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#but it feels like it's gone from being playful to being way too over the top to be a joke
moonyflesh · 3 days
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dating Logan Howlett would include…
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WARNINGS: smutty. p in v, oral sex, fingering, breeding kink, orgasm teasing/control, mentions of aggressive/risky sex, (language, obviously), etc. - [🔞]
CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (MARVEL/X-MEN/WOLVERINE)
🐾 .*.. 🩹
- possessive smacks on the ass when you pass him in the hall.
- all talk, but no bite (he would never actually hurt you).
- routine scalp massages (on both ends), usually ending in you both being passed out on the other’s bed.
- having to label what food is yours, or he will eat it.
- constantly scolding him for his chapped lips…where he continuously looses the chapsticks you graciously lend him (he always buys you more).
- playful banter that usually ends with you bent over whatever flat surface is nearby.
- having to get used to loud chewing. i mean, it’s Logan. what do you expect?
- not much physical show of affection in public- that’s reserved for behind closed doors. (an occasional press of his lips to your forehead, or his hand on the small of your back is as far as he’s willing to put on display for the student’s prying eyes).
- thriving off of each other’s warmth at night- tangled up in each other under some thin duvet.
- country, bluegrass, and old as fuck music. don’t you dare even think about turning on “that shitty music you like so much” around him.
- needing to take sharp intakes of breath in between his kisses, since he physically can hold his breath for much longer than the “average mutant”.
- rough, meaningful sex. there is no such thing as a ‘quickie’ in his book. he wants to savor your moments of vulnerability.
- more teeth than tongue. he wants to feel how you squirm under him when his canines sink into your lips, shoulders, and inner thighs.
- (^) lovebites and hickeys. you’re not allowed to leave the house unless there’s something that’s marking you as taken. as his.
- wearing his clothes when he’s gone for long periods of time.
- long motorcycle rides, usually at night. (he makes you wear a helmet and plenty of protective leather, much to his enjoyment).
- soaking in your scent. he always knows when your needy. he can smell it on you.
- (^) him going absolutely feral when he can smell himself on you- his cologne, cigars- just his general aura on you is such a massive turn on for him.
- lots of loving nips and kisses, though. constantly had his lips pressed against the nape of your neck or crown of your skull.
- sleeps with you in his arms. no way in hell you’re allowed to wake up before him.
- face sitting. he wants every pound of you on his mouth and nose, his arms wrapped up and around your thighs, pushing your cunt into his tongue.
- wanting to feel good too. no matter how hard he’s been going down on you, he wants release, too.
- praise. lots of shrewd language and name-calling.
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“fuck, that’s my good fucking girl- you’re doing so good, sweetheart- so pretty all sweaty and wet cuzuh’ me, huh?”
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- face fucking. he’ll stop no matter how close he is to his peak if you need him to, but he wants it so far down your throat. and you better swallow every last drop.
- breeding kink? idk i just feel like he’s super into seeing you carry his kid (only when you’re ready, though. he of all people knows what a big deal pregnancy is).
- being turned on by your makeup on him in some way— lipstick prints smeared along the collar of his white t-shirt- your mascara running down your face and smearing onto his fingers when he wipes it off.
- (^) just you making an absolute mess on him in general. he fucking loves it.
- decent aftercare. he at least puts some amount of effort into it; probably brings you a glass of lukewarm water, a damp towel from his bathroom, maybe one of his t-shirts if he thinks of it.
- expect to wait a while for him to say “i love you” back. he’s been hurt. too many times. he loves you, he breathes you, he craves you. he just doesn’t know if he’s ready to actually admit that to himself yet, let alone to you.
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joeyalohadream · 7 hours
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drabble request: bucky coming back from a night at the officers club and finding buck curled up in bed wearing his sheepskin to help him fall asleep 🥹
Sorry it took so long to get to this! Thanks for the idea anon, I love it! Hope you enjoy reading it too!
Word Count: 1,685 (some softness below the cut)
The air had a slight chill to it, the breeze reminding Bucky that Autumn was fading, and Winter was creeping up on them. He runs warm and the whiskey he’s consumed this evening does well to protect him from the worst of it, so he finds himself mostly content as he stands outside the Officer’s Club to finish the cigarette he’d come out to smoke.
The night was going well. The mission the boys had returned from earlier in the day had been a success in all the ways that mattered. They’d hit their targets and somehow, miraculously, not one fort had gone down. Some of the crews were busted up, but no one had required a trip to the infirmary, so it was a win in his book.
Bucky new better than to have hope that their next mission would end with the same statistics, but the success had motivated the boys and they’d all wanted to ride the good feeling into the night. He hadn’t been up in the air for this one, left off the rotation this time around, and the anxiety and fear that had gripped him all day was finally fully gone.
He had felt the need to join the boys in the revelry. He wasn’t with them up in the air today, but he could sure as hell be with them now and help show them a good time. As usual, Gale had agreed to accompany him, always willing to show his face and set a good example for the men, despite his preference for less crowded venues and less lively crowds.
Bucky turned his gaze to the door that swung outwards to his left, expecting Curt or another fellow smoker, but was happy when he saw Gale stepping out into the night and making his way towards him. He was always the happiest to see Gale.
“Finally decide to find a vice?” Bucky joked, holding his cigarette out towards Gale and laughing when Gale swatted his hand away as he finally stopped within arm’s reach of him.
“Already found one of those,” Gale said back, looking pointedly at Bucky, eyes playful.
Bucky laughed again, feeling even warmer now.
“And you’ll find that this particular vice you’ve got is one that’s impossible to shake,” Bucky grins at him. “You’re probably gonna be stuck with it for life.”
Gale nods, face a mockery of serious contemplation before he sighs and gives Bucky a small smile. “I think I can live with that.”
Bucky smiles back and takes another drag of his cigarette. He watches as Gale crosses his arms and rocks slightly on his heels. He runs cold where Bucky runs warm and he seems to have a harder time shaking the cold from the high altitude after missions than everyone else.
“So, what brings you out in the cold,” Bucky asks, “Miss me already?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gale chuckles. “I made my rounds, saw all the men. Think I’m calling it a night.”
Bucky’s about to whine, throw out his usual protest for when Gale turns in early, but then he really looks at Gale. He sees the shadows under his eyes, the small cut along his jaw he’d received during the mission but couldn’t recall when or how, sees the slight shake to his shoulders. He tosses his cigarette away and turns to face him fully.
“You’re alright though?” He wants to reach out and cup his jaw, run his finger over the reddened skin. “You’re not hurting, are you?”
Gale’s eyes are full of affection when he meets his and a smile is tugging at his lips.
“Sore, the usual. You know that well as I do,” Gale tells him, and Bucky does know, it’s true. “I ain’t hurtin’ and I’m fine. Just tired.” His smile turns a little sheepish. “And cold.”
“Well, what a surprise,” Bucky teases. “Gotta get you a thinker coat, maybe one like mine. Wearing that puppy is like being wrapped in a warm hug.”
“You know I hate that jacket,” Gale huffs out. “And I’d rather just have the real thing than something like it.”
It takes a moment for Bucky to realize what Gale was saying, but when he does his heart gives an embarrassing flutter. He looks around and decides to take the risk, steps forward and wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders. Gale doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his waist, face burrowing into his neck.
“Wish we could do this all night,” Gale breathes into his collarbone and Bucky rubs a hand up and down his back. He knows that Gale means he wishes they could sleep like this, in each other’s arms and he wishes for it too. But they live in a barracks with 10 other men and it’s a risk they won’t dare to take. One day, Bucky thinks.
“Me too,” Bucky breathes into his hair. He feels the arms around him tighten for a moment before Gale pulls away and Bucky lets him go, even though he wants to do the opposite.
He sees Gale shiver and shove his hands into his pockets, and he just wants to hold him again. Knows he shouldn’t, knows he can’t.
“I’ll walk you back,” Bucky offers, not wanting to ever let Gale out of his sight. The memory from this morning of watching him disappear into the clouds, not knowing if he’d ever pop back out of them threatens to overwhelm him so he pushes it aside. Slams it back into the box in his mind.
“No way,” Gale laughs. “Curt was already hollering in there about you playing cards next round. I think he’s got money on you, Bucky.”
“I don’t care,” Bucky tells him and means it.
Gale smiles at him, fondness in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But the guys aren’t done having fun with the life of the party and I know you’ll have a good time sticking the evening out with them.”
Bucky wants to protest, wants to remind Gale that there isn’t anywhere he’d rather be than with him, anyone he’d rather be with than him. But he knows Gale is right. He’d told his table of card sharks that he was just stepping out for a smoke and they were all expecting him back. They were having fun, in large part due to his boisterous behavior and he’d set out to give them a night like this. He’d stick to his plan, no matter how much he’d rather walk Gale back and watch him fall asleep.
“Alright,” Bucky relents. “But know that while my body is here at the club, my heart is with you in your bunk.” He tells him dramatically with a hand over his heart.
Gale shoves him away with a laugh and an exasperated, “You’re ridiculous.”
“Makes you smile though,” Bucky points out with a grin.
“I’ll see in the morning,” Gale ignores his words, even though he’s still smiling. “Goodnight John.”
“Night Buck.”
Bucky lights another cigarette just so he can stay outside and watch him walk away until he disappears in the darkness.
----
Bucky’s hands feel clumsy as he tries to unknot his tie, stumbling through the door to the barracks. He hears Crank and Curt laughing at him, but their footsteps are no steadier than his. He makes an exaggerated shushing noise and gestures in the direction of his and Gale’s cots at the far end of the room. The other men roll their eyes but quiet down as they all make their way to their own racks.
It was a good night. All the boys left the Officer’s Club in even better spirits than when they’d entered, he’d won Curt a good chunk of change winning at cards, and he was pleasantly drunk on good whiskey.
He throws his tie on his cot and sits on the edge to start the fumbling process of getting his shoes untied, wishing Gale was awake to help him. The thought brings his focus to the cot directly across from his and he feels light and airy all of a sudden.
Gale is sleeping in his usual position, turned on his side, slightly bent, one hand under his pillow, the other pillowed under his cheek. He looks so soft and sweet, and Bucky wants to join him, spoon him, hold him and it hurts that he can’t.
He toes off his shoes and stands to unbutton his shirt and remove his belt, eyes still on Gale’s sleeping form. He pauses his movements as he notices a familiar cream-colored bit of fluff tucked under Gale’s chin. When he looks to the hooks along the wall they use to hang their things and prevent wrinkles, he notices his sheepskin is missing from its usual spot.
On silent socked feet he moves the two steps it takes to reach the edge of Gale’s cot and reaches out to grab the Army green wool blanket draped over him. A small, careful lift reveals a sight that warms Bucky’s heart more than all the sunshine and whiskey in the world ever could.
Gale has Bucky’s sheepskin, the jacket he supposedly hates, wrapped around his torso and shoulders, the fur of the collar tucked tight under his chin. He takes a moment to just look, thankful its dark as he knows the expression on his face is one of lovesick adoration.
He imagines Gale coming back from the club tonight, shivering and tired and alone. Imagines him grabbing the sheepskin and tucking himself into it before covering the evidence with the rough wool. Imagines he was probably embarrassed about it, maybe his cheeks even flushed when he decided to do it. He wishes he’d been here to see it.
Bucky hopes his words rang true and that his jacket feels like a warm hug to Gale.
Gently, he replaces the wool blanket, hiding Gale’s stolen object of comfort from any potential prying eyes. He runs his hand gently through Gale’s hair, wishes he could replace the jacket with himself and feels sad that he can’t.  
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vimbry · 3 months
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jumping off the back of the post about genres of song lyrics, another thing about tmbg's lyrics in particular is that even when they write about pleasant themes, they still manage to frequently do so through a sinister lens:
the experience of having children and looking after them:
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a nice little nightlight protecting a child muses on the shortcomings it would have outside its assigned responsibility:
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fantasising about getting high in the park with your crush:
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nobodybetterlookatme · 5 months
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Hey, I was the anon who said about chatting to your person, and I just wanted to say that it MORE than fair. I don't think it's that petty! I would definitely be distancing myself. If they wanted to, they would, y'know? It's fair to not want to be led on, and it would definitely feel like I was being led on. Hope you feel better soon, you deserve to <3
Thanks 💙 part of me is hoping I'm misreading the situation, but the other part of me is like,, this shouldn't even be a situation at all lmao
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osaemu · 5 months
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i am a strong believer in soft and sweet gojo. when he tries being mean during sex, the tears on your face and the muffled cries make him fold so fast. he’d stop so fast and lean down to hug you and whisper so many praises and apologies in your ear. oooooooh my god i have a gigantemasorous praise kink it’s so gross please i just wanna be called a good girl and be treated like a princess :(((
PRAISE KINK: SATORU GOJO
✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: he can't help but go soft when you look up at him through teary eyes. NSFW
contents: fem!reader. p –> v, creampie, praise kink (shocking), cockwarming, unprotected sex, dacryphilic themes, squirting, teeny tiny size kink. halfway through i changed the plot and this ended up way longer than i expected oops!
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"good girl, stay just like that f'me," satoru mumbles, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at you. his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets to cumming inside of you, and the cute way you look up at him through unfocused eyes just pushes him over the edge. "f-fuck, makin' me cum faster than a vi—"
satoru doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before his orgasm hits him, fast and hard, and his cum shoots out of him in a thick, hot load deep inside of your welcoming cunt. both your chests heave as satoru collapses on top of you, resting his body on his forearms and his forehead on yours. "heh, good job, princess," he exhales, closing his eyes and letting his lips curve into a smile.
"y'did so go— aw, wait, are you cryin'?" satoru breathes, eyes fixed on the messy tears that fall down your cheeks. he slows his relentless pace inside of you to a stop and lifts a hand to wipe away your tears, fingers light and gentle against your wet face. "c'mon, don't cry, baby, y're makin' me feel bad."
"s-sorry," you mumble, voice shaking just enough for satoru to notice. he tuts and kisses your cheek, lips lingering just underneath your eye.
"you did so good, pretty girl," satoru murmurs, lowering his body and lying down on top of you. his face is barely a couple centimeters away from yours, and as he lowers himself, you swear can feel his dick slide in all the way. "shhh, lemme take care of you," he coos when a soft moan slips out of your lips. "does it hurt?"
"a little," you whisper, looking up at satoru through wet eyes. he smiles tenderly back down at you, peppering kisses all over your warm face. his hips rest on top of yours, and every little shift of his body feels like an avalanche in yours—satoru's heavy, especially when you're already weak from an hour of sex in his sheets.
"you're so cute," satoru mumbles, lips touching the corner of your mouth. "n' so pretty, too..." his mouth finds yours and he kisses you slowly, hands involuntarily finding themselves all over you. satoru doesn't bother attempting to speak anymore as he just takes you and all your beauty in—to him, the whole world is less than nothing in this moment compared to you.
satoru lifts his head to let you breathe, a playful smile on his lips the longer he looks at you. "aw, princess, why're you still crying?" he tuts when another tear falls down your cheek. "was i that mean? m' sorry, baby, don't cry, please?"
"snf, it's not you," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. but the second one tear's gone, another trails down your face to replace it. "i.. i don't know why m' crying," you try to explain, but the way satoru tilts his head like a confused puppy shows that your efforts are futile.
"c'mere," he rolls over onto his back and pulls you on top of him, dick still lodged deep inside you. satoru's head falls back onto a plush, white pillow as he lifts one hand to caress the side of your face. "'m not gonna let you cum until you stop cryin', baby."
"why not?" you ask petulantly, thighs starting to tremble from how deep satoru is. even when he's not trying to drive you crazy, he still manages to with how little he's moving now. he already got to cum—in fact, most of his cum is still inside of you, held there by his unmoving dick.
"'cause i'm gonna think you hate me."
"i don't hate you."
"then stop crying."
"fine," you huff, a tiny smile starting to grow on your face.
satoru matches your smile with one of his own and he nods in approval. "aw, you're so pretty when you smile like that f'me," he coos, eyes rounding as if he's looking at the cutest thing in the world—which, to him, is you. "stay like that n' i'll let you cum, 'kay?"
he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and nudges you off of him and onto your back, switching positions with you. satoru pulls out of you, cock glistening with a mixture of your slick and his cum before he plunges back inside and fills the empty space inside of you.
"t-toru—" you mewl out, thighs unconsciously clenching together before satoru pushes them apart again.
"shhh, be a good girl and—fuck, jus' like that," he groans, feeling your cunt clench around him with every thrust. a breathy laugh slips out of satoru's lips, a welcome addition to the wet, pornographic sounds coming from the two of you. "shit, baby, you fuck me up in ways you can't even fuckin' imagine," satoru mumbles, too lost in your shiny, dumbed-down eyes to form coherent thoughts.
with every thrust, satoru sinks deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, cursing and moaning about how good you take him. you're not really sure how long it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap—maybe seconds, minutes, even years—but it comes all at once, hitting you with the force of a wave and any remaining self-control you have dissolves.
you babble satoru's name over and over again, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as he talks you through it—in fact, you're practically getting off to the sound of his soft praises. "fuck, you're so cute, keep takin' me like the good girl i know you are," he groans, lips curled into a drunken smile. "gonna cum on me, baby? c'mon, use your words, i know y'can."
it's a miracle that he can keep running his mouth even as he gives you the best orgasm of your life—but somewhere in the hot fog that's your mind, you manage to gasp out a "yeah" amid satoru's increasingly sloppy thrusts. it feels like he's chasing his own pleasure more than yours, but you don't mind, because a moment later you're squirting all over his throbbing cock and holding onto him as if he's your lifeline.
"yeah, jus' like that, princess, you're so—" satoru cuts himself off with another laugh, chest heaving and eyes wild. he brushes his thumb underneath your swollen lips and wipes the little trail of drool. "fuck, what are you doing to me?" he mumbles, kissing you breathlessly, hardly caring whether or not either of you could breathe.
satoru watches as your eyes flutter shut and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. "heh, pretty girl, you did so good f'me," he whispers, a soft smile on his lips as he gazes down at you. "sleep well, you earned it..."
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saetoru · 10 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ STRAWBERRY FLAVORED — GETO SUGURU.
contents. here is a lil prequel to this btw, basically this is suguru’s shower scene but if he actually had someone to take care of him, reverse comfort, aka my extremely self indulgent drabble of fixing suguru before he turns into a mass murderer <3
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it’s been a while—suguru has been in that shower for long enough that you’re starting to grow concerned. you contemplate for a bit, whether it’s a good idea or not to enter the boys shower, weighing the possibilities of being caught.
satoru’s not here, you reason, nanami and haibara are gone too, and yaga shouldn’t notice either—so, with a heavy sigh, you walk up to the door, opening it slowly. you can see him, standing as the water pours over his body, not even moving a little when you enter.
suguru is not the same—not after everything that’s happened. you can tell, you can see it under his eyes from the lack of sleep, you can see it in his cheekbones as they show a bit more from the lost weight, you can see it in the stiffness of his body when you’re around him. he’s not the same, and no one’s seem to have noticed, but you have. you always have.
you slowly strip from your clothing, walking up to him quietly until your arms circle his waist and your cheek rests against his bare back.
“baby,” you hum, “you’re turning into a prune. look at your skin,” you grab his hand, running a thumb over the tips of his fingers, wrinkly from the water.
he gives you an empty chuckle—you don’t think you’ve heard a real laugh from suguru since that day. “but aren’t i a handsome prune?” he mumbles.
“of course,” you kiss his shoulder, “the handsomest.”
“that’s a relief,” he says playfully—there’s nothing playful about his tone, though. it’s numb, automatic, like he’s trained himself to respond to you the way he always does. but you can feel it. he’s not the same.
“you’ve been in here a while. i got tired of waiting.”
“sorry,” he drops his hand from yours, falling limply to his side, “lost track of time, i guess.”
“suguru,” you say softly, “what’s wrong?”
he’s quiet, probably contemplating his answer. no one else might’ve noticed, but you have. you always do—he knows you always will. finally, he decides to answer, “are you really asking me that?”
“yes,” you say firmly, “i want to hear it. i want you to hear it. stop pushing it down.”
“i’m fine,” he mutters, “just tired.”
“i know,” you say softly, “i know you’re tired. what’s got you so tired?”
gently, your arms twist his body—he doesn’t put up a fight, just spins to face you until his face is digging into your neck on instinct. he can smell your body wash, can inhale the familiar scent of you from here. there are no curses to consume and no people to save at the risk of himself here, just the soft feeling of your skin and the warm press of your lips on his head.
riko would’ve liked you, he thinks. he can’t help it.
for a fleeting moment, when his hand was outstretched to her, he’d wondered if you’d like her too. he’d decided you would—you’re kind, you always have enough love for one more person. you’ll like riko, he’d thought. and then just like that, she’d been on the floor, dark pool of blood under her head.
you never got to meet her, and he never got to introduce you.
“what’s wrong, sugu?” you ask again, voice more delicate this time.
“everything,” he whispers.
he’s tired, so incredibly tired. suguru is exhausted. so for today, he’ll let you pick up the pieces. he doesn’t want to worry about you right now, doesn’t want to think about whether or not the edges will be sharp enough to slice your fingertips. suguru is exhausted—so for once, he lets you worry about him instead.
“i see,” you nod, letting your fingers trail to his head, stroking the wet strands gently as he trembles against your body, “everything is a lot. let’s start with just one, yeah?”
“i hate the taste of curses,” he spits, “it tastes like vomit.”
“that’s no good,” you agree, and then you’re pulling his head out of your neck—he wants to protest, wants to stay right where he is so he doesn’t have to face you, or anything. but you’re insistent, gentle as you are firm, cupping his cheeks as you force him to look at you. “can you still taste it?”
“yeah,” he nods. it’s true, he can’t forget the taste even if he tries. it’s like a phantom pain—but it resides on his tongue, haunting him long after it’s gone, even as he breathes and swallows and talks. “i hate it.”
your lips are on his after that, soft and sweet against his mouth. he can taste the strawberry of your chapstick, the familiar taste of you that he also could never forget. it washes down the vile taste of curses easily, so he leans in for more. and more. and more. he needs more.
“what about that?” you ask, stroking his cheek when you pull away, “how does that taste?”
“good,” he says shakily, “i…i like that.”
“i know you do,” you smile, pecking the corner of his mouth, “i can’t change how curses taste. but if i could, i’d make them strawberry flavored for you.”
he chuckles at that—it’s small, but it’s real. for the first time in a long time. it’s real.
suguru hates how curses taste, and you can’t change that, but you can help make swallowing become easier. he’ll take it—he’ll take anything you give.
“that might make the job easier,” he says, burying his face back into your neck, “they’d taste like you.”
“i’ll kiss you then,” you stroke his hair, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. his lips wobble, vision turning blurry. suguru is tired—he doesn’t want to hold it in anymore. “after every curse you swallow, i’ll kiss you. it’ll make it easier.”
“i don’t know if it will,” he admits, “this….what do we do it for? none of it is easy.”
he used to think it was. fighting curses was easy—satoru and him were the strongest. fighting curses was like stepping on ants as they walk on the concrete, crushing them before they can bite anyone. but he starts to wonder if people deserve to be bitten, if the people who kick at ant piles mindlessly for fun deserve to be saved from themselves.
you think for a bit, contemplating his question as the water runs over both of your bodies, slipping into the thin crevices between your skin and his.
“it’s not,” you agree, “it’s not easy. i would’ve loved to meet riko. i know you wanted me to. i’m sorry, suguru.”
somewhere along with the water on your shoulder mixes his tears, and his body shakes against yours. suguru is tired. he’s tired of swallowing curses and tasting bile. he’s tired of pretending the weak are innocent. he’s tired of carrying so much weight on his young, innocent shoulders. they deserve to be free.
“is it worth saving them?” he asks as he sniffles, “if they clap over people like us dying?”
“people like us aren’t always so different,” you point out.
people like us don’t need saving, he wants to argue—but you don’t give him a chance to, turning the water off behind him as you stand there holding him as he leans into you.
“there will always be someone who needs to be saved,” you murmur, “and there will always be something they need to be saved from. it’s not always as simple as curses and exorcisms, though.”
“that doesn’t make any sense,” he frowns, “that’s the whole point of jujutsu. to exorcise curses.”
“and if we exorcised them all? would that make everyone safe?”
“maybe not,” he furrows his eyebrows, “but at least we wouldn’t be dying for them.”
“you never know,” you reach for the towel, slowly pulling away and patting his skin gently as you dry his dripping skin, “maybe you’d die from something worse.”
“what could be worse?” he asks bitterly. he doesn’t understand. but you smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you brush his bangs from his face.
“i don’t know,” you shrug, “but i’m sure there’s something. there’s always something worse. but there’s always something better too.”
he still doesn’t completely understand. but the weight on his shoulder doesn’t feel as heavy when you lean and kiss it again—he feels like at least some of his youth is still his, still yours.
“you make no sense,” he grunts, scowling when you ruffle his hair obnoxiously with a giggle.
“well, maybe you’ll make sense of things after a nap,” you poke his chest accusingly, “you really need one. and then you’ll eat something. c’mon.”
“i don’t sleep with wet hair,” he reminds you as you tug him along, stopping where his clothes hang. you gesture at him to hold his arms up, grabbing his shirt. he rolls his eyes and indulges you, letting you dress him.
“i’ll dry it for you,” you chuckle, “my sugu is so high maintenance.”
and then, before you can turn to grab your own clothes, he tugs your wrist and pulls you in, kissing you hard, kissing you hungrily, kissing you like you’re all he has. just because he can. he can taste the last bits of your chapstick—he wants to keep tasting it forever. it’s strawberry, his favorite.
“i like strawberries,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “so don’t change the flavor.”
“okay,” you grin, cupping his cheeks, “i’ll always get strawberry for my sugu.”
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he just needed a few kissies and he would’ve been fine. i guess i’ll take one for the team and kiss him a few times 😔 i guess i can take the responsibility of loving him 😔 i’ll be fine guys no need to worry about me 😔
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screampied · 6 months
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23 MISSED CALLS.
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☆ summary. you had always nagged to your boyfriend satoru to answer his damn phone. it’d always go straight to voicemail—you told him in your own words, ‘toru, what if something ever happened to you?’ but this time, it was far too late.
wc. 1.7k
tags. gn!reader, angst, nickname(s) 'baby, angel.'
an. idk how to write angst much but i was sad so came up w this. merry christmas :)
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“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”
such a dork.
you lost count of how many times you listened to that automatic message over and over again. the playful cheekiness in his voice, you could just see his smile. the dumb dimples that poke out against both of his cheeks whenever he grinned.
a cute dork. your dork.
besides that though, it’s been at least twenty three times of you ringing him, but to no avail. each time it went straight to voicemail—sucking your teeth in confusion, you started pacing around your bedroom. it was christmas morning, and gojo promised he’d be here before you wake up.
he couldn’t be…
no, he’s gojo satoru. he always wins, right?
right..?
the more you waited, the more impatient you became. the room grew colder and colder, despite the heat being turned on. you sat on gojo’s side of the bed, inhaling his scent, as if he was here right now.
he’d always fill up the room with his loud cologne scents—you’re always telling him how it’s too strong and he always kisses your cheek, muttering, “eh really? i don’t smell it that much, baby..”
the scent was always sweet, a mixture of cinnamon and multiple other spices—you glanced at the roségold alarm clock that rested against your nightstand, the time reading six thirty am.
he still wasn’t here.
it was hard to not overthink, think the worst, gojo was always so good at calming your nerves. you’d be one to constantly overthink. his trick to stop that was to simply hold you in his arms, stroke your hair and tell you in a soft cheery voice, “hey angel, everything’s gonna be okay. i’m okay, we’re okay.”
but again, he still wasn’t here.
gojo mentioned to you before he left last night around midnight he had to ‘take care of something’ — his code word of he’s about to go into battle or fight, but he didn’t want you to worry about him.
that’s the very last thing he wanted. and if anything, he always assured you he’d be okay. even if he was beaten to a pulp by his enemies, he’d always return back home to you with that stupid lovable grin on his face.
so what made christmas day any different?
you swallowed the thick, nonexistent lump in your throat, trying to snap out of your deep melancholy thoughts. dragging your feet,
you rubbed your eyes from the sun just barely shinning through the curtains scattered throughout the house.
with a soft sigh, you made your way towards the christmas tree — the pretty lengthy tree the both of you decorated together last minute, a tiny smile went on your face at remembering how gojo kept accidentally breaking all of the ornaments, so he had to constantly keep buying new ones.
lights, glimmery multicolored lights, a plethora of ornaments and a pretty sheeny star sits at the very top. you sat on your knees, before glancing down at the various presents — one caught your eye, it was a tiny box. a velvet heart shaped box, and gojo told you it was the biggest surprise yet.
you paused, glancing down at your phone that was about it to die soon, wondering why gojo still hasn’t returned any of your calls.
he’s been gone for hours, and the knot in your stomach continued to tighten—it felt like something inside of you was squeezing, tugging you from the inside.
was this what a gut feeling feels like? something was telling you, screaming at you that something wasn’t right.
with shaky hands, you went to his contact for what seems like the millionth time, staring at the image that was his picture, him and you.
the both of you were being goofy, it was a old polaroid picture a few years ago of the both of you during your birthday.
he spoiled you so much that day, but as always he never forgot to repeat how much he loved you.
the phone rang three times and your mind pretty much knew mentally he wasn’t gonna answer, it was a bit foolish for you to continuously keep trying. but something in you told yourself, it’s satoru. he’s gonna answer. anything to reassure yourself, this happens a lot — gojo’s the type of person who always has his phone on silent, or he says he’ll call you back but ends up forgetting.
after a few rings, the same automatic voicemail plays, and just hearing his voice again, no matter how many times — it never fails to make your heart swoon.
“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”
you intake a sharp breath, closing your eyes before bringing the warm phone up to your ear, pressing it against your cheek before speaking in a voice.
a voice you hardly recognized, “…toru?” and you were on the brink of tears, it was easy to hear and you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you but at this point..
was it really worth holding on to?
fifteen long seconds passed and you forgot the phone was still in your hand.
you sniffled, gathering yourself briefly before continuing in a soft drowsy voice, “h-hey, um. i don’t mean to blow your phone up but, you aren’t responding and i’m getting kind of scared. are you okay?”
you pause again, feeling the sting of tears nearly escape through your eyelids before you squeeze your eyes shut, lightly squeezing your left thigh to prevent any more emotions from revealing themselves.
“i um, just wanna say i love you, and i hope you’re okay. i didn’t wanna open my gifts until you got here but you’re taking forever..”
and you manage to crack a tiny smile that purses against your lips—yet after a while, it fades and your heart feels like it’s just walking on egg shells. “but anyway, yeah. i love you satoru, text or call me back so i know you’re alright, please? and just get home safe okay? bye.”
you hung up the phone and a single tear ran down your cheek.
so much time had passed, and he still wasn’t here. it was nearly seven in the morning now, and your dumb curiosity got the best of you—you wondered what gojo’s big surprise gift was.
he wanted you to wait to see your reaction, but you were just so curious, so enthused.
you started to peel the pretty striped velvet wrapping paper off, one at a time, it was neatly wrapped with a perfect red and blank bow tied on the top.
once you opened it, it had a tiny black box, and your eyebrows raised, a note sticking out the side. grabbing it, you revealed it and it read in neat handwriting:
“hi baby!! merry merry christmas, i’m kinda tearing up while writing this, and i know i know you probably just wanna see the gift but first read this ‘kay? just wanna say i love love you so much, and i’m so glad we’ve been together for almost four years now. you mean everything to me, you’re so sweet and kind, always there whenever i need to talk my feelings out, or even if i just need to lay on you and fall asleep. but anywho, you know who loves you? this guy! hopefully i made you smile as you read this, im probably not at home yet but ill be back soon. don’t worry your pretty little head, alright? i love you baby, merry christmas from your honored one, xoxo.”
tears were in your eyes—and it was like you could hear him, he was right, you did manage to smile. sniffling, you placed the note aside before opening the small black box.
once you pulled the top back, your eyes widened, seeing a small coruscating ring. your heart sang, blinking twice to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.
gojo was planning to propose..?
the ring was so pretty.
various scattered crushed up like pearls around the top, and once the tears started, they kept streaming down your face. you quickly pulled it out, sliding it on your ring finger and it was a perfect fit — in a frail sob, you mumble, “y-yes, i’ll marry you satoru.”
yet — that’s when you wake up, finally snapping back to reality. confused with tears still streaming down your face, burning.
“satoru?”
no answer.
you get up from the bed, your eyes widen before you look at your right hand — and the engagement ring was still there. a sigh of relief exits your mouth, and that’s when you make your way towards the kitchen.
nothing to worry about, maybe you just fell asleep while opening the gift. yeah, that had to be it.
although, the atmosphere of your house felt different. taking a quick glance in the living room, the christmas tree wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t snowing, and it was almost as if you lived by yourself.
“satoru?” you called out again, before pulling out your phone — scrolling towards your messages and your heart suddenly sank. the last message you sent him was two years ago, a subtle ‘satoru, it’s christmas and you’re still not here? are you okay?’
christmas…?
you pulled a tab down on your phone — and the date read march 17th. approximately two years later from when you last sent that message, and you were so confused.
but the further you scrolled down, you saw messages from others, sending you their regards and condolences for your loss….loss?
the recent message was from geto — and your last reply was, ‘thank you, i’m doing okay. i just still can’t believe he’s gone.”
. . .
you felt sick — tear after tear racing down both sides of your face before coming to the sudden unfathomable realization.
gojo never came back home for one reason and one reason only. he died a painful death those long two years ago, even though he swore he’d come back to you on christmas.
perhaps everything was all a lie.
sometimes people don’t win all the time, not even the honored one, the love of your life, gojo satoru.
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rafecameroninterlude · 2 months
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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲
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pairing: dealer!rafe x fem!pogue!reader
summary: ❝i got you where i want you, you’re deader than ever, and falling for forever.❞ — a deal gone wrong leads to you and rafe being stuck in the same room together.
warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity (kinda), playful banter, bickering, mild slut shaming, mentions of drugs, dealing of drugs, mentions of violence, dirty talk, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, baby trapping threats, finger sucking, slight degradation, slapping, cream pie
word count: 2.7k
a/n: series masterlist
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“i need the both of you to just calm down, alright?” barry stepped between you and rafe, both of you glaring at each other with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “if he’s in, then i’m out. i’m not gonna work with a fucking kook.” you spat, shoving barry’s hand away. “yeah? well i don’t wanna work with you either, pogue.” rafe shot back. “y’all don’t have a choice a’ight? i can’t go anywhere with this fuckin’ monitor on my ankle, so i need you two to do this deal for me. i’ll double the pay for the inconvenience.” barry cursed under his breath, plopping down on the couch.
rafe gave you a once over, his eyes lingering on your exposed cleavage. “where’d you even find this girl, barry? she looks like a walking felony.” you didn’t miss the way rafe licked his lips before taking a seat. you scoffed, fixing your top. “please, you want to talk about what i’m wearing? what about that collar? what are you, nine?” barry shook his heaad. “yeah, i’m nine in my pants, babe. wanna find out?” rafe leaned back in his chair, chewing on his gum as he looked up at you. “aw, you wish.” you blew him a kiss, rolling your eyes when he blew you one back.
“alright, listen. y’all are gonna meet up with this guy on the south side. let him give you the money first, and then you give him the blow. standard shit.” barry shrugged, handing you the bag with the stuff. “rafe, i already sent you the meeting place, so just come back as soon as you can.” you pulled your mini skirt down as you walked past him, his eyes burning into your skin. “this guy.. is he dangerous?” you turned around, rafe already on your tail. “not really, he knows me, you should be fine.” rafe shooed you out the door, his fingertips skimming your lower back. “watch your hands, asshole.” he laughed, watching your hips sway as you walked to his truck.
“it’s a shame you’re such a bitch, you’re pretty hot.” he started driving away from barry’s trailer. “and you’re not.” you tucked the bag in your side, checking your lip gloss in the mirror. rafe would never admit it out loud, but he loved your snappy attitude. all the girls he encountered were too nice, and too willing to let him do whatever he wanted. he liked a challenge, and you didn’t fail to give him that. “just so you know, i’m doing all the talking when we get there.” you two spent the rest of the ride making smart remarks to one another until finally, the house came into view.
“you stay here, i’ll be right back.” he reached over, eyes flickering down to your lips before grabbing the bag. you watched him walk inside, salivating at the sight of his muscles moving under his shirt. time moved fast, and before you knew it, rafe had already been gone for twenty minutes. “where is he?” you muttered to yourself, glancing at the front door. you don’t know why but you had an awful feeling about this. cursing under your breath, you did the last thing anyone should do, and got off the truck.
making your way up the steps to the front door, you hesitantly knocked, waiting anxiously for someone to answer. sure enough, a guy wearing all black opened the door, two more men behind him. “hi, um- i’m a friend of barry’s, and someone else came in here a while ago, i was wondering if he’s almost done, with the deal i mean.” the guy gave you a once over. “is he your boyfriend or somethin’?” you shook your head immediately.
“god, no! i have somewhere to be and he’s taking long, i just need him to come back already.” you hid your phone in the waistband of your skirt as you stepped in, the sound of the door locking making you turn around. there was no sign of rafe anywhere, and your skin was starting to crawl with the way the whole room stared you down. “you know what.. i’ll just go wait for him the way i was- ow!” you yelped when you felt someone pick you up, their arms practically digging in your ribcage as they dragged you down a dark hallway.
rafe heard you screaming, shooting up from the bed as he fought to open the door. “you’re hurting me!” you cried, whimpering when he threw you into the same room that rafe was in. “you didn’t have to manhandle her, asshole!” he shouted, helping you up from the floor. once you gained your balance, you pushed him away. “you don’t need to do that.” a small flash of hurt passed over rafe’s face as he took a few steps back. “why the fuck did you get off the truck?” he started pacing back and forth, holding his head in his hands.
“you were taking forever, i just wanted to see if you were okay! oh my god, is that a crime?” you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “you push me away when i’m checking on you, but you enter a stranger’s house to make sure i’m alright? how does that work?” he laughed bitterly, a small gasp leaving your lips when you spotted blood on his knuckles. “who knows what they’re gonna do to us now..” he cursed under his breath, making your eyebrows knit in confusion. “what are you talking about?” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.
“barry must’ve given us the wrong bag. they weighed everything after they gave me the money, and they were two kilos short. ‘now they think i’m trying to run a play on them.” he sat down. “after they kicked my ass i told them i came alone and they just put me in here.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, a frustrated groan emitting from his throat. you stayed silent for a moment. “why did you tell them you were by yourself?” you finally asked. “so that they wouldn’t look in the truck and take you next, but it looks like you saved them the work and did it yourself.” he looked over at you, fully expecting you to shoot back with something sarcastic, but instead he was met with your teary eyes.
“i figured you’d just leave with the truck and tell barry something was up.” you glared at him. “you thought i would just leave you here? i may be a bitch, rafe, but i’m not heartless.” he nodded. “yeah i’m gathering that.” you sniffled, suddenly remembering that you were crying in front of this man. “i’m gonna get us out of here, alright?” you wiped your cheeks, getting up to check the windows. “they’re bolted shut, i already tried.” you groaned, plopping back down on the bed with a sigh. “well i guess it’s a good thing i brought my phone.” you took out the device, tapping on barry’s contact.
rafe looked at you in disbelief, taking the phone from your hands as he pressed it against his ear. “fuck, he’s not answering.” he whispered, calling him once more. “give me it!” you grabbed it, making rafe roll his eyes. “hello?” barry spoke into the receiver. “hey, dickhead, you shorted us and now we’re in deep shit.” rafe shushed you, his eyes widening as the lock on the door started rattling. “you better get us out of this!” you hung up, stuffing the phone in your pocket at the same time one of the guys walked in.
“what are you two huddled up in the corner for?” he arched a brow. rafe cleared his throat. “what? i can’t talk to my girl?” you blinked, flashing the man in black an awkward smile. “look, i don’t care what you do, boss man is trying to figure out a way to get the rest of what he paid for. your guy isn’t the easiest person to get ahold of.” you eyed the gun in the waistband of his belt. “yeah, well you tell ‘boss man’ that we’re just delivering, we don’t have anything to do with the missing blow.” he waved you off, locking the door behind him. rafe’s shoulders fell in relief. “you need to watch that mouth of yours.” rafe grabbed you, backing you up into the wall.
“or what?” he clenched his jaw, the last band of patience he had left, snapping. without warning, he dragged you over to the bed, climbing on top of you as you gazed up at him. “alright, you know what? let’s settle this shit right now. bickering with you was fun the first ten minutes, now it’s just pissing me off. what’s your problem?” the rough material of his jeans scratched against your skin. “one minute you’re insulting me, and then you’re getting down to check on me in the middle of a deal, the next. sounds like you’re having trouble picking a side.” he laughed. “i’m the one having trouble picking a side? i can’t tell if you hate me most of the time or if you want to fuck me.” it was your turn to laugh.
he studied you, letting his eyes wander to where your tits practically spilled out of your top. rafe would be lying if he said he didn’t regularly think of having his way with you, sometimes wishing he could stuff his cock in your mouth to shut you up. “and what if i do?” he ran a hand down your arm, watching as your nipples hardened through your blouse. “you hate me? i hate you too,” you shivered, taking your top off, revealing your bare chest to him, “you want to fuck me? i want to fuck you too.” rafe cursed, the sight of you underneath him, topless and pretty, forever ingrained into his brain.
“i don’t think i should give you what you want.” he cupped your tits, squeezing as hard as he can before rolling your nipples between his fingers. you hissed at the pain, a smile forming on your lips as you palmed him through his pants. “it looks like you want me more than i want you,” you giggled, eyeing the erection in his pants. “how pathetic.” rafe wanted nothing more than to fuck you until you were a crying mess for him, and he wasn’t going to leave from here until that happened. without another word, he yanked you up, flipping you over on your tummy as he pulled your skirt and underwear down in one swift motion.
you gasped, letting out a yelp when his hand came down and smacked your ass. he kicked your legs apart, wasting no time in running his fingers between your folds. he gritted his teeth at the sight. you were glistening with how wet you were. he groaned, pulling a handful of your hair, forcing you to look at his digits before bringing them to your lips. “you’ve been soaked all fucking day,” he watched as you sucked on his fingers, moaning at the taste of yourself, “how pathetic.” rafe used your words against you as he forced your head into the sheets. you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together as you heard the clink of his belt, the heavy leather snapping against the skin of your thigh.
“fuck,” you whimpered. rafe rubbed the now reddening skin, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “someone can walk in here at any moment, so i’d suggest you shut the fuck up.” his jeans pooled at his ankles as he lifted your hips in the air, using one hand to arch your back, and the other to line himself up with your entrance. you had to cover your mouth in order to muffle the moans falling from your lips as the head of rafe’s cock stroked your clit. “fuck, ‘been wanting to do this for a long time.” with a small groan, rafe pushed himself inside of you, your velvety walls fluttering around the welcomed intrusion.
“holy shit.” his head rolled to the side, his eyebrows knitting in pleasure. “you feel so fucking good.” he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling the makeshift ponytail as he thrusted into you. your mouth fell open in a silent moan, a small cry emitting from your mouth. “don’t want you to stop.” you whined, looking back at rafe with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. one look at your face made him curse under his breath, your eyes sparkling under the soft light of the room. “you’re so fucking pretty, baby.” he cupped your cheeks, taking your lips in a searing kiss.
your eyes fluttered shut as rafe pushed your head down once more. “m’gonna make you take every inch of this fuckin’ cock.” you pulled away momentarily, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. “you’re not in all the way?” rafe smiled, shaking his head. “i’m only at about half.” as if on cue, rafe’s hand came up to cover your mouth, muffling your scream when he fully pushed himself into you. the feeling of his cock filling you up to the hilt was unlike anything you ever felt before. rafe was doing everything he could to contain himself. embarrassingly enough for him, he felt like he was well on his way to cumming inside you.
he looked down, absolutely mesmerized by the way your pussy took him with ease. “oh my, fuck!” you reached back, holding onto his wrist as your hips started to meet his thrusts. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, both of you not caring who heard anymore. rafe grunted, pulling out as he flipped you over on your back. “i wanna see your face.” he breathed, his fingers attacking your clit. your nails raked down his chest, stars exploding from behind your irises. rafe felt his balls tighten as he neared his climax. “are you on the pill?” he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
you blinked slowly, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. “no..” you blinked slowly, a whimper falling from your lips as rafe lightly slapped your cheek. “no?” his jaw clenched, the revelation somehow turning him on even more. “i could baby trap you right now, ‘make you stay inside the house the way you’re supposed to,” your eyes rolled back as your thighs started trembling around his waist. rafe’s hips stuttered once he felt you clenching around him. “you’d want that, wouldn’t you? ‘wanna be taken care of?” you nodded, your orgasm hitting at the same time rafe filled you up with his load. he pulled you into his chest, keeping you still as you writhed beneath him.
“rafe!” you cried, tears threatening to spill at the overstimulation. “i know,” he kissed the crown of your head, “fuckin’ hell, i know.” he groaned, slowly coming to a stop. you were still dazed, your fingers running across his buzzed head as you reveled in the feeling of his weight on top of you. the two of you laid in silence, rafe’s chin resting in the crook of your neck. “are you okay?” he pressed a kiss against your skin, gazing down at you in all your sex afterglow.
you smiled shyly, making him stroke the side of your face. “we should give ‘not hating each other’ a try.” rafe helped you get dressed, putting his own clothes on soon after. “yeah, we should. you kinda cummed inside me, so..” he nodded, his lips forming a straight line. “yeah, i did. are you freaked out by that? ‘cause i’m not.” you laughed at how nonchalant he was at the whole thing. “i guess if you’re not, then i’m not.” you shrugged. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “you’re a little misogynistic when you’re horny.” he hummed. “yeah? well, you came right after i said you belong in the house.” just as you were about to shoot back with something, the door slammed open.
“your guy came through with the stuff, both of you freaks could leave now.”
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bby-deerling · 1 month
Note
Not sure if you are taking requests and/or suggestions, but I would die for a "Who did this to you?" or a "Who hurt you?" HC for female reader with, at least, Sanji, Law, Kid, Zoro and Ace. You can add more if you'd like! 🤩🤩🤩
I loooooove your writting! 👏🏻🙌🏻🫶🏻 And, obviously, you don't need to write this if you don't want to! 💯🥰
R.J.
this is a little bit of a monkey's paw because i decided to subvert this trope for these scenarios >:)
who did this to you?
ft. sanji, zoro, ace, kid, and law
masterlist || commissions
tagging: @willowbelle @eelnoise @fanaticsnail @indydonuts @sanjisprincesswifey
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sanji
"dearest, who did this to you?" he asks with wide eyes full of concern as he rakes his fingers through the choppy tresses of your hastily cut hair. you usually entrusted sanji with giving your locks a quick trim, but with him being wrapped up in the whole arranged marriage gone wrong thing, you had to turn to one of your other crewmates to get rid of the pesky strands that were flying in your face. based on the haphazard way the layers were cut, the cook assumes that you, for some unknown reason, had entrusted luffy or chopper with the task; however, he finds himself being proven dead wrong as nami pipes up and raises her hand.
"i did!" she exclaims proudly, eyes sparkling as she stands tall, making sanji switch up his attitude completely about your new style, spinning around and singing out a string of over the top praises for her. rolling your eyes, you grab his arm and yank on it, taking him somewhere more private to talk.
"tell me what you really think, sanji." you hiss as you drag him into the kitchen, glaring at him as you cross your arms. he pauses for a moment, not wanting to hurt your feelings; however, he knows that in the moment, what you need from him is honesty, so he tells you that hair grows back, before reassuring to you that you're just as beautiful in his eyes, even with a bad haircut.
zoro
slumping down at the breakfast table with little to no sleep, you and zoro are too tired to even think about hiding any of the marks he left across your neck last night, until your friends start commenting on them.
"geez, you look like you got attacked by a wild animal!" nami exclaims, bewildered as she stares at the darkening purple bruise along your throat.
smug as he downs his mug of coffee, zoro smirks as he leans back in his chair. "huh. i wonder who did that." he says, his grin getting wider as he watches the cook start angrily stabbing at the sausage on his plate. nami and usopp yell out a "gross!" and stick their thumbs down at him as they continue to stuff their faces with food.
"there's a wild animal that snuck on the ship?" luffy exclaims, already mentally making a plan to hunt it down and have sanji cook it up.
"no, just an uncivilized mosshead." sanji spits out, sparking an argument with the swordsman that ends up having to be broken up by robin, who spawns hands to grab both of them by the scruffs of their neck and plop them back into their chairs to continue eating.
ace
"who did this to you, huh? was it me?" ace teases as he pokes at the warm flush on your cheeks; he had been relentlessly flirting with you all day, but you were left tongue-tied unsure of whether he was serious or just teasing you to pass the time. "y'know, you're so cute when you're flustered." he continues with a grin, gently squeezing your waist.
"t-thanks!" you sputter out, struggling to look him in the eyes as his other hand finds your waist and your line of vision gets shadowed by the brim of his hat. "ace, do you like me? like, actually like me?" you squeak out, so uncharacteristically meek as your nerves make you worry about misinterpreting a bit of playful fun.
"'course i do. you're so silly sometimes, worrying about stuff like that." he says with a grin as he leans in and presses his lips to yours, melting the swirling storm in your head away with his warm, heated lips.
kid
"who the fuck did this to you?" kid growls as his hands trail along a few small bruises on the side of your hips one morning. you look at him with knitted brows, unsure if he was serious or not.
"you did, you fucking idiot! don't you remember?" you snap at him; even if kid hadn't noticed how rough he had been with you last night, there was no way you could forget the way his fingers indented into the plush skin of your hips as he pounded you into the mattress.
his expression screws up for a moment as he tries to recall what he did, until he realizes that maybe his grip had been just a bit too tight; nevertheless, he decides to continue to play dumb to try to swing the situation in his favor. "still not coming to me. you're gonna have to walk me through it 'til i remember." he says with a wolfish grin; however, you simply roll your eyes and sigh.
"i'm still too sore. ask me later." you scoff as you roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom to run a brush through your hair.
worth a try, he thinks to himself as he gets up with a grunt, joins you in the bathroom, and starts to do the same.
law
"tch—who did all of this to you?" law says with a low chuckle as he loops an arm around your waist and pulls you close; the rest of the crew were in their boiler suits, but you were done up so pretty that his heart nearly stopped when he caught a glimpse of you for.
bepo jumps up in the air raising his hand and eagerly taking the credit; when law had called from the sunny telling the crew he'd be back to zou in a few days, he'd asked for a second alone with you—that the rest of the crew eavesdropped on—where he told you to wear something nice for him. the navigator had taken this task very seriously and convinced some of the other minks to turn you into a creature somewhere between a princess and a goddess.
"well, you look gorgeous." he murmurs, unable to keep himself from planting a chaste kiss on your lips, though the rest of the crew clapping and cheering makes you both pull apart and shoot them red-hot glares.
"quit making it weird!" you both snap simultaneously, faces burning red as your friends let out a sea of laughter.
981 notes · View notes
lost-and-ephemeral · 4 months
Note
Could you please do LDS boys +
Caleb reacting to reader being injured/severely injured?<3
HCs: You're Injured (ft. main trio + Caleb)
Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (seperate)
Tags: hurt/comfort, reader is injured but won't die
A/N: Thanks for your request! First time writing for Caleb, yay. Sorry if it isn't good enough, I'm not feeling so good since morning.
-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 
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Caleb
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"Hold on, pip-squeak, I'm right here."
Your exhausted body, covered in wounds from the battle with Wanderer, was ready to collapse to the ground if Caleb hadn't caught you in time.
He knew how dangerous your job was, but that didn't make him any less worried.
You protected him but got hurt in the process.
He's frustrated and angry because there's no way he could've protected you in that situation.
And Caleb just hates this feeling, but trying to stay calm for your sake. His emotions could only make everything worse.
"Sometimes even big girls need someone else's help. Right? And I'm here for you."
Concern was written all over his face, he couldn't hide it even if he really tried. The last thing he wanted was to see you hurt, especially like this.
He was supposed to be your main protector back then. But now things have changed.
You had really grown a lot, not just physically, but mentally too.
It was just hard to accept you're no longer a little girl.
Yes, you are strong and mature. But Caleb kept holding you like you were the most fragile being in the world.
He will give you first aid as quickly as he can, while calling an ambulance. Caleb is not the kind of person who would risk your life trying to handle this situation on his own.
Definitely going to the hospital with you while holding your hand and talking to you. He'll be around as long as it takes.
Probably will fall asleep on the chair near your hospital bed.
No doubt he'll continue to look after you like he did when you both were younger.
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Rafayel
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"No, no, no. Don't even think about leaving me like this!"
Maybe sometimes Rafayel was overly dramatic, but he's actually afraid of losing you again.
When he saw that you were injured after not-so-pleasant encounter with Wanderers, his facade of self-confidence instantly cracked.
Rafayel started panicking and it was clear from the look on his face as he crouched beside you, seeing how you trying to cover the wound by your bloody hands.
Not again. No.
All these years he had to watch you die over and over again, losing all memories of him.
Rafayel instantly began to examine your wounds, holding you close. He didn't care if his perfectly white shirt will be covered in blood as well.
He needed to be sure you won't die this time.
And his playful attitude is gone completely.
"Don't you dare to die on me, you hear? I won't forgive you. Ever. Promise me. Promise me you won't die."
He tried to remain calm and ignore the suffocating feeling of anxiety that has been slowly rising in his chest. But he couldn't.
Will do everything to stop the bleeding while help is on it's way. You can feel his hands trembling.
He'd better die for you himself, not vice versa.
I swear, this man is gonna get the whole hospital on alert. Nurses and doctors can be mad at him as much as they want. It doesn't matter to him.
Rafayel won't rest and eat properly until you get better. He just physically can't.
"Don't scare me like this ever again, please."
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Xavier
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"I failed you."
You accidentaly got injured during your mission. And poor Xavier decided it was totally his fault.
You both found yourself surrounded by enemies and before he could even react, one of them attacked you, leaving a deep wound on your side.
Needless to say, in the next couple of seconds all Wanderers were completely destroyed, and Xavier was fully focused on you.
This isn't the first time you've been injured during a mission. But each time Xavier is as worried as always.
Especially when your injuries are so severe.
Will administer first aid on the spot, even the bare minimum, before carrying you to safety.
With Wanderers around, it's not going to be easy to get you out of this dangerous zone. So Xavier needs to stabilize you a little at first.
"I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."
He is already experienced in these situations, so he's able to keep his emotions under control. But that doesn't mean that deep inside he isn't worried sick about you.
Will be looking for anything to treat your wound and avoid infection.
Guilt will slowly eat him up from the inside no matter what. He had to protect you, but he failed to do so.
Even if you assure him it's just an accident, Xavier just shakes his head in response.
As soon as you can get out, he'll take you to the hospital. It is unlikely that his skills will be enough to make your wound heal properly.
Better safe than sorry.
He still has a lot of work to do, but he'll come to you whenever he has a spare minute.
Will probably act like a guilty puppy for a long time.
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Zayne
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"You're constantly putting yourself in danger."
Zayne has a hard time showing his feelings openly, especially when it comes to you, so it's no surprise that his display of concern felt like he was scolding you.
But in reality he's really, really worried about you every time.
He knew right away that you were in the hospital after another accident.
And as soon as Zayne had some time off between surgeries, he came to you.
Looking at you in the hospital bed, he felt his heart ache.
While he was desperately searching for a cure for your heart, you kept getting hurt again and again.
Even when you smiled, like if trying to reassure him everything's fine, Zayne only sighed and shook his head. You have no idea how hard it was to see you hurt and vulnerable like this.
He's already been informed of the severity of your wounds and how much blood you've lost.
And he could've lost you.
But Zayne can't let his emotions take over. There are still a few more difficult surgeries ahead where he cannot afford to make a mistake.
And if he starts panicking right in front of you, it's not going to speed up the healing process.
"I'd be happy if you took a more responsible approach to your health. Then I wouldn't have to be so worried."
He moved his chair closer to your bed and sat in silence for a while, squeezing your hand.
Zayne will stay around as long as his job lets him.
Don't be surprised to find candies or plushies you wanted on your nightstand.
You can ask him about these little gifts.
And watch carefully as a faint smile appears on his lips.
"Usually only children get so excited about toys. So it turns out you're not that far from being a child?"
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1K notes · View notes
siriuslovebot · 10 months
Text
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 ➸ 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒏 ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: hi! can i please request a remus x reader in which the reader has always had a huge crush on him, but thought the feelings were unrequited? she lets the secret slip to lily & marlene and somehow it gets back to remus who finds it very endearing and teases her a bit?
𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: shy!reader, playful teasing, the pet name mouse, some suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit. 
𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: the reader has always had a huge crush on remus. the girls find out and marlene accidentally lets it get back to remus. 
𝑨/𝑵: thank you for your request, lovely anon! i’ve luckily got a few requests that i’m working on, so thank you all for being patient with me. i also want to say thank you for all of the love on my last post! i was very nervous about my first post and i received so much love and support! requests are still open, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!
𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻: 4.1k 𓂃♡₊⭑
·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺
        “morning, mouse.”
        there’s a teasing touch to remus’s voice as he slides into the seat beside you. you glance at him out of the side of your eye as you take your potions textbook out of your bag, placing it gently on the table. a huff leaves your lips.
         “are you lot ever gonna let that go?” you frown, crossing your arms as you turn to him. 
         there’s a soft smile playing on his lips, and a chuckle from sirius behind him as he joins the pair of you at the table.
         “never gonna forget the look on mcgonagall’s face when she turned around,” says sirius brightly. you scowl at him, wanting to wipe the stupid amused grin right off of his face. 
        “shut up,” you say.
         “it wasn’t so bad. you had a rather cute little snout…” remus touches a finger to the tip of his nose, his smile slowly changing from gentle to a rather shit-eating one. 
        “oh come on, how many people can say they turned themselves into a mouse, y/n? takes proper skill to cast a spell without realizing your wand is turned the wrong way.” 
        your face flushes pink. “i–i was distracted!” you defend. 
        “distracted, that’s right… chatting away to moony and casting spells at the same time. how’ve you gone this long without blowing yourself to pieces?”
        you stick your tongue out at him, shoving his shoulder and laughing as he tumbles halfway off of his seat. he catches himself, making a face as he regains his spot. 
        “watch yourself, black,” you threaten. “how’d you like to be a dog permanently?”
        “double check you’ve your wand turned the right way ‘round this time, yeah?”
        there’s a thumping noise as you backhand his arm, and he winces dramatically.
        “all right, you two,” says remus, voice amused. “slughorn’s here.”
        chastised, you and sirius settle into your seats. the chattering of the rest of the class settles, and professor slughorn directs you to open your books to the correct chapter. you shift in your seat, glancing over at remus as he gathers his potions ingredients. his elbow nudges yours as he adjusts his cauldron.
        “sorry, mouse,” he says offhandedly. though you insist you hate the silly nickname, the sound of him saying it makes your stomach do a little flip. your neck and ears burn, but you say nothing, instead focusing on the task at hand. sirius is distracted by james mouthing something at him across the classroom, which has caught lily’s attention as well. her gaze catches you for a second, and you hope she’s too far away to see the flustered expression decorating your features as you scramble to start on your potion.
        invested in your textbook, you don’t notice when james makes his way over to your table, peering into your cauldrons as he returns from the class stores, having run out of one of his ingredients. “wonder why old sluggy’s got us brewing beautification potions,” he comments, making a face as he peers from sirius’s potion to remus’s. 
        “probably heard about y/n’s incident in transfiguration,” said sirius slyly, nudging your shoulder. your mouth falls open as james laughs.
         “pads,” remus warns, throwing him a sharp glance.
        sirius’s clear eyes dart between you and remus, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “sorry,” he says, “didn’t mean it, honest. y’know i think you’re fit, y/n.” he flashes a smile, turning on the charm.
         you roll your eyes. “you’re a right git, you know that?”
         “oh, come on. i’d have snogged the lights out of you by now if lily didn’t have her bloody rules,” he continues, back to his potion. james sniggering laugh fades as he returns to his table with lily and peter. 
         “‘m going to pretend i didn’t hear that,” says remus.
         “likewise,” you agree, an incredulous laugh bubbling in your chest. sirius responds with a noncommittal shrug, sprinkling a handful of rose petals into his potion without a care in the world. 
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪
        “so, mouse, how’d your study session in the library go?” the sound of the nickname coming in lily’s teasing voice causes your face to burn hot. 
        you turn towards her, having just pulled your nightgown over your head. you make a face, raking a hand through your hair as you flop onto your bed. marlene’s sprawled on her stomach at the end of your bed, flicking through a muggle magazine that lily brought back from holiday. 
        “not you too!” you complain, sighing heavily.
        “i’m only teasing,” she says, leaning against the windowsill with her arms crossed over her chest. her lips are curled up in amusement, features slightly shadowed by the moonlight spilling in through the window behind her.
        “i’ll never be y/n again. i’m gonna be mouse for the rest of my life at this rate,” you grumble, frustrated. “i mean, you accidentally transfigure yourself one time, and suddenly you’ve got a stupid nickname for life…”
        marlene giggles at your dramatics, dropping the magazine onto your bed. “i think you’ll be okay. seems like james and sirius have gotten all of their fun out of it…” she trailed thoughtfully. “sirius was having the most fun with it, and even he was back to calling you y/n by the end of dinner.”
        “remus, though,” lily begins, her eyes flashing with mischief. “seems like he really likes it.”
        you swallow hard, trying not to think of the way your heart pounds at the sound of the silly nickname in his voice. tearing your eyes away from lily, you try to mask the embarrassment blooming on your face. even when the pair of you went to the library after your evening meal, he had taken to calling you ‘mouse’ without even realizing it. almost affectionately. you’d been reeling with butterflies the entire time, unable to focus on studying for your upcoming exams. 
        “kind of endearing, isn’t it?” continues marlene. “i mean, he gets this dreamy sort of look in his eyes when he’s talking to you… and it’s sort of a sweet nickname, if you think about it…”
        “oh, come on,” you interject, as if they’re being ridiculous. 
        “no, honestly, y/n, you’re a bit oblivious,” lily adds. “he definitely thinks you’re fit.”
        marlene smiles as you glance between the two of them, nodding her head in agreement. “and don’t lie and say you don’t feel the same way,” she warns.
        “guys–”
        lily narrows her eyes at you, “no lying.”
        “i see you going all starry-eyed when you’re with him!” marlene sits up at the end of your bed, clasping her hands in her lap as she looks at you expectantly. “i’d bet ten galleons you curl up in your bed at night and dream of snogging remus lupin.”
        “oh my godric,” you mutter, placing your hands to your burning face. you can’t bear to look either of them in the eye. you hate that they know you so well, and even worse that you’re doing a horrible job of hiding your crush on one of your best friends. it’s a miracle that no one’s gone blasting it all over the school yet. 
        “so it’s true?” lily prompts, leaning in to better hear your admission of guilt.
        you huff, “don’t make me admit it.” your voice comes out as a whine, and that’s how they know they’ve got you. your secret has been exposed, and they’re having a giggling fit over it. 
        “next thing you know we’ll be finding moony and the mouse, curled up snogging in the common room,” says marlene, sounding smug. 
       “shut up,” you plead, though you can’t help the stupid smile that comes onto your lips as you shake your head. 
        “breaking all sorts of rules,” says lily. “including mine!”
        lily’s one explicit rule: no marauders hooking up with her friends. a tried and true method of keeping the boys (mostly sirius) out of yours and marlene’s pants. it’s been foolproof.
        “oh, shove it with the rules, evans,” marlene retorts. “you’d forget all about them once the four of you can go on silly little double dates.”
        you feign a gag, and it sends them both into fits of laughter. “i am not going on any double dates.”
        “no,” says lily, breathless, “i don’t think remus would like that very much, either…”
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪
        “where’s your chaperone, mckinnon?” it’s sirius, lounging on one of the sofas in the gryffindor common room. his wand is in his hand, flicking back and forth as he sends a tiny spark of light bouncing around the common room. he’s bored, waiting for the return of remus and james, probably to cause some trouble.
        marlene crosses her arms over her chest. “she’s wrapped around your best friend, black,” she says, a faux-disgusted look plastered on her face. “they’re in a broom closet, snogging each other’s faces off…”
        “ugh,” sirius says, dropping his wand as he leans up on his elbows to meet marlene’s gaze. “i showed james that bloody closet. now he’s gone and defiled it…” he flops back onto the couch, looking slightly sickened. 
        “can’t keep their hands off each other, the pair of them,” sirius continues after a moment.
        marlene laughs, settling into one of the plush armchairs near the sofa sirius occupies. “you’re telling me.”
        “what about moony?” sirius asks. 
        “studying with y/n.”
        sirius nods, having expected that answer. “y’know, they’re as bad as lily and james. worse, i think,” he says. “it’s a nightmare, having to watch him fawn over her like a little lost puppy. i mean, ‘m supposed to be the canine here…” he shakes his head.
        “you should hear y/n,” marlene counters. she’s not thinking as she speaks to sirius, not realizing she’s going on about your crush that you explicitly asked her not to discuss with anyone, especially not james or sirius. “the girl’s just dreaming of being shoved into a broom closet with remus. i wish they’d get over themselves and get a room.” 
        there’s a second of quiet between them, before marlene realizes what she’s just done. her eyes widen, and she blinks as sirius turns to look at her. she opens her mouth, though no words come out for a moment. “sirius–”
        “well, i don’t know about shoving but–”
        “sirius, listen to me,” marlene threatens, her voice sharp. “you can’t say anything. please. y/n will kill me.”
        “ah, marls, that ship has sailed,” he laughs, sitting up. “moony’s in for a treat.” he practically leaps from his place on the sofa, looking awfully haughty as he plans to expose the blooming feelings between the two of his friends. 
        “sirius!” she hisses. “i’ll give you five galleons to keep it to yourself. please.”
         sirius tuts, shaking his head. “sorry, love. i’ve no need for your money. besides, i’m doing all of us a favor here.”
         marlene deflates before him, feeling extremely defeated as she watches sirius leave the common room, a new swagger in his step. dread clouds her senses as she realizes she’s going to have to tell you that she revealed your crush on remus. 
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪
         “you’re looking awfully chipper this morning,” comments sirius, eyes skirting over you as you join him in the corridor. 
        “it’s hogsmeade weekend,” you say simply, hooking your arm through his to lead him down to the entry hall. it seems the rest of your friends have left already, none of them keen on waiting for you to return from the greenhouses this morning after helping professor sprout harvest flobberworm mucous for extra credit. “thanks for waiting for me, by the way.”
        “someone had to,” he says, sounding a bit sheepish. 
        you roll your eyes, used to his faux disdain at your expense. “how’s moony?” you ask as you join the rest of the students making their way down to hogsmeade. the full moon was a couple nights ago, and you hadn’t seen your beloved lycanthrope in far too long. he tended to avoid you when it was, ahem, that time of the month, and though you thought it was unnecessary during the day, you understood. sirius and james could deal with him when he was in that state, but none of them liked to risk having you or the girls anywhere near his furry little problem. it was thoughtful, honestly. 
        “exhausted,” replies sirius. “he wanted to wait for you, but lily didn’t want to leave him alone. reckon she was scared he’d fall asleep standing up and get a concussion.”
        you laugh half-heartedly and wonder why remus didn’t decide to stay behind and get some sleep. you worried about him, oftentimes wondering if he was truly taking care of himself properly. each time he went out to the shrieking shack he returned with new scars, looking more and more ill as the weeks went on. it was a wonder he was managing his classes and keeping decent marks. 
        you chatter back and forth as you make your way to hogsmeade, sirius recounting their latest excursion in the shrieking shack. you finally make it to hogsmeade, spotting lily’s bright hair shining in the sun, and the goofy look on james’s face as he does some impersonation of one of your classmates, that you just happen to catch the tail-end of.
        “who’s that you’re mocking, prongs?” you raise your eyebrows, arms crossed as the group begins marching towards the three broomsticks. 
        “i’ll have a guess,” says sirius. he thinks it over for a second, then a lightbulb seems to go off in his head. “that hufflepuff fifth year, what’s his name? the burly one, tried out for seeker and wrecked his broom into the stands?”
        james erupts into a fit of cackling laughter, nodding his head. “yes, yes!” he claps, looking quite pleased with his interpretation of the hufflepuff boy’s less than graceful dismount. remus laughs softly, while marlene rolls her eyes. 
        “not everyone is as adept as you on a broomstick, potter,” says marlene.
        “i’m only joking,” james says, shrugging. “‘sides, it’s not like anyone’s gonna tell the poor guy. what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” the dark-haired boy winks as he opens the door to the three broomsticks, waving you all inside. 
        you nudge remus in the side as you stand in the crowd, waiting to push through the gaggles of students to find a table big enough to fit all of you. 
        “hello, mouse,” he says, voice tired although he’s sporting his usual smile. sirius was right. he looks awfully haggard, and a lot like he should be in bed instead of traipsing through hogsmeade. 
        “how are you feeling?” you ask, concerned. your conversation is overshadowed by the chatter all around you, which you’re thankful for. it’s unlikely anyone could overhear the two of you discussing his delicate situation. 
        “i could go for a long nap,” he says, truthfully. “missed you, though.”
        your heart leaps in your chest, and a shy half-smile finds its way to your lips. “you don’t have to exhaust yourself just to see me, rem,” you say, flushed. 
        “i don’t mind.” he shrugs. his hand bumps yours as you stand, watching sirius push through a crowd of confused looking third-years, heading for a table in the corner. he hooks one finger with yours for half a second, before the two of you are following your friends to the table. 
        you swear the touch sends your whole body vibrating, your heart beating loudly enough that you’re sure everyone in the pub can hear it. you take your seat, head swimming as you settle down and order a butterbeer when madame rosmerta comes for your orders. 
        after the three broomsticks, your group splits up. james and sirius flit off to spintwitches sporting needs, james muttering something about new quidditch gloves. marlene and lily run into mary macdonald outside of honeydukes. which leaves you and remus.
        “right, mouse, where to?” remus looks to you for direction, having brightened up a bit since having something to drink. he’s much less ill-looking, although you notice a fresh scar creeping up from beneath the neckline of his sweater. your eyes skirt over the wound, but you jerk your attention away before he notices. 
        “how about gladrags?” you wonder aloud. “i saw a nice blouse in there on the last hogsmeade weekend. ‘course, i talked myself out of buying it at the time, but i really want it…” you realize that you’re rambling, and stop before you can embarrass yourself. 
        “after you,” he offers his arm, and you try not to look flustered as you take it. 
        gladrags is empty as ever, very few wizards doing any clothing shopping at this time of year, it seems. the cashier is an ancient elderly lady, who shouts hello at you as you enter. you reply, but she’s got hearing problems, and you’re not loud enough. remus shouts a greeting back, earning a smile from the lady and a fit of giggles from you.
        “poor old woman,” remus says, amused.
        “hush,” you say quietly, although there’s no risk of her accidentally hearing you.
        “sorry,” he says, eyes still crinkled as he smiles. “now, where is this lovely blouse?” he inquires, quirking an eyebrow. you finger through the racks, looking for the pale-coloured, silken fabric. you finally find it, the last shirt on a very back rack. 
        “what do you think?” you ask, holding the fabric up against your front, peering down at it.
        “hmmm,” remus examines the fabric, taking the tail of it between his fingers. “looks like  a blouse.” 
        you roll your eyes. “this is why i don’t go shopping with boys,” you say, laughing softly. 
        “maybe you should try it on,” he suggests. “i’m sure it looks better on.”
        you nod. “good idea,” you flit off to the changing rooms. remus waits for you, your coat draped over his arm as he waits for you to change, listening to you curse as you fiddle with the buttons on the blouse. you adjust the lace outlining the neckline and the sleeves, smoothing the fabric as you eye yourself in the mirror. 
        “okay, rem, what do you think?” you thrust open the curtain to the changing room. remus’s eyes widen a tad, and you swear there’s a flush of pink across his cheeks. he forces his gaze up from the dip in the silken fabric that accentuates your chest, and meets your eyes. you shift under his gaze, looking hopeful.
        “erm,” he clears his throat, brushing a strand of hair off of his forehead. “much better on, absolutely. very pretty, mouse.”
        “i thought so, too,” you agree, turning away and sweeping the curtain shut behind you. outside, you hear him swear under his breath and the sound of shuffling. your hands tremble a bit, your nerves getting the better of you. the complement, coupled with the bloody nickname. it’s enough to have your head spinning, wishing you could just grab him by the shoulders and kiss him silly. in your mind’s eye you see the almost bashful look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you can’t focus on anything else. 
        after a few moments of struggling with the stupid buttons, unable to undo them, you hear his voice on the other side of the door.
        “okay in there?” he asks, closer now. the sound of his voice sends a jolt through you.
        “i’m all right,” you respond. “can’t get these bleeding buttons undone.”
        it’s quiet for a second. “need help, mouse?”
        you freeze. he sounds like he genuinely wants to help. you tell yourself he’s just a friend offering help to his friend. deep down, though, you’re hopeful. maybe your feelings are not as one-sided as you thought… 
        you struggle with the buttons for another second, then concede. you peek out of the changing room, ensuring there are no witnesses, before dragging him inside by the sleeve of his sweater. there’s a split second of tension, his gaze finding your half-unbuttoned blouse before it lands on your clearly flustered expression. 
        he laughs gently. your brows pull together.
        “what’s funny?” you ask, frowning. 
        “‘m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “let me just…” he trails, hanging up your discarded coat before his nimble fingers come to the buttons on your chest. goosebumps rise on your skin, and you try not to shiver. you follow his movements, his face screwed up in concentration as he fiddles with the tricky buttons.
        “i’m starting to rethink this purchase, considering it’s a nightmare getting off,” you say, pressing your lips together as his eyes flick up to your face. he smiles, amused. 
        “i think you should get it,” remus says.
        “you think so?”
        “yeah. especially if you’ll be needing my help taking it off more often.” you swear he winks at you, and your knees turn into jelly. has he really just said that? you blink for a second, one of your hands coming up to stop his fingers from unhooking the buttons.
        “moony…”
        “what?” he looks up at you, a teasing glint in his pale brown eyes. 
        your cheeks are pink, and your eyes dreamy as you look at him. his skin is warm where your hand is clasped around his, and despite his exhaustion, he’s never felt more alive.
        “i– sorry,” he says, “you just— you look very beautiful. and i think it would be a waste not to buy this blouse when it wouldn’t look nearly as good on anyone else.” his voice has gone quiet. he swallows before continuing. “sirius said... well, maybe he was lying, but he said you have feelings for me... and i just wanted you to know that i feel the same.”
        the butterflies in your stomach have turned to dragons, ravaging your insides. you’re pressed close to him, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your skin. inside your chest, your heart is beating fast enough that you’re sure it’s going to burst any second. with your free hand, you reach up and slowly trace the new scar on his neck, up to his face. you cup his cheek, your thumb swiping just beneath his clear eyes.
        “can i kiss you, mouse?” he asks, the question barely audible.
        “i would like that,” you say simply.
        there’s a split second of hesitation, before he’s pulling you into him. his lips are softer than you expected, gently parting to deepen the kiss. you tighten your grasp around his hand, and your other hand snakes around to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. he presses closer to you, very lightly, as if you’re delicate. you hum against his mouth, your head swimming as you finally force yourself to part ways. the blouse is still halfway undone, forgotten between the two of you. you’re drunk on his presence, wishing you were back in the castle so you could have him all to yourself, for as long as you’d like.
        “we–um, do you want to get out of here?” you suggest, pressing your lips together. the ghost of his mouth against yours is driving you crazy. you feel incomplete without him wrapped around you. you want him touching you, forever.
        “let’s get this off, quick,” he says, nodding. he struggles for another second with the pesky buttons, and then you’re slipping the blouse over your shoulders. remus adverts his gaze, and you can’t help but smile. such a gentleman. you adore him. 
        “is the coast clear?” you wonder, once you’re dressed and ready to go.
        “think we’re all right,” he says. he leads you to the front counter, and generously pays for your new blouse, which he admits he likes very much. 
        “in fact,” he says as you exit the shop, “i think you should wear it again tonight.”
        “really?” you ask, unable to mask the beaming smile on your face. 
        “mhmm,” he agrees, interlacing your fingers as he leads you down the street, in search of the rest of your friends. “actually, i think it’d be quite nice tomorrow night, too… and the night after that, and after that…” he trails, grinning as you smack him playfully on the arm. 
        it seems the rest of the group have been searching for you for a while, lily approaching with an exasperated look on her face.
        “where have you two been?” she asks. 
        “we’ve been looking everywhere,” adds marlene.
        “sorry–” you begin, but you’re cut off by sirius, who takes a step closer to peer at the two of you.
       “why have you got that look on your face, moony?” he narrows his gaze at remus, who shrugs. “and you–” he turns to you “--your lips are all swollen. oh! merlin, you’ve been off swapping saliva haven’t you?” he makes a very long, exaggerated gagging noise to which james offers loud laughter.
        “oh, shut up, sirius,” you mutter, shoving him as you begin your walk back to the castle. “you’re just mad that no one’s offered to swap saliva with you.”
5K notes · View notes
ohimsummer · 5 months
Text
LOWKEY, SHE’S SO SWEET ft. SUGURU GETO
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— minors dni, light angst?, suguru x fem! reader, penetrative sex, mention of gojo x reader (one kiss), slight dumbification, nipple play, biting/hickeys, making out, lovesick! suguru, what could’ve been a creampie, pussy taps, dry humping, reader gets a little flustered (duh it’s suguru), pussy whipped suguru ?, a little proofread
wc 3.3k
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Gojo had a lot of bad habits. Eating an over abundance of sweets, not taking things seriously, hiding his feelings, along with procrastinating and, more importantly, avoiding things he shouldn’t.
“Since when were you such a coward?,” Shoko asks and elbows him in the ribs.
He faces away, a lip jutted out as he mumbles a response. “‘M not a coward, I just don’t like her in that way.”
Suguru stands nearby, lighting a cigarette as he eavesdrops on the conversation. The lighter falls deep into his pocket, while he’s wondering how he could have such an absolute idiot as his best friend. People who don’t like someone else ‘in that way’ don’t get butterflies when they kiss that person, but he digresses. If Gojo wants to let you go and keep denying his own feelings, so be it. Suguru will gladly swoop you up and make you his own. Ever since that kiss you and Satoru had shared, one the former was adamant meant nothing because he definitely wasn’t in love with you, the two of you had been avoiding each other for a few weeks now. Well, Gojo was avoiding you. Geto discovered through Shoko that you just didn’t want to force him into anything, putting Gojo’s feelings above your own and essentially condoning his childish actions—and that you were struggling to come to terms with the fact that you’d wasted your first real kiss on someone who apparently thought you meant nothing special.
A week after the incident, Geto was over at your place again, as he often was since you two did hang out a lot. Shoulders drooped, the usual playfulness in your voice is gone, he never gets a good look at your face and that’s on purpose. At that point, it was too hard to conceal your emotions about the whole thing—Geto can read you like an open book, and the conversation wouldn’t be worth the heartache. You’re nothing like yourself. If he’s being honest, Suguru’s annoyed and a little bit jealous that you’re this way over his friend. He could treat you so much better. He’s not the type that needs to be pushed so hard just to admit his feelings; the type to just up and pretend his friend of almost a decade doesn’t exist anymore over one kiss.
It’s not like Geto was being unfair here. He’d been eyeing you for years already, anyway, stuck watching you pine after—and now, lose sleep over—his snowy-haired best friend. Almost two months had passed, and this was the final straw to push Geto over the edge. If the strongest sorcerer in the world was going to waste both his own and your time, then Geto would move things along himself.
“Glad your mission went well.,” Suguru says as you usher him into your spacious apartment, coming to check on you after an especially grueling curse you’d been assigned to kill.
“Oh yeah, easy-peasy.,” you laugh. Your hand waves through the air as if swatting away a fly. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”
He’s used to this, your bravado after every mission, regardless of how dangerous it actually was. Something to lighten the mood after just putting your life on the line. You’re similar to Gojo in that aspect, only the tiredness behind your words and expression is far more evident, but you power through regardless. Calm and collected as ever, pouring yourself a glass of milk and gesturing a chilled water bottle at your guest in offering. Geto rests on the couch with an arm slung over the back as he watches you toss the half-empty jug within the fridge, before prancing over to him with a playful grin.
“Milk?” An airy chuckle puffs from his lips.
Your eyes narrow as you toss the bottle into his lap, your own glass hesitating before your mouth. “Listen, I had a craving while I was out, and it’s going to help my bones grow. I have to catch up to you and Gojo somehow.”
Your silly comment elicits a tugging at Suguru’s lips, ignoring again how you’ve started using his friend’s last name. There’s a flicker of discomfort that crosses your features at the thought of Gojo—he’s noticed your sudden unease at the mention of the sorcerer—before you’re chugging the milk in swift gulps. Geto sees the tension, traces of it at least, leave you through the relaxation of your shoulders.
“So,” you lower the glass just a little, tongue swiping the milk mustache below your nose. “Wanna watch a movie? You don’t have a mission tomorrow, right?”
A shake of his head. “Nope. I’m all yours for the night.” His cheeky words brings a warmth to your face.
Geto lets you pick the movie, giving in to you like he usually does, and accepts the invitation to sprawl out on your bed upstairs. It’s more spacious than the couch, and also adorned with various plushies to protect you both from the frights of the dreadful movie about to play. It’s a typical psychological horror—filled with cheap jumpscares and agonizing suspense in the form of characters lingering through the shadows. He’s never seen this film before, so Geto should be paying attention because he knows you like to discuss after, but he just can’t. Not with both your sides pressed together and the heat of your body radiating onto him, or when your head lolls against his shoulder, face half-hidden behind the fuzzy dog plush in your arms.
It’s sweet, the way you jolt when a character springs from behind a corner, squealing in fright, lowering just a little further behind the stuffed animal. His heart races a little faster when you cower against him, eyes soften a little more at your goofy comments about the idiotic choices of the cast members. You, laughing at your own words, which makes him laugh in turn, and Suguru feels like he’s just falling more in love with you and your being.
Another hair-raising scene occurs, and Geto slinks a comforting arm around your shoulder, face growing warm when you shuffle to sink further into him. From the corner of his eye, he can see the fear written on your face. It’s amusing and just endearing really, how you’re seemingly more frightened by the fake movie monster than an actual cursed spirit. His hand snakes over your face to cover your eyes, fingers spread so you may peek through, and Geto chuckles when you scrunch your nose up at him.
“Are you trying to say I look scared–!”, The accusation barely leaving your mouth before a loud gasp erupts from your throat, the source of your shock being the sudden loud noise of a bookshelf falling in the movie. Alas, your boldness is thwarted by another cheap scare.
“Ah, silly me. Of course not.” Geto’s voice is mocking as he brushes hair from your face. “So fearless, I can tell.”
“Shut up, that doesn’t count, you distracted me.”
He laughs again. “Oh, so you’re gonna pin that reaction on me?”
You mumble into the stuffed dog something unintelligible, face half concealed against Geto’s chest. His hand falls to rest on your shoulder, drawing circles and then hearts into the warm skin of your body. You squeeze an arm behind yourself to wrap around him, giggling when he turns to glance at your smaller hand on his other side.
“So you won’t be scared the rest of the movie.,” you tease with a toothy grin.
“Me?” He thinks you’re ridiculous in the cutest way. “I haven’t jumped once.”
“Yeah, whatever, you’re lucky I was too busy watching the movie to notice you shivering over there.” The faint smell of his cologne is intoxicating from this distance. “Your heart’s probably pounding right now.”
It is, Geto thinks, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. Less of the movie, and more of your pretty face inches from his. The film continues playing on your laptop, a scene shot at night and through the dark screen, Geto admires you in the reflection. Those wide, doe-eyes seemingly hyper-focused on what’s in front of you, darting to take in everything on display—maybe you’d find an Easter egg in this shot, some reference to another movie, perhaps? Your breathing hitches when a sound makes the main character twist to look behind them, and Geto finds himself hugging you just a little bit tighter.
“I’m fine, y’know.” You huff the sentence out at him, catching his curious gaze through the dark reflection of your laptop. “Why are staring at me like that?”
Your head raises, turning to confront him. Amongst the love in Suguru’s eyes, you see hints of fondness, soft and subtle as he studies you. And behind that, something else that’s not so innocent. It all intrigues you.
“Got something on your mind, Suguru?”
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This was supposed to be happening with Gojo. Or you’d originally hoped it would, anyway.
The movie was long forgotten, laptop dark as the credits had ended a while ago. The device teetered along the edge of your bed before falling, luckily cushioned by the discarded yellow puppy plush that’d met the floor through Geto’s foot.
Your moans bounce around the room, occasionally colliding with his grunts of satisfaction as Suguru’s tongue danced around in your mouth, him nibbling on your bottom lip as a hand crept up your shirt. Shaky legs squeeze around his waist, parted by Geto’s knee, and you grind against the flex of his thigh to relieve the building ache in your core.
There’s the soft smack of parting lips whenever Suguru breaks away, eager to shower kisses along your exposed neck, littered with the dark marks of his possession—then he returns for the taste of strawberry on your lips again. There it is again, this endearing sweetness about you, it’s engraved into your very being: your laugh, your smile, your silly jokes, the flavor of your kiss. A needy grip, wandering hands that don’t know their destination, rubbing over Suguru’s shoulders, his back, gripping his nape and threading amongst dark strands of long hair. In the back of his mind, he can’t help wonder if Gojo had an experience such as this and, if so, how he could ever risk never being able to go through it again?
It only takes one hand to unclasp your bra with expert fingers. The undergarment is inched away to expose your breasts, and soon, your shirt with it to leave your top half unveiled for Suguru’s longing gaze.
“Fuck, you’re perfect…,” he mutters to himself, pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. Satoru’s such an idiot, he thinks, missing out on this, on you.
Your hot pants graze his skin; fuzzy, indecisive eyes flicker between Geto’s flushed face and the prominent tent in his sweats, where it just brushes your panties and sends a flood of wetness between your thighs. Trembling hands finally find purchase on his shoulder and behind his neck, where you pull him towards your body, arched to raise your tits and the gesture sends an intense throbbing straight to Suguru’s dick. Offering yourself to him like that, wordlessly begging for his mouth to indulge in you—he’s wrapped so right around your finger, just a lovesick fool for you.
A sharp gasp slips out—Geto’s mouth meets one of your stiffened nipples, rolling it on his tongue before tugging it between his teeth. ‘Ah! Suguru!’ you mewl his name with your head sinking into plush pillows, and he gropes your other lonely breast with a large hand, thumbing the hard bud and pinching it between his fingers.
It’s easy to match the greedy rhythm of his hips, and you uplift your own to meet the grinding of his erection against your heated pussy. A loving kiss pressed to your chest, over the swell of your tits, a bite or two in between while he worships your body. “M—!” Geto cuts you off with a harsh suck of your nipple, prompting a desperate whine from your throat. “O-oh, god—! Fuck, Suguru, k-keep going!”
He pauses the feverish assault on your chest, licking a stripe up the center of your throat, and muttering sweet nothings over your glistening skin before continuing ministrations on the pebbled buds. Your legs hug tight around Geto’s hips, pulling him ever closer until the stiffness in his pants massages your clit through sopping wet panties. Drool soaks your chest, messy and riddled with a new array of bite marks and blemishes. Evidence of Suguru’s obsession, and a clear claim over you because you’re all his now.
“Suguruu…”, you jut out a lip when dark eyes move in your direction, tongue hesitating on your nipple. “Hurry, pleasee?” You whine and flutter long lashes, purposefully grinding against his length again in a needy plea.
He gives one last suck on the erect nub, causing your mouth to fall open with a small moan, and Geto balances himself on an elbow next to your head, easing fingers beneath the waistline of your panties. Snorting, his eyes trail over your heaving form, watching your own fingers tug at the hem of his pants.
“My darling’s so eager, isn’t she?” It’s a soft taunt that fills your ears, makes you conscious of the blazing heat in your veins that sets fire to your skin. “Can’t be that desperate for me, can you? Want me in this pussy that bad?”
Your clit throbs in response, and you keep fingers tucked into Suguru’s sweats, pulling them down for a glimpse at the dark hairs of his happy trail, before growing a little more embarrassed and hiding it away again. He chuckles at your shy behavior.
“Shut up.,” you search the room, pouting, for something else to look at. “You can’t get me like this and then be so mean.”
He lowers himself towards you. “Like what?” A little closer, now locks of his hair brush your face. “Getting this pussy all sloppy and wet for me? Begging to have my cum stuffed in her?”
Eyes widening, you break his gaze, cramming your lids shut as your face twists with a look of bashfulness. “God, Suguru, you are sooo–!” Hot? Dirty? Perverted? “Embarrassing!,” you finally groan in frustration.
Suguru sits up to stare down at the soaked wet patch staining your panties. ‘I’ll tell you what’s embarassing…’ and you give a playful glare at his comment. He chuckles, and adjusts both your legs to rest on his left side before fingers hook beneath the fabric, pulling it off in one swift motion. The slickness of your pussy is a sight to behold, mouth-watering. Juices cascade down your thighs, drenches his protruding digits as he slides them up and down your fluttering hole that threatens to suck him in and never let go.
“ ‘S not my fault, she just knows what she likes.” Geto marvels at how easily his thick finger sinks in, cock twitching at your lengthy whine. “And I think right now she’d like me to break her in.”
He’s so insufferable. “Suguru–“
“God, I’m gonna make this pussy mine, just wait.,” he sighs. The squeeze of your walls at his promise is mesmerizing—your words can’t fly high enough to reach him in the clouds. “Til you can’t remember anything but the shape of my dick, gonna breed this tight fucking hole–“
“I think actions speak louder than words, Suguru.”
Your little taunt pulls Geto out of his daydreams. “Oh, you’re going to be much louder than my actions, darling.”
It’s like sand on your tongue the way your mouth goes dry, him grinning at your flustered expression as he frees his cock from it’s prison. Precum drools from the tip, leaking down his length to leave a stain on his dark sweats. Your tongue darts over your lips, craving just a taste, a desire to encompass his bobbing length in the safe warmth of your mouth.
He glides it over your spasming pussy, making a mess as precum and slick smears everywhere. Amusement dances in Geto’s eyes when he slaps the tip a few times against your clit, sending a jolt through you and bringing a cry from within your throat. He does it again, circles your clit with his tip until your hips are gyrating to match his movements and tears prick the corners of your eyes. ‘Suguru…’ falls off your lips once more in a pathetic plea, and Geto can’t wait any longer when you blink so innocently at him, sigh so prettily at his teasing motions.
It burns a little, the stretch of his fat tip making its way inside. But Geto is slow and patient—he notes any sign of discomfort as he awaits your go ahead, as torturous as it is, especially when the deepest parts of your pussy are calling for him. Your gooey walls are snug around his length, holding him so tight and inviting him inside as inches sink deeper into your fluttering heat—it’s maddening. As Geto finally bottoms out, he cages you between his arms, face flushed pink and framed by long, jet-black waves of hair. So pretty. And his pleasured smile wavers for just a second. You’re so fucked out already that you don’t even know you just mumbled that out loud. Looks like you’re both a pair of lovesick fools.
“F–fuck me, please.,” you whimper. He won’t make you ask twice. Lazy yet deliberate, the drag of Suguru’s cock has your head reeling, especially when he keeps brushing that spot inside you, sending floods of euphoria throughout your body.
Your arms move to wrap around his neck, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “S-so full, Suguru, it f–eels, feels s’ fucking good, don’t stop.” And he replies with a low grunt, ‘shit, I won’t, could never’ as his pace quickens. Tears cast a blurry haze over your vision, sounds of skin against skin picking up in your ears, along with desperate, broken moans from either of you. The sharpness of your nails leave a collection of scratches along Suguru’s back, and the slight pain of it all only fuels the plunge of his dick, making itself at home within the gumminess of your walls. He uses a hand to shift your pelvis, moving himself for a deeper angle and fucking hard into your sweet spot. ‘Oh, fuck, fuck!’ You cry into Geto’s ear, tugging his hair and grasping at him to fit against you. ‘S-Suguru..! Right there–!’, finished off with a loud cry. Your orgasm is right around the corner, a blazing pool of desire overflowing in the pit of your stomach.
“C–um..!” You’re starting to babble, mindless and stupid. “Inside, inside, Suguru!”
And he wants to, trust, but it wouldn’t exactly be responsible without a condom on or knowing whether or not you’re on the pill. Maybe if he was a little less caring—or not tucked away in the crevice of your neck to hide from the hypnotizing power of your eyes—he’d make good on his promise and fill your pussy up until you couldn’t take it anymore. It’s so tempting, the heavy urge to mark your insides with his seed, til they were coated in white, but he just can’t be sure. So while you’re shivering and crying, high off your own orgasm, Suguru uses his last remnants of sensibility. He pulls out, low, raspy grunts and a hiss leaving him at the sight of his cum painting your thighs, spurting onto your swollen clit and leaking down to your quivering hole.
He collapses next to you, chests both heaving and an arm moves to wrap around your waist. Your teary eyes glaze over Geto in his divine glory, too dazed to see him doing the same to you.
“What’s with that face?,” he pants a short chuckle at the pout of your lips.
You turn further onto your side, pressing your bare bodies together and wrapping an arm around his neck, the other rubbing through his hair. “Told you to cum inside me, you wasted it everywhere.”
Suguru scoffs, playful. “Couldn’t risk it, sweetheart, I’d be hooked after one go.”
A shiver runs down his spine as you brush a thumb over his nape. “Oh, is that so bad? Thought you were gonna stuff me, Sugu, you don’t wanna breed this little hole and fill me up?”
“…Keep talking like that and I might.”
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tagz: @anthoosies @mysugu
2K notes · View notes
laiiaaa · 1 year
Text
FAIR PLAY — RAFE CAMERON
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summary: You spend a sleepy morning with Rafe.
length: 2k
contains: literally no plot, so so so much fluff, Rafe calling you baby nonstop because I just know he would, Rafe being downright obsessed and makes it painfully obvious, suggestive comments, some teasing, short n' sweet n' bubbly
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You wake up to kisses on your neck, an arm wrapped around your waist, and a sore back. Your legs are tangled with Rafe’s beneath his bedsheets as the warmth of his touch starts to consume you again. You open your eyes but quickly let them slide closed again once you see through the open window a bright blue sky, telling you the sun rose hours ago; what’s a little more wasted time?
“Mmm,” you groan, not yet lively enough for conversation but still wanting to make your awareness known. 
Rafe smiles and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “ ‘S that mean ‘I love you’ in some other language?” The arm slung over your body comes back to life, and his hand rubs along your waist and hip.
You keep your eyes closed and face nuzzled into the pillow, soaking in the feeling of his touch and the mid-morning breeze through the window. “My back hurts.”
“Oh, my poor baby,” he coos, kissing your jaw and before propping himself up on his elbow and slipping his hand from your waist up to your face to brush your hair out of the way. “Did I fuck you too good last night?” Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “I’ll make a note for next time.”
Bastard.
You turn away from him, grumbling out the words Shut up as you start pulling the covers over your head. He grabs your wrist before you’re too far gone, laughing to himself something sweet that has your heart reeling back to him, and he puts more of his weight on you with his arm wrapping around you much tighter. His muscles flex against you and he smells of coffee and oakmoss cologne and everything that feels like home.
“Come on, love, you know I’m just teasing.” He knows he’s more convincing this way, when he lays the charm on thick, but you’re stubborn this morning. Maybe he did fuck you too good. Your silence makes him impatient, and he gently pinches your arm. “Baby?”
You groan again, trailing off to shut him down. You could get used to this, having him love on you all day in bed as you stay somewhere between sleep and cognizance. 
“Baby.” He pouts. He gives another kiss to your shoulder and he thinks he might die if you don’t return the favor soon.
You shuffle in his arms, turning your body to face his and hooking your leg over his waist. “Rub my back, please?”
After pressing a kiss to your temple, he answers, “Of course.” His frown is quickly replaced by a big grin and a spark in his heart. Without pulling you from his chest, he shifts to lay on his back and pulls you to lay on him with your legs now straddling his waist, mussing the sheets further by doing so. Your weight on his body in full just feels right, like he should keep you glued to him. “In exchange for a kiss?”
You smile against his skin, letting your hands roam to feel him, smooth beneath you. You kiss his collarbone and his hands press against your lower back, soothing your aches just right, and you quickly press your lips to the other side of his chest to pay him back. 
Planting your hands against his chest, you lift your head. Rafe looks good like this, with morning light and a backdrop of ivory silk sheets, and you quickly lean in to taste the coffee on his lips. His arms curl a little tighter against you, hands rub a little firmer, and he smirks into your kiss as one hand presses between your shoulder blades, warmth erupting in your stomach. You pull away and he chases your lips, though you leave him with only a peck to the corner of his mouth. The playful smile you wear makes him fall that much harder.
You let your head rest against him and his hands resume their job. It feels so natural, laying with him in nothing but your underwear; he brings you a comfort no one has before, and as his rough and calloused hands caress your skin you can only think about how lucky you are to see this side of him. 
His chest rises and falls with his breath, and you trace shapes into his skin. Rafe wasn’t always like this, so physically affectionate with you. There was a time when he kept up his guard and had a hard shell to crack; slowly but surely, he soon realized, you brought it crumbling to the ground. He often thinks about what his life was like before you: it was dull, it was empty, it was unfulfilling and boring and isolating. You bring to him a contentment he didn’t think was possible. Your body slotted against his keeps him sane.
“Hey, Rafe?” You tilt your head to see his face again. 
He smiles down at you, speaking softly, “Yes, baby?”
You start shifting in your position, propping yourself up again as you hum to yourself and hold his face in the palms of your hands. You stop to stare at him, observing his smooth, tanned skin; the faintest freckles dotted over his nose and cheeks; his bright blue eyes that tell you everything; his smile tugging at his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” you think out loud—and he is, though the million ways he shows he loves you make the physical pale in comparison. Your thumbs brush against his cheeks, now flushed at your candor.
“Stop that.” He bites back a smile and pushes your face away. “You can’t say that.”
You laugh softly at his bashfulness, and oh, how that sound makes it worse for him. “I’m just being honest,” you coo, “What’s wrong with that?” Leaning into him, you capture his words in a kiss before they can slip through. 
His skin burns at your touch, and he mumbles against your lips with his forehead pressed against yours. “You never play fair.” His hands trace the arch in your back the way he knows drives you crazy.
“I’m not playing anything, love.” You sit up, perched at his waist as you drag your hands from his shoulders down to his navel, tracing his pecs and the ripples in his abs. His hands rest on your hips with his thumbs teasing at the lace hem of your panties, and you bite at your lip at the sight of him beneath you.
He catches onto your game, and quick, though he can’t say he isn’t willing to play, especially when he’s got the perfect view of your thighs, your waist, your breasts. All because you want him to—and that more than anything has his pulse running fast and briefs growing tight. “Thinking about something, baby?” 
You wish you could wipe that grin off his face. “No, nothing at all.” Walking your hands up his torso, you lean down to kiss him again. One hand cups his jaw as you tease your tongue past his lips and move your hips against him, and you fight back a moan as you pull away, a buzz in your lips and running through your veins. “You taste like coffee,” you add, beginning to lift yourself from his lap.
His hands slip by your hips again, and he groans. “Where are you going?”
You sit up with your legs hanging over the edge of the bed, reaching your arms up and out as you sigh, a sound so heavenly to him that he can’t help but follow you.  Sitting behind you, he curls his torso around yours, his arms tightening around your waist as he kisses your shoulder. 
Your arms fall back to your sides and layer on top of his as you take a deep breath. “You’re very clingy today.” Not that you’re complaining.
“Where are you going?” he insists, like it’s a crime to leave his bed. He clearly isn’t as stubborn as you thought, because once you start standing up, his arms loosen their grip. One of your hands drags down his arm as you walk away, taking his hand in yours as you make your way to the bathroom.
“Taking a shower,” you chirp. You flick the switch and let light fill the space.
“Why?”
A laugh escapes you as you turn. “Rafe, did you seriously just ask me why I’m taking a shower?”
He shrugs and pulls you closer, leaning against the counter as he urges you to lean against him. “You could’ve stayed in bed with me.” His hands take hold of your waist again, a developed instinct. He looks down at you with a love drunk grin on his face, like he’ll never get enough of you.
“Oh, so that’s what this is about.” You smile and loop your arms around his neck, scratching softly the way you know he likes. “As much as I would love to stay naked in bed with you,” you hum, pulling him in closer as you step on your tippy toes, enrapturing him all over again with your soothing voice and addicting lips against his. “I have some errands to run.” You lean back and take his jaw in your hand as he pouts. “ ‘Kay?”
“What do you have to do?” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice, but his pout stays strong.
“Errands. Boring stuff.”
“Baby—”
“What,” you giggle, partly because you know it’ll make him weak for you, and partly because it really is funny when he gets like this. “Do you wanna come with me? Keep me company?”
He knows he shouldn’t give in so easily, but when your hands are on him, and you’ve got that big, bright smile on your face, you’re hard to resist. “...Yeah,” he admits, a blush rising to his cheeks again.
You give him a quick peck to his lips and a pat on his chest. “I want you to come, too, but that still means I need to shower.”
He pulls you close one last time to press his lips to your forehead before letting go. He leans back into the counter with his hands resting next to him as he watches you turn on the shower, paying him no mind as you then turn toward the closet and pull a towel from the shelf. This might be the hardest part about being yours, but also his favorite: just observing, getting to keep an eye on you during your day to day, menial little tasks, listening to your soft hums of songs you’ve always loved.
You slide your panties down your legs, all too aware of Rafe’s eyes on you, and open the frosted glass door, steam floating up toward the ceiling as hot water cascades over your body. You tilt your head back into the stream and take a few moments to soak up that warmth, that comfort, until you swear you hear the faucet running outside. Is he brushing his teeth again? You hear the tap halt before the sound of someone definitely brushing their teeth for the next couple minutes. You doubt that dental hygiene is all that important to him at the moment, but the faucet picks back up again, briefly, before you hear what you assume is a toothbrush falling back into place. A tall, blurry form—Rafe, of course—takes a seat on the edge of the tub. You haven’t even reached for your shampoo or your soap, too preoccupied and humored by his anticipation. You see his fuzzy knee bounce up and down.
When you open the glass door just enough to peek your head out, he keeps his eyes on the ground, almost like he’s too focused on not being focused. “Rafe?” It’s soft, but just enough to catch his attention.
His gaze shoots to you, his knee stops bouncing. “Yes, baby?” He wears a look like a deer in headlights.
“Care to join me?” A smile pulls at your lips.
His face lights up, he shoots up from his seat, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him strip so fast—not that there was much to remove, anyway. He nearly jumps into the shower behind you, water far too hot for his comfort shooting beams into his back as he catches you in another kiss that's all giggles and smiles and teeth.
Now this, he thinks, is more than fair. He could play this game for a lifetime.
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imnameimswrld · 2 months
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. . . ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ¹ ׄ ⑅ MV1 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ
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— DESCRIPTION ੭ in short, you're done standing back when mr verstappen thinks he can push around your boyfriend like he wants.
— PAIRING ੭ max verstappen x gf!reader.
— FILE ੭ imagine.
— DISCLAIMERS ੭ 🔞 mdni, suggestive content, language, light mention of verbal abuse, max's parents are still together and he's dad's a total ass, also (currently) unedited.
❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | max verstappen masterlist ❫
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Dinner was going so perfectly; aside from the lovely food, you too indulged in all the hilarious and adorable stories Mrs Verstappen had been so vibrantly been dishing out for you. Max was red in the face with embarrassment, your hand comfortable in his as he caresses it in his lap.
His siblings would join in on the conversation whenever they saw the opportune moment to shut down whatever lie their brother concocted on the spot to try and get himself out of a playful scolding from his mom, and it all just warmed your heart to see how happy he seemed in the moment.
But then, someone just had to speak up from his quiet spot at the head of the table and piss all over his content mood.
"Max, meet me outside for a drink. I'd like to talk to you."
To the ears of a stranger Mr Verstappen's words would sound like a simple request, to which Max could easily decline and just continue sitting in the comfortability of his family. However, you've been around for long enough to recognize that tone; it's no request.
It's an order.
His father stands, wine glass in hand, and steps away without another word as he leaves towards the back door. Once he's gone, a shivering silence settles over the table. His siblings look everywhere but their brother, Mrs Verstappen all but sighs softly and starts to clean up the table, and Max stares done at your hand in his.
"Max," you start, tightening your grip. "Just, stay here," you try, and when he looks up with a small smile that does nothing but claw at your heart, you try another tactic. "Or let's just go home. We can have some ice-cream, watch that weird documentary you're you're obsessed with, I can even-"
"I'll be only a few minutes schatjie, then we can leave, okay ?" he rubs over your hand, probably hoping it would ease your racing your heart.
It doesn't.
"Max," you begin again, hesitant eyes watching as he rises from his chair beside you and gently places your hands in your own lap.
"Help mom clean up, will you please ? I'll be back in a minute love." you want to protest yet again, but nothing comes out of you parted lips when he places a kiss to the crown of your head, before walking away, softly shutting the sliding door to the backyard behind him.
Taking a breath, you try to calm yourself as you stand to help Mrs Verstappen with clearing the table. You try your best to focus on anything else, but knowing that all his father is doing right now is being mean and belittling his son is gnawing at your insides in a way that has molten hot anger simmering in your gut.
Everyone in Max's family are such lovely, kind people – and then you get his poor excuse of a father.
You don't even realise you have the ends of the table cloth balled up in your molded right fists until there's a sharp poke in your ribs. Turning, you gaze meets eyes that so closely resemble Max's, it almost always makes you smile.
"Go." Victoria nods her head towards the back door, and you momentarily look back, before meeting his eyes that match the worry you feel inside.
It's just one word, but it holds all the emotions she's feeling and with hos strong they are, it gives you the green light. With a short nod, you turn on your heel and take long, determined strides towards the glass door.
When you open it, it seems your disrupt the conversion at just the right moment.
"She's going to become a distraction, Max. All you've worked for and currently working towards, is going to be for nothing."
"I sorely disagree, sir."
The two men's heads whirl at the sudden entrance of your voice, and the confidence that colours your face has Max weak in his knees, feeling as if he's falling in love with you all over again.
His father's spine straightens at the sight of you as you join Max by his side, his arm instinctively coming up to rest his hand at the small of your back.
"This conversation does not concern you, Ms L/N."
You hum once with a bitter smile. "From what I heard, Mr Verstappen, it seems as it does."
He locks his jaw, hand tightening around his wine glass so harshly you think it's just seconds from shattering in his hand.
"Max, I've told you to keep this one in check before she-"
"Do not speak of her as if she's not right in front of you, Jos," Max's gaze darkens to the blue of the bottom of the ocean, and it has your insides curling in pride.
He only ever truly gets upset when his father disrespect you, otherwise he just stands quietly to entertain the nonsense coming out of his mouth, knowing he'll soon leave and enjoy all the true love you shower him I'm everyday later.
"And quite frankly, I like my girlfriend exactly how she is," he smirks, fingers massaging the revealing skin of your back from the cropped shirt you were wearing. "Snippy tongue and all."
It's true, you smile; he especially loves it when you have that same tongue down his throat, or wrapped around his cock.
It seems Max has that same thought in mind, because despite his father's furious gaze staring down at him, he can't seem to rid the naughty smirk from hid face, his hand now sliding down to fall into your back pocket.
He squeezes once, and you bite down on your tongue to keep the moan back.
"Now, if you're done trying to convince me what a failed son I am, I'm going to head home with my snippy-tongued girlfriend." he pats your jean-clad ass one softly, before pulling his hand to wrap his arm around your waist.
"Dag Jos. Ik hoop dat ik je blijf irriteren, het is mijn favoriete spel ( Bye Jos. I hope I continue to piss you off, it's my favouritesport !) !" you wave your fingers in an obnoxious manner, smile so sweet you hope it rots every damned tooth in his shitty mouth.
Max's deep, honey-draped chuckle rings in your ear, his voice low in the most pussy-wetting manner. "You know what you speaking Dutch does to me, schatjie."
Batting your eyelashes, you smile. "Oh, ik weet het (Oh, I know)."
A gravely groan resonates from his throat, his bany blues trained down on your glossy lips. "Ik kan niet wachten om je te neuken (I can't wait to fuck you)."
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✍: I might be writing a part 2, but that one will contain smut soooo if you're not into reading that, don't ! ♡ ... but if you arrreeeeee, hehe, stay tuned 🎀.
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slushycoookie · 1 month
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Spa Day ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader
Content: You and Miguel go to the spa, mainly fluff, gets smutty towards the end, "wife" and "girl" are used, thigh grinding, masturbation, perhaps a hint of a praise kink, MINORS DNI!!
A/N: Had an idea to do a cute spa day with Mig. Enjoy!
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“Welcome to the Sunny Side Spa! Are you checking in?”
The receptionist asked, smiling wide as you and Miguel walked inside. You were too busy taking in the peaceful atmosphere to respond. Admiring the soft bright lighting, harpsichord music, and divulging in the lavender aroma.
Miguel stepped in, “Yes. For the deluxe package?”
“Wonderful! Right this way!” You took your husband's hand, following the cheery woman down a hall and to the right, where the showers and locker rooms were. “Please wash up and put on our robes so we can start your ultimate spa experience!”
Your heart sped up in excitement, trying to contain it as you and Miguel went your separate ways in the locker rooms. Sunny Side Spa was a new spa that opened up on Earth-438, being highly recommended by some of the spiders in Spider Society. Ben mainly as he raved about his experience. Saying he suggested it to a few others too because it was that good. Jess came to you a few days later about the same spa and then so did Peter the day after. All boasting about their experiences, wanting you and Miguel to go too.
They mentioned how difficult it was pushing Miguel to go out and try new experiences. Especially after his major role in forming the elite spidey team. But once he started dating you, he was open to branching himself out. Even more so after marriage.
So when you brought up the spa trip with him, he was interested. He didn’t think he'd even been to the spa before when he couldn’t remember the last time he's had a massage or a facial. You weren't sure yourself. Hence why it was clear you two had to get in some relaxation time.
The cream-colored robe you put on felt like cotton. It was warm and soft to the touch with notes of eucalyptus hitting your nostrils.
Miguel was waiting for you, leaning against the wall while listening to the receptionist rave about the deluxe package. You didn't catch much of it, only hearing a little bit about a deep tissue massage.
“Ah you too look adorable!” She complimented before motioning you all to the massage room. The lady repeated what she told Miguel about everything that's in the deluxe package. A deep tissue massage, followed by a manicure, pedicure and a facial. While you all were fed complementary food and drinks. And as an added bonus, a private sauna room you can go to at the end of the wellness visit.
The lady handed you a pamphlet of the details in case you forget as she left you two in the room to wait for your masseuse. Your eyes caught the option to do hot stones in the massage to maximize muscle relaxation.
“Maybe you should pick this one.” You pointed out.
Miguel glanced over your shoulder, letting out a playful huff. “What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing…” You teased, “My man works hard. Just want to make sure we're making the most out of our stay.”
He hummed, kissing the side of your head. “I appreciate the thought, baby.”
The massages you received were out of this world.
Once meeting with your personal masseuse, you lied face down, uncovering your robe for easy access. The masseuses' hands roaming every inch of your bare back. Rubbing spots along your muscles that you didn’t even know were tense. All of the tension built up inside faded away once the soft fingers of your personal masseuse melted it away.
You couldn’t help but groan loudly at the feeling, hearing your masseuse laugh. “Feel good, yeah?”
“Oh yeah.”
Miguel was enjoying his massage as his groans resonated in the room. While he occasionally instructed his own masseuse where they should rub the most. Any semblance of worry that your husband wasn’t going to enjoy the experience were gone.
Hints of jasmine from the essential oils lingered as hot stones pressed along your back. Not hot enough to burn your skin but to soothe your body. The personal masseuses left the room, wanting you two to lie on the cot for a little to fully relax.
“Cariño?” You hummed in response, “I might fall asleep.”
You giggled as you could tell by his low tone. “Fall asleep, baby.” You weren't too far yourself, body desperate to doze off in pure bliss. Miguel’s soft snores weren’t helping either as it blended well with the gentle music that was playing.
After you and Miguel got some shut eye for a few minutes, your masseuse woke you up for the mani/pedi. You took the lead as Miguel trailed behind, walking a tad slower to get adjusted from his nap. The section of getting the hand and foot massages was in a large area outside. A closed off section that was decorated with tons of food at your disposal. Fruit, veggies and mini sandwiches with a variety of alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks.
You quickly snatched up a grape as you sat back in your reclining chair, grabbing a drink of water while waiting on the nail artists to arrive. There was an option of getting your nails painted too, which Miguel willingly said yes to your surprise.
“Ooh can I pick your color?” You asked as they handed you a palette of nail colors to choose from.
“Go crazy.” Miguel said, not paying you any mind as he messed with his chair that had a massage function built in.
You decided to pick black for him, the glittery kind that shined in the light. You opted for a dark blue, like his suit, also sporting a shimmery shine.
The techs were really thorough while doing your hands and feet. Placing them in a tub of warm water, scrubbing away the excess skin. Trimming your nails and toes to a decent length. You watched them rub oil across your arms and legs too before they effortlessly painted your nails and toes. You glanced over to see how Miguel’s looked. He wiggled one of his hands to show it off. Black fit well on him.
Your face was soon covered with a mixture of ingredients you couldn't recognize. The green concoction had a clay-like texture, but it was cool against your skin. You watched the spa workers carry a bowl of cucumbers to finish off the facial. And you couldn't help but get excited when they said you could eat the veggies once the facial was finished, earning a laugh from your husband.
“Can I eat yours too?”
“Sure, mi amor.”
They allowed you two to relax in your chairs for a bit. The soothing sensation of the mask really helping. Your nail techs also recommend waiting to touch anything for a bit while your nails dried, making sure their hard work didn't go to waste. That didn't stop Miguel from inching over to nudge your hand with his pinkie.
“Hm?” You said, completely in the zone of your relaxation.
“You look adorable right now.” Miguel chuckled.
You held back in removing a cucumber from your eye, “Put your cucumbers back on.”
“I will. Just let me look at you.”
“You've seen me before.”
“Not with green stuff all over your face.”
You removed one of your cucumbers, opening your eye and immediately snorting at Miguel’s green covered face. “You look adorable too.”
He gave another affectionate nudge before following your command by putting on his cucumbers.
After the delightful facials, you two made your way down to the saunas. You could feel your face glowing from the extra care. Both of you had to change again into some towels, having a similar texture and color to the robes you wore.
You and Miguel had 30 minutes inside before the staff checked on you. And you felt like you were in heaven as you leaned against Miguel. A warmth radiating throughout the room that relaxed your muscles and your mind. His arm draped behind you, leaning back against the bench, legs spread a little wide. You could tell he was enjoying it as he leaned his head back, taking it in.
Something in you honed on his neck, a slight sheen coating his brown skin. His adam's apple bobbing slowly. You swallowed hard at the hair on his chest, following it down to his happy trail and unable to see the prize under his towel.
“We should come here more often.” His voice caused you to jump, not expecting him to say anything.
“Oh yeah, we should.”
Miguel sat up, red eyes landing on you with a grin, “I know you liked the massages.”
“Of course I did.” You shrugged, “So did you, right?”
He nodded, “I did. But I know you really enjoyed them.” Miguel sat up a little and inadvertently spread his legs wider, “I heard your cute little noises.”
You huffed, trying not to get affected by what he was saying. “It wasn't intentional, it just felt good.”
“I know, nena. I'm teasing.” His hand rested on your side. It felt extra hot for some reason. “Sit on my lap.”
You eyed him suspiciously, “Why?”
“Because I want you to.” He said, sounding innocent.
“We can’t have sex in here, Miguel.”
Your husband bit his lip to hide his amusement, “Who said we were having sex? Your mind is awfully dirty.” You shot a glare towards him. He completely ignored it before patting his thigh for you. Somehow you found yourself on it, hands on his chest for support.
“I'm serious.” You warned before he captured your lips. It was gentle yet passionate. His hand placed on your back to keep you there while your tongues danced with each other. You wanted more when you parted, wanting to lean back in but you stopped yourself.
“We can’t…”
“We're not having sex.” Miguel reiterated as his hand moved to slowly unravel your towel. You didn’t protest, as a glimpse of your breast poked through, your towel loose enough to ride up to your hips. “Grind on my thigh.”
Your hips moved on command, your cunt rubbing against his covered thigh. The plush towel not irritating you at all but the complete opposite as you lowly gasped. Miguel’s hand took its rightful place on your back for stability. His eyes honed on how you were grinding against him.
“Good girl.”
Your eyes flickered to his hard cock coming out from his towel. Standing tall and proud due to your actions. You wanted to touch it, but he beat you to it as he lifted you up gently, plunging two fingers inside you. You whimpered at how embarrassingly wet you were before watching him use your arousal on his cock.
His eyes never left your body as yours watched him stroke his cock. His thumb running along the tip to collect pre cum before using it for additional lubrication. A quiet squishy sound was heard through the hum from the sauna. But you kept going, eyes fluttering shut to focus on what you were doing.
“Eyes on me.” He commanded.
You gazed at him, your stomach twisting as he was still watching you. Intense eyes filled with pleasure. Your hips faltered when he unraveled more of your towel from your body. It was dangling from your form, barely hanging on. But this way he was able to see your breasts move from the hip movement. And your covered sex rub along the fabric.
“Fuck…” He swore, picking up the pace of his strokes. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Miguel…” You moaned, your clit hitting a perfect spot amidst your lazy grinding. That caused you to arch your back and pick up the pace. Miguel’s other hand is still on you, gripping a bit tighter.
“I should fuck you right here.” He grunted, spreading his legs even wider to get a good angle. “But I listen to my wife.”
“Sometimes.” You muttered, enough for him to let out a breathy chuckle. Your thighs started to ache as your cunt pulsed while you felt yourself getting closer. You wanted to shut your eyes and chase it but it was more addicting to look at Miguel’s steely focus on you.
“Wait for me.” He sighed, voice starting to get hoarse. You slowed down for him to catch up. Which didn’t take too long as his rough hand gripped your ass, the cue for you to go. So you kept grinding. Your back arching more and allowing the towel to slip completely off. That earned a groan of approval from your husband, his face turned from the undeniable pleasure.
“Baby I need you to come. We don't have much time.”
“I-I know.” You struggled, whining as you were nearing your peak. You had to ignore Miguel’s demand this time by shutting your eyes to focus on that feeling. Your body exploded, pleasure shooting all over you. Thighs squeezing against his while you quietly cried for him. Any other time he wouldn't like how quiet you were but he didn’t complain.
Miguel wasn’t far behind as cum shot out, staining his abdomen. His death grip from your ass gently released as he heaved. You rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back down to his original pace.
You and your husband were practically glowing after getting out of the sauna. The two of you changed back into your clothes before making your way to the front of the establishment.
The receptionist waved to you and Miguel as he made the payment, “Did you two enjoy yourselves?”
“We definitely did.” He glanced at you with satisfaction while you held in a grin.
“Awesome!” She handed him the receipt before waving you two goodbye. “Thank you for coming to the Sunny Side Spa! Have a good day!”
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astralnymphh · 27 days
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ellie with a back or shoulder tattoo..❤️‍🔥
ct; blurb, sub!ellie with a tinge of attitude, beach day, massaging (ellie receiving), very suggestive, tattoo is mostly up for reader interpretation, slight pussy play (ellie receiving). period started in the middle of jotting this, so apologies if it became rushed! otherwise, HUZZAH! [ellie img from keaneq_ on pinterest]
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for all nerd intents— it would maybe be a dragon. unsure what else would be on her back (perhaps something cosmic?), but all is up for interpretation! so particular with the placement, though; it would peak out from her tanks, buying her the reason to wear them more frequently. and of course— she does. if there's a way to keep your eyes on her, she most definitely will deploy that advantage. "see how sick my tat looks in this shirt, babe? damn, best decision ever." (starts flexing her arms like an idiot) anywho, a scenario, if you will: waves crashing near, seagulls squawking off ears, and the scent of damp sand everywhere— you're at the beach, secluded in secret. ellie suggested you find secrecy, and it was right off the bat that you located the perfect, boulder-walled cove. situating yourselves between those stone giants, you could talk, touch, tangle, and canoodle to your heart's fullest content. in seclusion, instead of wearing a tank, ellie had clad this black sports bra. intentionally; it flaunts her freckles, her lean shoulder muscles, her new tattoo— so deep and dense soaked in sunlight, glistening since you're giving her body quite the pat-down with sunscreen. goddess knows that pale girl depends on it.
right now, though, she need not wear anything on her torso at all. "fuck— that's the spot, oof," she rasps harshly, groans with pleasure into the netting of her beach chair. it just had to turn into a massage sesh. poor ellie works so hard to provide for you two. who's to say she doesn't need some tender touching care? you roll your thumbs along the sides of her nape, pushing and ruching her skin slow and sensual. ellie is convinced you were covertly trained for this. it feels like you are. "ah— babe, can you, uh, go lower?" her voice strains, and she reaches a hand back, nudging the band of her swim shorts downward. the tattoo's length is now revealed entirely, and it draws your pupils and fingertips to venture upon it. noticing where you two connect, you stare; her perky little butt had been pressed into your crotch for minutes now, and all the impulsive fibers in your brain wanted to do— was grope. but you palpate above it, acting unbothered. it serves for a bit, until ellie makes the usual sly and stupid remark about it, her tone clearer and louder, "enjoying the view? hmhm, 'can't say I let you do this too often." and you can feel the purpose hot on her flesh when she adjusts her hips, drives her ass a tad into your groin— so you grip one side. control filled that grip. it turns vice, and so does your question, "are you enjoying being touched here? seems like it." the top knuckles of your digits curling an inch under her pulled waistband. the auburn bun you shot gazes of daggers at just then, turns away so she can somewhat face you, given her position. playful eyes of green answer before her throat can, and they ring with the audacity to provoke you further. heavy-lidded, low-browed. "tchh— obviously. I did tell you to go lower," her tone laden in attitude, plastered with a shit-eating grin. now, ellie did tell you that, but her voice emphasized that you hadn't gone low enough. hadn't trailed past the tail of her tattoo.
pretty slick of her. it however, doesn't compete with the slickness you discovered leaking from her cunt. as one hand continued its caressing of her inked spine, the other ran fingertips over the fabric of her stygian shorts, slotting the damp material in-between her pussy lips, and stamping her clit down with your thumb. "mhh, huh, fuuck," through her whimpers, she freed a scoff; impatient-sounding, "is this all ur' gonna do? tease me?" the tight muscles of her thighs softly clench your wrist. you knit your brows at her, removing the pressure your thumb gave, "just admiring your back baby, be patient."
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