#until he finds out her age and backs off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 2 months

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”

Yup, you have a headache now.

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”

Why were you considering this?

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.

He said your name, “Well?”

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”

“Gojo, this is—“

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”

“No one can see us,”

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.

And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there.

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

You glanced at the time, he’s late.

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.

It was probably the latter.

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”

“A bad rom com,”

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”

He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.

It was unspoken.

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.

Your neck hurts.

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.

Or what you thought was your bed.

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.

Gojo.

Gojo???

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?

You really should have fucking known better.

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.

Fuck. Your. Life.

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.

“What is it?”

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.

Fuck. You were so screwed.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.

Another knock.

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.

Like it always never was.

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”

“My apartment isn’t—”

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“

“But what you said—“

“I said what I had to—“

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”

“You don’t have to—“

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.

“Give you what?”

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.

No, it was. It was, right?

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”

Slap. It’s definitely a slap.

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-

And he realized it was you.

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.

Fuck, it was real.

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.

“How about we make breakfast together?”

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?

There’s only one person who’d text like that.

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”

“I was expecting to meet

I suppose we’re on the same page,”

He tilts his head, “Really?”

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.

You needed to talk to him in person.

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”

And he’s blinking, “Why?”

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”

“But you didn’t—”

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”

“No I don’t—”

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“

“But—“

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”

And this time he doesn’t stop you.

It’s for the best.

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.

It was for the best.

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.

Fuck. You were home.

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.

Gojo?

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.

Satoru was…getting married?

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.

Even if it wasn’t with you.

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.

So you wait.

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.

That wasn’t Satoru.

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.”

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

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harryspet · 5 months

Text

bambi eyes (1) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: My first Rafe fic :)

word count: 4.4k

In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.

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Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin.

As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there.

He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could.

After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house.

There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls.

The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”

Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you.

Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him.

“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.”

The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase.

He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors.

An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different.

“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on. He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”

Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint.

The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.

“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you.

“Mr. Cameron-”

“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.”

As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you.

Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him.

He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted.

You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg.

He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you.

You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself.

His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake.

As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”

“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”

Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”

“And why’s that?”

“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.

“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his.

“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills, although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”

“Your guys run their mouths.”

“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”

Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars.

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”

Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”

Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.”

You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted.

Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom.

Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice.

You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle.

You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress.

“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”

Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure.

You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”

When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you.

“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting.

Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away.

“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”

You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”

You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next.

“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”

You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added.

You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”

Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed.

“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant.

Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?”

His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”

“This whole room is just for me?”

“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”

You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”

You nodded.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further.

“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”

“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”

“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”

“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect, “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”

“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”

“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”

This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”

He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”

Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?”

Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”

“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress.

“I thought you wanted me …”

“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”

You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”

Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”

“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab.

Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics.

That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”

“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”

“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”

“Your father, was he like Master?”

“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”

You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”

“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly.

“You’ll punish me?”

Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”

You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you.

He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him.

Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”

Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”

“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”

“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”

Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out.

He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.

“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over.

Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.”

“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff.

He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.”

He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened.

“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

Part 2

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

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tootiecakes234 · 4 months

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Katsuki dating obliviously hot reader:

Characters aged up

Kinda smutty

Katsuki doesn’t even really see people in a hot or non hot way but then…. in walks you. The person that has him a blubbering, babbling mess. He thinks it’s insane, how fucking amazing you look all the time and it’s hard to control himself around you.

You’re at a party and you were dancing on him. In the middle of you pretty much dry humping him, Mina pulls you away from him and toward her. The thing is before he can hide it, she looks down at his groin and BAM

“Dude I can see your hard on through your pants.” And all your other friends turn around and start trying to see.

The blonde’s face now has a deep blush but he speak in an even tone. “Yea well yall would be too if someone as hot as Y/N was dancing on you. Too bad you losers get no play.”

He then rips you back outta Mina’s arms and spins you around so your back is to his front yet again. He has his dick placed snuggly against your clothes between your cheeks.

You guys are going out on a date and you’re bloated asf and nothing looks right. You’ve changed outfits like 4 times now and Kats in starvin.

He comes barging in the room and your in long sleeve shirt with a thigh length skirt and some cute shoes. You’re in the mirror adjusting and leaning towards a hell no when you hear him whisper under his breath, “damn”

“Do I look bad? I feel gross. Maybe we can get takeout and just stay here.”

“Gross? You gotta be fucking kiddin me. We are going to go out and I’m gonna be trying my damndest not to beat the shit out of the sea of guys that are gonna be eye fucking you and you’re calling yourself gross. Grab your damn purse and let’s go y/n.”

Well then. Guess you cant argue with that.

You’re at the gym together and you were both doing your own things. You’re on the treadmill when some guy comes up on the one next to you and starts talking.

It seems harmless enough so you engage him for a while until you get a text alert on your phone. When you check Kit Kat is on the screen so you open the message.

Kit Kat: come here.

That’s random so you look up to find where he is in the gym and discover hes near the weights. When you lock eyes with him, you see murder in his eyes.

Aww fuck. He’s pissed. You know your man is territorial, but damn.

You excuse yourself from the conversation you were only half heartedly invested in and walk over to him.

“Look it wasn’t-“ but your words are cut off from his lips pressing against yours and you feel his hand graze over your ass.

You’re glad the gym is half empty cuz damn.

“That idiots been looking at my ass in these tights since you walked in. I’m gonna have to put a fucking taken sticker on your forehead.”, he growled low next to your ear.

“Instead of all that, you can just put a ring on my finger.” You say smugly.

He chuckles at you, “yea that’s probably a better option.”

Katsuki Masterlist

@justbepeace

#imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou drabble #drabble #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugo headcanons #fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuku bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki smut #bakugo smut

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joelsmochi · 2 months

Text

every man gets his wish - joel miller

rating: E 18+ pairing: neighbor!joel x f!pornstar!reader summary: joel discovers his next door neighbor makes porn in her spare time. once she's confronted, she finds out that he has an interest in helping create content ;) warnings: not proofread, no physical descriptions other than reader having an unidentified tattoo on her thigh and nice peach, unspecified age gap (ur choice pookie), [m] masturbation, objectively joel is a bit of a perv, some awkward dialogue, literal porn. literally, degradation (they get a lil rough), f + m oral, smacking/spanking, daddy kink (slight ddlg vibes too), pet names and plenty of dirty talk YUM wc: 3.2k a/n: happy valentine's day smut sluts :D!

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but he’d recognize that tattoo anywhere; his gaze followed the tattoo on the back of your thigh as you rode your cute little excuse for a toy.

Your soft moans and breaths echoing through the speakers on his laptop made his legs tremble against the old desk chair in his room while he fucked his fist.

He didn’t even think twice about the video he clicked on. He just knew he was horny and in need of quick release, so he typed his favorite keywords into Pornhub’s search engine and clicked the sixth video that only showed your ass. He realized he never noticed how juicy it was, and the oil or lotion or lube or whatever you fucking used to make it so goddamn shiny only emphasized how perfect it was.

Staring at the screen, he grasped the armrest in one hand and cock in the other, watching your puffy pussy cream all over the dildo. He matched the strokes of his hand with the rhythm of you bouncing. Slowing down, speeding up, only fucking the tip or grinding—he reenacted every movement of yours as best he could.

Even waiting until you were shaking and shouting the words, “I’m cumming—fuck yes! Just like that baby,” before cumming with you.

He watched the last few minutes of the video, watching you slap the dildo on your creamy cunt and play with it a little more along with standing up off of your bed and jiggling your ass in your hands. You giggled softly watching yourself. Then, much to his surprise, you sat down in front of the camera and smiled.

He wasn’t expecting you to reveal your face, so when the video ended he looked out of his bedroom window into yours. You were lying on the bed reading a book in the very spot where you recorded that filthy video.

You weren’t trying to tease him, he knew that, but it certainly felt that way.

♡

Joel had successfully managed to evade you for a week feigning work has been keeping him too tired for company. He found himself a touch jealous that the world had seen you naked before him despite your relationship being completely platonic.

You owed him nothing, not even an explanation, but he still felt weirdly possessive over you. He had a slight crush on you when you first moved in, but you were so much younger than he was, and in his eyes you'd want nothing to do with such an old man like himself. Not to mention the 'crush' was mostly just a lingering desperation to fuck you.

The discovery led him to do a deep dive into your profile on the website. There he discovered what seemed like a plethora of your content along with your affinity for degradation whether it was to yourself or towards others.

However he felt like he could finally breathe when he saw it was all solo content. You didn't even seem to entertain the idea of fucking someone else and uploading it. He even felt a sliver of hope that he could be your first real fuck on camera, but if he already struggled with confronting his own feelings towards you then how could he ever open up the opportunity to doing a video with you?

Joel was finally over avoiding you. He was ready to admit his discovery to you and go from there. He just prayed you wouldn't freak out.

"Hi, Joel!" You greeted after opening your front door. "What's been goin' on cowboy, I've been a little lonely on this side of town."

He followed your actions and sat on your sofa; as instant as a heartbeat you noticed he was off. Nervous? Worry? Anger? You struggled to read him.

"Somethin' the matter?"

He pulled himself out of his daze and looked at you, mouth hanging open like he couldn't manage the words. They just sort of... Spilled out.

"I found your porn on PornHub the other day and I don't care that you sell porn. I really don't. You're a grown woman and it's your body and you can do whatever you want. I just felt wrong not tellin' you."

Poor Joel.

You wanted to laugh at him, tell him there was no guilt in finding it or even watching it (because let's face it, you know he did).

"Okay," you said.

"Okay..."

"...Did you like it?" You asked after feeling a little uneasy with the silence.

"Hell yeah," he responded without hesitation making you giggle.

"Really?" You tittered, "I feel like it gets old."

This was his golden opportunity. At the very least he could pass what he was about to say off as a joke.

"I could always help with that," he chuckled.

You were clearly taken aback by his statement but still smiling. "I'm don't like sharing my money, Joel," you scoffed.

"So don't pay me," he said just as he leaned in a little closer. "Just fuck me."

You couldn't fight the blush that rose to your cheeks and he cockily took notice of it.

"Are you fucking with me?" You bashfully asked.

This made him lean in closer, close enough for you to smell him, close enough to feel his breath cascading over your collarbones, close enough to know that the dark look in his eyes wasn't mischief. It was desire.

His hands cupped your jaw so that he could bring your nose to his. You felt beautifully trapped between his hands, gaze, and aura. Suddenly you were filled with the desire to let him take you in any way he wanted to imagine.

"You know what my favorite video is?" He whispered, breath hitting your lips. "You were on your side, getting ready to cum, and you kept saying I belong to you until you were screaming. Damn near crying. Your little fucktoy was soaked. You had cum everywhere. But the best part was when you did start to cum. You couldn't even look away from yourself, you looked too damn good and you fucking knew it."

"I'd look even better with you inside of me," you told him.

He sharply inhaled before placing his needy lips onto yours, pressing his face in as much as he could.

You moaned into his open mouth, reaching for his tongue with your own. His hands roamed down your body until they reached your hips; showing off his strength, he lifted you into his lap and stood up not wanting to waste another second.

He tried to be careful on the stairs but his eagarity caused him to misstep and almost drop you; he left no room for embarrassment and quickly returned to running up with you giggling at the mishap.

Joel placed you on the bed standing with his jean-covered erection eye level with you. "Where's your camera?"

"Really wanna record it, hmm?" You said softly, running your hand along his hard length and motioning your head to the dresser behind him.

He grabbed it, muttering, "Wanna show everyone you're mine now," whilst turning the camera on.

You cocked an eyebrow up as if to say oh really. "Is that so? I'm all yours now?"

Smiling, he pointed the now recording camera at you. He cupped your chin and dragged a finger over the bright smile you wore. "You're all mine now, darlin'."

You giggled coyly then kissed his clad erection slowly with eyes that remained on the lens.

"Quit teasin'," he demanded with a playful lilt.

You hummed and fake pouted, pulling your face away to toggle his jeans. "There are nicer ways to ask," you teased.

"I'm not askin'."

"Oh? My apologies, daddy."

Your hand began pumping his thick cock when you said that, making his cock jerk hard within your tight grip.

"Daddy, huh?" He entertained; you seductively nodded. "S'pretty right here..."

"Where I belong," you hummed.

Then, you lined your tongue up with the base of his cock, just barely teasing his balls, and licked a stripe up his girthy shaft before twirling your tongue around his red hot tip. You carefully watched as his face contorted, ensuring it was with pleasure and looking for any sensitive spots he may have.

He seemed to favor your tongue on his cockhead so that's what you prioritized for a minute. You tongue kissed it as if it were his mouth. Licking and sucking and pulling it into your mouth feverishly.

His cock tasted manly and the length was just as impressive as him. You finally pulled more of him into your mouth allowing him the privilege of feeling your gummy cheeks swell and close around his dick.

A strained groan left his throat and his head fell back in pleasure. You pushed some of him into your throat to gag, earning more spit to pump the rest of his length with.

Joel was enamoured to say the least. Your wide eyes locked with his letting him know you loved sucking his cock as much as he did. Spit hung from your chin prompting him to reangle the camera to get the side view of everything.

He placed a hand on the back of your head and gently fucked your throat. You moaned, grabbing his ass and pulling him in for more pain, more suffocation.

Your throat gagged over and over again, imitating the feeling of your swallowing his dick. You loved how he shamelessly moaned, filling your ears with the sexy sounds of his calloused whimpers and content praises.

"Such a good girl, sucking daddy's cock like that," he groaned. "You like the taste, don't you? Such a good little slut." He smacked your jaw as encouragement to keep doing whatever magic you were fucking performing.

Once your throat began to get sore you pulled your mouth off of him, still opting to use your hands as he laid you down and rested on top of you, giving you the sloppiest kiss you'd ever received and assisting you with undressing.

He tasted his cock on your lips and chin and slurped up whatever precum and spit you had leftover. It felt nasty and passionate, with subtle moans spilling from both of you, and Joel couldn't get enough of it.

"Sit on my face," he breathed.

"Sit on your face?"

"Mmhm."

You set the camera up on the dresser looking at the screen to ensure it would capture everything before complying with his wish. He let out a muffled moan as soon as your wet pussy came in contact with his wet mouth.

On the camera, everything could be seen: your cunt glistened effortlessly and his tongue lapped up whatever your body poured for him. His scruff tickling your freshly shaved skin made you giggle and moan, little noises everywhere that sung like a melody in his ears.

Your clit tingled with a pressure that encouraged you to started riding his face. In response Joel's calloused hands came up to grip your ass and assisted your movements.

He squeezed one cheek almost too hard before spanking it a few times, your flesh easily bruising red and stinging deliciously.

"Joel, your mouth... Perfect," you blabbered. You were filled with bliss: your eyes were closed, fingers twirling playfully in his messy hair.

God, he licked you so fucking good. So messy but that's what made it effortlessly perfect.

"I—oh my God. Fuck! I love your fucking mouth," you moaned loudly.

"Mhm?"

You shuddered at the vibrations, hips stuttering into his licks and sucks even deeper.

"Yes, Joel!" You cried, "Fuck you're gonna make me cum... You're gonna make me cum!"

He spanked your ass even more at this, making both cheeks turn a bashful color and jiggle against his jawline.

With trembling thighs you managed all of your strength to hump him harder and faster. Doing whatever you fucking could to reach your climax.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes!" You happily cheered as your juices began to relentlessly pour out of your squelching cunt and down his chin.

A satisfied smile rose to your face as your clit throbbed through the orgasm Joel had just given you. You slowed down on your own time allowing him to savor every last drop he'd be tasting for now.

You carefully removed your weight from his face, feeling more out of breath than ever. Meanwhile Joel sat up and swiped up some of your come with his thumb just before forcing it into your mouth and using his other hand to pinch out some that managed to get inside of his nose.

You were a tad embarrassed by his action but his subtle grin let you know that there was nothing more sexy than getting you so wet that it literally almost suffocated him.

Your mouth latched into him, cherishing the scruff surrounding his face. He went to lay on top of you again, your head now hanging off of the foot of the bed; he held your legs to your chest and slid into you easily making you whine at the slight burn that came with being stretched out.

With furrowed brows and an agape mouth, he incandescently moaned into the thick air while his thick thumb found your sensitive clit. You flinched and exhaled harmoniously at the combination of pleasure, enriched in the ecstasy he gave.

"You're so fuckin' tight, babydoll. Agh—almost can't take it," he taunted. "M'gonna have to ruin ya."

He gently released the grip of your legs and put his weight onto you. His arms slithered beneath you, wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe. Then he kissed you, much more softly than before and rolled his hips back and forth. Your slick walls gripped him, trying to suck him in deeper.

His lips pulled off of you with a pop and he licked a thick line from your clavicle to behind your ear as if he magically knew it was your sweet spot.

You giggled and shivered at the ticklish feeling, enduring it until it started to feel more sensual. He felt you relax within his touch and took it as opportunity to nibble the spot, biting it just enough to hurt a little bit.

Between his movements and your sweaty bodies sticking together you felt almost useless; you were used to doing the work, giving instead of taking. But it felt too good to stop now.

When you clawed at his back he pushed himself up and started slamming into you. You gasped, digging your nails into his arms.

"Love those pretty little sounds you're makin' f'me," he hummed, pushing his hand into your exposed neck and gripping it. "You like that? Hm? Ohh, you fucking love it. Look it at you."

You raised a hand and smacked his cheek lightly—your way of saying fuck you considering his grasp of you. He reciprocated, landing a firm smack to your face and earning a smile in return.

"Fuckin' brat needs to be put in her place—"

You shook your head attempting to hum out a no.

The hand he had around your neck reached up to squish your cheeks so that he could come eye to eye with you. "God, fuck. I can't even punish you when you look at me with those pretty eyes," he said defeatedly. "Look at you, babydoll. You're so fuckin' tight. Best fuckin' pussy ever. So wet, just f'me."

"All yours, Joel. I'm all yours."

"Yeah?" He cooed. "You're all mine?"

"Fuck yes!"

"Cum for me, baby. Yeah, cum on my cock," he pleaded, "get it nice and wet for me darlin', need you to cum for me."

Between his scruff voice and brutal thrusts you found yourself falling into another orgasm, everything around you ceased to exist.

The world went quiet aside from Joel's encouragements and praises; you could feel the blood pumping throughout your body, your heart punching against your chest, and your body molding to the twists and curves of Joel's body.

As you squeezed and scratched and begged him for more more more you felt the tension between your legs dissolve passionately into a sear so strong you felt it warm and burning the flesh along your belly.

Joel watched your chest rise and fall with your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. He rode you out until the very end of your high before picking you up and sitting on the edge of the bed with you straddling him.

Feeling even more horny and turned on than before you wasted no time and began bouncing on his painfully hard dick.

He was fighting his climax, needing to feel you wrapped around him as long as he could take.

"You feel so fucking good, daddy," you whined, "want your cum."

"You want me to cum inside you babydoll?" He pouted.

"Yes Joel. Want you to fill me up..."

"Gonna ruin that pretty pussy," he grunted, "gonna make you mine. This pussy belongs to me now, doesn't it?"

He listened to you whimper and weep and whine, coaxing you through it all while offering a few pops to your ass and thighs for encouragement.

You watched him lay down, arms folded behind his head to enjoy the little show you were putting on for him. Hair bouncing and flaying everywhere while you rode him with a bobbling head—the view from where he was looked pretty fucking perfect.

Your movements halted and you managed to turn around on his cock while keeping it inside; hearing a strained gurgly moan come from him as a result, you mercilessly began riding him again giving him the best view of your ass as it clapped against the peak of his belly.

"Good fuckin' slut," he slapped your tatted thigh and watched intently for a moment or two. "Good girl, mhmm. Doin' such a perfect job on daddy's cock."

Joel then sat up and reached for your clit, rubbing the sweetest little circles on it and using his free hand to turn your face to kiss him.

Reverse cowgirl had always been him favorite position, but he can't remember a time or even a moment where it felt this fucking good.

"You're gonna make me cum, baby," he whispered with his forehead leaning against yours. "Gonna make me fuckin' cum. Tha' what you want, baby? Want your daddy to fill this fuckin' pussy up?"

He gave your clit a mean smack but it only made you go faster.

"Need you to cum! Fucking—ohh! Cum for me, please daddy. Want you to f-fill me up!"

Joel began thrusting to meet you halfway, and his eyes stayed locked with yours as he muttered a string of profanities.

"Oh shit. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Fuck yes!"

He painted your pussy with his hot, sticky ropes of cum, moaning your name over and over with fluttering eyes and a tight grip on your hips. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and meeting you with a few more soft kisses as a thank you.

You felt his cum slowly pouring out of your swollen cunt, trailing down his softening cock and on the sheets. You two stayed like that for a while, savoring the moment and taking your time.

A while later while he was cleaning up between your legs he said, "You better upload that video."

"You weren't joking?" You scoffed, wearing a smile.

"I wasn't joking," he said contently.

That night once he had fallen asleep in your bed, you decided to upload the full video uncut with the perfect title...

My DILF Neighbor Comes Over For A Creampie ♡

346K Views | 93% | 16 Hours Ago | ♡ 532

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fandom

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sardonic-the-writer · 3 months

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𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

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fallenneziah · 6 months

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Summary: You've been known to sleep around with the soldiers on base. It wasn't a secret. It also wasn't a secret that you fake most of your orgasms... Ghost takes that as a challenge.

CW: PiV, afab! Reader, uses she/her, multiple orgasms, rough sex, creampie, oral (m! receiving), overstimulation, fingering, and the reader is pretty much a barracks bunny. Not beta read... still doing smut though I can never tell if it gets better.

A/n: I really wanted to do kinktober but I was late... So um, have this??

It wasn't a secret that you were something of a barracks bunny. You caught the eye of recruits, and whoever of them made your insides tingle you were more than likely to spend a night with. You didn't care to try and keep it a secret. Although, your sexual experiences with most of the recruits and the younger men were… less than world-shaking.

They were good, their dick often leaving you mostly satisfied and feeling like you've had a five-inch stake driven into your cunt for ten to twenty minutes.

But you were also rumoured and soon confirmed to fake most of your orgasms. Sure, the hookups were fun, but you did end up faking most of your orgasms because it simply didn't do it for you.

Whether the recruit was rough or gentle, something was missing that pushed you over the edge.

But hey, you let the recruits get their load off you, so they weren't complaining either way.

Except for a certain someone.

Ghost was hardly the person you'd find sleeping around with anyone, men or women. The occasional quick fuck void of attachment and emotions back home in his small Manchester flat wasn't new though.

Once he fucked someone's brains out, they were out the door and not to set foot again. He didn't think anything of this. It's how it was, how it would continue to be.

But the constant talk of your happy little ass sleeping with every relatively attractive recruit in sight ticked something inside him.

Maybe he secretly wished he could get a hold of you, tame you down, get you down on your knees, and ensure you stayed.

Perhaps the idea of making you his bitch and getting you away from the other sources of pleasure you could find.

And then he learned about it. Little missy wandering around, getting fucked left and right, and every orgasm has to be driven out of her by herself. Something about that. About knowing you faked each orgasm with each soldier just to fuck yourself silly until it hit right.

These recruits were insufferable. None of them could drive you out of this little spiral you thought you had to control. Fuck a man, fake an orgasm and then sleep it off like nothing.

That's the challenge. That's what Ghost saw. A challenge and a reward. And he knew you'd been wanting to sleep with him for ages. He knew, and he wasn't as dimwitted as some people liked to think.

He practically bristled when he saw you walk into the canteen that afternoon, hips swinging, a small stiff in your step, but you looked mostly in one piece. Another recruit following behind you, looking on a mission to tell his squadmates of the night he had with you.

It made his hands tighten, and whiskey eyes lock on you as you walked past, seeming fine regardless of the night. His hand reached out, firmly gripping your hip so you couldn't go any further, capturing your attention.

"Lieutenant?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his large gloved hand up his forearm to meet his gaze.

"You best get yourself in check, soldier," he warned in a low tone, his hand squeezing your hip, nudging you back, his voice growing quieter.

"My barracks. Midnight."

Your cheeks went a little pink. You had the hots for the lieutenant for a lifetime. Part of you felt he would give you something you desperately needed, yet he's never spared you more than a glance.

You smirk softly. "You got it."

He doesn't respond at all. His hand releases you, and he lets you on your way.

You made it to your table, sitting among a small group you'd accumulated over your few years on base. The thought of getting in a bed with your lieutenant was now fresh on your mind, already having your stomach twisting.

However… You'd yet to meet someone truly who could make you feel how you wanted to. Roughed up, played with, fucked until your brain was smoother than a stone, and your name was a challenge to recall.

Was it that hard to ask?? You couldn't help feeling you might be sourly disappointed.

But you'd wait. Also making sure things in your room are charged just in case the night turned as you hoped it wouldn't.

The day drew on, and you continued through your tasks, finishing your work just in time to catch a shower and spend some alone time in your room as you pleased before your wristwatch beeped.

It was about time to see a certain lieutenant.

Ghost was waiting for you. How you figured he wouldn't was a wonder, but you didn't expect him to be standing there. Right there.

You slipped into the room, closing the door behind you. The lights were off, and his silhouette blocked the little light coming through the closed blinds. Your fingers search for the light switch, but his hand stops you.

Gloves still on, he pulls your wrist away, the other hand finding the lock on the door behind you and flicking it closed.

You already felt your heart rate picking up in excitement as he maneuvered through the darkness of his room, keeping you against the wall and at his whim.

"I didn't think it would start like this." You say, your back arching off the wall a tad before relaxing against when his figure pressed closer.

"Wrong of you to think you'd get a say."

His rumbled voice makes you shiver softly.

"I'm not complaining."

He seemed to scoff, pressing against you and making you suck in a sharp breath. His crotch pressing against your own, his large hands gripping your waist to hold you in place.

"Not yet."

He sounded like a predator about to sink his teeth into you, and it was such a turn-on.

His gloved hands grip your hips, lifting you from the floor and pulling your legs up around his waist. You can feel the thick outline of his cock, and it makes you gasp softly.

He takes you to the bed, dumping you onto the sheets. His hands find your clothes, pulling them from you, stripping you down to your underwear. He wasn't wasting time, your eyes adjusting and letting you see more of his figure clearly as he moved your limbs how he wanted to.

He was commanding, your body felt like putty in his hands, and you weren't sure you wanted to fight it.

Your cunt throbbed as he tugged you up the bed by your hips, crawling between your legs and forcing them apart.

His rough gloves feel foreign against your skin, tugging your underwear from your hips and tossing the thin fabric off the bed.

"Stay still." His voice rumbles through your body again. Your first thought of those scarred lips going for what they wanted. One hand kept your hips still, situating his body between your legs so you couldn't do much to fight him if you wanted to. You shiver, watching him pull his mask up over the bridge of his nose and pull his glove off between his teeth.

The second glove gets pulled off, and he lets it fall onto the bed next to you. The sound of his belt coming undone, the leather sliding against itself. His zipper came down, and he freed his cock.

You were already squirming, wanting to feel it. His large hand presses against your stomach, pushing you back down into the bed. "Easy. Keep still." His hand slides back down, your breathing stopping briefly when you felt his calloused thumb rub your clit. He was quiet, pressing up into your body, gently massaging it.

It makes you shiver, his index finger rubbing through your labia and down to your slit, tracing his fingers around your entrance. Feeling how tight you were despite your nasty habit of seeking out other men. He knows you could be so much tighter, knowing what a fucking slut you were.

Pressing his finger into your entrance, the warmth of your walls tightening around him, feeling him slip inside you. He doesn't give a warning before his second finger presses into you, both invading the warmth of your cunt. "That's it." His fingers pump into you, rubbing along your walls, rough callouses giving you a hint of edge with each stroke.

Your hands grip the sheets as he works his fingers inside you, a third slipping in as he feels the stretch of your walls. His palm rubs your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath and moan. It was a little too loud, causing Ghost to withdraw his fingers from you and grab your thigh.

He flips you over, his hand grabbing your face and shoving it into the bed. You startle a little, tensing up, but he knocks your knees apart again and forces his fingers back in, his other hand keeping your head firmly planted in the pillows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers. They work inside you quicker, pressing into your walls and driving inside you.

"Stay. I never allowed you to get loud, pretty thing." Ghost rumbles, feeling your cunt clench, dripping in excitement as his large fingers pick up pace inside your cunt.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were on edge. Your hands grip the sheets, hips starting to rock against his hand. Your breath comes out in small pants, muffled by the pillow. His large fingers felt so good inside you. Better than any recruit you've laid with.

You squirm, and as quickly as you do, his hand moves from your head to span your ass, cupping the perfectly round flesh and squeezing it between his fingers. His fingers pick up pace, driving deep into your cunt, fast and barely giving you time. Slick popping from his quick pace inside you. His fingers bullying your cunt, finding your g-spot and hitting relentlessly.

Your hips twitch, your back arching, and you can't help but moan loudly when you hit that first orgasm.

Ghost smirks, the scar along his lip pulling the skin up slightly. He pulls his fingers out, drawing them apart to see your slick and spend ripping between them. Your body shivering a little. "One." He counts, tasting your cum on his fingers.

He turns you onto your back, leaning over your body and pressing his lips to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. The taste of your cum and his saliva made your head spin, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as he kisses you.

You moan into his mouth as his hand slides between your legs, cupping your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your hips jump a little, his rough palm pressed against your lower pelvis, his fingers teasing along your slick cunt.

He nips your bottom lip, pushing you away before the kiss can properly end and keeps you held down in the sheets, his hand curling around your throat while the other continues to rub through your labia. Teasing your clit, rubbing it and pinching it. "Cumming for me already…" Ghost rumbled. "Just like I knew you would."

"I'm not done with you yet."

You moan, your head pressing back into the sheets as you start to rock your hips. Trying to feel more of his rough fingers, wanting his fingers back inside you.

"Beg." His tone is firm, and commanding. You look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Please," you moan, watching him grin and press his fingers against your hole.

"Please, what?"

You squirm, pressing your hips into his fingers. "Please fuck me with your fingers."

You could swear he was mocking you, slowly pushing his fingers back into your cunt.

"You can do better than that," Ghost taunts.

You whimper, trying to nudge your hips back, and you feel his fingers pull away. He forces your thigh further out again, teasing your clit with his thumb. You mumble under your breath, trying to lean away, his fingers stroking along your slit again.

"Please… I need them. I need this, please." You whine, once again trying not to squirm with your desperation growing in place of your excitement.

His fingers press back into your cunt, and you moan. Your hips jolt, rolling against his hand as he drives his fingers into your cunt, hitting deep inside you. "Fuck. Fuck, I- ah-"

He doesn't hold you down like before, allowing your hips to move, fucking his fingers, your slick making obscene sounds.

Your lips part, moaning over his hand, still firm on your throat, fingers pulling you apart. Driving into you, his eyes watching your face in the darkness with each desperate thrust up into his fingers. Looking like a pathetic whore. But that's how Ghost wanted you.

That's how he liked it. He would ruin you. He'd show those recruits how it was done, and cut you down a peg. He'd get you so overfucked you'd only be able to remember his name.

His fingers bullying your g-spot, knuckles coated in your slick, the walls of your cunt flexing around him. Once again, before long, he had you drawn out, moaning loudly.

He pulls his fingers out of you, the sticky string slick between his fingers as he pulls them apart. "Two," he counts, watching you pant, hips squirming and thighs quivering.

Ghost leans down, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. His fingers press to your lips, pushing them past. You groan, sucking on his fingers, tasting you on his hand. Sucking them and running your tongue along them until he pulled out, lightly slapping your face. His other hand released your throat.

He moved back on the bed, planting his feet back on the floor and pushing down his jeans over his thighs more, taking his large cock in his hand.

"Hands and knees, sweetheart."

You panted, knees still quivering, but you shifted onto your stomach, onto your hands and knees. Looking up at him, smirking. The smirk didn't bother Ghost, he already had you under him. He was already the first way through ruining you, so many would never really pleasure you again like he did.

Tapping his cock against your cheek, letting you feel the weight and the size against you.

"Open," he orders, watching you part your lips and lean forward to take the head between your lips. Your tongue runs across it, eyes shut.

He gripped your hair, yanking you forward and forcing you to take half his cock down your throat. Gagging on it tears stinging the corners of your eyes as he forced you further down, fucking your mouth.

"If you're gonna suck it, do it like you mean it." He spits, driving his cock into your throat, hearing your desperate noises, trying to draw in the air over his cock suffocating your throat. Feeling the smooth skin of his heavy cock against your tongue. The skin pulls back over his head along your tongue.

You could feel him, his cock dragging deep into your warm throat and then pulling out, giving you a much steadier rhythm for redemption.

He didn't give you a chance to take control, keeping his grip firm on your hair and driving himself into your throat.

You gag around him, feeling the burn in the back of your throat, eyes watering as he keeps you there, your lips stretching around his thick shaft, spit leaking from the corners of your lips.

The heaviness of his cock on your tongue, salty pre-cum pooling at the back of your throat, tongue gliding over throbbing cockhead.

Ghost pulls his cock from your mouth, slapping your cheek with it and then forcing it back between your lips. He pulls your head back, pressing his cock back into your throat, his balls slapping your chin as he fucks your throat.

The sting in your eyes and the way your lungs burned made your head spin. You could feel your cunt dripping, wanting to feel him inside you.

He didn't let you keep it that steady.

Your head bobbed along his cock, spit coating his length and slicking up your cheeks, the sound of him fucking your mouth. It's what he wanted, making you choke and gag on his cock.

It let you know who was in control. Not you. You wouldn't have one ounce of control.

You were desperate to try and keep up with his rough pace, his hips snapping into your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. His hand tightened in your hair, keeping your head still while he fucked your mouth, groaning under his breath.

He pulled out, holding you firmly in place so you couldn't chase his cock.

"On your back. Now."

You do as he says, turning onto your back and spreading your legs.

Ghost pushes his jeans down further, grabbing your legs and tugging them around his waist. His hand presses against your lower stomach, pushing you down into the bed while his other hand grips the base of his cock.

You whimper, trying to keep your eyes on him and watch him as he strokes his cock, keeping you in place. You attempt to squirm, but he keeps you still, ordering you to stay quiet. He drags his cock through your soaked cunt, pre-cum slathering across your clit and dripping down into the mess of your cunt.

"Lieutenant, please," you whimper, hips trying to press up, and he pushes you back down.

"Please what?" Ghost asks, smirking down at you. He was so in control here, you were the one under him. You were the one who was going to get fucked tonight.

"Please, I need you inside me."

"Mmm, you're such a slut… bet you'd take any cock, wouldn't you sweetheart?" His cock smacks against your clit, making your hips jump a little.

"Just yours."

He smirked. "That's what I like to hear."

He pushed forward, slowly pushing the head of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat, back arching, trying to force more of him into you. He presses his palm into your lower stomach, pushing you back into the mattress. His cock gradually slides inside you, stretching you more, feeling the tightness of your cunt trying to handle a size it wasn't used to.

His hips press forward, feeding his cock into your cunt and stretching you out so nicely. You felt so good around him. Tight, warm, clenching at the size of his cock.

"That's it, such a good girl."

He starts a slow pace, driving his cock in and out of your cunt. Making you feel him, feel every inch of his cock. His hand moves from your stomach, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. It was too much, the sensations making you moan loudly.

"Shhh, quiet. You don't get to do that," Ghost orders.

You whimper, nodding your head and trying to lean your head back into the pillow. His cock plunges into you harder.

"Do I need to gag you again, sweetheart?"

He gripped your hair and pulled your head back harshly to look back at him. His hips snapped forward, thrusting his cock deep into your cunt.

"N-no. I won't." You say.

His grip loosens, but he continues to fuck you, hips snapping forward suddenly. Your thighs squeeze either side of his hips, heels digging into the skin of his ass as he lifts your hips with his cock.

"Mmm, I think it's more you don't want to." Ghost says.

You whimper, nodding your head. You wanted to be a good girl for him. You want to be quiet for him. But it was almost impossible as he fucked your brain out.

"You're so wet for me, so tight. I bet you cum just from thinking about me, don't you?"

You nod your head, moaning and biting your lip to try and stifle your noises.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you down into his cock and making you take it all.

Your pussy throbs around his cock, his thickness, utterly wrecking your cunt. His cock bullying your insides, finding your g-spot and making you come undone again, orgasming around his cock.

Ghost pulls his cock out, watching you squirm and moan loudly. "Three." He counts. He flips you back over, firmly pressing his hand into your hip.

He leans over you, shoving your face into the pillow and spanking your ass. "I thought I told you to be quiet."

He pushes his cock back inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he fucks you.

"One was for being a good girl."

You yelp as he slaps your ass again.

"Two was for being a slut."

You whimper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He keeps his hand pressed into your hips and keeps your ass upturned. His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep inside your cunt.

"And three will be for never listening to me. Because you're a bad girl. My bad girl."

His cock smacks against you when he pulls out, making you moan loudly. His hand moved from your hip, jerking your chin up and forcing you to look into his eyes.

"What are you?" He asks, cock slamming back into you.

"I'm a bad girl," you mewl out.

"That's right, baby," He says, leaning down and biting your neck. You cry out, moaning loudly. His hand grabbed your hair, tugging your head back and holding your neck.

"Mine." Ghost growls into your ear.

He slams his cock deep inside you, making you moan loudly. Your pussy clenched around him, gripping his cock tightly. He grunted, his hips thrusting forward and slamming his cock into you.

You cry out in pleasure, yet want it to stop.

He smirks widely. "Look at you…" He chuckles, leaning into your ear. "Like this for me… just like this… like a slut."

You moan loudly, your cunt throbbing around his cock. Your hands grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep yourself steady as he fucks you.

"Such a good girl…" He groans, his voice husky and breathless. "Such a good slut."

You shiver, nodding your head.

Ghost pushes your body down into the bed, lifting your ass further and continuing to fuck you. His fingers grip your ass tightly, his nails digging into your skin. "Do you like this? Getting fucked by your lieutenant?" He asks, his hand moving to your lower back, pushing you down further. "Fuck, who am I kidding… I know you do."

You whimper pitifully. You were so close again.

Ghost slaps your ass again, smirking. "I like it when you're a slut for me. What about you, baby?"

You whimper, nodding your head. "I like being your slut."

"I think you do, sweetheart…" He says.

You nod your head, moaning and whimpering in excitement. Ghost smirks, giving your ass a hard slap. "Beg for it…"

You whimpered. "Please- please fuck-" You say, moaning out.

"Keep begging…" He says, pulling out. He pulls your hips up, making you kneel up on the bed. He pushes your chest down, causing your ass to stick up in the air, exposed and ready for his cock. He spanks your ass, making you yelp.

"I bet you'd like to be fucked by me all day, wouldn't you? Be my little cock-sleeve." He says, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

He slaps your ass again, spanking you.

You whimper, trying to plead with him.

He grips your hips, slamming into you hard. His cock drives inside you, wrecking your cunt and filling you. His fingers dig into your hips and ass, holding you still as he fucks you.

He pulls you up, pushing his cock deep inside you and making you cry. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back into him.

"Oh god," you moan, your head leaning back into his shoulder.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby…" Ghost groans.

"Please," you cry out. "N-no more…" The overstimulation to your pussy was too much.

His hips snap hard against you, his cock thrusting into you hard.

He pulls you back up, making you sit up on his lap. He leans you back against his chest, his hand moving to your hip. He registers your cry of pleasure as his cock thrusts into you again and again, his hips snapping forward.

He reaches around you, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. You moan loudly, leaning back against him.

Ghost leans down and nibbles at your neck.

You feel his cock swell inside you, pulsing and throbbing inside you. He could feel his undoing soon. He bites down on your shoulder, making you cry out in pleasure. He thrusts his cock into you, hitting deep inside you and making your toes curl.

He grabs your hips, pulling them down and burying his cock deep inside you. He feels his cock throb and swell, filling your cunt with his seed.

He grunts loudly, holding you down against his cock as he rides out his orgasm. You moan, gripping his shoulders and pushing back against him.

"Mmm… that's it sweetheart… take all of it… cum for me…" Ghost moans.

His cock throbs inside you, spurting his load into your cunt. You moan loudly, feeling your release. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. One last time before your body felt completely boneless, the dry orgasm pumping around the load of seed filling you deep, swelling in your cunt. Ghost pants, holding you up against him as he breathes heavily, your body limp in his arms. He kisses your shoulder softly, rubbing your belly.

"That was… mmm…" Ghost says, licking his lips and kissing your neck. "So good…"

You pant softly, leaning your head back and looking up at him. "I'm tired."

He chuckles lightly. "Go ahead and sleep… I'll clean you up."

"Okay." You smile a little. He helps you lie down on the bed, pulling his softening cock from your cunt. You feel the warm mess seep from you, coating your thighs and making you shiver.

#writing #cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #kinktober i guess??#kinktober

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just-jordie-things · 7 months

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if you look, you can tell - fushiguro megumi

word count: 6k warnings: swearing, i think that’s it summary: megumi finds himself eavesdropping a conversation between the rest of his classmates when he hears his name pop up. the way you jump to his defense and have only sweet things to say about him has him second guessing the way he feels about you. ___

“It just doesn’t really make sense to me. I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…. Cold?”

Megumi was never really one for eavesdropping. Not only because it was immature and would only cause drama, but because he’d never really felt a need to. He can’t recall a conversation he’d ever stumbled upon that he deemed interesting enough to listen in on. In fact, he’d rather find that everyone else was busy with conversation so he could slip out and do his own thing unnoticed. A habit he’d picked up in his younger years when he still shared a living space with the white haired special grade sorcerer.

But for some reason, right now was different.

Maybe it was because he was the topic of conversation. Maybe because Itadori, Kugisaki, and (y/n) were the ones around the corner. Or maybe it was because something tugged on his heart strings when he heard Nobara’s admission.

He was headed to the common room to retrieve the book he’d left in there this morning, and hadn’t even realized all three of his classmates had the evening off from training and assignments. He’d heard that they were talking as he’d approached, but didn’t halt in his steps until he realized they were talking about him.

“I think he can be nice,” Itadori defended weakly. “I mean… I just met him, I guess,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing he didn’t actually have much evidence to back up his statement. But he was too nice of a guy to straight up gossip about his new classmate. “Maybe he’s just quiet?”

(y/n) nodded thoughtfully, knowing this to be true. She figured she knew him better than the two newbies, and that was why they’d come to her with their curiosities about the stoic shikigami user. Having been born and raised in Tokyo, she’d been introduced to Megumi long before they enrolled at Jujutsu Tech. Although their friendship hadn’t truly sparked until their enrollment, she’d known him enough to understand him, his mannerisms, his fighting style, his strict routine- all of these things that she’d never really thought twice about before, she now realized sort of made her the on site Megumi- Expert. She even chuckled a little bit at the thought.

Because back then, back when she first met the grumpy boy that was thrust before her by one Gojo Satoru, with an eager grin and the promise of “Look Megs, a friend your age!” She would have never thought she’d be in this position now.

“Megumi has always been reserved” She agrees to Itadori’s comment, but her voice is distant, clouded with something else as her mind grows too occupied.

It took some time after their first meeting for Megumi to grow on her. Understandably, because he wasn’t exactly looking to grow on her. He wasn’t looking for friends his age- he wasn’t looking for friends at all, really. Whatever disease that had riddled his guardian’s mind in order to have him setting up playdates with this girl must have been fatal. Or at least he’d hoped.

Time and time again she was dropped off at the Gojo-Fushiguro residence, or at the park where they were expected to play. Time and time again Megumi barely spoke, barely looked at her, and hoped his blatant disinterest would be enough to deter Gojo from setting up anymore of the stupid playdates.

And honestly, (y/n) never really knew when that changed, or understood why it changed. Her lip was caught between her teeth now as she thought it over, trying to trace back her steps to find the point in time where their acquaintanceship blossomed into true friendship, which she could confidently call their relationship now.

“Yeah, does he ever let anyone in?” Nobara scoffed, but she didn’t mean for it to come across as harsh as it sounded. She had just felt awkward whenever she was around the raven haired boy, not knowing how to fill the silence as easily as Itadori. “It just doesn’t make sense to me,”

From where he stood around the corner, Megumi slumped against the wall. This is when he should have walked away, and forgotten he’d ever heard anything. He shouldn’t have cared what they were saying about him, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that the new students didn’t feel buddy-buddy with him. But there was some invisible force keeping him firmly in place, and intrigue won over logic in his mind as he waited to hear the rest of the conversation.

“I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…” Nobara trailed off, and Megumi felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He shouldn’t care. This shouldn’t matter. But then Nobara finally found the word she was looking for, and Megumi had never felt an ache in his chest quite like this before.

“Cold?”

Cold? His mind clung onto the word, picking it apart viciously. Is that really what everyone thought of him? Is that really the image of himself everyone perceived? Again, he supposed he wasn’t the most expressive person, it wasn’t like he expected them to be singing his praises, but he certainly hadn’t expected that.

Before he could convince himself that he was being silly, he found himself frowning. Never before had he cared what anyone thought. As someone who actively kept people at arm's length, Megumi couldn’t think of a time he ever thought twice about someone else’s opinion of him.

And just as he’s ready to scoff and walk away, forgetting his book once more and deciding to never think about this moment of weakness again.

But then (y/n’s) speaking up.

“Cold?” She repeats the word, and Megumi stops in his tracks again at the tone of voice she takes. His brows furrow and he’s leaning against the wall again, trying to decipher what the emotion that riddled her tone was. Anger? He wondered, puzzled. Humor?

Raising from his stomach like it had been brought back to life, his heart stutters in his chest.

“Megumi’s anything but cold,” (y/n) argues, in that same tone of voice that he’d never heard before. She follows it with a chuckle that sounds anything but humored. “He’s the warmest person I know”

Really? Megumi almost laughs to himself before remembering he was trying to stay hidden.

“Really?” Nobara gapes back at her, and (y/n) nods furiously.

“Absolutely,” She declares, firm in her stance. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever known, you just have to know him, I suppose,”

Honestly, hearing her argument, Megumi’s not all that sure what she’s talking about. But he continues to hover in the hallway, now dying to know more.

“Megumi’s not like everyone else,” (y/n) says, her voice softening as she tries to explain her old friend’s habits to her new friends. “He’s quiet, yeah, he’s always been that way. But he’s not cold. He’s quite the opposite. He… he has a really big heart…” She trails off, chuckling to herself a bit.

I don’t know about that, Megumi thought bitterly, only for his face to heat up at such a sweet accusation.

“He probably wouldn’t say the same,” (y/n) speaks his thoughts exactly. “But it’s true. Megumi shows he cares through actions, not words”

“Ohh..” Nobara and Yuuji spoke in unison.

(y/n) giggled a bit at the both of them.

“He’ll grow on you,” She tells them kindly. “It takes time, but… Megumi’s one of the greatest friends anyone could ask for. I’m certainly lucky to have him in my life”

If Megumi wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now. Even though no one was around to see, he found himself tucking his face into the collar of his jacket to hide the way his cheeks flushed with color at her openly affectionate words.

“Wow, (y/n), that’s really sweet,” Yuuji cooed. “You must be very close, how long have you known each other?”

“Well, a while,” (y/n) thought it over. “Gojo tried to set us up as best friends when we were younger. But I wouldn’t say it really worked till a year or so ago. But I mean what I said, I respect him a lot. He’s a really good person,”

Really? Megumi smiled to himself at such a blatant lie. She would think that.

“He always helps me when I need it, especially when it comes to training, or studying,” (y/n) goes on to explain.

Well, he supposed that was true. But he just wanted her to excel in their field, she had so much potential, it was only right to help her when she needed it.

“And he is kind of a secret gentleman,” She goes on, dropping her voice as though sharing a secret. “Even before we were close, he’d carry my things for me, or open the door, pull out my chair…” She trails off as she recalls all the instances.

Megumi nodded to himself, confirming that she was telling the truth. But that was just the right thing to do, Gojo had raised him right in that area, after all. You treat women with respect, but he also believed in treating people the way he wanted to be treated. Those two things seemed to overlap when it came to her. So again, he realized that (y/n) was right about him. He was starting to wonder if she knew him better than he gave her credit for. Or even better than he knew himself.

“There was one time when we were younger…” She smiles at the memory. “We stole a cookie out of Gojo’s stash, he broke it in half for us, and then gave me the bigger piece”

Nobara and Yuuji take note of the way her eyes glaze over with fondness as she remembers the day. They hadn’t even been friends yet, it was one of the instances where she was dropped off and left with him for hours in the hopes of the two of them becoming friends. In fact, that particular day, she’d spent most of the time flipping through magazines with Tsumiki. Thinking about it now, however, (y/n) wonders if that was the first bridge between them. The uneven halves of a chocolate chip cookie being a shared secret from the white haired man knocked out on the living room couch. She makes the mental note to ask Megumi if he remembers it that way.

“Aww!” Nobara clasps her hands together as she fawns over the simple memory. (y/n) can’t help but laugh a little at the way her classmates treat Megumi’s soft side. “He must’ve had a ‘widdle crush on you!” She teases in a cartoonish voice.

Megumi’s eyes widened upon hearing the declaration. Had he come across that way? His heartbeat picked up with anxiety, and he worried about what (y/n) would have to say next.

Because he certainly didn’t have a crush on her. All those nice things he did for her, he did because they were friends, they were all things friends would do, right? Helping her with training, carrying her bag when she complained about her back hurting, cooking her dinner when she said she hadn’t eaten all day, taking her to that movie she wanted to see even though he thought it was predictable and cheesy- Megumi was sure that was just being a good friend. Whether or not he wanted to do those things for her was out of the question.

Just as she’d said- he showed he cared through actions.

Nevermind what he thought. Nevermind if she was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Nevermind if she had the kindest heart he ever had the pleasure- or luck- of meeting. Nevermind if she proved time and time again that she was the most wonderful person through and through-

Megumi thought he was going to throw up just thinking about it. But he couldn’t help himself. He thinks about her most hours of the day, he realizes now. He waits for her to text him back, he wonders what she’s doing when he’s not around, tons of things reminded him of her. That flower she pointed out in the garden, anything that was her favorite color, when it rained, when the sun was shining, hell, even his own shikigami made her cross his mind.

Fuck.

He shakes his head as he tries to ground himself back to reality. None of that was really evidence of him having deeper feelings for her though, was it? He could care about her strongly as a friend, couldn’t he? How stereotypical was he for second guessing himself as soon as he cared about his friend who was a girl. A pretty girl. They were capable of being friends without romantic tension.

But then again, if she were to make a move, he wouldn’t exactly push her away, would he?

His face feels impossibly hotter at the question he raised to himself. What a tricky answer that was, indeed. The gears in his brain began to malfunction and break down over how simple the answer that came to him was.

“I don’t know about that…” (y/n’s) voice softens as she trails off.

Something unfamiliar bubbles up in Megumi’s stomach. It feels like he’s eaten too many sweets and washed it down with pure alcohol. It’s bubbly, and sickeningly sweet. It makes the tips of his fingers buzz and the corners of his lips tug into an uncontrollable smile. He’s not sure if he hates the feeling or wants to chase after it.

“Well, you should ask him out!” Yuuji cheers.

“Wh- what?” (y/n) stammers back.

“I bet he’d say yes,” The pink haired boy says with a bright smile of affirmation. “You’re definitely his favorite, and he stares at you a lot”

I do?

“He does?” (y/n) asks, sounding a little breathless.

Was she surprised? Horrified? Megumi couldn’t tell. He was dying to see the look on her face, so he could get a proper read on how she was processing all of this.

“Oh yeah. I see him staring at you all the time” Yuuji confirms.

“Me too” Nobara chimes in.

“Honestly, I thought you guys were dating when I first got here” Yuuji adds.

He did?

“You did?” (y/n) can’t help the small chuckle that comes out of her. “Why?”

“Dunno,” Yuuji shrugs. “He stands close to you. And most of the time when he talks it’s just to you. I just thought it was flirting”

No you idiot, I just don’t need anyone eavesdropping on- oh… Megumi drags his hand over his face, tugging on his skin as his eyes roll back. Fuck, he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

Of course he had a crush on her. How long had he not noticed? Or had it always been there?

(y/n’s) giggling pulls him out of his train of thoughts. Cute and bubbly, he can tell from their sound that she’s shaking her head in disbelief.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” She tries to deter her new friends from going down that path, but her voice has that same soft and sweet tone that Megumi hopes he’s not reading into when he thinks she’s hopeful that they could have it all right. “We’ve known each other for a while. I think if something were to happen it would’ve happened already”

It’s quiet for a beat, and Megumi’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest now he can feel it in his ears. It’s upsetting and distracting, as he’s dying to hear more of this conversation. He worries he might’ve picked up a real knack for spying, but he can’t think of anything more interesting than this.

“You say that like you want something to happen,” Nobara teases. “Are you the one with a crush?”

With every second that passes before (y/n’s) response, Megumi frets he’s going to pass out. He’s sure his body is going to hit the ground giving away his embarrassing eavesdropping.

“I…” (y/n) starts but trails off. Megumi wishes he could peek around the wall and watch the scene unfold. He’s sure that if he could see her, he could deduce her answer for himself.

If she was fidgeting, then he could confirm that she did, in fact, harbor a crush on him.

If she was standing still out of shock from the idea, then he’d know she thought the idea was preposterous, and there wasn’t a chance she felt anything more for him.

“I haven’t thought about it” She finishes quietly.

There’s some shuffling of feet and a distant hmmph from Nobara’s disbelief, or intrigue, maybe. Either way, the conversation must’ve been done. Yuuji was shouting goodbyes as he left the room to meet up with Maki for rigorous training. Nobara followed suit shortly after, claiming she had nothing better to do so watching Maki train was the perfect way to spend her afternoon.

(y/n) laughed and waved goodbye to her friends. Once they were out of sight she let out a shaky exhale.

Jesus, that was close, she thought as she finally made her way to the couch, ready to collapse and relax. Her heart had been racing in her chest for the last few minutes and she needed a break from Yuuji and Nobara’s prying eyes. She was sure they’d seen right through her, sure they’d been able to tell she was lying through her teeth.

Just as she was about to fall onto the cushions and let the couch take her into a much needed afternoon nap, she noticed a thick hardcover book had been left behind. There was a bookmark sticking out of it halfway between the covers, but all of the pages before it were littered with small sticky notes. She’d recognized it right away, if not for remembering this was the book Megumi had been reading all week, she’d deduce it was his from the heavy annotations. She’d never met anyone who took reading as seriously as he did.

With a small smile she picked it up, deciding she could nap a little later. He was likely wondering where he’d left the book after all, she was pretty sure he had the afternoon free. On a mission, she heads out of the common room, while flipping to the first page marked by a skinny pink tab.

She’s so lost in reading the little comments he’d left on a larger note inside of the page- rather than actually reading any of the actual text- that she didn’t notice Megumi in the hall until she practically ran into him.

“Oh- sorry!” She yelped quietly upon seeing the tall figure in her peripheral. When she looks up to see it’s Megumi, her shock melts into a small smile. “Oh, Megumi! I was just coming to look for you,” She beams brighter, closing his book and extending it to him. “This is yours, right?”

Not knowing what to say, he gives her a shaky nod before taking the book from her hands. He settles for a small thank you.

“No problem,” She replies. “It was in my nap spot” She adds sheepishly.

Megumi chuckles, and he’s unable to keep himself from grinning. (y/n) tilts her head at his bright smile, intrigued by the pure joy seeping out of him. Her fingers latch together as a group of butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter in her stomach.

“Hey, I was wondering…” She starts, her brows pinching with uncertainty, but Megumi gives her his undivided attention.

“Yeah? What is it?” He asks, tucking the book under his arm.

He watches the way her fingers begin to fiddle. He’s distracted by the nervous habit of hers, and his heart swells in his chest. She was fidgeting.

“Uh, ah- it’s silly-” She starts to change her mind, but he shakes his head at her, too eager to hear what was on her mind to let her back out of it now.

“I’m sure it’s not,” He says boldly. She must catch the way he looks at her in complete seriousness, because her eyes widen in the smallest amount. “What is it?” He asks again.

Her cheeks feel warm, and Megumi watches in real time as a rosy tint flushes her face. He can’t believe it took him so long to realize just how deeply he cared about her, because seeing her fidget and blush before him now, he thinks it could be his favorite sight of all time.

“D’you remember when we were little, and Gojo always made us have those playdates?” She asks with a small laugh that dies quickly as she’s overcome with bashfulness.

“Yeah, how could I forget that?” He chuckles back at her, his lips lifting into a fond smile, even though in most of his memories of that time, he was an irritated, angry little thing. “What about it?”

(y/n) opens her mouth to explain, but quickly shuts it and shakes her head. A soft smile adorns her lips as her eyes fall to her hands, still fidgeting nervously.

“I dunno, I guess I…” She’s never struggled for words more than this moment, and she curses herself for acting like a shy little girl when she’s known Megumi for years, and she’s never quite felt like this. “Do you remember when we became friends?” She rushes the question out, afraid that she’d say forget it and walk away with regret rather than feel a little embarrassment now and actually get an answer.

Megumi nods.

“I do” He responds right away.

“Like, actual friends,” (y/n) clarifies, sure that he spoke too soon. “Not just kids dropped off at a playground for three hours and being expected to play together, I mean, like, real friends”

Megumi nods again.

“I do,” He repeats, this time with a small chuckle. “You don’t?”

(y/n) chews on her lip as she shakes her head. Her brow furrows in the slightest, curious as to how he has the better memory of the two of them. Amused, he smirks at her.

“Well?” She asks impatiently. “What changed?”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” He teases softly, making her roll her eyes. “You’re hurtin’ my feelings, (y/n/n)”

“I didn’t know you had feelings, ‘gumi,” She retorts playfully. “But c’mon, tell me” She pleads sweetly, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

His eyes flicker between hers for a moment, swept away with the way she looked at him. It dawns on him that if she asked him any favor this way, he’d comply without hesitation. Her complete attention was on him, and he swore there was something in her eyes he’d never seen before. Or perhaps he’d just never noticed it. It was soft, but there was a depth there that he was aching to explore further.

“It was right before we came here,” He finally indulged her, his voice quiet like he was revealing a well kept secret, rather than a memory they actually both shared, even if she’d forgotten it. “The weekend before, actually. When we were moving into the dorms, you remember that?”

(y/n) nods at the general memory. She thinks she recalls making fun of him for listening to Weezer while unpacking in the room right across from hers.

“Gojo let us stay one night early. Probably so he could have his place to himself,” The thought dawns on Megumi a little late, but he chuckles realizing it now. “But at the time it was cool… cause we’d never been on our own before”

“Right,” (y/n) smiles as she thinks about it now. That first night on her own in her own space had felt so special, so exciting. It was almost humorous how normal it felt now. How her space felt completely her own. “I almost forget how it was just you ‘n me for a bit here”

“But you don’t remember the first night?” He asks. A smile line creases between (y/n’s) brows as she racks her mind for the rest of the memory.

Making ramen noodles in the kitchen far too late in the night because she couldn’t sleep. Pacing around the corridors and snooping where she shouldn’t have.

“You woke me up,” Megumi chuckles.

Realization dawns on her in the form of an embarrassed smile.

“Oh,” She muses softly. “Right… I couldn’t sleep and… I was bored”

“You begged me to get up with you, it was torture,” Megumi reminded her. “And then you made me watch a movie with you, that dumb 80s movie you like that was way too long- and you didn’t even stay awake through it”

“Okay okay-” (y/n) tries to dismiss him with a wave of her hand, but Megumi continues.

“But you talked through most of it anyways,” He speaks over her before she could get him to shut up. “You said you were scared”

Her eyes widen, and the story he’s telling sounds vaguely familiar, but truthfully she’d been so exhausted that night she couldn’t really remember the specific details all that well. But she did remember waking him up in the middle of the night, so she’s surprised he’s able to recall this random moment from a year ago so easily. Maybe his memory was just better than hers.

“I… I did?” She mumbles.

Megumi nods back, with his focused eyes set on hers.

“You said you were scared of failing,” His voice grows quiet again. “You said you… you were scared of not getting stronger,”

Despite this event having happened so long ago, (y/n) feels embarrassed now, and she can’t believe that Megumi’s clung to this memory in particular. She almost wished she hadn’t asked, because she could’ve lived in peace never having known she’d revealed such a massive insecurity to him.

“And then you told me that you thought I was strong,” Megumi continues, a smile curling on his lips. “And you asked if I’d help you get strong like me, too,”

She’s sure she must be seeing things when she notices color flush his cheeks. Because there was no way Fushiguro Megumi was blushing in front of her right now.

“Then you passed out on me and I was stuck watching the rest of the dumb movie so you wouldn’t wake up”

“You watched the rest of the movie?” She asks softly. He chuckles at her, and nods his head. “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that”

“You were pretty tired,” He shrugs back in understanding. “And it was a while ago, I wouldn’t have expected you to remember all of that”

“I see…” (y/n) mumbles to herself. She drags her lip between her teeth as she stays quiet for a few moments.

“And by the way,” He steps forward, catching her attention again as her eyes snap up to meet his, suddenly aware of the small space left between them. “I do kinda stare at you a lot”

Her face lights up with so much heat she thinks she’s going to combust.

“You- you heard that?” She squeaks out.

“And then some,” Megumi nods back. For some reason, he doesn’t feel weird about shamelessly admitting that he’d been listening in on her conversation. “Did you mean all of that?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as her previous conversation comes back to her in waves. The longer she thinks about it, the hotter the back of her neck grows. He’d listened to all of that? He heard her ramble on about him? And had he heard that last part-?

“I mean, y-yeah, yeah,” She stammers over her answer, accompanied with an awkward nod of her head. “Of course I did” She says surely, but her voice is a mere whisper.

“Even that last part?” He asks, shuffling forward again. Her eyes track the movement, bewildered by his sudden closeness, but she doesn’t dare put space between them.

“Last part?” She repeats, dumbly.

“Yeah,” Megumi nods, and he can’t help but reach out and trace his thumb under her jaw, ghosting over her skin with a touch so light she almost leans into it to feel it properly. “You know, the part where you said you hadn’t thought about it, about me,” He reminded her, even though she remembers fully well what he was referencing. “You meant that too?”

She swallows thickly. The intensity of his eyes on hers was too much to bear, she could almost crumple to a heap on the ground, but her body is rigid, firmly planted before him by the pad of his thumb under her chin.

“No,” The word comes out in a whisper so soft Megumi wouldn’t have caught it had he not watched it fall from her lips. “No, I didn’t mean that”

A smile twitched on his lips, and he could see her hands fidgeting again. Just as he thought, he beamed as he met her eyes again, she felt it, too.

“What did you mean to say, then?” He asks the question that’s been lingering on his mind like poison being held in the back of his throat.

Her eyes wander to his lips as she realizes he’s been moving in impossibly closer. She’s hoping, no, she’s sure he’s going to kiss her, but he wants his answer first. Rightfully so, she supposes he’s been waiting to hear it, and if she was honest she was dying to get it off her chest. But the prospect of so blatantly telling someone how you feel has her shifting her weight nervously.

“I meant…” She mumbles, snapping her eyes up to his when she thinks she’s stared at his lips for too long. “I meant I have thought about… something more…” Her voice raises and drops in volume as she makes her confession weakly. It’s certainly not a bold, romantic movie moment, like she always thought she’d have some day. It’s timid, quiet, and a bit awkward on her end. She clears her throat. “But they didn’t need to know that” She says, a small giggle escaping her.

“No, ‘spose not” Megumi’s lips curled into a smile that had her nerves settling, comfortable again in his presence. Although she’s sure she could never be truly uncomfortable with him.

“So… spying on your friends these days, hm?” (y/n) asks, tilting her head at him curiously. She means for her tone to be playful, but it comes out in a whispery soft. “That’s a bit out of character for you, Megumi”

Despite his warm face and stuttering heartbeat- he might need to go to Shoko, the irregular pace was becoming a concern- Megumi chuckles at her, and his smile doesn’t falter.

“When else was I gonna get to hear you say all that nice stuff about me?” He hums, effectively burning up her cheeks as well. His thumb traces gently over her chin, his eyes following the movement fondly before meeting hers again.

Megumi had never really been a touchy person. (y/n) could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s ever touched her, and the first three instances that pop up in her mind revolve around him rescuing her ass when she was being reckless on an assignment.

“I liked the part where you said I was a gentleman,” He beamed a little brighter, and (y/n) had to grind her teeth into the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. “But for the record,” He moves closer, and her eyes grow so round as she stares at him that they almost burn from her lack of blinking. “I’m lucky to have you, too,”

Her jaw loosens and her teeth no longer have a grip on her cheek, allowing for a sweet smile to stretch across her lips as she takes in the fond words.

Just as she thought. He was the warmest person she knew.

“And,” He continued, his eyes moving between hers as he took in how pretty she looked when she was in a state of surprise, “You are my favorite”

She laughs again, breathless and quiet before she rolls her eyes with nothing but fondness.

“I know,” She murmurs, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance. The smile on her lips was too sweet for him to think she was giving him anything other than her entire heart on a platter. “Must be a side effect of your staring problem”

He tilts his head down, simultaneously lifting her jaw with a tender pull of his thumb, but just as his nose brushes over hers, he seems to remember his manners, and he can’t have her go thinking he’d dropped the gentlemanly side of him she seemed to appreciate so much.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his lashes rising and falling as his eyes travel between her gaze and her lips. “Kiss you?” He clarifies.

And she almost laughs. She wants to giggle and grab him by the shirt and smash her lips against his in a feverish, passionate kiss. But her breath is caught in her throat, she can’t quite find her voice, and her fingers seem to have magnets clinging them together because she’s frozen before him.

So all she can do is shut her eyes and give the faintest nod of her head, barely pursing her lips before his are pressing against them.

Every muscle in her body relaxes as she’s flooded with warmth. Her posture loosens up and even her hands pry apart as she finally finds the strength to lift them, setting them gently on his shoulders.

His lips are surprisingly soft, even when she presses closer and kisses him deeper, they feel nothing but tender. She feels light headed from how sweetly he kisses her, his free hand, the one that isn’t holding his book, splays across her cheek. The tip of his index finger barely ghosts along her earlobe, before tracing down her jaw, and back up again.

She was damn near about to raise her foot like the girls in the movies do when they’re swooning over their true love’s kiss. That shit was no joke.

When they part, she’s smiling at him again, and he’s mirroring her expression. It takes her a minute to will herself to open her eyes, and her hesitation makes Megumi chuckle.

“Next time, I’ll let ‘em know you’re a good kisser, too” She mumbles, in a bit of a daze, as he could tell.

“Oh will you?” He teases quietly.

She nods, leaning her cheek into the comfort of his palm. Her cheeks flush before she crinkles her nose, second guessing her previous statement.

“Well, maybe not right away” She mumbles, and he chuckles at her.

The apples of his cheeks are bright, his smile is toothy, and his eyes sparkle with every lovely feeling humanly possibly, all held for her.

“Maybe not right away” He agrees in a soft voice, before tilting forward again, his thumb swiping gingerly across her cheekbone.

She swears she could melt into the way his low voice comes out in a whispered husk against her lips. Her eyes are already fluttering shut again. His lips brush over hers sweetly, gently, as though for the first time. She returns the tenderness, her fingers reaching up and ghosting along his sharp jaw, twitching with anticipation to touch more. The desire to grab him by the face and crash their lips together is still a thought in the back of her mind, but she sets it aside for now. She thinks he’ll make the time for her to do so later.

And suddenly Megumi believes her. He believes all the kind things she’d said when coming to defense. He believes he is warm, and he is caring. But he only believes it because she made him so. He thinks he’ll have to tell her, at some point, but it could wait for another time. They were bound to have time ahead of him where he could spend hours on end returning the favor, and sing her praises until his face is blue and hers is pink. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #megumi brainrot #fushiguro megumi friends to lovers #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #megumi fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi x you #megumi x you

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joelsgreys · 1 month

Text

baby, i’m yours

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed.

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ.

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really.

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis.

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel fic

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 3 months

Text

You Left & I Didn't Wait. - LN

Summary: Lando planned his winter break as one long boys' trip. Y/n and Lando weren't official or serious. So she didn't feel she had any right to comment. But when Lando feels jealousy hit him like a punch to the gut, maybe he has some grovelling to do.

Warnings: Some slut-shaming from and to both Lando and y/n. Reckless drinking leading to alcohol poisoning (drink responsibility kids, but also don't drink until your countries legal age bc I don't condone law breaking)

Admittedly it really sort of stung when Lando was telling y/n about his plans for his winter break and he seemed to have planned to not see her at all. But she had to remind herself of the reality.

What her and Lando had was better duped as a "situationship" as much as she despises that entire concept.

God does dating in this age suck. Fuck everyone who moved dating online.

Y/n thankfully had her girls who all supported her through being strong and single through the holidays (aka the worst time to be single because family won't ever shut up about it) and then after New Year, y/n decided to get out on the prowl.

Sure she really let the most eligible young F1 driver slip from her grasp. But it's a new year.

"God you look so gorgeous." Y/f/n states then looking over y/n's shoulder. "And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Get on this counter. We're about to let a man do a body shot off of you."

Now if y/n hadn't consumed the equivalent of near a whole bottle of vodka and could actually see straight, then she might just have said no. But that wasn't the case, there's probably more vodka in her than blood and the room has been a blur in front of her since they flirted their way into the club since the bouncer was telling them to go home.

"Hey! Hey! Can you help my friend up? We're doing body shots." Y/f/n shouts to the guy that has been watching y/n from across the bar.

Y/n wouldn't be surprised if he actually was watching because he has a bet of which one of the women will either pass out or get themselves kicked out first. Body shots could well and true be the final pull of the trigger for either of those outcomes.

Y/n isn't really sure what sequence of events follow other than y/f/n taking a video of a man licking up from dangerous low on her tummy then slurping the tequila from her belly button. Whether it's the sensation of liquid being sucked from her very liquid heavy tummy or the sudden realisation she has no attraction to this man, but her stomach revolts in protest.

Another blur and she's having her hair held back as she kneels in front of the dingy club toilets. Even the high end expensive club toilets aren't fun to have your face close to. But that's where she is with not y/f/n holding her hair back but some random woman, presumably she'd been in the toilets and noticed y/n needed aid.

Y/n is sick till she notices red and forces herself to stop. No doubt just blood from the sheer amount of alcohol, acid and straining.

"Thank you." Y/n pants before she's yanked up, grateful to get up off the floor.

She loses herself wandering around the club till y/f/n appears out of nowhere. Y/n ends up being pulled along with a couple other men, neither of which licked y/n's belly button tonight so she's counting them as a win and actually with some alcohol gone from her system. She does find that one of them is particularly attractive.

Maybe the rebound sex would be great and she's sobered quite a bit.

Thudding brings y/n from the realm of dead back to the living and initially y/n lies sprawled out on her floor like a star. Is it even her floor? She's not sure till she finally pries her eyes open and snaps them closed again before making a second attempt.

"Fuck me." Y/n groans rubbing her eyes harshly.

"I did. A few times. I think." A very vaguely familiar voice states making her push up onto her elbows and find there's a man lying on her floor.

At least she knows it's her place.

"You said you wouldn't have sex on fresh sheets so we slept on the floor." the guy states but her face reads easily and he smiles with a small chuckle. "I'm Tom and you're, y/n. Just in case you forgot your own name too."

"Amazing-what the fuck is that noise? What is thudding? Can you hear that?"

"Pretty sure it's a guy at your door. Your phone has been going off for a while now."

Y/n grunts getting up and throwing some clothes at the guy, making it obvious she's throwing him out and he's not invited to stay for breakfast.

"Get dressed." She instructs just to make herself clear.

Her body aches. She somewhat remembers falling down a flight of stairs. Probably the stupid fire escape, y/n always insists on being able to climb the stairs while drunk.

After a minute of stumbling through her apartment, walking into furniture, walls and almost smacking herself in the face when she lets the door swing open.

"Can I help y-Lando?" Y/n chokes out seeing the driver not hiding his emotions as he pushes into her apartment. "Hey, you can't just let yourself in. I have company."

"Yeah, I can tell." Lando scoffs gesturing to her wearing a lace bralet and shorts which she'd managed to find and pull on during her journey from her bedroom floor to the front door. "We need to talk."

"Now's not really a good-fucking hell." Y/n gasps when a hand hits her ass cheek through the thin white shorts. Before she can get another word out, a finger has hooked her chin and turned her face and she's caught in a sloppy kiss before he pulls back.

"Sorry, had to get one last taste." Gross. She's almost certain what ever she tastes of must at least have some sort of hint of vomit.

"Yeah, um bye Tom. Get home safe."

One last wink is shot her way and he seems to not acknowledge Lando at all which while is probably a wise decision, she can't help but think is pretty rude too.

The door closes and she looks to Lando who has a simmering rage behind his eyes.

"So...we're dating other people?" Lando questions and if y/n had the energy such a question would've landed him with the nearest object to her being thrown at his head.

"I'm not dating him. He was a one night stand." Y/n dismisses while moving away from Lando in search of water, painkillers and maybe some left over pizza that she somewhat recalls purchasing last night. So long as she didn't eat it all. "He was the collateral damage of a girls night out gone rogue."

"So you're going around hooking up with every guy and more that sets his sights on you." Lando scoffs as she pops two painkillers and tosses them back with a mouthful of water. But not even her hospital worthy hangover can continue to snuff out the flames of her anger at such a comment.

"You think I haven't heard the rumours of every fucking bitch you've spent the night with in your lads' trip? Not only multiple women, some two at a time. If it didn't currently make me sick to my stomach I'd applaud you for the pull." Y/n laughs dryly, no humour in her tone as she glares at him.

"I-Those rumours are bullshit." Lando declares earning an eye roll. "I kissed a girl and that's it and it was a mistake."

"Honestly, Lando. It doesn't matter what you did. We-" Y/n gesture between themselves. "-are just friends."

"What?" Lando snaps practically seething at the mere suggestion. "-What the fuck makes you think that?"

Would throwing a plate at his head gain an assault charge if she said he entered the property without permission?

They're both in a rage at each other, but y/n has a massive disadvantage but truly she is so unwell physically.

"You left! You left, Lando. And you didn't call, you didn't text. I was a side piece that you tossed away when you had better things to do with people you preferred the company of. Did you think I was going to wait for you to come back and welcome you with open arms after nearly two months of being ignored and forgotten about? Why don't I just have MUG tattooed on my forehead so you and every other person in the world knows exactly how I apparently want to be treated?"

Y/n can feel her stomach disagreeing with the addition of painkillers and water.

"Can you just leave? I'm-I'm not well and you're making it worse."

Y/n wretches before an alarming bright red liquid spills from her mouth as she uses the counter as support.

"Jesus, y/n." Lando gasps before watching her slide down against the cupboard, narrowly avoiding the puddle of red. "What the fuck did you drink? How much?"

"I don't know. The better part of a bottle before we got to the club...there was a lot of guys buying drinks-"

"Just wait there."

Honestly, her consciousness is dipping. She's exhausted, her body feels like a thousand tones are keeping her pinned to the floor and by the time Lando returns from wherever he'd gone. He gets to just short of stopping her head slide quickly down against the cupboard door and land on the ground with a sickening crack.

Lando puffs out a breath as the nurse leaves him with a newly conscious y/n. She has been out for 3 hours after hitting her head. As if her brain needed anymore damage since the amount of alcohol in her system even after being sick had given her alcohol poisoning.

"Fucking hell. I'm never letting y/f/n convince me I need a rebound night again." Y/n grimaces while rubbing at the large bump on her head.

"The doctor said you'll be alright. They just want to keep you for a bit for observation." Lando sighs making her nod. "For the record, I'm sorry...everything you said, you were right to be upset and angry."

Lando hates that she's right, because he knows that none of this would've happened if he hadn't been so damn inconsiderate.

"I want to say you should've said something, but I know I didn't really give you much of a chance." Lando murmurs then standing up and moving to kiss her but she turns her head frowning as he cheeks instead landing on her cheek. "I'll be back in a bit."

Y/n knows a lot of people would kill to have Lando Norris grovelling and apologising for his actions. But in reality, a sorry doesn't change the amount of hurt she's felt over the past 2 months and right now her head is the last thing she's thinking about.

She doesn't really know what "I'll be back in a bit" translates to, but she decides to just wallow and fall into a sleep. Even with painkillers, the dull ache of any movement and the throbbing of her head can't go so easily ignored.

"Y/n...wake up."

"Jesus, don't you know how to leave bad enough alone?" Y/n nearly whines as she forces her eyes open then spotting what Lando did, and there's a couple nurses at the doorway. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

A banner saying "I'm the stupidest man alive, but will you be my girlfriend?" with Lando standing with a nervous looking smile and more balloons than y/n has ever seen in her life fill the room.

"I fucked up. I'm sorry, please let me make it up to you."

Y/n looks at him in awe of his actual courage to leave, then come back and pull this off.

"Alright, you're a muppet but I wasn't broken up about losing you for nothing. Not going to slip on that again." Y/n states making him grin and move towards her finally getting a kiss which doesn't last nearly as long as he wanted it to. "You didn't happen to get to to agree to let me go home, did you?"

"You can go home, but you do have to be kept an eye on." The nurse confirms from the doorway.

"So, I'm on full-time boyfriend duty from the get go." Lando grins while she grimace since Lando is a great guy, but trusting him to play nurse is not something y/n is eager to throw herself into.

"Great." She hums looking at the nurses while smile, clearly just happy to have been a part in getting the two together.

After taking a while to clear up the balloons and banner, which y/n does insist on taking home. When they get to her apartment, she grimaces seeing the towel thrown over the that concerns congealed puddle that Lando presumbly made a weak attempt at somewhat cleaning up.

"I got it." Y/n states since it's her who drank herself to such a disastrous state.

"Y/n, you're concuss. Go lie down." Lando instructs making her look at him for a moment before she sighs as she watches him clean up in the most unorthodox way but she doesn't comment since he's trying and she'll give him credit for that. "Done, now...I'm going to run you a bath and we can get you properly cleaned up."

Admittedly, Lando has been going above and beyond. Her body is completely healed, and Lando's hands on approach has yet to really ease up. But with the impending F1 season. He does have to actually get to work and leave her.

"You have to go. Go on." Y/n laughs before she hugs him tightly, not actually giving any sign that she's going to loosen her hold. But equally, Lando really isn't fighting her on it, holding her just as tightly.

"Wish I could just shove you in my pocket and bring you with me."

"Now that would be impressive. Ok, I'll let you go. I got my own shit to sort out. Text me that you get there safe."

"I will." Lando murmurs before leaning forward and kissing her several times. "Let me know what you're doing and if you're going out, just I'll pick you up if I'm heading back before you are."

Lando realised how much y/n meant to him when he had to drive her to the hospital for help, he realised that he loved her in the week following that where he spent every second of the day fussing over her. Y/n is honestly his dream girlfriend and while she's been recovering from head trauma and alcohol poisoning, she's made the effort to let Lando know this isn't going to be a one-sided relationship.

Now they just have to see how going into the season goes. But safe to say Lando intends to have her around a lot.

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sunniques · 17 days

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— 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: as a spoiled brat, you’ve always been one to get what you want—even things that don’t belong to you.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infedilty, age gap, dub con, possessiveness, somnophilia, daddy kink, breeding kink, begging, pussy job, riding, squirting, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation

➺ WC: 3k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

The room is completely dark when you enter it. You can barely make out the familiar layout in the darkness, but that doesn’t stop you. With sly expertise, you navigate your way through the darkness until you find the large window at the opposite end of the room. You glance over at the bed for a moment before carefully opening the curtains and letting the moonlight into the room.

The moon is shining so brightly that it illuminates most of the room. Perfect. You look over your shoulder with a satisfied smirk. Your stepdad’s sleeping form looks ethereal in the moonlight. He’s shirtless, leaving his muscular form laid out for your greedy eyes to take in. The sheets are covering most of his lower half, but you can see his legs peeking through just a bit. You turn fully, licking your lips as you hope he’s decided to sleep naked. It wasn’t necessary, but it would help.

Like a preying feline, you inch toward the bed quietly until you’re standing at the edge. Seungcheol remains peacefully asleep, unaware that he’s been caught in your web of depraved desires. You bite your lip as excitement courses through your veins. Slowly and quietly, you slip out of your sleep shorts and your loose top. Only left in your tiny thong, you crawl on the large bed and carefully inch toward your sleeping stepfather.

You take a quick glance at his sleeping face before tossing the sheets off his body. To your luck, Seungcheol is completely naked. It’s hard to contain your excitement and lust when you see his dick. Your eyes glaze over and your mouth waters at the sight. His cock is thick and long, curving upward into his abdomen. It’s so big and pretty that you can’t hold back anymore. You crawl closer him and descend on his cock like a starved woman.

You lick a long stripe from the base of his cock all the way up to the bulbous tip. His musky taste has your pussy clenching around nothing. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you repeat the motions over and over until his cock starts to twitch and harden. Soon enough, his tip starts to leak with precum that you greedily lap up. You relish in the soft noises Seungcheol lets out as you circle your tongue around the leaking slit.

With a sly grin you pull back. Carefully, you slide off your underwear and toss it aside. You have a predatory smile on your face as you swing one leg over your stepdad’s strong body. A quiet moan tears from your throat when you sit down on his pulsing cock. You’re so wet that all your arousal drips onto his hardening cock. Biting your lip, you start to slide your slick cunt up and down his length. The delicious friction makes it impossible for you to contain your quiet moans.

Seungcheol’s hot cock feels too good against your pussy. Every ridge and vein dragging against your clit and slick lips is making you feel drunk with arousal. You watch with satisfaction as your stepdad’s thick eyebrows furrow. Low grunts tumble past his soft looking lips, and he looks so hot that you can’t believe you’ve waited so long to do this. If only your mom had gotten a promotion sooner. Now with her going on business trips more often, you would be able to have fun with her husband to your heart and pussy’s content.

You can feel just how much Seungcheol likes your lewd actions, and eventually you can’t handle any more foreplay. Lifting your hips up, you reach down and grab his cock. He’s so big that you can’t fully wrap your hand around him, and it just makes you all the more eager to have him inside you.

Somehow Seungcheol doesn’t wake up even when you tease his leaking tip against your creamy folds. You hiss quietly when the bulbous head goes past your folds. It’s painful at first, but you love every second of it. When you slide down on rest of his cock, you think you might cum from the stretch alone. You throw your head back, eyes rolling into your skull as you gasp out in pleasure.

No one has ever been so deep inside you. His cock is kissing your cervix, and it has your pussy clenching down on him so tightly that you think it might be a little hard to move. “Fuck.”

You lift your hips, and slowly ease yourself down again. Lustful whimpers and moans escape you as you slowly repeat your motions, feeling almost dizzy at the way his big cock is stretching you out. His dick feels so fucking good; hot and throbbing and aching to burst inside you.

“So fucking big.” You hiss, planting your hands on his torso. Tracing the ridge of his hard abs as you fuck yourself on his cock feels like absolute heaven, but you’re done indulging in your fantasy alone.

Throwing whatever scrap of inhibition you have left, you raise your lower body before roughly slamming your ass back down. The harsh movement makes you cry out in pleasure. You start to move eagerly, not holding back any of your movements. His cock hits deep inside you, stretching out your tight little hole with every bounce.

You can’t take your eyes off of Seungcheol’s face. Low groans slip out of his lips, and you can see his eyes twitching beneath his eyelids. You lick your lips and grin. He’s slowly starting to stir which makes you speed up your eager movements.

Seungcheol is slowly pulled out of his sleep by the feeling of immense pleasure. He feels the weight of someone on top of him and something hot and tight wrapped around his cock. Lewd squelching and lovely moans fill his ears as he slowly peels his eyes open. His vision is slightly blurry, but he can still make out the sight of a body that definitely doesn’t belong to his wife on top of him.

“What—?” His voice is groggy and comes out in a half-groan.

Seungcheol blinks slowly, suddenly very aware that his young stepdaughter is bouncing on his cock. The sight is so filthy and hot that his cock twitches and throbs inside you. It’s so wrong, but he’s too shocked to do anything. That, and he’s powerless to the way your tight cunt feels around him.

“Princess,” his voice is gruff, almost scolding in tone. “What are you doing?”

You moan and clench around him because even in this situation he still calls you by the pet name you love so much. Leaning back on your arms, you slow your bounces into gentle grinds to give Seungcheol a filthy show of your pussy being stretched open. You smirk when you see his eyes lock where you two are connected.

“Sorry, daddy.” You moan, not sounding sorry at all. “I couldn’t help myself—fuck. Your cock is just so big.”

Your bratty words really shouldn’t turn him on, but they do. It doesn’t help that you look so good while you use his cock like your own personal fucktoy. The way your pretty tits bounce is mesmerizing and the fucked out expression you’re wearing is enough to push him closer to his orgasm. Your moans are the filthiest he’s ever heard—so loud and impetuous. He feels sick for enjoying it all. The entire situation is so wrong, and yet he makes no move to get you off of him.

“Y/N.” He growls your name like you’ve imagined so many times.

You lean forward and grab his large hands. Slowly, you guide them up your body until they’re on your tits. His eyes are dark as he gazes up at you, and you give him an impish smile as you make him squeeze.

“Yes, daddy?” You purr, slowing your movements to provide the most minimal friction.

A thrill runs down your spine when he lets out a grunt of disapproval. You can tell he’s still fighting himself on giving into his desires, so you clench down on him again as you increase your pace. Just like you thought, the lustful action ignites something in him. His hands squeeze your tits on their own this time, pinching and tugging on your hard nipples before they trail down your body.

Seungcheol sits up, any qualms about what was happening pushed out of his mind. He couldn’t think about his wife or the fact that he had enabled your behavior by always indulging your bratty desires. All he could think about was your sweet little cunt.

“God, baby.” He groans as his hands go to rest on your ass. “You’re such a needy girl. Couldn’t even ask me properly for my cock. You just had to come in here and take it like a greedy little brat.”

His big hands deliver a harsh slap to your ass which make you cry out and jolt forward. Seungcheol captures one of your tits in his mouth, tongue gliding over your taut nipple with an eagerness he’d been holding back until now.

“Daddy!” You mewl out, pussy clenching hard around his throbbing cock.

Seungcheol hisses around your nipple and kneads your ass. He slowly starts to fuck up into you as he sucks and nips at your sensitive bud. His senses are completely invaded by you—your taste, your scent, your touch. He can feel you get wetter as he wildly flicks his tongue around your nipple, rolling and sucking on it as if it’s an addicting candy.

Your arms wrap around your stepdad’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer to your chest as you slide up and down his thick cock. You toss your head back with a loud moan when his hands squeeze your ass as he starts to guide you up and down his dick. His leaking tip hits a spot that makes you see stars, and it pushes you closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck!” You squeal. “I love riding your big cock, daddy!”

“Yeah?” He groans against your tit. Seungcheol’s wet mouth pops off your nipple, a string of saliva attached to his lips. His eyes are dark with arousal and need. “Love me stretching out your tight little pussy?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Can’t get enough of your dick!”

Your juices are dripping down his heavy balls and make the sound of his skin slapping against yours entirely carnal. Every clap of his heavy balls on your ass jolts you and forces you to brace yourself on his strong chest. One of Seungcheol’s hand trails up your spine and cups the back of your head to pull you to his lips. His mouth devours yours in a lust-fuelled kiss.

Seungcheol swallows your squeal as him other hand moves between your legs. His thumb finds your puffy clot, rubbing practiced circles on the aching bud. You moan into each other’s mouths as your juices coat his unrelenting cock. All it takes is one particularly hard thrust for you to cum all over Seungcheol’s cock.

“Da-Daddy!” You cry out in ecstasy as your cream stains his throbbing cock.

Seungcheol moans along with you. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your hot cunt tightening impossibly around him. It almost feels like you’re suffocating his cock, and he loves every second of it. He licks his lips as he fucks up into you, stimulating you through your orgasm. The sight of you cumming is something he’ll never forget. A carnal desire consumes him, and in that moment he realizes he never wants to stop seeing it.

“Cum inside me, daddy.” You whimper in his ear.

You feel Seungcheol’s cock twitch and throb inside you. Immediately, you can tell the idea turns him on as much as it does you. As always, you’re determined to get what you want. “Want it so bad, daddy. Please.”

Seungcheol starts to fuck up into you roughly, groaning when he hears your needy pleas. It’s rare for you to say the word please, and to hear you moan it out so wantonly because you want his cum is driving him insane. As usual, he’s going to give you what you want. That doesn’t mean he won’t take full advantage of your desperation, though.

“Bratty little girl wants her pussy stuffed?” He coos against your collarbone. “You want daddy to fuck you full of cum?”

God, you’ve never wanted anything more. And at this point, you aren’t above begging for it.

“Yes!” You pant, thighs trembling as you move your hips to meet his rough thrusts. “Cum in my pussy, daddy! Fill me up like the nasty slut I am!”

Your words and your fucked out face are enough to push Seungcheol over the edge. He spills his hot cum into you with a loud moan of your name. Lewd squelching mix in with your cries of pleasure, the musky smell of sex permeating the air as your stepfather fucks his cum deep inside your battered cunt.

“Fuck, just look at you.” Seungcheol groans as he keeps slamming his cock against your cervix. “Milking daddy’s cock like the greedy little brat that you are.”

But he doesn’t stop there.

Seungcheol is insatiable, and now that he’s gotten a taste of your tight little pussy, he’s going to indulge himself to his cock’s desire.

One of his strong arms wraps around you. Suddenly you’re flipped on your back. You let out a choked moan as his hands spread you apart and his cock spears into you again. His hips start to snap relentlessly. Seungcheol has never looked hotter than he does now, literally fucking you into the bed he shares with your mother.

His thrusts are deliberate and rough, but he doesn’t stop or slow down. You’re crying out from the overstimulation, and it somehow makes him more ravenous. Seungcheol loves watching you tremble on his cock. You’re already so addicted to him fucking you that you don’t think to ask him to stop. In fact, you plead for more like the demanding little freak that you are.

Is it wrong that his chest swells with affection when you do?

Your arms wrap around his muscular back, yanking him down for a messy kiss. Seungcheol’s aching cock throbs against your velvety walls when you mewl out a needy daddy against his lips. He coos sweetly, lowering his body until his balls touch the filthiness between your thighs. Your stepdad’s big cock is slamming into you to the hilt, and you can practically feel him in your guts.

“Feels so fucking good, daddy.” You whine as he rams his cock into your sweet spot.

Your entire body tenses, and your cunt sucks him deeper, hungry for more despite there being no room left. Squelching noises bounce off the walls as he splits you open. Seungcheol fucks you harder and deeper as if he’s determined to rearrange your insides. He grabs your hips and pulls you to meet his rough thrusts before reaching down to collect your cream that’s formed a ring around his base.

Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk as he laps up the fluids he’s collected from his fingers. He groans at the taste, knowing he won’t let you leave this bed until he’s made you cum on his tongue. “You taste so fucking sweet when you’re full of me, princess.”

The sight is so nasty and erotic that the coil building in your stomach snaps. Your stepdad leans back, watching with aroused fascination as you squirt all over his cock and cover his lower abdomen in your release. Your whole body convulses as quiet mewls pour from your mouth. His thrusts have slowed into thorough grinds as sticky strings connect your most intimate parts.

“Fuck—Y/N!” Seungcheol groans as he pumps you with another hot load.

“Give me all your cum, daddy!” You cry out, hips moving on their own when you feel his seed spill into your welcoming cunt.

You allow him to move you as he pleases, dragging out your orgasm as it bleeds into another—you can barely breathe as he rubs your sore clit. Seungcheol fucks his cum into you, forcing you to take the previous loads and his fat cock. Your sweet cries of pleasure are music to his ears. He knows then that he can’t possibly let anyone hear the lovely little noises you make.

“This pretty little pussy belongs to me now.” Your stepfather’s possessive grunt has you clenching around his dick. “Gonna fuck you like this every day. Gonna fill this tight cunt with my cum until your belly is swollen with my baby.”

His cum keeps spurting along your sore walls, trying to find space as if there’s any left. You moan wantonly when you feel it seep out of you. Seungcheol moans along with you, loving the sight of his seed leaking down your ass and drip onto his heavy balls.

Seungcheol pulls back with a fucked out smile, sweat brimming at his hairline. His chest fills with pride at your dazed expression. Slowly, he keeps fucking his cum into you, desperate to knock you up how he promised. Wet noises seep into your foggy mind, playing dully in the background to your cum-filled thoughts. He’s successfully fucked you stupid, and you’ve never felt so good.

Your cunt is filled to the brim, his seed coating your hole from the inside out. Seungcheol doesn’t hide his lascivious smirk. The sight just might be his favorite thing—next to that dumb expression you have on your face of course. It only makes him want to do it all over again. Each grind sends little shocks throughout your body. Seungcheol groans gutturally when you lazily start to meet his thrusts.

“My bratty little princess.” Seungcheol coos adoringly as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. “You’re sleeping with daddy tonight.”

The triumphant little smirk you give him is enough indication to let Seungcheol know that once again he’s fallen into his pretty little freak’s selfish trap.

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

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natti-ice · 27 days

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His Onlyfans Girl- Eddie Munson.

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Eddie Munson x onlyfansgirl!fem!reader

Summary: your best friend’s father becomes one of your subscribers on onlyfans, when you confront him about it things get a little heated. (3.7k words)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, modern AU! age gap (Eddie is late 40’s, reader is in her 20’s), masturbation, pornography, confrontation, slut shaming, arguing, oral (f receiving), p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie.

Author’s note: this is a continuation of this post!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

When he heard about this "onlyfans" thing he rolled his eyes and brushed it off thinking it was just another porn site. He normally sticks to what he likes and what he knows is reliable, but he kept seeing things online about onlyfans and wanted to see what all the hype was about.

He scrolled down the main page and saw all the random women posing in scandal clad clothes, pretty faces that he'd forget in five seconds once he scrolled past. All of the accounts were locked because he had to subscribe to them and he didn't see a reason to pay for porn when he could get it for free. He scrolled and scrolled until something jumped out at him, your page. He couldn't believe it, you and his daughter had been friends for a long time and he had no idea you were doing these things on the internet.

He immediately kept scrolling and tried to pretend he didn't see that...but part of him was curious. He sighed and scrolled back up and clicked on your account. He knew it was wrong in every sense of the word but fuck, he couldn't look away. He couldn't see anything at all because he wasn't subscribed to your page, he had a strong feeling in his body and he knew exactly what it was. Desire.

His mind raced with a million reasons why he shouldn't do it but his urges were just too strong, he caved and put in his credit card information and subscribed to your onlyfans. His eyes lit up when he saw all of your photos and videos, he knew he would regret this in the morning but he didn't give a fuck. He needed to get off, get off looking at your body.

He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest as he saw you laid out before him on his screen, he always thought you were attractive but this was a whole other level. He could hardly blink because he was afraid he would miss a detail of your body, you were perfect to him, your body was like it had been crafted by god himself just for Eddie to admire. His hand found its way into his boxers as he memorized every line of your figure, the curve of your breasts, the shape of your hips and how they lead perfectly to your pussy.

He started to stroke himself faster as he clicked one of your solo masturbation videos, he breathing became more labored the faster he pumped his cock, he couldn't tear his eyes off of dildo that stretched you out. He wished that was him, that he was your toy, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to bring you pleasure. "Fuck" he whispers under his breath as he feels his orgasm nearing rapidly, he works himself faster until he finally released all over his hand. He falls back into his pillow, he pants hard as he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air, when he comes to his senses he realizes what he had done.

He quickly clears away the website, he deletes his search history praying that no one will ever find out about his taboo acts tonight...especially not his daughter. Guilt and slight paranoia sets in as he thinks about the consequences he would face if she found out, he knew this would hurt her and that was the last thing he would ever want to do, he cursed himself for being so weak and giving into his desires. He took a deep breath and tried to erase you from his mind as he wiped himself clean with a tissue and laid his head down to rest, he closes his eyes and very slowly drifts off to sleep. His dreams were plagued with the images of your body, making for a very restless night.

The next morning you woke up to the sun beaming through the curtains filling the room up with a warm light, it was just like every other morning, you allowed your eyes to focus and adjust to the brightness before reaching over and grabbing your phone off the nightstand. You unlock your phone and do your daily check of social media, you scroll through different timelines on various apps to catch up on any news you missed while you slept. When you've had your fair share of meme consumption you take a trip over to your onlyfans account, when you started it a few months ago it was just as a little way to make some extra cash apart from your regular 9-5, but you soon started to gain a following and it became your biggest source of income. You didn't find anything wrong with what you were doing, everyone needs to get by somehow plus you had a lot of fun making your videos, not to mention the positive attention really boosted your confidence.

You scroll through your new notifications, you read all of the comments and saw who liked your posts, you checked out the accounts that had just subscribed to your page most of which go by pseudonyms to remain anonymous. Everything seemed normal until you saw it... "Ed Munson" had subscribed to your onlyfans. Your heart sunk to your stomach and you immediately sat up in bed, you couldn't believe what you were seeing, was this really him? You frantically clicked on the account to find anything to prove it wasn't him, but you were met with a blank page, no profile picture, no bio, absolutely nothing.

Your hands started to shake with nerves as thousands of questions run through your head, maybe it was someone else? If it is him, why did he subscribe to your account? Oh god, what if she finds out? How many Ed Munsons could there be You couldn't believe this for a second, you had known Ed since you were eighteen that's when you first became friends with his daughter, you and her met in a college math class and instantly clicked. You would go over to their place to hang out and he was always kind to you whenever you spoke, but he always kept things brief because he didn't want either of you to feel like he was barging in on your fun. Never once did he ever show that he was interested in you sexually or try to make any advances on you, he was a respectable man and a man that you could trust, but this, this threw you for a loop.

You got out of bed and tried to forget about what you saw, it really couldn't have been him... at least that's what you tried to convince yourself of. You went through your normal morning routine because you had to be at work in an hour but all you could think about was this situation, you were very open with her about your onlyfans and its content but this would crush her. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't let her know about her father paying to see your explicit content, you felt so bad just thinking about how this could affect your friendship, and losing her was something you couldn't afford.

Once you finished getting dressed you grabbed all of your stuff and headed out the door, you got into your car and started it, as you waited for it to warm up you tried to think of a way to make this situation better. You knew it was probably best to leave it alone and pretend it didn't happen but something in you was dying to know just why he decided to subscribe to your account when there are thousands to choose from. Despite your better judgment, you couldn't handle the not knowing part and decided to go straight to the source, you pulled out of your driveway and set off to the Munson residence. Your heart raced as you got closer to the house, there was still a possibility that it wasn't even him and if it wasn't then this already awkward situation would become even worse.

Your hands start to sweat as you grip the steering wheel tightly, you're so anxious about what will come of this, whatever it is can't be good. You pull into the Munson's driveway and shut off the engine, you stare at the front door through the windshield for what feels like an eternity before unbuckling your seat belt and stepping out of your car. You take a deep breath and rehearse what you're going to say to him in your head as you walk up the pavement that leads to the door, you raise a shake hand to the polished wood and knock three times.

Eddie was in the kitchen sipping his morning coffee when he heard the knock, he wondered who could be popping in so early, he let out a sigh as he sets him mug down and heads to the front door. You hear the click of the lock being turned before it was opened revealing the man you were looking for. When he saw you his heart immediately fell to his stomach and images of the night before rushed to the front of his mind, he thought he was dreaming because you were the last person he expected to see this morning.

He quickly composes himself and speaks as nonchalantly as possible "Oh uh hey, Y/N, what are you doing here? She left for class an hour ago-"

You take in his appearance, he definitely had just rolled out of bed because he was still in his pajamas and his hair was a bit messy. His smile lines were deep, showing his older age and years of laughter and joy he must've experienced, you could tell he also hadn't shaved in a few days by the salt and pepper stubble on his face. He wasn't an ugly man by any means, in fact, you'd known him to have a few girlfriends over the couple of years you'd known him. His daughter told you he never wanted to get married because being held down to one person just wasn't his style, you never said anything about it but often wondered if he was very lonely.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Munson, I'm not here for her," you start and immediately feel your mouth become dry with nerves as you realize what you're about to accuse him of. "I need to talk to you."

Shit, she knows he thought to himself, he knew he would get caught at some point but not this soon, he nods slightly and steps to the side allowing you access to his home "Please, come in." The tension in the air was so thick you could almost grab it with your hands, you walk into the door and step into the medium-sized living room that was furnished with a couch, recliner, and a flatscreen mounted to the wall. You walked over and took a seat on the suede sofa and he follows behind you taking a seat next to you but keeping a respectable distance. You could hear your heart beating as you fidget with your fingers working up the courage to speak up "So, Mr. Munson-"

"Please, call me Eddie" he cuts you off

You look up at him, his big brown eyes staring back into yours, "Eddie... do you know what I do for work?" You ask him while trying to find any sign of discomfort in his expression

fuck. "You work in retail don't you?" He replies referring to your normal day job

You sigh softly, he's gonna make you say it, "Well, yes I do but-" you pause and look down at your hands, you couldn't look at him when you said this "But... I also do onlyfans."

"Oh" he blurts out, he didn't expect you to be so straightforward about it "I- I've heard about that before... I didn't know you did that sorta thing." He lied through his teeth, his palms started to sweat and he awkwardly wiped them on his pajama pants.

You look up at him and see the blush in his cheeks had become more prominent, you tried so hard to not show your emotions on your face as he lied straight to your face but you couldn't help but grimace "Right." You say flatly "Well this is awkward but... I know you subscribed to my page" You said it. You actually said it. The words hung in the air for a moment before he spoke

"What? I wouldn't do-" he starts to protest but you cut him off

"Please, don't lie to me. It'll just make things worse"

You can see the gears turning in his head as he debates on coming clean, he knows it's the right thing to do but fuck, it was so difficult.

He sighs, he had been caught. "Okay, yes I did subscribe but I- I can explain" he knew he couldn't but he was gonna try his best. "You see, I went on the website and I was looking at all the different models and uh, I subscribed to a page and didn't realize it was you till afterwards" he didn't sound too convinced himself and by the look on your face he knew you weren't buying it. He swallows the spit that was starting to fill his mouth "I'm sorry... I hope you can forgive me"

"Look I don't want to pry into your personal life or anything but I really can't have you looking at my pictures...what if she finds out?"

Something about the mention of his daughter puts him in defense mode, he straightens his posture slightly and speaks in a lower deep voice "What I do in my private time has nothing to do with my daughter. It's none of her business."

You're taken aback by his shortness with you, you've never seen this side of him before "Are you serious? If she finds out about this it would crush her, I'm not gonna have you ruin my friendship just because you're a pervert." You realize what you just said but it was too late, you didn't mean it, well you didn't mean to say it out loud. There were just so many emotions running through you, you couldn't stop yourself.

He scoffs "Excuse me? Young lady I'm no pervert," he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest "I'm not the one selling naked pictures online."

Your mouth drops open slightly, you couldn't believe what he just said to you, but you weren't going to hold back now. "Oh, I bet you didn't have a problem with it when you were getting off to me last night" Your tone was full of sass and was also slightly raised, he was starting to piss you off with his lack of concern so you decided to test him "what if I told her, huh? What if I spilled your dirty little secret?"

His heart sunk, and his anger level began rising at your proposal, he wouldn't let you do that to him...his daughter means everything to him and he wasn't going to let one mistake ruin their relationship. "Don't fucking threaten me, I told you she doesn't need to know anything. I don't need a little slut like you trying to ruin my life, now if you will, get out of my house." He stands up abruptly and grabs you by the arm pulling you up and dragging you towards the door. You try to pull your arm away from his grasp but he doesn't let you go, you plant your feet as best as you can on the linoleum making it harder for him to pull you.

"I'm not going anywhere, we're not done talking about this" you protest

"Well I am." He says with finality "Matter fact, I don't want you to hang around my daughter anymore, clearly, you aren't the sweet innocent girl I thought you were."

This angered you, he had no right to dictate who you could be friends with, his daughter is an adult and he's acting like you're going to corrupt his precious Angel. Before you could think you brought your hand up to slap him but he caught you by the wrist and pulled you into his chest, he looked down at you, rage filling his eyes as he whispered harshly "Don't you dare." Your knees almost gave out on you by the sheer force of his movement, you were so close to his face you could smell the coffee that lingered on his breath. This awoke something in you, something that you knew would bring you nothing but trouble, but oh, would it be worth it. Your eyes flicker down to his lips then back to his eyes before slowly leaning in, Eddie stands still and doesn't move a muscle as he watches you lean in. You gently brush your lips against his, giving him an out in case he didn't want this but he doesn't put up any resistance, you connect your lips together in what starts as a soft kiss but quickly escalates.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he slides his tongue into your mouth, he slowly guides you back to the couch and lays you down before climbing on top of you. You knew this was wrong, he's your best friend's father for Christ's sake, but you knew you couldn't stop this from happening...you needed it to happen. He slips off your shoes leaving you in your socks, you moan softly into the kiss as you feel his hands unbuttoning your pants, the thought of him seeing you naked made you wet, he pulls down your pants and your panties at the same time exposing your lower half. He breaks away from the kiss and sits up a little, he grabs your legs and spreads them apart. "Fuck," he mutters as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy "It's even better than the photos."

He dips his head between your thighs and begins to feast on your sensitive flesh, you let out a moan as his tongue flicks your clit softly, the prickling of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver down your spine as the pleasure builds within you. "Oh god," you say breathlessly as you feel your orgasm coming, his hands tighten their grip on your thighs and he looks deep into your eyes as he continues his relentless assault on your folds. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you gently rub yourself against his tongue as you go over the edge, your body trembles beneath his touch, and your pitiful whimpers fill the living room as you ride out your high. When he feels you've had enough he comes up for air, he takes a few breaths before attaching his lips to yours once again.

Your taste on his lips is intoxicating, the severity of this entire situation has heightened all of your senses making all of this even more pleasurable for you, you would regret this for the rest of your life but who cares right now? You're about to get fucked. Eddie pulled down his pajama pants revealing his hard, throbbing cock, he strokes it a few times before whispering huskily against your mouth "Get on all fours." You nod and flip over, you rest your forearms on the arm of the couch and arch your back to give him better access, he grabs hold of your hip with one hand and uses the other to guide his dick to your entrance.

He slowly slips himself into your tight hole, you let out a shaky gasp as his thickness stretches you out, he groans as he slowly starts to buck his hips "So fucking tight, baby" he picks up speed slowly before giving it his all, you can't hold back anything as he fucks you hard, all of your moans and whines fly from your mouth without a care. Eddie wraps his fingers around your hair and yanks you back to him making you arch your back even more as you turn your head to look at him. "How's this cock feel?" You could hear all of his lust for you in those words over the sound of slapping skin" Better than that fucking toy huh?" He asks rhetorically before releasing your hair and pounding into you even harder.

As you feel all of your limbs shake as he pleasure you, you hear him say all sorts of dirty things out loud like "Should post this for your fans" and "You take cock so well", you don't have the will to reply because your brain can't form any coherent thoughts. Your heart was racing a mile a minute after your third orgasm, Eddie's groans became louder and his breathing much heavier as he was about to cum, "s-shit" he stuttered out, his hips bucking hard against your ass as he unleashed his seed into you. He loosens his grip on your hips and slowly pulls out of you leaving a trail of his cum to drip on the couch, he slumps back onto the couch and pants hard, he wipes some sweat off his forehead before looking over at you as you flip back over.

It was like he came back to his senses immediately after he came, his eyes widened before he buried his face into his hands "fuck- what have I done?" you could hear his muffled voice cry out, he fucked up big time and there's nothing to do to change it. He sighs and looks up but he averts your gaze, "Not a word about this to anyone, agreed?"

You swallow hard before nodding, "Agreed." You felt terrible about what just happened. "I- I'm sorry about this." You apologize weakly

"Don't be," his voice was calming but still raspy from the sex "It's not all your fault. We'll pretend this never happened."

You reach for your pants and try to put them on as quickly as possible, fuck you think as you remember you have work and you're now an hour late, "I've gotta get going" you say as you stand up and quickly button up your pants and slip on your shoes and stand up, you look down at him laid out on the couch. "I'll see you later?"

He looks up at you, clearly debating what to say, he sighs before saying, "Yeah, see you later."

You give him a final nod before quickly walking towards the door.

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