puts in so much effort for your little shop so how could you say no when she asked for a few days off for a get away with her beloved? she was sweet enough to plan her vacation on weekdays instead of the weekend too so that you didn’t have to suffer the weekend rush by yourself.

you don’t remember the days before miwa being this busy and exhausting but business had grown a lot since then. it might be time to look for additional help but that would have to wait for another day when you could go through the shop's finances and see if you could even afford it on top of paying miwa what she deserves.

tonight, all you want is something stiff to help let all that stress slip away before you head home and get ready for another solo day.

the bartender puts your peach colored drink and shot glass in front of you without a word and walks to the other side of the island to attend to a couple who arrived right before you. you don’t come to the bar often, never really finding the time and not really having anyone to go with but when you do decide to come out by yourself, you always come to the light ox bar. it’s quiet and modern, playing all your favorite songs over the speakers and the bartenders are generous with their drinks, lowkey enough to wind down after a long day and it’s right in between your apartment and the bakery.

you quickly take the shot, the clear liquid burning your throat, though not unpleasantly, on the way down. oh yes, this was exactly what you needed before getting back to grind tomorrow.

“haven’t seen you here in a while,” a familiar deep voice comes from behind you after a few minutes of nursing your drink in silence, stewing over issues that you wish you could have left at work.

toji fushiguro, a man you met at this bar two years ago and have only ever seen at this bar. very handsome and equally mysterious. you know only 2 things about the man; his name and that he loves to drink whiskey.

at least those are the only things he’s confirmed about himself, you’ve speculated other things plenty. you don’t know his age; he’s older than you for sure but not quite old enough to be the age your father would have been and not quite young enough to be your brother. the scar on his face and his muscular build had you guessing he’s ex military or police but his personality doesn’t quite fit either occupation.

he’s not married or if he is he doesn’t wear a ring or say anything about his spouse. he ‘s hardly told you a thing. you don’t mind not knowing much about him though. he may say otherwise but you know he’s a decent guy. he’s been good company on some hard and good nights; scaring away a few unwanted suitors and listening to you rant or talk about whatever's on your mind but never judging you for it.

he’s been one of the only people you’ve opened up to about your past, your parents demise, why baking even matters so much to you.

“yeah.. the shop’s been keeping me pretty busy,” you admit, sitting up straight in your seat but not turning to face him. you stare into your drink, stirring the ice with the small black straw, watching the droplets of condensation soak into the coaster as he takes a seat next to you.

out of the corner of your eye you see him sip on the golden liquid in his glass and smile. “means business is good then, yeah?”

“it’s good,” you reply, though your tone doesn’t sound like you’re happy about it and toji quickly catches on.

he lets out a quiet huf, moving in his chair to rest his elbows on the glass counter top of the bar and looks over at you with dark emerald eyes. “you don’t sound too happy about that.”

i am happy about it.. right? you ask yourself while taking another sip of your drink. yes, successful business was what every business owner hoped for, what your parents hoped for. you had to be happy about that. what you weren’t happy about was the exhaustion, the long nights, the loneliness despite being around customers all day, the fact all you think and worry about is your business. baking was the way to get out of reality but it’s hard to feel like that on days like today when you didn’t have enough hands, money or time.

you force a half hearted laugh. “i am.. it’s tiring living and breathing business.. if i was able to just bake i’d love that but it’s everything else i don’t like. i don’t like having to worry about hiring people or about making rent on the shop or how to advertise or bring new customers in.. all that stuff, it’s not me.. not what i’m passionate about but there’s no one else to do it for me.”

you only ever do it because you have to in order to keep your bakery dream alive and normally you wouldn’t complain. responsibilities weren’t always things you were passionate about or loved to do, it was what you had to do no matter how you felt but it gets hard to put on a brave face when all you do is worry and stress about responsibilities, when it feels like it’s you against the world. you didn’t have anyone to lean on, no one to reach out to for help that didn’t require you to pay first.

you were.. alone.

as much as you don’t want to admit it to yourself, satoru provided you a small relief from all of this. he may not be able to help with the books and workload overwhelming you but he made you smile, made you laugh and loves your treats more than anyone else. it was a breath of fresh air in your busy work life to have him stop by, like a rest stop on a steep upwards hike where you can catch your breath and enjoy the view instead of worrying about getting to the top. he hadn’t been by the past few days though, not since saturday morning and, a little begrudgingly, you find yourself wishing to see him walk through the door and tease you to his heart's content. perhaps that’s got you in a bad mood too.

“too much responsibility for such a little girl?”

finally you turn to look at him with narrow eyes that shoot daggers into his side but it’s hard to stay too mad when you’re met with a smug ass look on his face. you playfully shove him in the arm and continue trying your hardest to glare at him but he’s got one of those smiles that rubs off on others and your toughness is broken though almost instantly.

“i’m an adult, alright?” a fact he already knows about you. “not some little girl who's too far in over my head.” though you're starting to doubt that slightly tonight. your business may be successful for now but maybe it was more than you could handle, more than you wanted to handle. were you ever meant to do this alone?

“anyone would feel like it’s too much if all they thought about was work,” he acknowledges and downs the rest of his drink. “sounds like you could use a break.”

“a break.. hell i’d even take a distraction just so i don’t have to think about it for a little while.”

you follow suit and drink the rest of your paloma in a few gulps, finally feeling the warmth from your first shot helping your body relax. a break, a distraction.. neither of those options seemed possible at a time like this. if you take time off you have to close the shop and then you don’t make money and then you can’t pay rent on the shop or your apartment or buy items you need or pay miwa. you want to cry just thinking about it. so many things relied on you working and trying to figure this all out. a few drinks before bed was the most of a distinction you could afford.

toji calls for the bartender and doesn’t say anything before he’s pouring tojis brand of choice whiskey and two shots of tequila. you sit in silence, feeling the alcohol warm your insides, and watch the bartender pour your drinks. you’ve always known toji came here a lot, every random time you’ve shown up he’s usually here but you’re still not used to how he doesn’t even have to order because they know him so well.

he slides you one of the shots and takes the other for himself, clinking them together before you drink them and put the glasses down in tandem. your worried, tired eyes don’t go unnoticed by him when you reach up to play with the ice from your paloma with a straw once more.

he leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, his ankle on his opposite thigh, and washes away the taste of tequila with his whiskey. you can tell by the look on his face he’s not a fan of tequila and whiskey was not a great chaser but one shot wasn’t going to kill him.

“i could distract you,” he says too casually but implying too much for your liking.

your cheeks burn and you find yourself speechless under the gaze of his narrow green eyes through dark lashes.

“what? scared of me all the sudden?” he raises an eyebrow and the corner of his lips turn up ever so slightly at the embarrassment on your face. like he was enjoying this embarrassed side of you.

“no!” you say probably too defensively and definitely too loudly but somehow you get your voice to quiet and slow. “it’s not that..”

you aren’t even sure what it is, what’s got you tongue tied and excited at the same time. you know toji to be cool and straight forward, he radiates the confidence of a man who gets what he wants, does what he wants and doesn’t let anyone stand in his way. so it shouldn’t surprise you that he’d say something as bold as this, as casually as he did. maybe it's the fact you can’t believe you’re actually considering taking him up on his offer.

“then what is it?” he doesn’t wait for you to answer before he uncrosses his legs and leans in closer to you, one hand on the back of your chair, the other still holding onto his glass. he’s giving you space to get away, tell him no but you don’t. he smells of cedar and whiskey; and right now you find it more intoxicating than the liquor in your system. “worried i wont be nice? you should know by now, i’m not a nice guy.”

✧˚ · .

you don’t even make it past the entryway of your apartment before toji's lips, hungry and primal latch onto yours, traveling down your jaw and to your neck, his black hair tickling below your ear. the weight of his chest pins you against the door, his strong hands grabbing onto your ass and lifting your feet off the ground in the process. you take the opportunity to encase him between your thighs, feeling his hardening cock against your clothed core.

it’s impossible not to grind against his length but toji is having none of it, using his forceful grip to still your eager hips.

the cold air on your neck when he pulls away from your supple, reddening skin has goosebumps littering your body. his eyes are dark and focused on your every moment, down to the heaving of your chest and the hot air escaping your lips; a predator locked onto its prey.

“eagerness will get you nowhere with me kitten, you’d better behave.”

you nod in agreement, unable to get the words out of your mouth as you fight for breath. you’d listen perfectly if it meant he’d distract you.

his lips find yours once more and your hands make their way into his hair, tangling in the soft black locks more and more with each deepening of your kiss. with ease he supports your weight and carries you from the front entryway to your bedroom, following your breathless instructions between devouring kisses.

your body meets the mattress with force, your hair scattering behind you, your legs remaining open for him. you stare up at tojis face in the moonlight coming from your window. he doesn’t look like the man you thought him to be under the dark, silvery night; his figure towering over your much smaller body and his intense gaze sends a shiver down your spine and wet warmth between your legs.

his defined core and arm muscles ripple and flex as he lifts his shirt off of himself, relieving the unexpected mural that is spread across his entire chest and arms; tattoos of black clouds and flowers and in the center of it all, a large red snake baring its bloody fangs.

your eyes widen, your mind thinking of all the times in media you had seen art like this on others and you can feel your palms getting sweaty. what had you gotten yourself into? swallowing the saliva caught in your throat, you ask, “a-are you in the yakuza.. or something like that?”

“something like that,” he admits, looking down at his tattooed body and then back to you. “have you changed your mind? i warned you i wasn’t a good guy.”

despite talking and drinking at the same bar with him for a few years, you may not know much about him personally but you never thought or got the impression he’s put you or would put you in danger. it’s not like you were planning to date toji anyways, dating a mafia member was out of the question but fucking one didn’t seem like the worst idea you’ve had. who even knew if you’d even see him again after this and truthfully you aren’t sure it’s worth overthinking.

no, you hadn’t changed your mind.

3 months ago

“you wanna stay for dinner?” yuki asks gojo as they both find their discarded clothes on the ground and redress.

annoyance immediately fills satoru. she always asks and the answer is always no. why must she persist each time he comes over? he had meant to stop this little fling they had going on a while ago but each time after a hard time at work he found himself at her doorstep and in her bed; he just needed something to take the edge off, something to remind him he’s more than a man who’s only use is to eradicate problems and people for this family. more than a tool.

yuki had been apart of the family for years since her father is a higher up in the organization. she knows about his and satorus way of life and was happy to provide satoru some kind of release; after all she benefited just as much while in between boyfriends and lounging around until she was needed by her father.

and even when they did fuck, satoru wasn’t in a relationship with her and he never would be so why play pretend and sit together for a meal like a normal couple?

he looks behind him at her, watching her tie up her long hair into a ponytail from the other side of her queen sized bed. she raises an eyebrow at him when he doesn’t answer.

truthfully he is starving but whatever yuki could cook, or order because she doubt she does her own cooking, was not what he was craving. he needed something much sweeter after the day he had.

“not really,” he grumbles and returns back to buttoning up his shirt.

“well i guess i better tell you now then,” she smooths out her baggy sweater and looks at him with an expression that makes him wonder if she’s happy or upset.

god, if we were together you’d think she was getting ready to dump me, satoru thinks to himself, trying to anticipate what news she might be breaking to him.

“my father is discussing an arranged marriage to help strengthen the ties with the kusakabe clan so.. we should probably stop whatever this is,” she motions between them with her hand.

perfect timing. it’s much easier on him for her to put a stop to it anyways. it doesn’t come as a surprise that she’d be married off either. the relationship between the kusakabe clan and the gojo clan are in the beginning stages of a conflict that could stop their business together entirely. they’re getting more and more fed up with the treatment from the gojos but satoru knows it would be quite a loss if they were to cut ties entirely.

“fine by me.”

she walks him to the front door, giving him a smile when she looks between his legs and then back up to his face, as if to say goodbye to his dick because he highly doubts she’ll miss him all that much and he can say the feeling is mutual.

“know of any good bakeries nearby?” he asks with cold indifference.

she gives him a deadpan look.

“are sweets really the only thing on your mind right now? right after denying having dinner with me too?”

sure, things were supposed to be casual with him and gojo could admit she never tried to make it anything more than that, offering dinner was supposed to be casual he’s sure. satoru isn’t the kind of guy who you wanted to date anyways, she had to have known that upon first meeting him and since then he has no doubt her opinion on that has only grown stronger since they started this thing.

she punches him in the arm, “you ass. i thought you were going to give me some sweet goodbye.”

there’s only silence as gojo awaits the answer to his question. it’s not like he was never going to see her again, he’d probably be at her wedding along with the rest of the family.

she sneers in response to his silence, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “there's one on the corner up the road. take a right when you get out of here and go up a bit, it’s by the park.”

unexpectedly to even him, he pulls her into him, blonde hair brushing against his ear with her tall height. a friendly hug and one that's reciprocated, though it may even be the first one they’ve ever shared.

“thanks for all you’ve done for me,” he says quietly, giving her a squeeze. “take care yuki.”

normally satorus body feels a little lighter after leaving yukis place but that isn’t the case tonight. even when he found himself balls deep he couldn’t shake the thoughts that plagued his mind. very rarely did he question his choices but tonight he wonders if he’s doing the right thing sticking with the family, following orders - albeit on his own terms - and doing everyone else's dirty work. did he even deserve a better life after all he’s done? at what point are you in too far and there’s no turning back, no second chance at happiness? since when did he even care? and most of all, had he doomed the others he brought into it thinking he was protecting them?

he doesn’t even know what happiness looks like at this point. he thought it was the money, power and rising through the ranks until he could have it all but the deeper he gets the more he dislikes it and is convinced this isn’t happiness and that no one, not even the boss, ‘has it all’.

it hadn’t always felt this bad and he’s sure tomorrow he might feel differently but for tonight, it keeps his shoulder slumped, hands bunched in his pockets and snowy hair covering his eyes as he walks down the street kicking rocks as he goes.

just like yuki said, on the corner of a strip of shops across from the park is a small bakery; pink sakura leaves and a small mochi emblem on the door leading inside. when another customer exits, the smell of vanilla and sugar fills the air around satoru and his stomach grumbles. he just might die if he doesn’t eat something sweet soon.

“welcome!” the blue haired girl behind the counter greets him before turning to help an elderly lady standing at the cash register.

it’s a cute little shop; small but manageable and easy to get in and out of. there are two tables and some chairs sitting by the big window with the shades pulled up, bringing in the lights in the street and from surrounding shops. a big display case is at the end of the counter white counter, some smaller display cases on both sides of the cash register, only a few more things of bread left in each.

gojo heads straight to the main display, not nearly as empty as the others but still telling of the good day you must have had. his eyes sparkle and his mouth waters at the tasty looking treats still inside. the purin looks beyond perfect; caramel glaze dripping off the top of the custard and onto the little plate like it was about to be a part of a magazine. assorted cookies, strawberry shortcake, dango and a little sign saying ask at the counter for mochi, with the flavors of the day listed.

“what can i get you?”

the friendly voice tears satorus attention from the baked goods and he’s met with the face of a woman that looks just as sweet as any of one of these treats. your sparkling eyes are illuminated by the lights of the display case, they are the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen and your beaming smile is a sight for sore eyes; honest and kind. it helps him throw all his worries out the window, all that’s on his mind now is the pretty girl and sugary sweets in front of him.

everything looks so delicious, including you, how could he possibly pick?

“one of everything, please,” he says. he doesn’t have to say much to lay on the charm, he lets his eyes do most of that and it seems to be working.

your pink cheeks and surprised eyes only makes you look that much more adorable. oh, was satoru glad he made his way here tonight.

“e-everything?”

“everything,” he smirks. ✧˚ · .

satorus mouth waters just thinking about all the treats he ate that night while he makes his way to the bakery. he may buy one of everything again today since gas station candies were not cutting it for him these past couple of days while he was gone for work. nothing was the same as your pastries, no gas station clerk was as pretty as you or made him smile the way you did.

he couldn’t get to the bakery fast enough.

he also couldn’t be more disappointed about the line out the door once he arrives. this busy on a thursday in the early afternoon? he’s come by at this time before and it’s never been like this but he supposes he has no choice but to wait. as the line moves forward and he’s able to peek through the window he notices the shop is missing its blue haired cashier. you come from the back with a tray full of freshly baked cookies and an aura satoru swears he’s never seen from you before.

coming in as often as he did, probably overstaying more than he should but he couldn’t help and you never complained, meant that satoru got to see some sides of you most customers didn’t. he’s seen you frustrated and overworked, he’s also seen you in relief, amusement and content happiness. but even through all his flirting with you he’s never once seen the pleased smile that’s on your face today or the glow behind it; not even a little stressed with how busy it is and the fact you’re running things by yourself.

he’s seen this glow, this smile before - he himself has provided it to others - but he’s never seen it on you and it lights an unfamiliar, uncomfortable, feeling in his chest that he can’t swallow down.

it’s not necessarily that he was hoping you’d be sad in his absence. okay maybe he was, knowing you were missing him would boost his ego quite a bit. but he never thought he’d come back to see you basically illuminating the bakery in your after sex glow or that he would be annoyed about it.

you’re a grown ass woman. so what if you were having sex? why should that matter to him? you aren’t his girlfriend or even anyone he’s dating at all. it shouldn’t matter that he’s wondered before what you would look like underneath him or how pretty your face would be after he makes a mess of you. he made himself hold back because he wanted to keep coming back here and he knew if he fucked you and never asked you out again that would have to stop.

you haven't had sex yet because he made it so but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you like this because of somebody else. plus, he knows he could make you feel a million times better than whoever this guy was.

the line dies down as he walks in and he wonders if you spot him near the door behind others. either way, you are unable to give him your attention with the last dozen or so customers that remain in the shop waiting to be taken care of, himself being the last one. he approaches the counter just as the couple sitting at one of the tables near the window walks out, the door bell jingling behind them.

“hey satoru!” you greet with a smile that was somehow brighter than the one you had worn when he first saw you today. “it’s been a few days, i was starting to worry about you.”

so you were thinking of him in his absence? good.

normally he’d take off his glasses, showcase his ocean eyes but today he keeps them on, thankful the dark lenses would hide his deep stare that he’s trying to keep from you entirely.

like you were unsure if he heard your welcome, you try again and he catches the unsteadiness in your voice. “i’ve got some new cake i’ve been trying to perfect, it's german chocolate. want a piece?”

“you must have been getting lonely trying new recipes by yourself.” he can hear the hostility behind his words.

“i don’t really mind baking by myself,” you say and he watches you bite your bottom lip and look down before trying to meet his gaze again with more confidence, a flirty lace to your tone. “but having a taste tester is always better.”

a very unwelcomed image of someone else tasting you pops into his head.

“i’m sure,” he replies through a clenched jaw.

hurt is painted all over your face and he feels his chest tighten knowing he was the one that made it so but your expression, dropping down to his tie instead of his face, is quickly morphing into something more akin to shame and then confusion.

if he’s being honest, he’s feeling just as confused as you look.

satoru didn’t get jealous, he’d swear up and down he’s not even now and yet, the thought of you with someone else has his blood boiling. the thought that while he was gone another had your attention made him beyond irritated, left his heart beating out of sync.

what were you doing to him?

it’s not too late, he decides in the awkward silence permeating between you. after all he was satoru gojo; handsome, charming, funny and he already had you on his hook. he may have to stop coming by after making you scream his name in bed, he’s not one for second dates or these particular attachments, but it was worth it to satisfy this annoying sting in his chest and finally give into his desire.

he calls your name, bringing you from your own thoughts and when he finally looks at you without his glasses on, the way your eyes light up, a complete 360 from your previous expression when you were deep in thought, brings him to smile and leaves a comforting warmth pooling in his chest.

you were too cute and he couldn’t wait to eat you up, show you there’s no one better than him.

“may i take you out on a date this weekend?”

✧˚ · .

main masterlist | chapter two: maybe not so lonely ➮➮➮

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojou saturo #gojou satoru x reader #family + loyalty au

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leafsbabe · 3 months

Text

Justin Herbert - sparks fly (SMUT)

4.3k words, reader is described as not small height wise but the rest is hopefully vague enough

Coming to LA had been a spur of the moment decision but you never regretted it one bit.

You wanted an adventure and one of your friends needed an apartment sitter/somebody to take over their rent for a three month trip overseas so you packed a bag and headed to Hollywood. What you didn’t anticipate was falling in love with the city and so your illegal sublet turned into a small apartment of your own, your vacation into an unpaid internship into a paid internship into a job, and your adventure into a new home.

You didn’t live lavishly like the upper echelon but you could pay your rent, go to large outdoor flea markets on the weekend, and splurge on tacos from the taqueria at the corner while still putting away some money for savings so it was safe to say that life was going pretty damn great.

Justin and you bumped into each other on a hike. Or rather he bumped into you, causing you to stumble, fall, and skim your knee in the least sexy way possible… if there even was a sexy way to get hurt.

But Justin had been sweet, squatting down next to you and making sure you weren't seriously hurt before helping you up. You weren’t a short girl, never had been, but this handsome stranger towered over you in a way that made your thoughts run wild. You couldn’t help but look up at him while he helped you to the nearest bench. He sat down with you and you both drank from your water bottles side by side, sneaking glances at each other from the corners of your eyes.

He was the first to say something, his words stuck in your memory to this day. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

Later you would learn that this was supposed to be a pick-up line and the follow up would have been about him seeing you in his dreams but at that time you had just filmed a scene in a popular tv procedural as scared coffee shop visitor #4 (something you had told everyone back home and no one in LA, because it felt weird to talk about something like that here) so you just blurted that out.

Was it embarrassing? Yes. Did it lead to you two sitting there on that bench talking about shows until the sun started to set? Also yes.

Justin and you exchanged numbers and you even threw caution in the wind and let him walk you to your car, because pretty serial killers wouldn’t talk about the nuances of copaganda for hours and if they did you’d take you chances at knocking him out with your reusable water bottle even if he was over a head taller than you.

That night you sent each other a handful of messages. The next day he even called you after work like a total weirdo. The weekend after he took you to a restaurant in the hills and encouraged you to order something that wasn’t the cheapest salad on the menu because he was going to pay, like a gentleman. You shared a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. Him because he drove, you because you wanted that gorgeous man to absolutely rail you and thought any perceived inebriation might prevent that.

He didn’t fuck you but there was a prolonged make out session in his car where he felt up your tits, so you didn’t even feel bad getting yourself off with your trusty vibrator after he dropped you off at your apartment.

Your second date took you outside again with a small hike followed by a picnic. He had packed all kinds of food because he wasn’t sure what you liked and had forgotten to ask. Justin laughed about panicking and buying half a store worth of snacks just so that you’d have something you like. It was so sweet.

He didn’t kiss you like he did after the first date, wild and like he had to hold himself back.

No. His kisses were sweet, hands never wandering above your waist or below you hips. He did accept it when you invited him up to your place for a coffee though. Half a dirty iced chai latte later he had you pressed against your couch, his large hands dangerously close to your ass.

Yet he still didn’t fuck you.

“Next time,” he promised with his head buried in your throat, “after our third date I'll take you home and won’t let you leave my bed for the next three days.”

It was sweet, in a way, and you hadn’t had sex since before you moved to LA anyways so what difference would a few more days make.

“Okay. Tomorrow?” You didn’t even care that it sounded desperate.

“Can’t.” Justin groaned. “We’re leaving for an away game the day after tomorrow and I meant what I said about keeping you in my bed.”

You felt his lips against your pulse as he spoke.

“When do you get back?”

“In four days.”

Fuck. Maybe a few more days did make a difference.

He kissed your neck again, grinding down and showing you just why the wait would be worth it. Hopefully you would remember to charge your vibrator.

He took you to an arcade style place for your third date and it was an absolute blast. With so many options of games to try out you barely had time to look at everything. Justin was a gentleman the entire time, a pattern you noticed during your last two dates. Even though you’d worn a short skirt (and safety shorts because tall girls and mini skirts didn’t always get along) and cozied up to him all afternoon his hands remained off your ass and solidly in PG-13 areas.

You were having fun, challenging each other while laughing the entire time, but you were looking forward to the end of the date when you could finally go home with him. You could feel the vibe shift, growing needier as time went on, with Justin reflecting his own desires back at you.

When you accidentally touched a sticky surface and had to go to the bathroom to wash your hands you had the genius idea to take off the shorts and shove them to the bottom of your bag.

And boy did that idea pay off.

Twenty minutes later you were in the front seat of his car as Justin drove the two of you back to his place with his right hand on your thigh inching higher and higher. He didn’t look at you as it slid under your skirt, eyes on the road, but the smirk on his lips made it clear to you that he knew what he was doing. He was so close to touching you where you needed him the most when the car stopped and he withdrew his hand as you groaned.

“Patience.” He teased.

You climbed out of the car before he could help you out, downright eager now. By the time you reached his front door you could barely hold yourself back. All it took was a split second, the door closed behind you and Justin unceremoniously pressed you against it as his lips landed on yours.

You’ve never been a small girl but the way you had to tilt your head to kiss Justin had a way of making you feel tiny. He bent down, lips never separating from yours, and just picked you up, hands under your skirt somewhere between your plush thighs and your ass. You moaned and he continued kissing you, fingers kneading against your soft skin as he turned around and started waking further into his apartment. God, you hoped his hands would leave bruises.

A noise interrupted you and when you looked to the side you saw a cat looking back at you from where it was perched on a cabinet. Justin didn’t follow your eyes, lip finding your neck instead. “That’s Nova.” He mumbled against your skin. “I’ll introduce you two later.” Then he sucked hard and you forgot everything except him. Somehow you made your way to his bedroom, something you only noticed after he let you fall back against the pillows.

With Justin standing at the edge of the bed looking down on you, you felt even smaller. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, showing off his strong muscles. Oh, how you wanted them to hold you down as he took you.

You took off your shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it somewhere to the side of the bed and hoped that Justin wouldn’t mind. Judging by the way he was staring at your tits, he didn’t.

Justin soon followed your lead, stripping his clothes off as you watched. There was no denying that he was smoking hot, his body solid and you couldn't help but press your thighs together in the search of some relief.

“What do you need?”

Need. Not want. You had to take a moment to collect yourself. What did you need?

“I need you to fuck my mouth,” you started, “I need to choke on your dick until I cry and I need you to fuck me until I forget my name and can only scream yours.”

For a moment you worried that it would be too much. That it would be too rough for Justin or that you were too needy. But the look in his eyes showed you that he would give you everything you asked for.

Justin stood in front of the bed, looking down at you while he stroked his dick. Precum gathered at his tip and a whimper left your lips at the sight.

“You want it?” He asked, tone just mocking enough to make you close your legs harder, desperately looking for any kind of friction.

You nodded while looking up at Justin, moving on the bed to get closer to him. Finally you could almost taste him. The pink tip of his dick just barely touched your lips.

“Please.” You begged for him to let you have it.

“Be a good girl and show me you deserve it.”

He gave it to you slowly. One hand holding his dick, the other cradling your cheek, as you took it.

Justin felt heavy in your mouth as you took more and more of him. He was big, yes, but you knew you would manage to swallow all of him. You looked up at him through your lashes until his muscles blocked the view and you could close your eyes, fully concentrating on making sure that Justin would give you everything you needed.

Slowly you pushed yourself to your limit, fitting him into your throat until your lips wrapped around his base. Justin’s dick was a lot to take in and you didn’t know if you could take it should he try and fuck your throat but for a short moment —with him frozen in front of you— you managed to take all of him.

You swallowed around him once, twice, and began to slowly pull back before Justin moved again.

“Fuck.” His voice was deep and low as the hand that had been cradling your cheek moved to now hold the back of your head instead.

You couldn’t help but moan around him, the vibrations around his dick only making him hold onto you tighter.

“Good girl.” His fingers flexed against your head and the combinations of both made you feel dizzy, happy that you could be good for him.

With his other hand Justin reached out and trailed his fingertips from your shoulder down your arm until you realized what he wanted and gave him your hand. He brought it to his thigh, letting you lay your palm flat along the thick firm muscle before covering it with his own.

“If I’m too rough,” Justin started, “or you need me to slow down, if you just want to take a break or stop for any reason, you slap my leg and I’ll stop. Understood?”

Nodding yes didn’t seem to satisfy Justin, instead he used the hand on your head to pull you off him. You barely managed to do that thing with your tongue before he had you looking up at him through your lashes again.

“I need you to say it.”

“Understood.” And oh how wrecked your voice already sounded. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be completely gone by tomorrow.

“Good girl.” He said again, before silencing your whine with his dick.

There was no denying that Justin was strong. He was thick with muscle, powerful, yet you never felt unsafe as he picked up the pace.

He was rough like you had asked him to. Thrusting hard and fast and pushing your head down to meet him halfway. It was maddening. Above you Justin said something but you were far too gone to listen.

It wasn’t until his movements got gentler and he slowly withdrew from your mouth that you tuned back in.

Justin hadn’t come and was still hard, was one thing you noticed, looking between his dick in front of you and his face high above you.

The fact that you had teared up like you had told him you wanted to, was another.

His hands came up to cradle your face and he gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs as you looked at him.

“So pretty.” His voice was soft, gentle as if to not spook you and the thought of him underestimating you made you want to protest but all that ended up happening was you pouting as he stroked your cheeks.

“Aw don’t pout. You can suck it again later. I just didn’t want to come until I got to fuck you.”

He had to bend down to kiss you, this tall man folding in half to reach you where you kneeled on his bed, and the reminder of your size difference made you squirm.

In response Justin kissed you harder, pushing forward until you lost our balance and fell back on the bed. In a fluid motion Justin followed, bracing himself above you as his lips found your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He made his way down your body, leaving behind a trail of kisses as he went. When he reached your chest he departed from his careful line of kisses. The two kisses, sweet little pecks almost, that he pressed to either boob, stood in stark contrast with his hand that bullied it’s way under your body so that he could unhook your bra. He tugged on the bridge until it became loose enough for you to get the hint and shrug it off while he pulled your skirt and embarrassingly soaked underwear down your legs in one smooth motion.

You didn’t even get the chance to think about hiding yourself from Justin before his large hands gently parted your legs enough for him to fit between them. His mouth fit itself against the skin on the side of your knee before he slowly, teasingly, kissed his way up to where you needed him most. Even though you anticipated the first touch of his lips against your pussy it still sent a shock through your body.

Justin didn’t waste any time pretending to tease you any longer. His lips found your clit almost immediately, wrapping around the small bud almost lovingly before sucking. His tongue toyed with it while you moaned his name. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled, hard, but not hard enough to dislodge Justin’s wonderful mouth. It took two more moans before he released your clit and wandered lower, dragging his lips along your skin as he moved. The first drag of his tongue was testing, exploring. The second one wasn’t tame at all.

Justin groaned against your pussy and you swore you could feel it through your entire body. He pulled away for a moment and a pitiful whine left your lips at the loss of his mouth, only for it to turn into a moan when you saw him licking his lips before diving in again.

You got lost in the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his lips moved so similarly to when he was kissing you just moments before. His long fingers joined his lips in bringing you pleasure and you couldn’t hold back anymore, grinding against his face until you came with your thighs wrapped around his head.

Justin continued to mouth at your thigh as you started to come down before he stood up from the bed and you took a moment to just watch him. The aftershock of your orgasm still ran through your body and combined with the picture in front of you it felt like a high you never wanted to end. Justin was breathing heavy, his thick chest rising and falling hard. The last bit of sunlight shining through the curtains tinted the bedroom in a soft light making his face glisten and you realized with a jolt that the wetness on his cheeks came from you.

The fading light painted him golden, with his hair shining like a halo, a statue as a tribute to raw desire. His likeness could grace museums across the globe, giving other marbles complexes but instead of the Louvre he stood in his bedroom, looking down at you sprawled across his bed, waiting for him to take you like he had promised.

When Justin finally moved it was in determined long strides. He was a simple man that kept his condoms in the first drawer of his nightstand. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget about them, to fuck you bare until you were dripping with him, but you didn’t want to spook him with your eagernes, so you resigned yourself to bringing it up the next time. Justin passed you on his hunt for protection and you had to crane your neck back to watch him, but the view made up for it. His front was absolutely gorgeous but you had to admit that his backside was quite nice to look at as wel.You were debating whether or not you should reach out to touch him when he turned around, box in hand, before throwing it onto the bed near your head. It still had plastic around it and you couldn’t help but imagine Justin going to the store in preparation of your date, grabbing it not just in case but on purpose. Had he gotten it in preparation for this date? After the second date? After your first? The big box seemed awfully ambitious though. Perfect.

Instead of walking back to the end of the bed and working his way up your body again Justin just skipped straight to holding himself above you and you didn’t waste any time getting your hands into his locks and pulling him down until your lips connected. He kissed you hard and fast while slowly lowering himself until his heavy body pressed yours into the mattress. It felt so easy to let yourself be blanketed by his warmth, his solid body so close to yours that you could feel every inch of his desire.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss. Justin didn’t venture far though, staying close enough that you could feel the strands of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Can you…” He nodded towards the box.

You nodded, eager, before reaching for the box and struggling to rip it open. When it finally popped open it did so in spectacular fashion, spilling an avalanche of little foil packets all over the bed and your body.

“Oh.”

You didn’t know which one of you laughed first but it took some time before the two of you calmed down again. Justin helped you clear the mess, swiping the countless packets towards the free side of the bed. It should feel weird, at least a little bit, now that the tension between Justin and you got broken. For a second you feared that your clumsiness had turned him off completely but then he kissed you again, slow and deep and like he wanted to devour you.

One of his hands reached for the pile of condoms while the other moved up your side, cupping one of your boobs when he reached them. His thumb barely grazed your nipple before Justin moved away but he still managed to pull a moan from your lips.

“Ready?” He asked, looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Yes.” You needed him so badly. “Please.”

The first push of him inside you was careful but determined. Justin gave you aloof himself until he was buried to the hilt, pausing once he was fully inside you and giving you time to adjust to his large size. Youwanted to tell him to move,to fuck you until you felt him days fromnow, butbefore you could ask-beg-demand he silenced you with another seering kiss. You learned why when he pulled away from the kiss, still buried deep inside you.

“I need to be careful with you.” He talked low, almost whispering. “Don’t want you to be sore when I fuck you again later.”

It made sense. Afterall Justin had promised to keep you in his bed for days. But with him filling youtube so perfectly, there was simply no room left for logical thinking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he started to move. Slow, meticulous thrusts that didn’t feel overwhelming at first but drove you wild after just a few movements of his hips. There was something otherworldly in the way he managed to hit all the places that needed to be hit, filling you up perfectly again and again and again. Justin stayed close to you while he fucked you, his hips grinding in deep and putting just enough pressure on your clit to send sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

Your hands tightened in his hair, making him groan before dipping down and encapsulating one of our nipples with his hot, wet mouth.

“Jus- Justin.”

His teeth grazed against the soft flesh of your boob teasingly before his tongue delved down, soothing the hard peak between his lips in gentle laps. Justin groaned when you tugged on his hair and the sensation of it vibrating against your skin just made you tighten your grip further. There was no denying that you needed him. Him and his soft mouth and his hard dick and his strong body pressed against yours. This perfect wave of pleasure just kept building with every single movement but you couldn’t reach your high.

“Just—” He bit down hard enough for it to sting before his tongue traced the slight indents. “Please.”

You weren’t above begging but your fucked out brain couldn’t think of any more words. Thankfully he seemed to understand what you needed even without your saying it.

“Fuck. Okay.” He lifted himself a little bit higher, chuckling when you whined at the loss of his weight and warmth. “You asked for this.”

He sounded just the right amount of condescending when you clenched around him and he rewarded you with a “good girl”.

You didn’t last long after Justin started fucking you properly, rough and fast like you had wanted him to. The power behind his thrusts was enough to move you on the bed, closer and closer towards the headboard every time your bodies connected. He had stopped holding back and made you come with only a handful of thrusts.

When you came to it was with Justin holding himself above your body —breathing hard— and your still shaking thighs wrapped around his hips. Part of you felt disappointed for missing what he looked like when he came but you knew there would be more than enough orgasms for you to catch a glimpse.

It took you a while to feel secure enough to remove your legs from him. After you did so Justin carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. While he went to get a towel to help clean you up you were left in his bed. It took some energy to sit up but it didn’t hurt. You felt empty but that could be changed soon enough. 15 minutes. Maybe 20. Depending on when Justin wanted to go again.

Speaking of. Justin returned to his bedroom, still gloriously naked, holding water bottles in one of his hands and what looked like a washcloth and a towel in the other. You didn’t feel self conscious as he helped you clean up. He had seen every part of you already anyway.

He offered you a shirt of his to cover up but you didn’t mind being bare before him. There was the hint of a love bite starting to form on your chest and you hated the thought of covering up all his hard work. Still, you made a mental note to take him up on his offer later. You had a feeling that a shirt that fit his large frame would swallow you up and you wanted nothing more than to live out the big men’s shirt moment that had been denied you for so long.

Instead you curled up with him, his blanket half draped over your bodies while you just laid there, enjoying the closeness between you. The energy between Justin and you continued to be magnetic, even after giving in to your desires, and you found yourself unable to tame a wide smile.

“Happy?” Justin looked at you with a soft smile on his lips.

“Hmmm. Very.” You let your eyes wander for a moment. “Want to make out?”

Instead of verbally answering Justin just cupped your face and brought your mouths together in a saccharine kiss.

#justin herbert #football imagine #nfl imagine #football smut #nfl smut #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert smut #...so this is twenty-five

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

Ooh, what about you catch the eye of one of the marauders in a shop in hogsmeade? I don’t know, I’m new at this requesting stuff

thank you for requesting!🖤

James took back every single complaint he made when Remus dragged him into Hogsmeade’s bookstore the second he saw you.

After making his friend help him out with some extra quidditch practice, it was only fair that James returned the favour and helped his friend to run some errands in Hogsmeade on a Saturday morning—at an an hour that felt illegal to even be up and running around, not that James said as much…more than once, at least.

Remus had dragged him between shops and for the most part, James was just happy to follow him about and entertain himself in stupid ways that would make his friend smile. But the second Remus mentioned the bookstore, he couldn’t help but let out a groan. Merlin knew how long Remus could spend in that shop, they could be there all day.

But then he followed his friend in, the little bell above the door dinging to make their presence known and he saw you.

You were sitting behind the counter, a book in hand and a cup of coffee sat beside you as you idly read your book. You lifted your head at the bell, giving both boys a warm smile before returning your book.

One look and James was absolutely smitten.

“So, uh,” James cleared his throat, trying to act as casually as he could as he followed Remus down one of the aisles. “Who’s the girl at the front?”

Remus froze, book in hand, as he turned with an incredulous look on his face. “Really?”

“What?” James asked.

“We have first period herbology with her,” Remus told him with a small smirk on his face. “You’re just too busy napping at the back to notice her, clearly.”

“What? Moony, don’t play with me right now,” James grumbled as he quickly followed the other wizard further into the shop. “I would have noticed her in the corridors at least.”

“Clearly not observant as you think, Prongs,” Remus mused.

James spent the rest of the trip bothering Remus out of any little fact he could get out of the boy about you. Even the smallest of details, he wanted to know. And when Remus said he didn’t know any more, he had all but yanked the books out of his hand under the kind guise that he was going to pay for them.

Remus knew better than that but he let James do so.

He approached the counter with a charming smile on his face as he placed the pile of books down. “Hey there.”

You lifted your head, giving the boy a smile as you marked your place before setting your book aside. You turned your attention back to James and the pile of books as you began to check them out.

“Hey, find everything you were looking for?” you asked politely.

“Almost everything,” James told you.

“Oh?” you questioned, raising your brows in interest. “If there’s a specific book or something I could—”

“I was wondering when your shift ended here,” he spoke suddenly, watching as a flash of confusion washed over you.

“Uh, not until three,” you murmured, noting the way the boy eagerly nodded.

“Any chance I could convince a pretty girl like you to grab a drink after work?” he asked with a hopeful look. James Potter was nothing but a charming man, even when he seemed a little nervous.

You bit back your smile. “Pretty girl, huh?”

“The prettiest,” James confirmed with a nod.

“I’ll meet you outside the shop at three then,” you said as you told him the amount he needed to pay before handing him the bag of books. “Enjoy your erotica in the meantime.”

James’ eyes widened comically as he glanced down at the book, his cheeks flushing furiously as he took the bag. “Uh, thanks.”

“See you later, Potter.”

James cleared his throat, muttering a ‘see you later’ back at you before grabbing the bag and quickly making his way towards Remus who looked as though he was holding back his own laughter.

“Erotica?” James deadpanned. “Really?”

But Remus only shrugged in response. “Just wanted to see if you were paying attention or not.”

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weneeya · 3 days

Note

Hi . How are you doing?

I wanted to ask you to write about toji and the reader, and there is age gape between them , and he is overprotective and a little bit possessive in a cute way , He is rude to everyone except her .

An exception

fluff with Toji

hi!! I'm doing better now ty :) thanks for the request! I'm never tired of writing with toji I love him way too much lmao requests are open!

Nobody around you was really fond of your relationship with Toji. It wasn’t only because the man was twice your age, but also because of his reputation. He wasn’t just a bad guy with a scary figure ; no, he was clearly doing illegal things and it was freaking out anyone other than you.

Maybe you weren’t objective because you loved him, but you couldn’t care less about what he was doing. Toji was probably the softest boyfriend you ever had, as surprising as it seemed to be. He seemed to be rude to absolutely everyone, but he was ever like this when it came to you.

Toji sometimes thought that he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. Maybe it was only his insecurities hiding deep inside of him which were talking, but he had the feeling that you were too good for him. Not that he thought that anyone else could take of you, but you were so sweet that it was sometimes messing with his mind.

You were waiting for him in a coffee shop, and he was late. It wasn’t so rare, because of his job, whatever it was. You couldn’t blame him, because he was always making his way to make you forgive him. But today, he was really late, and you almost thought that he wouldn’t come.

You were going to text him when a guy you didn’t know approached you. He was standing up next to the table you were sitting at, trying to make his way into sitting with you. You tried to tell him that you were waiting for someone, but he kept on insisting, as he complimented you and everything.

When Toji entered the building, his eyes found your figure almost immediately. But what he noticed quickly after was the guy that seemed to be bothering you. He wasn’t really the subtle type, so he simply came closer, his dark aura all around him.

The man turned around to say something, but he didn’t expect Toji to be so huge behind him. He had to raise his eyes to meet his gaze, and he almost regretted doing it. Toji simply crossed his arms, clearly annoyed by the guy’s presence.

“Ya want something from my girlfriend?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, and the stranger almost choked on his own saliva. So, this was your boyfriend? He quickly tried to find an excuse to explain himself, mumbling a few words before Toji clicked his tongue against his palate.

“I don’t care, go away,” he said and the guy didn’t insist much. He quickly left without saying more, leaving you two alone. Toji sighed before he left a kiss on your temple. He didn’t care about that dude, but he hated to see anyone close to you.

It wasn’t an exception, Toji was always like this. It was a thing ; he was rude to everyone except to you. It was like you were special, probably because you were to him. He never loved anyone like he did with you. It was sometimes a bit scary, because he was afraid of his own weaknesses, but it was a detail to him. He would do anything for you.

ofc I'm totally normal about this man haha (no)

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji hcs #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs

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saturnville · 2 months

Text

the man in the suit.

pairing: miguel galindo x afro latina fem oc (eliana)

prompt: miguel becomes infatuated with eliana, the owner of a popular coffee shop in town.

an: I was asked to bring back the Miguel Galindo fics by an anon. it's been over two years since I've written anything Mayans, but I'm always willing to revisit old fandoms, so, here we go, I hope you enjoy.

Her coffee shop was a staple in the town. Known for the rich Colombian coffee beans ground with intentionality, brewed with love, and served in mugs crafted by her own hands. The aura was always calm. Busy, but never so much that guests couldn't enjoy their time. They, just like she often, would get lost in the melodies of indie music that played from the speakers and drunk off caffeine and oat milk. The Tranquil Lounge was a blessing to Santo Padre.

Saturdays were the busiest days in the Lounge. College students stopped by to grind out assignments due the following day at midnight, entrepreneurs chugged coffee like water to finalize funding proposals, and others snuggled by the window with a good book. They were lively and invigorating; her favorite days in the shop.

She danced around her employees, humming a Marc Anthony tune as she topped off a cup with cold foam. Vivir mi vida, la, la, la, la, she hummed to herself.

"I'm very impressed. Most people don't know the lyrics passed the chorus," said an unfamiliar voice. Her teeth gleamed as she smiled softly. Her head still down, she placed a lid on the cup and slid it to the other side of the counter.

"I consider myself determined when it comes to learning song lyrics," she replied. "What can I get you?" Finally, she lifted her head, and she struggled to fight the instinct to gasp. How had he found her little coffee shop in town?

Miguel Galindo was notorious in Santo Padre. A businessman with illegal practices. The government hated him, men envied him, and women wanted him. Everyone in Santo Padre knew who he was and they knew better than to cross him. Their families could end up missing within hours if they upset him. It should have struck fear in her heart, but his presence did the opposite.

Her eyes scanned his attire. Bold of him to wear a white suit to drink coffee. But, it looked beautiful against his olive complexion. It was perfectly tailored to hug his broad shoulders. Her eyes followed its outline.

His brown eyes scanned the beautifully curated menu behind her. Bright colors against the blackboard. Sunflowers, rainbows, and bees decorated the menu. Creative, he noted. "I'll do a hot caramel macchiato. Medium, please." He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. She halted. The drink was $4.

Miguel looked unamused when she parted her lips to object, so she simply took the bill from his hand and thanked him with a smile. "Enjoy, hope to see you back soon."

He nodded. His eyes dropped to her nametag. Eliana, Founder. "Thank you, Eliana. You have a good day, quierda."

She smiled bashfully, "Gracias. You too."

Miguel Galindo was enamored by her. He saw the silhouette of her figure when he closed his eyes to rest at night. He heard the southern twang of her accent as he listened to music on the radio, and he saw the richness of her eyes in the mounds of chocolate chips scattered in Christopher's pancakes.

He made frequent appearances at the shop after that. Catching her friendly grin and gentle hands as she passed his cup to him was one of the few highlights of his day. He cherished it, craved it, and adored it.

He felt lucky when he waltzed into the shop one Saturday morning to find it empty. He thought it was a slow day, but she'd closed it for cleaning. And rather than turning him away, she welcomed him in.

"Your usual?" Eliana questioned. She propped her broom against a stable surface and turned to move behind the counter. "On the house."

"Oh no," Miguel waved. "You're not even open, I see." It was Eliana's turn to force an object into his hands. His usual--hot caramel macchiato; medium with a smiley face drawn on the side of the cup.

"You keep me in business, Mr. Galindo," Eliana replied teasingly with a smile. She was so pretty to him. The woman with a mahogany complexion and soft eyes with an unexplainably gentle aura.

Miguel's eyes dropped to the floor as he chuckled bashfully. He had a tendency to pay more than was due, but he credited it as paying in advance for future visits. "I just like to support where I can." Eliana picked up her broom and hummed, instructing him to get comfortable in the cushioned chairs near the window.

His eyes scanned the marvelous artwork that decorated the dark walls. Murals of people parading in fields of palm trees with drums, colorful skirts, and baskets of fruits, vegetables, and grains. They were all of deep complexion. His eyebrow rose.

"Where are you from?" He found himself asking.

"Costa Chica of Guerrero. Mexico." The area where Black Mexicans were the most populated.

"Tu familia?" Your family?

Eliana shrugged a shoulder and bent over to sweep the dirt unto the dustpan. "En México. Conseguí una beca para estudiar aquí. Se graduó con un título en negocios y decidió quedarse. It's a long story." In Mexico. I got a scholarship to study here. I graduated with my business degree and decided to stay.

Miguel mimicked her actions and gestured to the empty seat across from him. "I've got the time if you do."

They were polar opposites. She was an extrovert, he was introverted. She loved the fall, yet he found it one of the sadder seasons. Tea was her favorite, though she owned a coffee shop, but coffee was his holy grail. He grew up without his father present, but hers was her rock. So many new discoveries that he basked in like warm comforters on a winter day.

“I enjoyed today,” Miguel said as he walked her to her car. Hours had passed, the sun had set, and their day had come to a close. “I’d like to see you again.”

Eliana hummed as she tapped her key fob. Her vehicle chirped excitedly. She reached for the door handle, but Miguel beat her to it. She thanked him gently and slid into the seat. “Well, you’ll know where to find me, Miguel.”

He chuckled and nodded. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, but. he liked that. Effort was required. He liked a challenge.

“I do,” he replied. “Be ready tomorrow evening. Be safe tonight, Eliana.”

Her brown eyes are twinkled with curiosity. She stretched up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Wear a white suit.” And with that, she started her car and sped off into the night, leaving Miguel to bask in the eagerness of seeing her again.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #miguel galindo x black reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x reader #mayans mc #fx mayans mc #angel reyes #ez reyes

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rottenpumpkin13 · 9 months

Text

Out of Context Shit Heard on the SOLDIER floor #4

A portion of these were sent in/inspired by an ask sent by @strawberrysnortshake

Zack: Ironically this isn't the first time I've accidentally eaten chalk.

Angeal: Attention everyone we're now taking votes. Raise your hand if you would sleep with Sephi—I DIDN'T FINISH SAYING HIS NAME PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN.

Kunsel: We're all out of duct tape. Angeal used the last of it to tape Genesis to the ceiling.

Sephiroth: Are you satisfied with your fish sticks, Zackary?

Genesis: Why does it smell like mommy issues in here—oh hi, Sephiroth.

Zack: I'm officially 23% goat milk.

Genesis: Well well well if it isn't my old nemesis, Heterosexuality.

Zack: Aww! 🥰 You're the antichrist!

Cloud: Yeah you're a SOLDIER alright, a sold your ass.

Zack: Where are we supposed to put this giant clown statue?

Lazard: WHY do you have a giant clown statue?

Sephiroth walking towards Genesis's office with a flamethrower: The goddess has had it good for far too long.

Essai: If we all chip in, we can finally buy Kunsel a face.

Genesis: I guess this means that the box labeled used illegal knick-knacks is off limits?

Roche: let's all dance maniacally and pretend we're gay!

Lazard: ANGEAL THAT ELEVATOR IS COMING OUT OF YOUR PAYCHECK!

Sephiroth: Are you, as the kids say, flexing on 'em?

Zack: Does anyone know what happened to my Sephiroth scented candle?

Sephiroth: I'll add murder supplies and can of whipped cream to the shopping list.

Luxiere: Let me guess, nobody cared about your light up sneakers?

Zack: 🎶 We take the pain out of paint 🎶

Roche: Have a slutty, slutty evening, director.

Angeal: Gen, can you let me have a cup of coffee before you start divulging your theories on why Cloud Strife is a time traveler?

Zack: I am going to default dance my way through hell!

Cloud: Cool trick! I'm a wizard now.

Genesis: I will start rumors about your sex life.

Lazard: Sephiroth I can't fire you, but I can mysteriously make sure you go bald.

Kunsel: This is a cave. Nothing really matters.

Sephiroth: how does one acquire a leprechaun? Can you order one online?

Roche: Commander Rhapsodos is so pretty. He reminds me of a prostitute.

Sephiroth: Genesis got me a journal for my birthday. I think I'm supposed to write down my feelings but I don't have enough pages for that.

Kunsel: when will we be free from the chains of foot pictures?

Genesis: If I find drugs in this office I'm confiscating it for my own personal use.

Lazard: Would anyone care to explain why there was a condom filled with grape jelly in the break room?

Zack(drunk): Good evening, my esteemed bastards.

Angeal: Bullying is only allowed on the SOLDIER floor if it makes Genesis cry.

Sephiroth: Mental healthn't.

Kunsel: is anyone here familiar with the concept of witchcraft? we're hexing Commander Rhapsodos at dawn.

Luxiere: Here kitty kitt—Oh that is a huuuge cat—OH IT'S GENERAL SEPHIROTH.

Angeal: Why did you spell salmonella as Sal Minella???? Who's Sal???

Sephiroth, while walking towards his office with an entire pie and a fork: Do not presume to question my actions.

Lazard: If we suffer any more budget cuts we're going to use Zack's hair as a broom.

Sephiroth: Which one of you locked Director Lazard in the Janitor's closet?

Cloud, watching Genesis recite LOVELESS: The evil gay red man is at it again.

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #ff7r #angeal hewley #final fantasy #zack fair #cloud strife #ff #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii crisis core #ffviir #ffvii remake #ff7 remake

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ytsunodabrainrotbaybee · 10 months

Text

This Was the Very First Page

-> Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Guanyu x Barista!reader.

Early morning, the only light in the coffee shop came from the soft overhead lights and a streetlight outside.

You hadn’t bothered turning on the brighter lights in the shop. You had barely opened, usually customers never made it in until maybe an hour later.

Aside from one.

He tended to disappear throughout the year. He was regular enough and whenever he was home he came in every morning and afternoon.

“Good morning y/n”

You watched him walk in, a soft bounce in his step being back home after weeks on the road.

“Welcome back,” you leaned against the counter, “what is it this time?”

He mirrored your posture on the other side of the counter. The soft lighting played well with his facial features, low and bright enough that his entire face wasn’t covered in shadow. The atmosphere around him something out of a dream.

If you made a mental note to keep this lighting for whenever he came in, that’s your own business.

“Do you have anything new?” His eyes darted to the rack of flavoring behind you.

You shook your head, “not since you were here last,” you said.

he cocked his head to the side, “are you okay?”

“yeah just behind,” you laughed, “what about a salted caramel mocha? I’ve been addicted to it lately.”

He nodded as you put the order into your register. You gave him your own employee discount, which he knew better than to protest.

As you turned to make his drink, hot as he preferred in the mornings, he watched. His eyes followed your hands, as you stood to an angle to let him watch your process.

You glanced back at him as you held the milk under the frother, “so, Silverstone this weekend, huh?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re a racing driver, aren’t you?” You ask as you set his drink in front of him.

He only stares back at you, caught off guard, because oh no, his cover, it’s blown.

“I was starting to think that whatever you were doing had to be illegal,”

That comment jump started his train of thought, pulling a laugh from him before he jumped back into a relatively seamless conversation.

“Okay, you got me,” he took a drink from the coffee in front of him, “what gave it away?” He asked, eyeing the coffee after that initial sip.

“Found you on instagram, some little thirst trap edit”

Your phone was in front of his face, the video clip of him walking into the paddock as a Taylor Swift song played.

“This one isn’t it, but it’s one of the good ones I think,” you slipped your phone back into your pocket, shrugging off his odd expression.

“There aren’t a lot,” you added, “There’s even less of Yuki, which sucks but”

“he hates it, that’s what matters.”

You could only laugh.

“you gonna win this one?” You asked, leaning against the counter, closer to him. He leaned in a bit, following your lead. Maybe the two of you ended up in each others space a bit, but that’s not important.

He shrugged, “now that I know you’re watching,” he said. His voice had dropped with your proximity.

Moments passed, silent. Wether the two of you drifted closer together was lost on you. You could feel his breath on you, but your focus scattered itself with the front door bell ringing before you could have comprehended anything.

You took a step back, he took a step to the side to make way for the new customer walking in.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, bye Y/N”

“Have a nice day Guanyu” you called out after him before moving along to take the next order.

#zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu #zg24 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine

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littlemisspascal · 1 year

Text

Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere

pairing: modern-ish Pero x Female Reader

summary: In which Reader is a newspaper columnist with few self-preservation instincts, Statesman is an insurance company with a catchy jingle, and Pero is the insurance agent assigned to look after you. Except only two outta three of these statements are true.

word count: 3k+

rating: T

warnings: Reader is nameless with no description except for being shorter than Pero, language, blood, violence, guns, non-major character death, Author’s poor attempt at humor, Author knows nothing about insurance and/or a career in journalism, mistaken identity, supernatural elements, worldbuilding

author note: this is what happens when I watch Puss in Boots The Last Wish and then a Statefarm commercial and then random inspiration sparks. It’s borderline a crack fic, but hey, sometimes that’s what the muse wants. I even have more scenes outlined beyond this so...Hopefully someone out there enjoys this 😊

The story of how you wound up in Wader’s Rest is a rather boring chain of events that can be summed up as follows: you graduate with a journalism degree, spend the next five years trying and failing to convince a major news outlet to hire you all the while typing up fluff pieces for your hometown’s website so you can afford food and other necessities, receive a job offer out of the fucking blue offering you a columnist job in a town hundreds of miles away, decide screw it let’s go and…yeah, that’s about it. For these last six months, Wader's Rest has been your new home.

Wader's Rest is a medium-sized-ish community settled along the southern coastline, perpetually smelling of freshly caught fish and sea salt. It’d be a decent tourist destination, in your opinion, if it wasn’t also a hive of criminal activity, crawling with smugglers and drug dealers and fugitives. The city can be split into two types of people: crime-doers and crime-avoiders.

Oh, yeah, and then there’s you in a solo category of your own making: crime-seeker. Insert trumpet fanfare here.

There’s a grand total of one newspaper responsible for updating residents on all things Wader's Rest-related. Wader’s Reader has a staff of twelve working all hours of the day in an ugly brick building on the corner of Main Street, right across from a coffee shop you’re 65% sure is a front for black market antiques but it’s also the only place that doesn’t judge the ungodly amount of sugar you pour in your drink so. Until that percentage rises up to 100%, you reckon it’s alright giving them a pass in the meantime.

In a time where a quick search on your phone or computer can answer any conceivable question you have in seconds, the residents of Wader's Rest are strangely protective of their newspaper. Like, Gollum my precious! kind of protective. The most likely reason is probably because the internet access out here is so painfully slow it’s practically nonexistent, but you like to think they actually look forward to reading your column. No more writing about baking contests and music festivals, not when you’ve discovered the addictive adrenaline rush of investigating the many, many, many crimes of Wader's Rest. Nothing else gets your blood pumping as much as witnessing an illegal exchange of weapons in the back parking lot of a Wendy’s.

So it isn’t uncommon then, to spend your nights crouched behind dumpsters (or sometimes even inside them) or picking locks or doing other shady-as-hell-if-you-had-any-other-job activities in order to gather all the facts and details you need to write the perfect piece for your loyal readers. Insert inspiring quote here like fortune favors the bold or whatever.

It also isn’t uncommon for your nights to end either in the hospital or covered in so many bandages it looks like you spent the night in the hospital. You’re on a first name basis with most of the staff, including Dr. William Garin who’s got such vibrant crystal blue eyes he could’ve been a glasses modeler in another life. Shame he’s got such overwhelming heart-eyes for your boss or you’d be severely tempted to shoot your shot.

Anyways.

See, the problem is, you’re not exactly a master of subtlety yet, and also some of your column subjects don’t always appreciate being watched like they’re zoo animals—they appreciate it even less when you point out that conducting their illegal business in creepy alleyways and abandoned warehouses doesn’t magically make them invisible. Really, any Average Joe could stroll right in and watch the proceedings.

You grunt, head banging against a cement wall so hard you see stars. A meaty fist tightens its grip on your shirt, holding you high enough the toes of your sneakers barely scuff the ground, while the owner of that fist—so massively muscular he’s more of a grizzly bear than a man—glares down at you through narrowed eyes.

Yeah, all those Average Joes really don’t know the fun they're missing out on. Concussions plus bruised, possibly cracked ribs equal exciting times

“Hey Big Mac,” you wheeze, blinking until your vision’s more or less clear and his unimpressed face swims into focus. “Did you get more muscles? You look like you got more muscles.”

If possible, his unimpressed look increases.

Big Mac’s been a recurring foe since your first week in Wader's Rest when you went out for a midnight McDonald’s run—you have a weak spot for their McFlurries, alright?—and discovered him throwing bricks at the neighboring weed shop’s front window. Where he got the sack of bricks remains a mystery, but upon shattering the glass he was in and out in a matter of thirty seconds with an armful of edibles before disappearing into the darkness of night. You’d been so stunned by the whole ordeal not only had you forgotten to call the police, but your McFlurry had melted before you’d even tasted it.

You’ve lost count at this point how many times he’s been featured in one of your columns. Big Mac’s like a really nasty stain on a white shirt, impossible to ignore, but he’s also smooth as fucking butter, sliding out of cuffs before any charges can stick. You don’t even know the giant’s real name (don’t care to learn it either, the nicknames you hand out like free candy add some extra pizazz to the writing)—just that he likes edibles and that when he’s not breaking store windows he can usually be found working as a henchman for any one of the twenty something crime lords in the city. Apparently they don’t mind sharing lackeys so long as there’s no loose lips. Snitches wind up in ditches after all.

Tonight you’ve interrupted a clandestine meeting in the factory district between Big Mac and a new fellow you’d decided to call Stringbean due to his lithe frame—you never claimed to be creative with your nicknaming ability. All it took was accidentally knocking over a trash can with a deafening bang and here you are, helpless as an overturned turtle, hoping you can talk your way out of this predicament with as little bloodshed as possible.

The telltale cocking of a gun immediately dampens those hopes.

Both you and Big Mac look to the sound, finding Stringbean aiming a pistol your direction. He’s a nervous-looking thing, sweat shining on his brow, and there’s few things in life as scarily unpredictable as a twitchy man with a loaded gun.

“What are you doing,” Big Mac rumbles without any inflection in his tone.

“We agreed no witnesses,” is the breathy, slightly nasally response. Nothing about Stringbean–aside from the weapon in his hands–screams bad guy. He’s thin, bespectacled, suit too neatly pressed like it’s his Sunday best clothes. You estimate him lasting about a week before the bigger sharks gobble him up and spit out his—you squint, oh good lord—his bumblebee patterned bow tie as the only evidence of his existence.

“Witness?” you pipe up. “Witness to what exactly? Care to shed some light–ugh!”

The rest of your sentence ends in another choked wheeze as Big Mac shoves you against the wall again. Yep, something’s definitely broken in your body now. He’s not even looking at you, the bastard, like you’re not even a worthy enough threat to keep an eye on for any devious tricks.

Instead, Big Mac says something to Stringbean, probably some kind of grumbling threat about tearing Stringbean’s head from his shoulders if he doesn’t put the gun away, but the thunderous whooshing of blood in your ears prevents you from hearing if that’s right or not. It’s a good line though, the kind of line that tempts you to sneak it into your draft and hope your boss doesn’t cross it out with that damn red pen of hers, possessing a special sixth sense for sniffing out bullshit.

Stringbean retorts something that’s also lost on you–God, you really need to invest in a tape recorder, or some sort of phone app–but whatever he says has Big Mac dropping you without warning, lunging at the smaller man like a lion after a mouse. You fall on your hands and knees with a faint yelp, gritting your teeth at the instant blooms of pain shooting along your nerve endings. It takes you a second to collect yourself, but it’s a second too long to have wasted, remembering too late how dangerous your situation is—

Bang.

A scream escapes you, cowering against the wall in a scrunched up ball. Big Mac’s lying on the ground, unmoving, a chunk of his shoulder missing and gallons of blood gushing out like a damn river. Oh shit. Oh holy fucking shit. Stringbean’s on the cusp of hyperventilating, seeming unable to process his own actions, and then those anxious, too-wide eyes lock onto you. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’m sorry,” Stringbean says, and he actually sounds sincere. But the effect is immediately dulled when he lines up the gun directly with your face.

One would think, being mere seconds from a bullet entering your brain, that you’d have some kind of epiphany about the meaning of life. See flashes from your childhood, hear an angelic chorus, that kinda thing. The odds aren’t in your favor. There’s no healing from a headshot at this close range. You are going to die and the only stupid fucking thing you can think about is that damn catchy jingle.

Squeezing your eyes shut, words tumble out of your mouth at a frantic speed, “Anytime, anyplace, anywhere Statesman is there!”

Stringbean pulls the trigger.

—

Statesman designing a new kind of workers compensation insurance specifically catered for your risky lifestyle had been your boss’ idea. She knew the head guy of the company, some old bearded fellow straight out of a Wild West Eastwood movie called Champagne (no last name, just like Cher), pulled a couple of strings (which is probably code for glared him into submission), handed you a pen, got your signature, and boom—as of three days ago, Lin proudly informed you “You’re completely covered. Cuts, broken bones, rabid squirrel attacks, the whole shebang. Now get out of my office.”

You’d liked your old insurance and had been quite happy with their care, thank you very much. But there’s no arguing with Lin when she gets that glint in her eye like some kind of bird of prey. And besides, forcing insurance on you is a sign she cares, right? That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself anyways.

The commercials are enjoyable, you can admit that at least. Especially the ones where there’s some kind of dangerous situation involving rampaging bison or avalanches or whatnot and the agent, whose uniform includes a leather jacket and cowboy hat, swoops in to the rescue after the poor would-be victims shout out the jingle Anytime, anyplace, anywhere Statesman is there!, then teleports everyone to safety.

Entertaining? Yes.

Realistic? Hell no.

—

There’s a high-pitched ringing in your ears, rattling around inside your skull.

“—ime for this. Get up.”

Huh? Who’s that?

“I don’t like repeating myself. Get. Up.”

Oh no. Eyes still shut, your hands search for a wound, for blood, patting all over your head, then your chest and torso. Nothing. Fuck, you’ve died and crossed over into the afterlife. That’s why there’s no injury or pain. Your life is over. The end. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. You can’t—

Something hard hits your leg. “You’re still alive.”

Your eyes snap open, surroundings blurring into focus. You’re in the warehouse still. Stringbean’s on the floor near Big Mac, sightless blue eyes staring back at you, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead revealing blood and bone and brain matter. Immediately you avert your gaze, tasting bile in the back of your throat, and it’s only then you see the pair of boots by your legs.

A man stands over you, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with soft-looking, unstyled brown hair and a stubbled jawline sharp enough to give papercuts. The words ruggedly handsome come to mind and stay there, banishing all other thoughts. Brown eyes so dark they’re verging on black stare down at you beneath furrowed brows, the perfect image of silent judgment. What the hell. He might just be the most attractive person you’ve ever seen, beating Dr. Pretty Eyes Garin by fucking leagues.

“Did you just kick me?” you ask before you can stop yourself, rising to your feet. Your head barely reaches his chest—a very broad chest, you can’t help noticing, leather straining at the shoulders to contain him—and you have to crane your head up to continue meeting his dull, half-lidded gaze.

“You weren’t listening,” says the stranger with a voice like the scrape of a butter knife on toast. Your heartbeat stutters, discovering a new favorite sound, and it takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realize you’re staring at his mouth with way more intensity than a person should look at another person’s mouth.

“Uh, yeah, well I-I thought I was dead. He was going to shoot me.” Your eyes drift towards Stringbean again, frowning at the gun in his hand. It doesn’t look like a pistol anymore, metal mangled and warped. “What the hell?”

“Backfired on him. Rare, but it happens.” He shrugs a shoulder, unconcerned, like he’s seen a thousand bloody incidents and he’s numb to the gore. And that’s…a scary thought to consider.

“Right...” You eye him a bit more critically now, taking in the scar dissecting his eyebrow. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

Irritation flares, momentarily overtaking the budding apprehension. It brushes against your journalist instincts, insisting you’re missing something here. “Alright, Mr. Nameless, do you want to at least explain what exactly you’re doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Same as you. Work,” he answers curtly, glancing at his wrist where an expensive-looking watch is wrapped around the tan skin. Your fingers twitch with the urge to touch. “When I’m called, I show up. No matter the time or place.” His eyes flicker around the room with thinly veiled disgust. “Even if it means coming to shitholes like this.”

He goes where he’s called? That’s an interesting and ominous choice of phrasing. What is he, some kind of hitman or secret agent or—

Wait a minute.

Dangerous situation. Popping up out of nowhere. Wearing a leather jacket. Your life is saved despite all the odds stacked against you.

Understanding hits like one of Big Mac’s bricks, finally connecting the dots together and good lord it’s so fucking obvious you fully deserve the forehead slap you give yourself. “Holy shit the jingle actually worked.”

His scarred eyebrow lifts. “What?”

“How did I not know this was a real thing?” you half-ask, half-demand, hands settling on your hips. “You’re proof teleportation is fucking real! I feel like this is something more people should be talking about. Unless…Unless not everyone has this kind of coverage. Oh my God, is this some kind of extra health protection bundle attached to my new contract written in the fine print?”

That stupidly attractive eyebrow lifts even higher.

“Don’t give me that look. Nobody under seventy-five reads all those tiny words, especially when the whole stack is five hundred pages front and back. All those poor trees…Also,” you point an accusing finger, “you’re missing a cowboy hat so I really can’t be blamed for not recognizing you.”

“A cowboy hat?” His face screws up at that, and somehow he makes the expression of someone who stepped in dog shit look attractive. Seriously, how is this guy even real? “I’d rather die than wear one of those.”

You stare at him, slack-jawed at his bluntness. “First of all, too soon, man, too soon. There are dead bodies literally right there. And secondly, wow,” a smidge of awe slips into your tone, “you must have some balls, rebelling against the big boss man like that.”

Oh to have been a fly on the wall seeing Champagne’s reaction to the refusal to comply with the uniform policy. You’d only met the old man for a hot second, but considering his love of westerns it wouldn’t surprise you if he challenged his opponents to quick-fire duels at high noon. Water guns or foam pellets instead of actual bullets, of course. He might gargle with bourbon and use a spittoon, but that doesn’t mean he’s a total heathen.

You snort a quiet laugh, then wince at the ache in your rib cage. Oh, yeah. There’s that fun pain again. The nameless agent turns away with what you think is an eye roll, but it’s too fast to tell, and looks down at Big Mac and Stringbean.

“I-I guess I need to call the police,” you say quietly, stomach churning when a sideways glance reveals a growing pool of blood beneath the bodies. Scary to think how close you’d been to being one of them.

“If it makes you stop talking to me, go right ahead,” your companion quips, uncaring of the scoff he gets for it.

You find your bag by the trash can you’d hidden behind before Big Mac seized you. Bag is a generous term for the accessory that’s more duct tape than fabric after being dropped, kicked, and run over amongst other unfortunate fates. Still, it does a good job of carrying your stuff so you’ll keep on stubbornly holding onto it until the bitter end.

Pulling out your phone, you open the keypad only for the whistling notes of a song to have you freezing in place. Literally, your body feels like it’s become a block of ice, goosebumps rising along your exposed skin. As surreptitiously as you can manage, you sneak a glance at the agent, and it shouldn’t be fair how someone can look so seductive with puckered lips while whistling such an eerily haunting tune. The sheer contrast is enough to make your brain hurt.

Or maybe that’s a side effect of your skull smacking against the wall.

“Did you forget it’s three numbers?” he says abruptly, startling you, and the way he’s now looking at you gives the distinct impression he thinks you’re an idiot. “Two, technically, since one repeats itself–”

“I know what to do,” you snap defensively, turning back to your phone with a huff. Deliberately you slam your thumb against the three buttons, but find yourself hesitating to press call.

Looking up, you find the nameless agent already staring back at you. His head tilts, displaying the same confusion of a dog not understanding their owner’s behavior. It’s…almost ridiculously cute.

“Thanks for, um, being here and stuff,” you tell him, barely restraining yourself from doing something awkward like giving a thumbs up.

He blinks, a flash of something you think resembles surprise crossing his face, and then he’s back to blankness. “I had to come,” he replies.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause of the magic jingle,” you wave a flippant hand, words tumbling out faster than you can keep up with them, “but still, it’s nice, you know, having someone to watch your back, even if I don’t know who you are–”

The sound of your name has your jaw shutting with an audible click. For a second time you think about the unfairness of the situation. He has access to your file, knows your name and personal details, and what do you get to know about him? Bupkis.

“...Yes?”

“Make the phone call,” he says, an edge of amusement in his voice that produces a funny warm feeling in your stomach. Nausea, you decide, that must be it.

Grumbling under your breath, you look back to your phone and finally hit the button, listening to it ring.

“See,” you say, purposefully smug, turning around, “I’m not an idiot–”

The man is gone.

Didn’t even say goodbye, the ill-mannered jerk.

And as the operator picks up, asking what’s your emergency, you can’t help but think your insurance agent is a bit of an enigmatic asshole. All intimidating and sour-faced to ward off unwanted attention. Probably thrives off confusing his clients like he’s some kind of damn Rubik’s cube personified.

Which is good for you since you thrive off of solving mysteries and inserting your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’ll know his name, his birthdate, hell, his entire history by the end of the week.

You eat Rubik’s cubes for breakfast.

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #the great wall fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedrostories #my fic #my writing

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