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sugoroo · 9 months ago

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#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

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malavera · 1 year ago

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Cosplay (18+) — Hugh Jackman One Shot

pairing: hugh jackman x female reader

summary: Your hubby came home after filming one of the scenes for Deadpool & Wolverine with his costume on to surprise you

warning: SMUT! MDNI. PWP. Wolverine cosplay sex, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, the use of pet name bub (bubby / bubba)

a/n: i had this scenario every time i went to bed

"Bub, I'm home! Where are you?"

"In the kitchen!" Your voice echoes through the house, a playful lilt in your tone as you rinse the last plate under the warm, soapy water. The clatter of dishes is almost soothing, a rhythm you've come to appreciate in the quiet moments.

But then, without warning, a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a firm, familiar embrace. The unexpected touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the roughness of his stubble grazing against the soft skin of your shoulder blade. His warmth envelops you, seeping through your clothes, and suddenly the kitchen feels too small, too intimate.

"You’ve eaten without me?" His voice is a low, teasing rumble against your ear, and you can’t help but smile, even as your heart races.

"Well, I figured you'd be late, so..." You trail off, your voice faltering as you quickly dry your hands on a nearby towel. But when you turn around, the air catches in your throat.

Standing before you, with that trademark smirk you know all too well, is your lover. But tonight, he’s not just himself—he’s transformed. Draped in the iconic yellow and blue, his muscles defined by the snug fabric of Wolverine's original suit, he embodies the fierce, feral energy of the comic book legend. His eyes flash with mischief, and the scowl he wears—so perfectly in character—sends a thrill through you.

You stare, wide-eyed, your breath hitching as the reality of the moment sets in. The air feels heavy, charged with anticipation, and your mouth goes dry as you try to swallow, your body betraying you. He steps closer, the leather of his costume creaking ever so slightly, and you know—this night is far from over.

"H-Hugh..." The name slips from your lips, barely a whisper, as you stare, utterly transfixed.

His grin widens, the mischievous glint in his eyes sharpening. "What's the matter, bub? Cat got your tongue?" His voice is a low, teasing growl, sending a jolt of excitement through you.

You stumble back, the cool edge of the kitchen counter pressing against your spine as he advances, his presence overwhelming, magnetic. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't tear your eyes away from him—this man, your lover, transformed into something untamed, almost primal.

A nervous laugh escapes you, breathless and trembling. "You look... incredible." The words come out in a rush, your voice barely steady. He’s so close now, the scent of leather and cologne filling your senses, and you know there’s no turning back.

"C'mere.." He muttered, an arm snatching to hug your waist pulling you close to him before he tilted his head, enough so the pointy nose of the scowl wouldn't poke you, to pull you in for a hungry kiss. You gasp, trying to follow his rhythm.

Hugh grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it, earning a loud moan from you. As your mouth went agape that's his moment to shove his tongue deeper. The heated make out session sent you to heaven without realizing everything around you as you are now being seated on top of the kitchen counter, legs spread wide for him to stand in between them.

"You miss me bub?" Hugh asks in between the kiss.

"S'much, daddy." You mewled and he groaned.

"Please, daddy. Do something.. to me." You moaned.

"Yeah? What do you want daddy to do huh? Tell me." He's teasing you. He knows exactly what you need, it's your second favorite thing about him; his fingers. He's so good with it. The way he would put one in, and then shove the other, thrusting in and out of your glistening cunt. Your favorite part is when he curls them inside you before he repeatedly flicks them.

"Want your fingers, daddy."

"These fingers, baby?" He tilted his head, acting dumbfounded, as the tips of his finger made a circle against your clothed pussy. "Yeah?" He pressed the pad of his fingers right against your clothed clit.

"Ah.. Yes." You gasp, smiling.

"You're soaked already, bub. What's gotten you so eager for me? Is this the suit? Huh? You love seeing your daddy in his costume?" He taunted.

You can only nod as you enjoy the way his fingers rubbing your, still clothed, cunt. "Daddy, please. I've been good. I deserve this."

"Of course you do, baby." You gasp once you felt one of his fingers enter your throbbing cunt. You shrieked when you felt his other hand make a handful of your hair and tugged your head back, making you watch him.

"Look at me when I'm making you feel this good, bub." There goes the second finger, entering. And he does your favorite thing, finger-fucking you.

You whimpered, closing your eyes briefly. "Urgh.. Daddy you're so good.. You're so good with my pussy." Between the two of you here, you both have the praise kink. He's an actor, of course he loves being praised for his skills and performances. You both are a master at this department, though only your words can get him going.

"Yeah? Like that bub? Tell daddy how it feels... So good yeah?" He coo’ed.

"Yeah.. Yeah.. so good daddy, deeper.. OH!" You gasped out a loud moan at the end once you feel him pushing in his fingers deep into your cunt.

"Only my fingers can play with this cunt, right bub? My cunt." He grunted.

"Yes, yes daddy! It's your cunt!" You whimpered, feeling as you're about to reach your high; You gasp once more when he harshly tug his fingers out of your cunt, jolting your body forward.

"W-what.." You breathlessly said.

"You're gonna have to cum on my cock, bub." He hastily spoke as he tries to take his heavy cock out of his pants. Swallowing down your saliva, you watch as he give himself a couple of jerks before tapping his heavy cock against your pussy, indicating he’s about to go in. Not that he’d need your permission to.

Your mouth fell agape watching the big tip of his cock, slowly entering your soaked folds, feeling every inch of his cock going in even the raging veins felt like they’re scratching the insides of your warm cunt. Hugh roughly grabs you by your neck, forcing you to look him in the eyes that are covered with the wolverine scowl.

“Look at me when i’m fucking you, bub.” He harshly spoke as he starts to move his hips back and forth, gently at first before he picks up the pace, turning the peaceful atmosphere filled with your moaning mess.

You’d never imagine you’d see the night filled with Hugh fucking you on top of the kitchen island with his super hot wolverine costume on. All you could think about is how this costume would be the one where people all around the world would see later in the movie theater once it’s coming out. And the fact that he has fucked you in it, makes your pussy flutters as he is not stopping anytime soon. The nasty sound of your pussy milking his heavy cock that is formed from the mixed of your fluid fills the entire kitchen. And you wished you could watch yourself being fucked by the wolverine in third person’s point of view.

“What are you thinking about bub?” Hugh piston his hips to a certain angle which caused you to loudly moan. “You’re thinking about how good i’m fucking you right, bub? You never want me to stop right, honey?” Hugh coo’ed.

“N-no, daddy. I never want you to stop. I want you to make me cum, please it feels so good!” You cried, your hands went up to play with your tits.

“Oh yes, play with those tits bub. My tits. Fuck, this cunt is so good I can never get enough.” Hugh grunted. He pulls you closer to him making your hips lying at the edge of the counter.

All you wanted is to get him to cum deep inside you. You could feel the brush of his pubic hair from every stroke, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. You’re going to cum anytime soon. But something is growing inside you and it’s inching closer, any seconds now.

“W-wait, Daddy, stop, something’s wrong!” You shrieked.

And you know better from stoping your beloved from fucking you hard, he will never listen. But instead, he gripped your hips harder and thrusts his cock in and out of you with a godly fast pace.

“Fuck, fuck, Daddy!” You screamed as you forcefully pushing yourself away from him before you feel yourself reaching your high. You couldn’t contain it, it sprayed everywhere, even to his costume. Your thighs are shaking, your chest heaves up and down.

Hugh stood there groaning as he just witnessed his baby squirted out. “Fffuckk… Bub, that was amazing.” He muttered, but he’s not stopping there. He grabbed his cock, aiming the tip against your entrance, softly rubbing it against your hole first.

“W-wait, I don’t think I-..”

“Shut up, Bub. Daddy hasn’t cum yet.” He hissed as he pushed the tip of his cock into your entrance.

Your pussy purred, “Oh.” You gasped, feeling a little bit embarrassed. But, Hugh loved it.

“Do you think you can give it to me one more time bub? This time, squirt on my cock?”

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kiwriteswords · 4 months ago

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She Gets the Job Done [Aaron Hotchner x Bratty!Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: >2k|| AN: IF YALL KNOW ME YOU KNOW I DONT LOVE WRITING SMUT. BUT I'M OVULATING AND BEEN THINKING A LITTLE TOO HARD ABOUT HOTCH. Tags/Warnings: SMUT! MDNI! NSFW!! 18+, female reader, established relationship, bau!reader, pwp, p in v smut, no protection, no talk about protecting (just assume they've got this established!), fingering, brat tamer!Hotch, possessive!hotch, brat!reader, like no "after" scene really because I did not feel like it--lol. office sex!!, seducing an unsub in an interrogation, reader has hair Summary: When you decide to use an Unsub's weakness of being seduced by women to your advantage, it really pisses your boyfriend off.

Hotch’s jaw was tight, muscles strained beneath clenched teeth as he stood rigidly behind the one-way glass. The low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed overly loud in the silent observation room, amplifying the palpable tension that had settled thickly in the air.

Aaron Hotchner was rarely a man to lose his cool, but right now, he felt like a tightly coiled spring on the verge of snapping.

Through the glass, he watched you closely, noticing the slight, intentional sway of your hips as you circled the interrogation table.

The unsub's eyes were fixated on you, tracking your every movement hungrily, the intensity in his gaze revolting yet exactly what you intended.

You had unbuttoned your blouse just enough to draw attention, something that had not gone unnoticed by anyone on the team.

Certainly not by Hotch.

The way your skirt rose up just a little too high. Or how you pressed your arms closer together, so your breasts stood right in the line of sight for the unsub. Your hair touseled in a way that only Hotch had seen--

In a way where you looked fulled fucked.

You leaned forward slowly, palms flat against the cool metal surface, eyes locked onto the unsubs with a sultry, playful challenge.

"Come on," you murmured, voice dripping honey, the seductive undertone unmistakable. "Don't you want to impress me? It'd be our little secret."

Hotch felt his chest tighten, his knuckles white as he squeezed his hands into fists. Rossi glanced sideways, clearing his throat uncomfortably, sensing the impending eruption.

"Hotch," Rossi began cautiously, "maybe we should—"

"No," Hotch cut him off sharply, eyes never leaving your form. He felt a fierce surge of possessiveness clawing at his throat, anger burning hot in his veins. He had agreed reluctantly to your tactic, trusting you implicitly, but this—

This was beyond the pale.

You laughed softly, a delicate sound that danced dangerously around the unsub. The man visibly shivered, eyes wide with anticipation, lips parted in silent surrender. "I'll tell you," the unsub breathed shakily, eyes greedily drinking in your appearance. "But what do I get in return?"

You tilted your head, gaze smoldering beneath lowered lashes. "You tell me first," you purred, leaning closer, deliberately letting your hair brush across his trembling fingers.

Hotch’s heart hammered violently in his chest, his blood roaring in his ears as the unsub hungrily eyed you.

"He's going to break," Reid muttered quietly, visibly uneasy as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Hotch didn't respond.

He couldn’t.

His entire being was transfixed, paralyzed between the overwhelming urge to storm into the interrogation room and drag you away, and the knowledge that your tactics were working.

The unsub exhaled roughly, eyes glazed with desperation. "Fine," he gasped, chest heaving. "The body's behind the old warehouse on Elm—buried shallow."

A cruel smirk curled at the corners of your lips, eyes suddenly cold as you pulled away, straightening your posture and buttoning your blouse calmly as if nothing had transpired.

"Thanks for the cooperation," you said coolly, every trace of seduction vanishing instantly.

Hotch felt a wave of relief, immediately drowned by a surge of anger--

Raw and primal.

He turned sharply, stalking out of the observation room without a word.

The sound of his shoes pounding harshly against the linoleum matched the racing of his heart.

Moments later, you stepped confidently from the interrogation room, smug satisfaction evident on your face until you caught sight of Hotch’s furious gaze pinned firmly upon you from down the hall. The arrogant smirk faltered briefly, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty as you squared your shoulders and approached him.

"My office. Now." His voice was dangerously soft, controlled with a rigid effort that barely concealed his simmering rage.

You lifted your chin defiantly, a hint of mischief playing in your eyes even now. "Is there a problem, Agent Hotchner?"

Hotch moved closer, invading your space, his presence dominating and overwhelming. His voice dropped lower, vibrating with intensity. "You know exactly what the problem is."

He turned sharply, leaving you standing in the hall, the air between you charged and crackling dangerously as he stalked toward his office, knowing you’d follow, knowing the line had just been irrevocably crossed.

Hotch’s jaw remained tightly set, his anger simmering beneath a mask of forced calm as he stalked into his office, the door closing behind him with a sharp click.

He turned, arms crossed rigidly over his chest, watching you enter a moment later, defiance radiating from your posture. You stood before him, eyes flashing with an audacious mix of arrogance and curiosity, clearly unfazed by his obvious displeasure.

He moved forward deliberately, narrowing the distance until you were forced to tilt your chin upward to maintain eye contact.

The air around you both crackled with charged intensity, tension thick enough to choke on. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was?" His voice was low, edged with barely restrained fury.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes dancing mischievously as you shrugged casually, playing off his anger. "I got results, didn't I? Isn’t that what matters most?"

Hotch leaned closer, his eyes dark and stormy. "What matters most is that you stay safe and professional. You compromised yourself—and us."

"I handled it," you replied boldly, leaning into him ever so slightly, the provocative gleam in your eyes unmistakable. "Maybe you're just jealous."

Hotch inhaled sharply, the vein in his neck visibly pulsing as he fought for control. His voice dropped lower, becoming dangerously quiet. "Jealouus? You deliberately let that monster think he had a chance with you."

You laughed softly, a wicked, bratty sound that tugged at something primal deep within him. Your voice dripped honeyed sarcasm, pushing every button he had. "Maybe you're just upset because he liked what he saw. Jealous someone else enjoyed the show?"

Hotch snapped, his large hand darting out swiftly to grip your waist, pulling you flush against his body with a force that drew a startled gasp from your lips. He bent down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered harshly, voice trembling with intensity, "Say that again. I dare you."

You smirked, eyes blazing defiantly as you pressed closer, your voice dropping into a taunting whisper that brushed his skin like a forbidden caress. "Why don't you bend me over your desk and show me who I belong to?

He felt something snap inside him at your words, a powerful surge of possessiveness and raw desire flooding through his veins. He spun you around abruptly, pinning you against the edge of his desk, chest pressing firmly against your back, one strong arm holding your hips firmly in place. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice ragged and rough. "You think you can provoke me without consequences?"

Your breath hitched audibly, the arrogance melting into something softer, breathless anticipation trembling in your voice. "Maybe I like seeing how far I can push you."

Hotch's grip tightened possessively, voice thick with barely contained passion. "Then prepare yourself," he growled lowly, his control unraveling as he gave in to the powerful tension that had ignited between you both, fully intent on reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

His hands quickly found the edge of your skirt, pulling it up roughly to your waist. He felt your body shiver beneath his touch, your breathing quickening as he leaned closer, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your neck.

His voice was a husky murmur, every word laced with possessive intensity. "You're mine. Never forget that."

You whimpered softly, leaning back into his touch, all traces of defiance giving way to desperate need. His hand slipped down your hips, fingers teasingly brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You arched against him instinctively, desperate for more--

The tension between you reaching an explosive peak.

Hotch groaned lowly against your skin, guiding you firmly into position against his desk, one hand gripping your hip possessively while the other reached to loosen his belt impatiently.

Your breath came in ragged gasps--

Anticipation nearly unbearable as he pressed himself against you, his voice commanding and darkly seductive as he whispered roughly, "I'll make sure you never doubt again who you belong to."

Had he locked the door? He wasn’t sure. But one moment he was pulling you into his office--

Filled with rage. Anger. Honestly, jealousy--

And now, he was stroking himself, pulling your lace panties to the side, finding you wet and ready after this little episode.

He knew you liked to poke his buttons--

He knew this.

He knew being a brat--

Being his brat…turned you on.

But what turned you on more was his visual reaction. And your actions sure as hell lead to a reaction from him.

He never thought of himself as a reactive man. His proud ability to remain stoic within even some of the most trying situations was a strength of his. But you? You with your whits and your body and your pure…pure seduction without even so much trying--

It had him whipped. Whipped in a way he couldn’t explain.

Whipped in a way that has him fisting his cock with one hand and parting your wet, ready folds with the other. He slid his index finger in you--

Stretching you for him. The tight, wet, warm heat closed around the length of his finger. Practically sucking him in.

He felt your hips stutter against his wrist.

Needy, needy girl, he thought.

You mumbled something--

He thought it might be his name, but his heartbeat thud so heavily within his ears, he’s not sure what you said, if anything at all.

It could have just been a whimper--

A sound he’d come to love so much.

Sure, he’d love you not always having to be such a defiant brat to get here. Yet, here you were. And as he stroked himself. Once. Twice. Three times more, he wasn’t complaining.

Not really.

Removing his finger from you, he reached around to where your face layed pressed against the cool wooden desk. Papers sprawled out. Case files and budget reports mixed around.

A clerical mess.

A human resource disaster.

But pure nirvana to him as you knew to open your lips and taste yourself off his finger.

Watching that, he bit back a groan as he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock. Up and down, teasing you. He planned to tease and use you.

Just in the way you did with him today.

He entered you with a deep, assertive thrust, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. Hotch’s movements were powerful and controlled, every stroke filled with possessive intent.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back gently to expose your neck fully to his hot, demanding mouth.

Every touch, every thrust, reinforced the undeniable truth of his words—

You belonged to him.

"Say it," he demanded roughly, breath warm against your skin, his pace relentless and passionate. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You," you breathed out shakily, your voice breaking under the weight of overwhelming pleasure. "Only you, Aaron."

"Good girl," he growled approvingly, his grip tightening as his movements quickened, driving you both toward a powerful climax, sealing his claim unmistakably and completely.

As the intensity peaked, your body trembled against his, both of you gasping as waves of pleasure crashedover you. Hotch held you tightly as you both gradually came down from the euphoric high, pressing gentle kisses against your shoulder, murmuring soothing words against your skin.

Slowly, he withdrew, carefully adjusting, reaching for a tissue--

Cleaning you with reverence and respect, then fixing your clothes with unexpected tenderness.

He turned you gently, cupping your face in his hands, eyes filled with warmth and a fierce protectiveness. "Never again," he whispered softly, a plea and promise intertwined. "You mean too much to me."

You met his gaze, your defiance fully melted into sincerity and affection, nodding softly as you leaned into his gentle kiss, knowing you'd finally found your boundaries—

And exactly where you belonged.

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multific · 6 months ago

Text

Heart of a Father

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: In the shadow of his illness, Caracalla worries for your unborn child. You try your best to reassure him but his mind is too far gone. Only the birth of his child would bring calmness to his internal storm.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you sat in the villa's garden.

Your hands rested protectively on your swollen belly, and the rhythmic chirping of cicadas filled the air. Though the scene was calm, the tension from Caracalla could be cut with a knife.

He paced restlessly.

“Calla,” you called out to him, watching as he paused and turned to look at you. His eyes were filled with worry.

“You should be inside. It’s getting cold,” he said as if suddenly he became aware of your presence.

You smiled faintly, reaching out a hand to him. “I’m fine. Sit with me?”

You watched as he sank to his knees beside you, his hand immediately moving to your belly.

The warmth of his palm against your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if… what if I’ve passed something to our child?”

You cupped his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours.

“We’ve talked about this, My Love. The physicians have said our baby is healthy. And I believe them.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his other hand moving through his hair.

“But they don’t know for sure. They don’t understand… the poison in my blood, the illness. What if it’s already affected done its damage?”

You tightened your grip on his hand, hoping to help ground him.

“Caracalla, listen to me. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. You’ve fought countless battles and ruled an empire. This is no different. You’re not alone in this. Geta will also help us. He promised many times. Everything will be fine.”

His eyes filled with tears as he looked at you.

“You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, My Love,” you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“I’m so scared, love. I’ve never been scared like this before.” his hands were shaking, you could feel that. You tried your best to ground him.

You placed your hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm.

“That fear only proves how much you love her already. We going to be fine, all three of us. I believe in us, Calla. Do you?”

He nodded, his breath hitching as he exhaled. “I do. I have to.”

---

The night your daughter was born was a day filled with all kinds of emotions.

The palace, usually so imposing and grand, felt small and suffocating as you were in labour.

Caracalla was made to wait outside as per tradition. You cursed tradition for that. You needed him by your side. Why wasn't he there? You felt so alone even if you had a room filled with women.

When your daughter's cries filled the room, a sound so pure and loud it chased away all your fears, Caracalla froze.

He watched, transfixed on the door.

The midwife wrapped the tiny bundle and placed her in his arms.

This is when another midwife opened the door and Caracalla barged in and to your side immediately.

With shaking hands, he looked at you before he looked at her.

“She’s… perfect,” he murmured, staring down at her in awe.

He traced a finger along her cheek.

You reached out for him, your voice soft.

“She’s strong,” you said, smiling up at him. “Just like her father.”

“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “She’s strong like her mother.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering. “Thank you. For her and for loving.”

In the days and weeks that followed, Caracalla proved to be a caring father.

Geta took on ruling an empire fully for the time being, he wanted to ensure his brother had time for his daughter, for which you will be eternally grateful.

Caracalla was constantly holding her in his arms during the day and pacing the halls with her when she cried at night.

One evening, as you watched him hold her while the sun was setting behind them, he turned to you with a look of pure adoration.

“She’s my redemption,” he said quietly, his voice filled with awe. “Through her, I can be better. For her, I will be better.”

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“You already are. She’s lucky to have you, Calla. We both are.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I believe, I’m the lucky one. I’ll spend every day proving that to both of you.”

Caracalla's fear of his illness affecting his daughter disappeared the moment his eyes laid on her.

A small treasure.

Treasure for an Emperor who thought he had it all.

But now he believed, he truly had it all.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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sorcerersseestars · 11 months ago

Text

love sweet, taste bitter

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

To you, Gojo Satoru is your silly, loving boyfriend. But Gojo Satoru is also the strongest sorcerer in the world, and that comes with its risks—for both you and him. When his Infinity fails to activate, your mission takes a turn for the worse.

Aka one of you gets hurt, and the other has to bear it.

Warnings: injuries and violence, a gun is used, blood loss, hidden inventory arc spoilers, fight btwn Gojo and reader, reader implied to be shorter/smaller than Gojo, slightly suggestive (not rlly), lowkey a lot of kissing tho??, bad communication skills, emotional whiplash bc gojo doesn't know what to do w his feelings

Word count: 9.2k

*Gojo and reader are in their early 20s

"Cursed technique reversal: red,” Gojo calls out casually, lazily flicking his right index finger at his target.

The curse—hardly an intelligent one, far from being special-grade—stares at the brilliant light with bulging eyes. It's a deer in the headlights, transfixed by Gojo’s power and paralyzed with fear. You can only imagine how that would feel.

You tear your eyes away from the sight of the curse disintegrating into nothing. It's not as gruesome as most curse exorcisms, considering the potency of Gojo’s attacks, but the curse’s expression fading into nothingness still makes your skin crawl. You almost pity the horrible creature.

In comparison to the macabre scene you just witnessed, Gojo's enthusiastic noise of approval nearly gives you whiplash.

"Another job well done by yours truly!" Gojo grins, giving you two thumbs up. "Now let's hurry before that new boba place closes. You said you really wanted to try it, right?"

It takes you a moment to respond, your mind still processing how insanely fast your boyfriend was able to eradicate a threat that would have taken you both a good strategy and a fair bit of time to exorcise. It took practically no effort for Gojo to eliminate, and you know that he fears no curse. For you, fear grips you each time you face off with a curse, no matter how big or small. It doesn't feel fair.

Your fingers curl into a fist as you struggle with your emotions, frustrated with yourself. When you look to him, beyond his shades and into his powerful eyes, something akin to envy pulls at your gut. It makes you feel sick—you're viewing him in the way everybody else sees him. But when he walks toward you, smiling so wide that he looks goofy, your thoughts of his abilities melt away and are replaced by an affection so strong that your chest hurts.

His eyes are so beautiful, their perpetual sparkle even visible from under the dark film of his shades. His cheeks are tinged pink from your constant gaze on him, and it still amazes you that you have the ability to make him fluster at all. His lips are stretched into a toothy grin, his eyes crinkling along in genuine happiness. Your stunning boyfriend that you still can't believe ever gained an interest in plain old you.

That's right. To you, he's not the Honored One, he's not Gojo Satoru. He's just your boyfriend, just your Satoru. Just your boyfriend who is obsessed with anything sweet.

You roll your eyes lightly, a small chuckle bubbling up in your throat, “You mean, the place you've been begging to go to all week?"

He walks to your side, sighing loudly as he approaches. His deft fingers subtly adjust his sunglasses, pulling them down in an attempt to garner your sympathy. The expression on his face is priceless—the strongest sorcerer in the world is pouting because you insinuated you might not want milk tea.

"Don't be so mean, sweets!” He whines. "You said you wanted to try it out, too.”

“Hm, did I now?” You say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I don’t recall.”

He steps closer, towering over your smaller form. When you dwell on that thought, you suppose you should be scared. You see him brutally destroy curses, leaving no trace of their existence behind. He could do that to you, if you wanted to.

Even knowing that, you aren’t scared.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel his strength through the solid grip he has on you—his arms lovingly cage you in.

Even though he’s done this many times before, your breath still catches in your throat, and your heart races at the proximity.

“C'mon, l know you've been craving brown sugar boba all week... And they even have that tiramisu flavor you go crazy for…”

He nuzzles in close to your neck, warm breath fanning down your nape. When he's this close, you can't resist anything—and he knows it, too.

You sigh as if he's ruffled your feathers, but you can't help but let the chuckle you’ve been holding in escape past your upturned lips.

“Do they have cheese foam?" You hum.

You yelp as his fingers dig into your side—and then your entire body is wracked with heaving, boisterous laughter.

"What a silly question. Of course they do! Only the amateurs lack the essential toppings,” He shakes his head playfully. “Any more funny business out of you, and you'll get punished again."

You twist around in his grasp to face him. Your hand reaches up to ease his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, putting his vibrant blue eyes and pale lashes on display.

“You're so pretty it's unfair,” You pout. "Leave some for the rest of us."

"And yet everyone's always trying to steal you away from me," He counters.

"Says the head-turner," You say with a smile full of your adoration for him. “Haven't you noticed that the rest of the population—myself included—never has all eyes on them when entering a room?"

He shrugs, “How would I know? You think my eyes are on anyone else once I see you?"

The insinuation has heat and electricity coursing through your entire body. He wears a smirk as if he can feel the flames licking your skin. You lower your gaze, suddenly shy.

A warm hand cups your check, gently nudging your face close to his. Your eyes instinctively flit up to his, drinking him in.

His eyes are bright behind his shades. You laugh softly when his shades fully slide down to the edge of his nose as he lowers his head to yours.

“Makin’ fun of me, babycakes?” He pretends to pout, but his tone is playful and warm.

“Maybe,” You tease. “I mean, you are freakishly tall and have glow in the dark eyes. And you call me all sorts of weird names.”

“You–!” He gasps. “You are such a rascal, y’know that? A fiend, even!”

“Mmm,” You hum, humoring him. “Well, would such a fiend as myself do…this?”

You lean in, savoring the warmth of his hands on you. His skin, smooth from its lack of wear due to his Infinity, skates across your skin effortlessly. Your lips are about to touch his, only inches away from bliss, when you both are caught off guard.

There’s a loud bang. So loud, in fact, that your ears ring as soon as the sound waves hit your eardrums. You stagger back from Gojo, crouching down and immediately covering your ears with your hands. You look up at your boyfriend, expecting to exchange confused glances, and are not prepared in the slightest for the scene in front of you.

His eyes are blown wide, shades now missing. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead and all color has drained from his face. His expression quickly crumples, lips parting and yet no sound escapes him.

A shudder runs through you—something is very wrong.

Then his shaky hands begin to move, and he quickly clutches his side. Right under his ribs, a stream of blood begins to run down his body, escaping between his fingers. You watch in horror as it pours down at an alarming rate, and you begin to put the pieces together.

Satoru has been shot.

His name leaves your mouth in a panicked howl and then you can't speak anymore, as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. Your mind is ripped back to when Toji Fushiguro sliced Gojo to shreds in front of you. His blood splattering everywhere while you watched on in horror, immobilized and completely useless, not able to do anything but watch the terrors unfold. Not again, not again, it can’t happen again, is what replays through your mind.

You have no more time to linger on that chilling memory. More pops sound through the air, deafening you and spiking fear in the blood that rushes through your veins. It can't happen again. You can't see him like that again.

You immediately throw yourself at your boyfriend, desperately trying to shield him with your body, even though it’s nearly impossible with how tall he is. You shove him down, attempting to cut down his frame to meet yours so that you can cover him, and notice something odd. You can still feel his warmth—your skin brushes against his, when it shouldn’t. Not right now, it shouldn’t.

You move to the side with quick steps and try to pull him along with you, but are unable to. Your heart sinks. He’s completely dead weight. You’re strong in your own regard, but there’s no way you can pick him up and take off with him.

"Satoru, please! C'mon, we have to go, we need to. Please," You plead with him, gripping him so tightly that your hands ache. When he doesn't respond, you start to shake him, trying to get any reaction out of him, but to no avail.

He’s in shock. It’s obvious with his lack of reaction, with how he lets himself be man handled under your body. He prides himself in his ability to protect those around him—he wouldn’t just let you put yourself in the line of fire if he was in his right mind. You know fully well that Gojo could eliminate the shooter in mere moments if he assumed his normal calm and nonchalance—but, unfortunately, his mind is in a freeze state. The bare skin under your fingertips is evidence of this, which only exacerbates your rising panic.

“Your Infinity!” You shout, your voice raw from panic. “Satoru, your Infinity! You need to turn it on! Now!”

Still grasping Satoru tightly, you endure the next round that is emptied into the space next to you—a bullet whistles by your ear, too close for comfort. Gojo’s breathing is ragged, his eyes staring into nothing and appearing so far away at the same time.

You duck down to his eye level and grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Satoru, please! Snap out of it! Please!”

For a few seconds, his gaze locks with yours. His eyes, usually such a vivid blue, are darkened by how large his pupils are. You plead with him, unable to keep your terrified tears at bay.

Then you’re slightly bumped back, now pressing against what feels like a wall, and your body becomes weak with relief. He finally activated his Infinity.

But you're not out of danger yet. Your brain scrambles as you try to figure out how to get out of this while your boyfriend is evidently in shock.

You dare a glance back, eyes scouring the landscape, and immediately curse. As you suspected, you are most definitely being sniped. The enemy has the advantage of higher ground and generous foliage for coverage, while you and Satoru are exposed out in the open clearing below. If you had more time and brain power, you could triangulate their location, but that's just not possible right now.

Even if you were able to surmise their location, you don't even think you can fight back right now, not with how exposed your position is and with how vulnerable Gojo is in this state. And if you can't fight, then you have to flee.

Projectile weapons are ineffective against a moving target—this simple knowledge is what sways your decision. Even though it didn’t work before, you grab Satoru, still trying to keep him low, and begin to run. You breathe a little easier when he moves along with you.

More shots whizz past you, but you keep going, pumping your legs as fast as you can while making sure to be the rear guard. It’s obvious that they’re targeting Gojo—if they hit you, it would merely be collateral damage. The bullseye is on Gojo’s back, not yours.

You don’t stop running until you hit the tree line, and even then you hurriedly usher Gojo behind a stocky trunk many meters back. Before you can catch your breath, you're ripping off your jacket with haste. Quickly realizing that the material is not ideal for the job you intend it for, you quickly tear your shirt from your body. It’s sweaty from all your activity, but it’ll have to do.

You brush away Gojo’s hands, firmly pressing the cloth to his wound. You practically collapse onto your boyfriend as you apply firm pressure, your forehead dipping down to rest on his shoulder. You're wracking your brain for what to do next when Gojo gently pushes you back, places his hands on yours, and shakes his head.

You can't help but think the worst. What does that mean? Is it like that time? Am I too late again?

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but y-you're bleeding so much that I have to. Fuck, I’m really sorry for making you run, I’m sure that made it worse, but we just had to get away from whoever was shooting, oh god, how badly did they get you, fuck, this is my fault–”

You don’t realize you’re rambling until he cuts you off. You don't realize you're crying until he brushes the tears away.

“Hey. Stop, sweets. I’m fine, it already stopped bleeding.”

“What? But that can’t be, you were literally shot–”

He raises his shirt, revealing a pink layer of new skin.

He offers you a weak smile, but something is off about it. “Reverse cursed technique, remember? Nobody’s gonna take me down that easily.”

You release a big breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The weight on your shoulders finally eases as you look over his new layer of skin.

“Oh fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay,” You sniffle, leaning in quickly for a hug. “I–mmph!”

You stumble back a step, blinking in surprise. This has never happened before—you hit his invisible barrier.

His eyes widen. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

“No, no, it’s okay!” You wave your hands, trying to dispel his apology. You feel flustered and stiff, awkwardness seeping into your mannerisms. “It’s good that it’s on now.”

It’s then that the disturbing thought hits you. Maybe he should always have his Infinity on. Maybe you’re endangering him.

Gojo holds out his arms for you, now inviting you in. You pause, your thoughts echoing through your head. You take a beat too long—you know he senses your momentary hesitation, and how slowly and gingerly you come into his arms doesn't feel right.

“You okay? Did you get hit?” He asks, squeezing you tightly in his arms. “Fuck, please tell me you didn’t.”

With your head pressed to his chest, you can hear how rapidly his heart beats. He’s scared. He’s scared for you, even though he was the one who got hurt.

His hands run over you, checking for any injuries. You pull yourself out of his embrace gently to still his hands.

You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. But you…you got hurt, Satoru. They shot you.”

And it’s absolutely your fault. If you hadn’t been touching him, this never would have happened. He let his guard down because of you.

“I’m alright now, sweets,” He reassures you, but his tone is again tinged with a strange emotion you can’t put your finger on. “Promise.”

“But–!” You exclaim, about to spill out all of your guilty feelings. The words don’t come, though, stopped by another fear. Will he also realize it’s your fault and get rid of you? Will he realize he doesn’t need you?

“Here,” He says, unballing your shirt and placing it in your hands. “This is proof that I’m fine. Your shirt’s..."

He inspects it funnily, scrunching up his eyebrows and staring at it intently, making a show of it to make you laugh. "...pretty clean and ready to be worn again. Well, unless you don’t want to…can’t say I wouldn’t mind you not putting it back on…there is a little speck of blood on it, after all...”

He smiles at you, a true grin that manages to lift up your weary heart. You burst out laughing, and swat his arm before you hurriedly take it from his hands.

“Satoru! We almost just died and you—” You still can’t contain your laughter, but it stops abruptly once you feel a large wet patch on your shirt. When you pull your hand back, your fingers are stained red with a surprising amount of blood.

“I swear it closed up before you…” He frowns, trailing off. His face turns serious for a moment, but then you touch his cheek with your clean hand and give him a quick peck.

You shrug, “It’s okay. No biggie.”

Face still close to yours, he chases your lips as you pull away from the peck. He kisses you deeply, catching you by surprise and forcing you to hold onto him for support.

"Satoru! I'm gonna get you all bloody with this hand..." You softly protest.

"Don't care," He murmurs quickly, leaning in again and kissing like you don't need to breathe. "It's mine anyway. Just like you."

"Mmph—Satoru—but you need to get looked at properly," You manage to say. "We have to go."

He reluctantly lets you slip out of his arms, sighing as he straightens to his full height.

He groans loudly, frowning at you, "Party pooper!"

"Yeah, yeah, get yourself ready," You fold your arms, acting like you didn't just immensely enjoy that.

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks as his eyes scan your body.

"What?" You ask petulantly.

He sounds more excited than you’d like, “So…no more shirt?”

You sigh, exasperated, and quickly smooth the shirt back over your body. He laughs and wraps himself around your smaller form, squishing you back against his chest. You relax against him, digging your nose into him, taking in his comforting scent. You both are silent for a few moments, soaking up each other's presence.

“That was scary,” You whisper.

Gojo sighs, “It was pathetic, that’s what it was.”

You snap your head up to look at him. “Hey. What are you saying?”

He shakes his head, looking frustrated. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just…let’s just head back.”

“Satoru…” You start with a warning tone.

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now,” He says flatly. “Besides, we should go back and see Shoko just in case. I want you to get looked over, too."

You want to question him further, but hold your tongue. You know better than to press him when he’s like this.

“Huh? Why’s that?” You simply ask instead, genuinely confused.

He frowns as he looks at your head, scrutinizing it as if something was wrong. Before you can question him, he forms a fist and–

Knock, knock.

“You think it’s in there?” He asks seriously. “Sounds pretty hollow.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief at the absolute disrespect. There’s no way he just knocked on your skull to check if your brain is still in your head.

“GOJO SATORU! Are you- are you implying I don’t have a BRAIN?!” You screech, taking hold of his sorcerer jacket to jostle him around. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He laughs, then uses the same fist to roughly rub your scalp. He even gave you a fucking noogie!!

“That’s it! Take me to Shoko.” You pout, crossing your arms and turning around so your back faces Gojo.

“Aww, sweets, you want a second opinion?” He coos, moving forward to wrap his arms around you from behind. “I’m sure she’ll be able to confirm it…”

“Ugh!”

"...with how willingly you throw yourself into danger."

You stop smiling. "What?"

He's not smiling either, and its absence looks strange on his face. His gaze is almost cold. "Don't do that again."

There are no words that come to your mind, but you wish you could protest and justify your actions and convince him that it was necessary. Instead, you stand there dumbly, transfixed by his cold aura.

Then he smiles sweetly again, as if that hadn't just happened. "Let's go, shall we?"

Shoko sighs loudly at your arrival. "What was it this time?"

"Actually, we're not sure," You admit, looking to Gojo to see if he has any possible answers. When he says nothing, you continue, "We didn't see what—or rather who–it was. 'Must have been a cursed user."

"Even Mr. Six Eyes didn't see them?" Shoko asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's hard to believe. And here I was always thinking he should leave some eyes for the rest of us."

She looks to Gojo teasingly, but he doesn't take the bait. Shoko looks to you with a questioning gaze that says something like—what's up with him?

"It's complicated..." You supply vaguely.

"Well, whoever it was must be bad news," She says. "How did they get Gojo if you couldn't see them?"

"They had guns," You explain. "It was a sniper...or a few snipers, I'm not sure if it was just one or if there was another one too. Their aim wasn't the best, but they got Satoru one time...they shot a few rounds at us, but I guess they got lucky with that shot."

You can't look at him. If you look at him, you'll see his skin pale and washed out from the blood dripping down his abdomen. You'll see his body lacerated and unrecognizable from Toji's ruthless assault. You are always useless, hopelessly useless.

You look at your feet instead and ignore the sour taste of bile in your mouth.

Gojo's cocky snicker brings you back to attention, "They were pretty terrible. They only got one hit, but they should have known better. As if that loser shit would work against me."

Shoko's eyes are on you again, and you know why. Gojo doesn't normally get injured. And by someone with nothing more than a gun? How could he even get hit with Infinity?

Even if you were speaking, you're not sure you would have the strength to tell her. It's my fault he didn't have his Infinity on, is the answer that resonates painfully in your chest. The guilt threatens to consume you whole, but you push it down.

"Everything is 'loser shit' to you with RCT," Shoko decides on. "But I have to say I'm just a little surprised you got hit."

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm all good now," Gojo says dismissively.

"Let me see at least," Shoko rolls her eyes. "Aren't you here to see me for my medical expertise or what?"

"What, we can't see our dear friend otherwise?" You tease with a pout. "You wound me, Shoko."

"That wouldn't be ethical of me,” Shoko plays along, then turns back to doctor mode once she starts getting her supplies ready. "Did you get hurt too?"

“No, just Satoru,” You say with a shake of your head. “You don’t have to check me over.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “I’ll come back to you.”

“Huh? But Shoko…” You trail off, seeing she has already begun inspecting Gojo.

“I’m all good,” Gojo rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t have quite the usual touch of playfulness it usually does. “C’mon, Shoko, don’t waste your time on this. We both know I can’t really get hurt.”

He winks at you, and you smile in return. That almost makes you feel better—he’s being more like himself.

“Uh-huh, but they certainly won’t let me rest until I do a proper check-up,” Shoko says. “You’ve got a persistent one, did ya know?”

He only chuckles at that, giving her some peace to look him over and prod him here or there.

“Well, you’re all good, as expected. It doesn’t seem like there’s any soreness, which is a good sign.”

“My RCT isn’t just for show!” Gojo says proudly. “Works just as good as yours, Shoko.”

She rolls her eyes, “Uh huh. Now, let’s get on to your ‘sweets’.”

You stick your tongue out at her, blushing, “Shoko, I have a name!”

“Not in these parts,” She teases easily, waggling her eyebrows at you. “Alright, just sit up straight for me now. Just gonna prod you a bit, okay?”

You nod, unworried as you let her hands inspect you. You relax and are about to crack a joke about getting a free massage from bestie Shoko, but you find yourself writhing in pain instead. You definitely didn’t expect yourself to wince—and yet you find yourself doing so, hissing out in pain as a stinging suddenly surfaces on your back.

Gojo sits up in alarm at your reaction and quickly jumps up from his cot, making his way over to you and Shoko. “What’s wrong?”

He’s practically hovering over you before Shoko shoos him away with a wave of her hand, motioning for him to let her do her job. He keeps away, but his gaze is trained on the spot her hand is touching.

She lifts your shirt fully, carefully inspecting the wound. It’s bleeding steadily, yet neither of you even noticed it before this moment.

“You got hit?” Gojo practically mewls. He’s never sounded this small and weak before. “But you were—I thought you were fine..."

Now it makes sense why your hand was tinged red when you pulled your hand back from the shirt earlier. It wasn't from Satoru's wound at all—it's your blood.

When you turn to Satoru, you look into a mirror. You know that's how you must have looked earlier when you looked at his bullet wound in horror.

“You probably didn’t feel it because of the adrenaline," You hear Shoko telling you. "It appears to be a graze, but it got you pretty good. There’s no bullet or shrapnel, which might be why you didn’t feel it in the moment.”

You feel embarrassed for some reason. “I seriously didn’t feel anything…it’s fine, then, right?”

Satoru is pale again. Emotions swirl in his agitated eyes—you can’t quite decipher them, since they cycle so fast, but he looks…haunted.

But he shouldn't, not when everything boils down to being your fault.

You immediately turn your attention to Satoru, becoming apprehensive about the look in his eyes. You smile at him softly, eyes crinkling along with your lips, trying to signal that you’re really okay, that there’s nothing to worry about.

But you don’t see the pool of blood steadily growing behind you, Satoru does.

“I’m okay, Satoru,” You smile, but it falters when Shoko presses gauze against your wound.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Shoko sighs. “Lay on your stomach and try not to move too much. I'm going to wrap you, okay? I need to grab some things, but I’ll be right back.”

"Okay..." You accept softly, still surprised by this turn of events.

You obey Shoko's orders and begin to lower yourself onto the hospital bed. You grit your teeth when the skin on your back stretches, irritating your newly discovered wound. You blink once and suddenly he's by your side, holding you steady and angling you so your back doesn't have movement while he gently lays you down.

"Thanks," You say. "I'm fine though, Satoru, really..."

“You don’t see yourself,” He speaks lowly, quietly. “Worry about yourself some.”

You’re left reeling at his words—more so by how he says them. His voice is so weak, uncharacteristically soft and completely candid.

“I’m fine,” You insist, shaking your head. “I didn’t even feel it. It can’t be so bad then, can it?”

You don’t miss the way Gojo’s jaw sets. He didn’t like that response. You see something you don't understand in his eyes, a flash of a strong emotion you didn’t anticipate. You avert your gaze, but it’s burned into the back of your eyes.

The click of Shoko’s heels alerts you of her return. Gojo watches his old friend carefully, taking in her furrowed brow and the way her eyes jump between your wound and her supplies, analyzing. She seems confused, as if she underestimated the severity of your wound. His hands curls into fists, watching your blood drip over the edge of the bed and dropping messily onto the ground below.

Shoko pulls her gloves on swiftly, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and preparing it for application.

“Sit tight, my friend,” Shoko tells you with a deep exhale. “I gotta get started on this. First I’m going to sterilize it, then you’re going to need stitches. I’m sorry to say we won’t have the luxury of time to sedate you for that.”

You gulp. Your pain tolerance is okay, but you really hate the feeling of anticipating pain. Knowing something will hurt is infinitely more scary to you than getting injured in battle, when your adrenaline is high and it just happens without warning.

You reach your hand out hesitantly, feeling silly for needing comfort just for a few stitches, and are surprised by the immediate grasp on your hand. It’s tight but not uncomfortable; it’s warm and it grounds you.

You grit your teeth and try to limit your whimpers of pain as she treats your wound. You can’t stop yourself from squirming when the needles pulls at your skin again and again, even when she places a heavy hand on your back to hold you in place. All throughout, Gojo’s hand squeezes yours, carrying you through this uncomfortable ordeal.

When it’s finally over, you feel exhausted.

“You did great,” Shoko praises you. “Your wound should be all good for now.”

You let out a small chuckle of relief, almost giddy to be done with the dreaded stitches. You sit up and slide off the bed, wanting to get back on your feet to feel some normalcy, to convince yourself you’re fine.

You truly felt nothing before, but it must be catching up to you now. Your knees threaten to buckle under you as dizziness overtakes you—you wobble on your two feet.

Both Shoko and Gojo rush to you, each taking a side to support you.

“You lost a considerable amount of blood,” Shoko warns in her doctorly tone. “Slow down and take it easy from now on.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head, “I’m good! Just stood up a bit too fast.”

Shoko releases your arm, but Gojo doesn’t let go. He holds you steady, even pulling you toward him, supporting the majority of your weight.

“I can stand, y’know…” You laugh softly, finding his overprotective actions a bit amusing. But all the humor drains from the situation when you meet his gaze.

You see it in his eyes again, a dark flicker that almost makes you nervous. Before you can muster the courage to question him about it, Shoko interrupts your silent musings.

“Listen closely. I know you like to be up and about, as you just demonstrated, but I want you to limit your movement as to not disturb your stitches. A little walking should be fine, but do not exert yourself. No exercising or training for the next few days. Come see me in three days so I can clear you—if it’s looking good—for activity.”

You resist a sigh, settling on a playful roll of your eyes. “Yes, mom.”

She smirks, “Good. Now get out of here, you two, before I get your couples cooties.”

“Har, har, har,” You pretend to laugh, before sticking your tongue out at her. “Very funny, Shoko.”

It strikes you that Gojo has been unusually quiet, not joining in on your mutual jokes. When you spare a glance, you observe that his facial expression is neutral, if a bit strained. No smile, no cocky smirk. That’s uncommon.

You look at Shoko, exchanging more unspoken words with a few blinks. That confirms it—he’s acting strange.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but he know he won’t tell you here.

“Ready to go?” You ask instead.

“Ready as ever,” He tries a half smile. It’s not very convincing.

You nod and lean into him, angling your head to smile up at him. Your smile is innocent and sweet. His chest squeezes at the sight, full of a jumble of emotions. He doesn’t reveal any of them; he absently plays with a strand of your hair instead.

As you look up at him, closely examining his soulful eyes for any traces of the emotion from earlier, to see if it still lingered. But the intense emotion is gone, replaced by an even and controlled gaze, leaving you to only wonder at the clear flash of anger you saw earlier in his bright eyes.

When you come back home, Gojo is unusually quiet. He mumbles something about taking a shower when you get back, leaving your side as soon as he gets the chance. You really wouldn't mind, but he seems rather... avoidant, especially with his ensuing actions.

You plop yourself down on your couch, trying to get comfy while keeping your back straight, a nearly impossible feat. Feeling restless, you tap your foot while you watch condensation from a glass on the coffee table in front of you drip down the sides. With each drop that falls, your heart beats a little faster.

You prepared a cool glass of water and a bowl of Satoru’s favorite sweets for when he's done, anticipating a binge of a show you both recently discovered. But, instead of an evening full of your usual snuggles on the couch, him getting handsy while you ‘protest’ about missing the show, you are woken up to a different reality.

When you hear the click of the bathroom door, you straighten in your seat, excited to be close to him again. But before you can even call him over to the couch, Gojo heads straight to your bedroom. You wait a few minutes, assuming he's just changing, but you grow uneasy as the time ticks by.

Maybe he just wants space. Well, how long should you give him? Should you ask him if he wants space? But what if he's waiting for you? Does he just want to be in bed instead?

You wait and wait, tapping your foot anxiously on the floor and checking your phone every few minutes. When the supposed appropriate amount of time has passed, you hesitantly approach the bedroom.

You find yourself knocking on the door before you enter, even though you've never done that to your shared door before.

"Hey, Satoru?" You call out tentatively.

You stand in the doorway, scared to cross an invisible boundary. A sheepish smile is on your face, even though you try to get your lips to stretch normally.

He's on his phone, just scrolling. Oh, maybe he just got distracted by TikTok or something.

"Hm?" He barely responds, not even looking up.

“Is something bothering you?” You ask, worried. “Is it your side?”

“Why would it be my side?” Gojo asks flatly.

Your brow creases in confusion, but you try to keep a light tone. “Oh. Uh, what’s wrong, then?”

"Nothing, why would anything be wrong?" He gives you a tight-lipped smile. His tone is so strange—bordering on sarcastic—and you don’t know what to make of it. As he stands up and passes you, slipping out of the room hastily like you are what’s bothering him. The thought turns your stomach.

You pause for a beat, frozen in the doorway as you process what just happened. Then you turn around, eyes following his form as he enters the living room and unceremoniously sprawls across the couch. He crunches on some candy you brought in the bowl.

Okay. Maybe you should be more direct.

You walk over to him, cautious but trying not to appear nervous, “Satoru, can we talk?”

“We are talking,” He smiles oddly.

“You know what I mean…” You say with a note of annoyance coming through in your tone, then it turns softer. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

You blink rapidly, surprised by his blunt answer. You take a seat next to him.

“Okay…could you tell me what I did?”

“…”

He’s not faking a smile anymore, which is a start. His lips are set in a firm, flat line, instead. His jaw is clenched and his neck muscles are emphasized due to how taut they are; you have rarely seen him tense like this. Your chest aches—what did you do?

“Please, Satoru, what’s wrong?” You ask again, each word filled with care and concern. And somehow, it seems to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” He echoes back loudly. “What’s wrong is that you stood in front of me while there was incoming fire! You can’t just do that.”

That’s not what you expected.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

“I just– fuck, why would you think to do that?” He stresses, pulling at his hair. “You took too much risk—you can’t use RCT!”

“Yeah, me and like ninety-nine percent of all sorcerers. Like it matters. You think I thought of that?” You huff.

“‘Like it matters?’ Are you hearing yourself right now?” He scoffs. “It matters a lot, and you know it does. It’s reckless.”

“When it comes to you, it doesn’t.” You say hotly, unwavering.

“It does matter. You got hurt when you shouldn’t have. When you didn’t need to!”

You’re surprised by his outburst. “I–I was only thinking about protecting you, okay? I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking about that! Caring about getting hurt? That was the last thing on my mind.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious you weren’t thinking,” He sneers. “There’s no need to risk your life like that. Absolutely no need.”

Your jaw drops in shock, and you try not to feel hurt. “You can’t be serious right now, Gojo. You were in no state to protect yourself. I was…doing my best, I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“I still got shot,” He argues back immediately, painfully reminding you.

A small, pained gasp escapes you. You spin around as fast as you can—tears are freely falling without your permission.

You want to tell him that’s not fair, but you don’t trust your vocal cords right now. Not with how tight your throat is from trying to hold back sobs that would surely wrack your body if you let them.

The guilt that has been trailing you all day now collects at the pit of your stomach, practically eating you alive. You feel physically sick. He’s right. He did get shot. He was vulnerable, his Infinity lowered because of you. If…if the bullet had gone through his head, what could you have done then?

You stand up as steadily as you can. You don’t spare him a single glance; you can’t, not with your face crumpling as you try your hardest not to cry. You exit the living room swiftly, holding it all in, all of your emotional pain but also your physical pain. Your wound is throbbing and it even feels hard to stay standing right now.

You finally round the corner into the hallway. Now out of view, you let yourself stagger down the hallway, succumbing to your dizziness. It’s your fault, your fault, only your fault. You can’t handle this right now.

You walk aimlessly down the hall, just wanting to get away from him right now. You wind up in the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You stand in front of the mirror, looking for something redeeming within yourself, but all you can see are your pathetic tears and guilt swimming in your eyes.

You grip the edge of the counter, so tightly that it begins to hurt and your fingers tremble at the effort. You feel unsteady, like the brain Gojo teased you don’t have is lacking oxygen. Maybe you really lack one if you think you could possibly be the right match for the strongest.

You sink to the ground, finally releasing heaving sobs that have been trying to claw themselves out of you. They’re muffled by your hands, which you press firmly against your mouth in an effort to contain your noises, but some of the sound leaks between your fingers. You stuff some of your shirt into your mouth to bite down on, trying to hold it all in, trying to hold yourself together.

Your breath hitches at a throb of pain from deep within your back. It hurts so much, even with the pain reliever Shoko gave you to take. It hurts more than when she was threading the needle between your folds of skin; it’s deeper than that, sharp and intense and robbing you of a normal breathing pattern.

Despite your efforts to keep quiet, pained whimpers start to leave you. And worse—panic floods you, taking advantage of your poor state of mind. All you can focus on is the stabbing pain that refuses to dull.

You rip off the gauze with shaking hands, terrified to see its state. But confusion fills you when there's only dried smears on it—that must be from earlier. If your wound is still closed, then why does it hurt so much?

You shift on the floor, limbs giving out. You contort in pain, which only makes things worse, pulling the stitches to their limits. They stay intact, but the tension brings waves of pain to your back. A yelp is ripped from your throat at a particularly painful pulse.

The thunder of incoming footsteps gives you both fear and a sense of relief. On one hand, you didn’t want him to hear; on another hand, right now all you crave is your boyfriend’s comfort.

“Hey, what was that?” He asks from behind the door, sounding on edge.

“Satoru…” You mewl out in pain.

He calls out your name, voice now urgent. You cringe at the resistance of the lock against his attempt at opening the door.

“M’sorry, I locked it,” You sniffle. “Stupid of me.”

But he still appears in front of you, a locked door holding nothing to his defiance of space and time. He takes one glance at your crumpled form on the floor and curses. All of the tension from earlier melts away, replaced by genuine worry and need.

“What happened? You okay? Did you fall?” He asks as he hurriedly crouches next to you. His hands reach out to you, gently pulling you into his lap. You wince as your back bends, aggravating your wound.

You shake your head. “No, it’s just—agh, fuck—just my back, it suddenly hurts so bad.”

He grimaces. “Can…can I take a look?”

You give your consent and he quickly peels your shirt up. His fingers shake as he does so, even though he doesn’t mind the sight of injuries or blood. Or, at least, when it’s not yours.

He slowly pulls your shirt up just enough to reveal your wound, fearing the worst. You shiver when the fabric chafes against your graze, and he murmurs an apology upon seeing your discomfort. One of his hands rubs soothing circles on your waist.

When he inspects your injury, he’s met with red, puffy skin—the area around your stitches is clearly inflamed, but not unsually so. He breathes a low sigh of relief.

“It looks a bit swollen,” He determines before pulling your shirt back down, careful not to let it touch your wound this time. “But not too bad.”

“It feels bad,” You whine.

"I know," He says gently. “I’ll call Shoko in a second to make sure it's alright. Do you want to head to the bed first?"

“Yes, please,” You request softly.

He hooks an arm under your knees, the other cradling your back. “Alright, sweets. Up we go."

He handles your weight like it’s nothing, and easily unlocks the door you stupidly locked on the way out.

Unshed tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t carry him earlier, even after he had been shot and couldn’t move. You are incapable, unable to handle what he can on a daily basis. Can your relationship really be mutual if he always has to act as the strongest? You could barely protect him earlier.

"It hurts that badly?" He references your teary eyes without mockery, only softness.

If only your tears were from that pain.

"It could be worse, I guess," is what you settle on, neither a lie nor the full truth.

"Could I make it better, maybe?" He asks with a suspicious smile. Before you can answer, he swings you around a few times like he normally would when he carries you, which draws a genuine laugh out of you.

"You're gonna make me dizzy!" You complain, but your smile is so pure and wide, something Gojo doesn't miss.

"You're so beautiful, sweets," He says, affectionately rubbing his nose against yours. You feel warm from the closeness.

You look away shyly, "Yeah, right."

"You don't believe me?" He asks huskily, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Ugh! Put me down and call Shoko already! It stills hurts," You pout.

"If you say so," He says, but his little smirk is still planted on his face. He lays you down carefully, gently releasing you onto the pile of blankets.

He then turns around and dials the doctor in question, "Yo, Shoko."

You close your eyes, trying to ward off the radiating pain with deep breaths. Gojo's phone call turns to background noise, the words indecipherable.

You tune back into the world at the end of his conversation.

"Okay, thank you so much Ieiri."

You faintly hear Shoko's disgust on the other end of the line, "What's going on with you?? Please never thank me like that again, yuck!"

You can't hold back the giggle that bubbles up at Shoko's reaction. Gojo blows a raspberry into the speaker and promptly hangs up on her.

"What's the verdict?" You ask.

"Well, sweets," Gojo sing-songs. "Did you forget to do something?"

You look up in thought, your brows furrowing, "I don't think so..."

"Really?" He says, then produces a familiar orange pill container. You're forced to stare at it as he shakes it in front of your face. "What about this, hm?"

"What? I already took one," You say, a little indignantly. "When we first got home. It was so horrible tasting and was a giant horse pill, too...Ugh, get that bottle away from me, might as well throw it out. I don't want to take anymore later."

He cracks the bottle open, pouring one into his palm. You narrow your eyes at him. Before you can ask what he intends to do with it, that same pill is shoved into your mouth followed by an amount of water so large that you almost begin to choke.

You cough on the water, and he pats your back accordingly, as if he expected this.

"What-?! Are you trying to waterboard me? I said I already took one, and-" You cough again. "God, where did you even get that water from anyway?"

"Mm. But you didn't notice the pill this time, right?" He looks satisfied with himself.

You deadpan. "No, but-"

"Besides, you were spacing out before we left the infirmary. Shoko specifically said to take two pills when you came home, or else the pain might get bad."

Your face feels hot, "Oh, did she now? Hah hah...I must have misheard her..."

He sighs, and it's only now you notice how tired he looks. There's a lull in your conversation, and you use this time to truly observe him. Dark circles are prominent under his eyes—how come you never noticed that?—and his eyes hold a look of defeat.

He breaks the silence, speaking softly, "You worry me, y'know? When I came in and you were convulsing on the floor...I don't want to see you like that again."

You stay silent, not willing to risk jeopardizing this rare moment of complete and utter vulnerability from Gojo.

"And when Shoko lifted your shirt and there was so much blood pouring out of your back..." He closes his eyes, screwing them shut. "I didn't know what would happen. That really scared me. Even when Shoko said you'd be fine, I didn't believe her until it stopped. And even then, you looked so weak...you still do, and it kills me."

He looks down at the ground, between his hands that are interlocked so tightly that it looks like it would hurt.

"It fucking kills me inside that you got hurt protecting me, and you didn't even notice. If that bullet had come any closer, you-"

He stops abruptly, voice breaking. You reach forward, taking his large hands in yours.

"But it didn't. Look at me, Satoru. I'm fine, I really am. I promise."

He shakes his head vehemently, and you're shocked to see liquid trickle down his face. You almost startle when he embraces you so tightly that you can barely breathe, as if you could disappear at any moment. His head rests on your shoulder, effectively hiding his expression from view.

He whispers by your ear, "What's the use in being the strongest when I freeze up like that? I put you in so much fucking danger."

"Satoru, look at me," You ask again, but his head stays tucked in the crevice between your shoulder and collarbone. "Please."

He slowly raises his head, revealing the expression he tried to conceal. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are tinged pink; it makes your heart hurt.

"You're not the strongest to me," You say. "You're not even Gojo Satoru. To me, you're Satoru. Just Satoru. You're human and have emotions and memories and trauma, just like everyone else."

You steel yourself for your next words, the ones that have been haunting your thoughts since he got shot.

"I know that what happened reminded you of that...that time with Toji. I-it felt the same for me, and this time...this time I couldn't stand to watch idly. I would rather die than watch that happen to you again. Especially since, this time, it was definitely my fault."

"Your fault?" He laughs dryly.

"Yes!" You instantly cry out, causing his eyes to widen.

"Haven't you realized by now?" You practically sob. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't been touching you. Because your Infinity lowered for me—fuck, it makes me sick saying this out loud—they were able to really hurt you. I'm the one endangering you, and i-if this keeps up then..."

He says nothing. Now that you admitted it, there's no taking it back. And there's no way that he can or should accept this. There's no way he should accept you, you who are so useless and weak and stubborn. And yet...

"That's all?" He says seriously. You're struck with a flash of frustration and anger at his dismissal, but the hard look in his eyes tells you he is just as frustrated and will not budge on this point.

"We'll be more careful. It's a lesson learned for sure, but I'm not giving you up anytime soon. That's what you wanted me to say, isn't it? That I was going to let you go."

You look down shamefully, "W-well..."

He barks out a sharp laugh, "That's not happening. Do you know why?"

You avoid his gaze, and your voice comes out small. "You pity me?"

"I love you." His voice is firm and so sure; it leaves no room for doubt.

Your eyes snap back to his. There’s no bandages or glasses in the way to obscure the emotion shimmering in them—an endless sea of affection and intensity and something else that you couldn’t capture in words even if you tried. Love.

He loves you.

“I love you, so you can’t be reckless. You just can’t, okay? I’ve been going crazy knowing you got hurt, but I couldn’t handle it if…” He takes a sharp breath. “It’s selfish of me, but I don’t fucking care. Nothing can happen to you. I’ll take all of your hits and all of your missions if it means you’ll be safe. You’re the one person I can’t handle losing.”

“Then you’ll understand I feel the same way,” You say with a determined look on your face. “It’s not like I planned to do what I did. It was all instinct. I didn’t care what would happen to me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” He admits, voice raw and so unlike his usual self-assured tone. “You don’t value yourself enough. You matter so much, sweets, more than I could ever say in words. I’d do anything for you, to keep you safe.”

You counter, “And I would die for you, Satoru, because I love you. And I wouldn’t ever regret it.”

Your determined admission renders him silent.

Then he chuckles, “You’re stubborn, aren’t you, sweets? Of course you sound all cute and mad the first time you tell me you love me.”

Your eye twitches, but you exhale into a smile. “Maybe. But so are you!”

“How about this?” He proposes. “How about we both stay alive, live happily ever after, and drink boba and eat kikufuku for the rest of our days?”

“I think I know where this is going,” You say, suspicion clear in your voice. But you can’t stop the way your heart jumps at his words, the insinuation of spending the rest of your days with Satoru making you weak inside.

“Well, sweets, I have an idea,” He says softly, but his words are filled with excitement.

“Hmm?” You muse, playing along. “What is it?”

“I think we need a sweet treat to make us feel better. Don’t you think so? Maybe we could…check out that boba place I talked about earlier?”

“The one ‘I’ said I wanted to go to?” You ask, using air quotes and shaking your head in amusement.

“That’s the one!” He grins, throwing himself around your form. He squeezes you tightly, nuzzling into your neck. “I love you so much that I’ll treat you, seeing as you want to go so badly. Not that I really wanted to go or anything…”

“You’re such a bad liar!” You laugh, pinching his cheek. “But, Satoru…I meant what I said.”

You look at him seriously, not willing to let this slide. You don’t expect him to match your intense energy, but he does.

“So did I. You don’t have to worry about that anymore, because I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll always be here for you, sweets. I’ll always protect you. You can try, but I’ll never make that mistake again. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, so I won’t let it. I love you too much to let it happen.”

Your heart feels like it could burst. You sniffle, not able to hold the tears back.

“Aw, is my baby crying?” He teases, gently thumbing the tears away from your cheeks. “You okay?”

“Mhm, just happy,” You nod and let out a watery laugh. “Hey, Satoru.”

“Yeah?” He hums.

“Do you love me enough to give me the last kikufuku later?”

You expect him to joke along with you, but he’s perfectly serious in his words back. Only you seem to have that effect on him.

“Even that,” He chuckles along with you, unbridled warmth and affection swimming in his baby blues as he gazes at you, eyes never leaving your form. “Even that, sweets.”

gojo masterlist <3

A/N: I don’t feel like this is the highest quality writing, but I felt really compelled to write this for some reason, so…oh well! <3 I hope it still turned out okay.

Also Satoru definitely should have apologized but I feel like he’s stubborn and hates apologizing so I left that out <3

I think this is the first time I've managed to not use (Y/N) HAHA, sometimes I see comments on other posts about how much it disturbs their immersive experience, so I'm going to try to limit my usage of it from now on...personally, I've seen and used it for so long that it's just part of my x reader vocabulary, but I understand why people don't like it lol.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you had a great day today !! <333

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo hurt/comfort #jjk #gojo fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo feels guilty so he gets mad at you bc he’s dumb asf <3 #reverse comfort #gojo gives me emotional whiplash fr #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic

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emeritusemeritus · 9 months ago

Note

The way that I ran here as soon as I saw that your requests are open...!

Could I ask for a fic of reader and George cuddled up in bed (with reader sitting in between his legs leaning on him - so readers back is against his chest) drinking hot chocolate, watching a movie and enjoying the start of their little Christmas break? And while reader is leaning back on George, readers' soft legs under the blanket distract him from what they're watching 🤭. Gentle kisses on her neck and sweet praises in her ear as he reaches between her legs, just wanting his sweet girl to feel nice and relaxed 😚

Merry (early) Christmas x

Hi lovely Anon! This has been such a pleasure to write, I love cozy George! I hope you enjoy and MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🖤

Warnings: smut, PinV sex, graphic sex, mirror sex, fingering, George is a bit of a simp, Christmas traditions. Bit of swearing, major fluff. Almost no plot lol. The POV is a little all over the place as I wanted to show both internalised thoughts and the scene.

Word count: 2.8k

George’s Christmas Angel

"Okay we have hot chocolates with those big marshmallows you like, snacks, some homemade cookies I nicked from your mums aaandd Christmas lights!" You say with glee as you step into yours and George's bedroom levitating a tray full of goodies, pausing to turn on the lights to the tree you'd tirelessly toiled over all day to make it look perfect for tonight.

George is already laid on the bed, his plaid pyjamas hung low on his hips and shirtless, fresh from the shower. He grabs the tray as is floats towards him and puts it on his beside table, careful not to spill the drinks before he turns to you again.

"Oh before I forget," you say absently, talking to yourself. You reach up and with one well practiced manoeuvre, you reach into your shirt and unclasp your bra, pulling out from under your top and throwing it into a pile near your chair.

When George notices what you're wearing, he suddenly falls silent, eyes widening at the sight before him. It's not sexy exactly, at least it wouldn't be if it was hung up somewhere, George wouldn't have even noticed it usually; but on your body, the way it clung to your curves, highlighting the places on your body that George loved the most (not that there were any that he didn't). George felt like he was drooling at the sight and had to discreetly wipe his chin to check when you weren't looking, feigning a nose scratch as he watched you bend down slightly to mess with the muggle tv ahead of the movie you were showing him for the first time. He can't look away, transfixed upon the curve of your bum, deliciously round and illuminated by the colourful pattern of your pyjamas, his eyes naturally drawn to the print. He clears his throat, forcing himself to look away, trying to focus on anything else in the room in the hopes it would hold his attention.

"George?

Your voice calls out to him and he turns his head to look back at you, throat forcing down a swallow as he looks upon your body, this time from the front. Your nipples are hard, now more noticeable than ever since the removal of your bra, breasts swishing at you move. George is completely transfixed, hardly able to string two words together in reply to you.

"I said do you need anything before I sit down?"

"No Angel, got everything I need right here," he says with a grin, arms reaching out to you with little grabby hands that insist on you coming to him right away. You laugh and let out a little squeal as he hoists you up onto the bed, positioning you between his thighs and gently urging you back to lay your head in his chest as he pulls the duvet over both of you. His chin tucks neatly on top of your head, always the perfect fit, as his arms snake around your waist so that he's holding you securely. The heat from his body radiates through your back, soothing you and relaxing you all in one. You realise with a great sense of contentment that there's nowhere you'd rather be than right here.

The film begins to play and you can't help but babble excitedly about how this was your favourite muggle Christmas film, the one that officially started your Christmas viewing every year and how you were so excited to show him all of your favourites in the years to come, if you didn't manage to squeeze them all into this particular festive season.

George is half listening, never one to drown out someone speaking so passionately about their interests, especially not his girl, but he's finding himself at increasingly distracted by your body laying between his legs. It's a wonder that you haven't noticed the prominent bulge rubbing against your lower back, especially with the way that it keeps twitching as if trying to seek out more contact, the blood in George's body racing to that one spot so quickly that he's almost dizzy.

Your legs are smooth and soft against his, just as silky as the lingerie you'd worn on your anniversary, the thought of those little panties never far from George's mind. Your chest rises and falls with every steady breath and he's helpless to look away from your breasts having the perfect view from his vantage point above you as he can stare right down into the delicious slope of your cleavage.

It's instinctual, primal almost as his arms unfurl from around you to stroke the smooth skin of your thighs. You shift a little on the spot, eyes still focused upon the television though George sees the way you lean into his touch, silently asking for more. His left hand slips along the exposed skin of your stomach before reaching up to cup your breasts. Your nipples are already pebbled and George's lips upturn into a smirk, his teeth dragging the skin of his bottom lip into his mouth just slightly as he watches the way your breasts fill his palms. His right hand slips towards the edge of your little shorts, toying with the fabric that lays dangerously close to your outer lips of your pussy, his fingers sliding down to your bikini line. Your hips rise slightly, silently beckoning him as your head raises slightly, allowing him unobstructed access to your neck. His lips ghost against the skin of your neck and he smirks incessantly again when he feels you shiver slightly in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It's more erotic than it's ever felt, the sensuality of his touch so innocently arousing, like the days when you had to be quiet sneaking around in George's bedroom at the Burrow.

"Can I touch this perfect pussy Angel?" George coos into your ear, his fingers slipping just underneath the material of your shorts but still staying respectful as he awaits your answer.

"Please Georgie," you say breathlessly, opening your legs further for him, your arousal undeniable.

Instead of his fingers slipping out and down into the waistband of your shorts as you'd predicted, his fingers slip underneath the sides of your shorts, the thin material barely concealing your pussy.

You gasp as his fingers brush the smooth outer lips of your pussy, his touch featherlight and teasing as he traces the outline of you. Your hips move on their own accord, trying to prompt him to touch you more intimately, to stop teasing. His fingers suddenly pull open your outer lips and slip towards your little hole, long and deft fingers now tracing your inner lips and smearing the juices he finds there. One long digit draws up your wetness, tracing the seam of your cunt until he finds the sensitive nub at the core of your pleasure. Your head falls back onto his shoulder as his left hand squeezes your breast through the thin top in perfect timing with his ministrations, finger circling both your nipple and your clit in sync. He presses long and delicate kisses to your neck as his fingers play with you perfectly like a musician that had perfected their craft. You're writhing in delight, gasping out his name like it's the only thing you can remember.

Your chest heaves against the material confines of your top and he's quick to rectify that, lifting the flimsy material over the curve of your breasts, leaving you exposed to both his eyes and the chill of the room around you.

"You're so beautiful my Angel," he coos in your ear, the very tip of his index finger gently flicking the top of your clit, making you cry out at the sensation. He's soft and gentle but always with the tense of teasing, always wanting to hold back from the most obvious route to extend your pleasure. You can feel his erection pressed into your back, the wordless need conveyed so effortlessly that it makes you run up against it, wanting him to feel even a hint of the pleasure he was giving you.

"This is for you sweetheart, don't think of me right now, just enjoy it."

It's unbelievable that he could even conceive that you could think of anything else other than him in that moment, his fingers working over your most sensitive part so beautifully with the expertise of a man just like him that had been fucking your good for years. He knows exactly where you need him, your favourite spots, the ones that draw those long and bliss filled moans from your lips, the ones that make you cry out his name like a prayer and most notably the ones that catapult you to your edge in mere seconds.

"I love you so much," he whispers, fingers now circling the top of your clit in perfect rhythms, just beneath the hood in a steady rhythm that he knows you enjoy the most. You can't sit still, writhing under his touch, legs opening and closing as if simultaneously denying and accepting the pleasure bestowed upon you. His hands feel like pure magic on your body and you find yourself holding off your orgasm just for the chance of more.

When his fingers pull away from your skin you let out a low whine as you reach out for him in desperation for him to continue. You feel his chuckle, the vibrations passing between your bodies where you rest on him.

"Do you want my cock sweetheart? You've been so good."

"Please Georgie," you say breathlessly, trying to turn your head towards him but failing, the height difference not allowing you to see his face.

"I have an early Christmas present for you Angel. Take off your shorts," he gently commands before adding, "and that little top, I want to see every beautiful inch of your body on me."

You do as he asks in seconds. Even using magic couldn't have made your clothes disappear faster as you eagerly await the gift of George's cock, knowing that it had been the best gift you'd ever received years prior.

"Face away from me, I want you to see something," George instructs, giving you a warm but teasing smirk as he reaches out for you one again. He's completely naked before you, sat in much thrice same position that he was before but now the taught and freckled skin of his body is on display for you. The lines of his wide and strong shoulders, taught stomach and incredibly long legs, as well as the sight of his swollen cock all add to your arousal and you don't wait any longer to join him on the bed. You do as he asks and guide yourself to face away from him, looking down at where your cores rest just above each other, a delicious tease to what comes next.

He reaches down and grabs his swollen length, giving it a single stroke before his left hand rests in your hip to guide you, offering his cock for you to slip down onto.

You almost shudder in complete arousal as his bulbous tip slips between your folds, resting for only seconds at the very core of your pussy as you slowly sink down until he's penetrating you, filling you right to the brim. You're rendered both speechless and breathless by the sheer size of him, still the most glorious surprise even years later.

The groan that falls from his lips makes your walls clench around him, your eyes closing at the feel of your walls twitching and stretching to accommodate him. You delicately sit up, pulling off his hips for a moment as you slowly rise before sinking back down cautiously, testing the waters. You slowly increase the rhythm of your hips and in no time at all, your hips are canting on him faster and faster. You're both equally as loud in your affections, unable to hold back your cries of pleasure at the sensations. It wasn't often that you ever made love like this, at least not in this position, so unhurried.

He suddenly wraps a long arm around your middle and manoeuvres you so that he's now almost sitting, your bum nestled perfectly in his groin as he begins to move his hips quicker and harder against you, his right hand slips across your front and down to your clit, increasing your pleasure exponentially. Even in this position he's an artist with his fingers as he begins that perfect rhythms once again, finding that spot that makes you howl like a banshee, his name falling out of your mouth like a mantra.

"Look up Angel, look straight forward."

You do as he says, opening your eyes and fighting the urge to close them once again when his cock shifts just that little bit deeper from his change of angle, his hips flush to your bum.

You gasp when your eyes focus in front of you, seeing your reflection mirrored back, though you hardly recognise yourself. In this position, you're directly facing the mirror that you'd moved to accommodate the Christmas tree, not having noticed it's rather risqué new home. Your face is relaxed and yet also contorted into sheer ecstasy, eyes half lidded and pouting lips wide open. Your body is on display in the most exposing way, your legs separated by George's long legs, your breast cupped by his large hands and your clit being so meticulously toyed with. You're exposed and vulnerable but looking at you now, you don't see that, nor do you shy away from the view that you'd usually avoid under any circumstances. You look empowered and sexy with the smile of a woman that was satisfied in every sense. George looks incredible over your shoulder, his face scrunched up with the effort of his thrusts and the pleasure it brought as his slightly freckled hands occupy every inch of your body.

"Watch how I'm fucking you, how fucking beautiful you look."

It brings you closer to the edge quicker than you'd care to admit, seeing your reflection bounce on the cock of her boyfriend, your eyes fixed upon your spread open pussy that George was mercilessly teasing with his fingers. Your hips move faster now, almost bouncing on his cock as he groans and growls, his grip tightening on your breast as if to signal his own closeness.

"George, George!" You cry out, reaching your peak in an alarmingly short amount of time as you writhe on him. You want to keep your gaze upon your bodies in the mirror but your eyes close upon their own accord, the pleasure too much that it feels like it's consuming you. In the periphery of your mind, you can hear and feel George climaxing only seconds later but you're too lost in yourself to actively notice, still swimming through the brilliant haze of your orgasm, mind foggy from the sheer force of your climax.

When you come down from the high, you're panting and covered in a thin sheet of sweat, clinging to George as you feel him in much the same predicament below you. You glance back at the mirror, seeing your reflection wearing a contented smile, looking as cock drunk as you felt.

"So beautiful," he muses, your eyes meeting in the mirror whilst his hand slipping up and down your legs soothingly, slowly bringing your body back to normal. He slips out of you slowly, knowing how overstimulated you'd be and collapses back onto the bed. You turn to look at him, breaking your fixation upon the mirror and slide in beside him, his arms opening up for you instinctively as he wraps the duvet around your naked bodies once again. Your eyes divert briefly to the screen seeing that the movie is close to ending and there's a small pang of sadness that you'd missed most of the film, though you were far from sad at the distraction.

With a slight groan, George reaches across to his bedside table, grabbing his wand as it lay there and casts an enchantment upon the hot chocolates that lay long forgotten on the side, magically making them warm again. He hands you your mug as you sit up straighter in bed, pulling the duvet up with you to fight off the chill and graciously accept the warm mug, watching as a few extra marshmallows appear on top. You turn to George in confusion, watching as he winks at you and places down his wand again, sipping the hot chocolate with a moan of pleasure.

“Let’s start the film again baby,” George suggests, his eyes focusing on the television that was currently playing the credits to the film. “Start it from the beginning… we’ll see how like I can make it through before you distract me again.”

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley fluff #george weasley reader #George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x you #George Weasley smut #requests #completed requests #Christmas smut

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no-fate-but-what-we-make · 7 months ago

Text

Confession | Sweet Pea

[gif is not mine; credit goes to the creator]

Word Count: 1.2K

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Fem!Reader, 2nd person pov

Warnings: mentions of fighting

Description: The night before the drug raid with Jughead and the other Serpents, Sweet Pea confronts his feelings for his best friend.

Trope: friends to lovers

A/N: The moment I saw this scene in 3x17, I knew I had to write a prequel to it.

- - -

You could tell something was off with Sweet Pea the moment he walked in the door. Normally so calm and composed, your best friend was fidgety and off.

“Alright, something’s wrong,” you said, unable to finally take it anymore. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Sweet Pea maintained, not keeping eye contact. “Just forget about it.”

“Does this have anything to do with the Serpents now working under Sheriff Jones?”

“No.”

“Does it have something to do with the Serpents?”

“N-No.”

If you didn’t know Sweet Pea like you did, you wouldn’t have been able to detect the barest hint of a stutter of uncertainty in his voice. “No more games, Sweet Pea,” you growled, upset at his caginess. “Either you tell me or I’m kicking you out.”

Sweet Pea let out a defeated sigh, shaking his head. “It’s…a raid.”

“A raid? But I thought Tent City was raided a while ago.”

“No, it’s not that. Jughead has organized a raid to rid Riverdale of Fizzle Rocks and whatever else the Gargoyles are selling. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Are these orders from the Sheriff?”

“No. And you can’t say anything to him or anyone else.” Sweet Pea ran a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have even told you.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you did. This seems to be weighing on you and I want to be able to help. What about this raid has you spooked?”

“We’re outnumbered. Sure, we’ll have Archie and some of the guys from El Royale, but we don’t really know exactly how many Gargoyles are out there. Or if they’re armed.” His eyes met yours and you could see the fear in them. “Hell, we don’t even know if we’re all going to make it out alive.”

“You will,” you reassured him, with more certainty than you felt. “You and the Serpents have done way more dangerous shit than this and made it out alive. This won’t be any different.” Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. There wasn’t much else you could do to comfort him, but it was the best you could do in the moment.

Sweet Pea was still clinging to you when you started to pull away, an intense look in his eyes that you didn’t recognize. The way he said your name tugged at your heartstrings and you looked up at him, transfixed. “Just in case I don’t make it back, I want you to know something.”

“Don’t talk like that, Sweet Pea. You can tell me after you get back.”

“No.” Sweet Pea shook his head. “It has to be tonight.”

“Then what is it?” You were utterly confused, but your racing heart told you that you knew deep down what he was going to say.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sweet Pea.”

“No, I love you,” he said, desperation in his voice as he said your name again. “I have for a long time, I’ve just been too chicken-shit to say something.”

“Are you telling me this because you think something bad is going to happen to you tomorrow night?” You took a step back, looking at Sweet Pea in shock. “Tell me something, Sweet Pea: if this raid wasn’t happening tomorrow, would you have ever even told me this?”

His look away told you everything you needed to know. You felt like you’d been sucker-punched in the gut for the second time that night.

Sweet Pea started to say your name again but you cut him off with a glare. “I’m going to need you to do two things for me.”

“Anything - name it.”

“If you really feel this way about me, you’ll come back tomorrow and tell me this so I know it has nothing to do with this raid.”

Sweet Pea nodded. “And the second thing?”

“Leave.” You didn’t want to be so harsh on him, but you needed time to process everything that had just happened.

You could barely look at him as he gathered his things, making a point to leave his flannel behind.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised, giving you one last longing look as he shut the door behind him.

*~*~*~*

You fidgeted with the sleeves of Sweet Pea’s flannel that he’d left behind, trying to take comfort in his scent and its softness. With every second the clock ticked past eight, you couldn’t help worrying. Maybe something would happen to him tonight and you turning him down last night was your only chance to actually be with him - hell, you hadn’t even kissed him last night.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You tried to do anything and everything to distract yourself, but you hit a point where your house was spotless and there wasn’t anything more to stress-clean. It was impossible to focus on any tv show or movie, your thoughts always leading back to Sweet Pea.

The knock at your door had you jumping, your heart starting to race as you ran for the door, yanking it open after confirming it was Sweet Pea. “You’re here,” you gasped, hurling yourself into his arms. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” he chuckled, more sure of himself than the last time you’d spoken.

“How did the raid go?” You asked, stepping out of his embrace and sucking in a breath when you saw the state of his face. “Oh my god, Sweet Pea - your eye!”

“Raid went okay, but I was hoping you could fix my eye?”

It was your turn to laugh as you took his hand and led him to the bathroom to fix him up. “Of course.”

The air was thick with a tension neither of you were ready to acknowledge as you got out your first aid kit and began patching him up. Although he tried not to show it, Sweet Pea winced as you cleaned his bruised and bloodied knuckles.

It wasn’t long before he was all cleaned up and sitting on your couch, both of you giggling at the irony of Sweet Pea holding a bag of frozen peas to his face to help with the swelling on his newly-forming black eye.

“Here,” you said, still giggling as you reached over to adjust his ice pack. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got in a fight with some Gargoyles,” he sassed, groaning as he shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch.

“Is there…anything else I can do to help?” You asked, making sure the flirtatious lilt in your voice was evident.

Sweet Pea reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours as his thumb ran over the back of your hand. “About last night…” he started, gazing into your eyes so you could see the truth held in them, “I meant every word I said. Yes, it might’ve been brought on by the fact that I was nervous about tonight’s raid, but it didn’t make it any less true. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sweet Pea,” you whispered, bracing a hand on his shoulder so you could straddle him. You took his face in your hands as you leaned down to kiss him for the first time.

Both of you were smiling when the kiss ended, Sweet Pea’s hands resting on your hips. “So,” he began, sliding his hands up underneath the flannel of his that you were still wearing, “when do I get to take you out?”

“Whenever you’d like,” you smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

#sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x fem!reader #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea imagines #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fanfic #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #sweet pea fluff

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lovemiss-vale · 21 days ago

Text

♡Kpop Demon Hunters x alnst! reader (Mizi's version) ♡

Chapter 2: Lies and Deception

Warnings: Spoiler for the latest alnst comic

Word count: more than my brain cells

♥︎·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♥︎

Thank you for your support & lovely comments🩷

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Any new readers?

Here's the Masterlist 🩷

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

She came in all forms in your dreams. Portraying as a sanctuary from your mind and as a ghost haunting lurking, agonizing you. But even so, you tried to reach out for her, but fate had made a mockery of you, endlessly distancing you two. You were a puppet for their entertainment, an amusement, a play made to fill in the shallow feeling in their chest.

When you woke up despair had traced your features. Her once clear image, now lay blurred in your memories, slowly passing away with time.

It drove you insane.

How easy it was to forget her.

To lose her.

To let her go.

You wondered if this had been your punishment as well or perhaps a trick played by your own self to cope with her loss.

A sin you committed. And now, a sin you lay hidden behind your facade of lies and truths. Perhaps you intend to tell them one day, but for now, you'll bury it until there comes a day where it'll resurface back.

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: .✦ . :★. ───✧

"Y/N! "

You looked behind to see Bobby jogging up behind you.

"Have you seen the girls? They're late! " Bobby turned his head to the crowd of fans.

The crowd roared for the huntrix.

Screaming, shouting their name.

You gave Bobby a smile, shaking your head no. "Perhaps give them a call? "

That made Bobby widened his eyes, "Right! Why didn't I think of that? "He reached to his phone and immediately call them. "You're a lifesaver Y/N!" He shouted amidst the fans who surrounded him, trying to peek on his phone. When the call was accepted, a "Hii Bobby! " was what you heard before you blended yourself into the crowd, going into the elevator.

You saw Till already in his seat, drawing on his sketchbook.

You sat beside Till, overlooking the concert below. The crowd of fans aimlessly waiting for Huntrix.

Despite the heights, the place Bobby assigned you had a clear view of the stage and far off from the overflowing people that threaten to relive your memories.

You looked beside you, your eyes landed on his neck. The raw scratch marks left a bitter feeling on your stomach.

It had gotten worse from your last meet up.

You remember that day in the hospital, how his stare was always far off from view. Eyes in disbelief seeing something behind you.

It took a whole week before he confessed, the hallucinations of him were too much for him. He explained the vivid descriptions of the scenes, how he, the hallucination slipped into his mind like a parasite refusing to leave.

How foolish of you to think that one of you could live on without the lingering shadows of the past clinging to you, desperate, yearning, mocking your every choice.

You stood up from your seat just as Till approach the window, hands ever so often scratching his neck, forcefully, clawing deep into his skin until red painted his fingers.

You wanted to reach out your hand to him, gripping his hands with yours, bringing him back to the present but a figure stood at the corner of your eyes. Silent, observing, eyes flickered to yours before she walks pass you to Till.

"Why did you stop? What? Afraid of your own reflection? "She mocked you, giggles filling the air that only you could hear.

This isn't real.

The figure mirrored your own, dressed in black and coat with blood. It was that same exact dress that soaked her blood, that dried your tears.

The "you" here stood near Till, hands wrapped tight around his throat. Not to suffocate him but to engrave the memories you pushed aside.

Remembrance was her goal her and unfortunately was also your weakness.

Till remained unshaken by the act, oblivious to the figure that stared deeply into your eyes hypnotizing you into a trance. Till's eyes remained transfixed on the crowd below, perhaps he too was in his hallucination.

"What's wrong? Feeling useless? Chained with shackles of guilt and resentment? You and I don't deserve to be saved from this reality, you don't deserve to live after what you've done. But what can I do huh? Killing yourself isn't an option." She continued to tracing the scars around Till's neck, toying with your emotions.

Awaiting to see you crumble.

"You'll be a waste of a sacrifice. Sua's sacrifice would be waste. You wouldn't want to disappoint her would you? After all, you've spent years perfecting your act. Dumb, beautiful, oblivious Mizi. But you're not Mizi anymore right? Y/N was it? Did you really think you could escape the past? Escape ME? " The figure detached itself from Till and taking slow steps towards you, her gaze piercing your own, enough to draw blood.

Suddenly, she wasn't 'you' anymore. Her appearance shifted— to someone that your heart recognizes. Every step she took made your heart raced, pounding in your chest to be let free. To run towards her

But....

She didn't have a face, her body stopped in front of you, wrapped you tightly in a cold embrace. Lifeless and unmoving, just like how you watched as her body was dragged along with your heart.

"I'm so proud of you, Mizi"

Your tears betrayed you, pricking your eyes. Even after the years, your heart still yearns for her, worships her.

Over her shoulder, your eyes met Till's, his eyes filled with concern as he approached you.

The illusion faded, as if his presence was anchoring you back to reality. His eyes held yours, grounding you to place. You managed to give him a small smile.

The two of you didn't speak. But he pulled you in. Hands wrapped around your body. An act the two of you often find comfort in whenever darkness claims your thoughts.

"I'm sorry, " you managed to muttered up. Till, despite not knowing why had you apologize just hummed.

Now the two of you stood infront of the glass window, eyes glued on the 3 shooting stars hitting the stage. The Huntrix.

Music lit up the stadium, lights blinding you two with colours and hope.

"Do you think Ivan hates me? " Till asked snapping you away from their performance. His hands, moved to his pockets pulling out a notepad, opening it to reveal the sketches of Ivan. Both drawn as a cursed and as a savior. Till was conflicted on his feelings towards Ivan, without a confirmation, a resolution to his spiralling mind, the questions he had for the former had gone unanswered, leaving along with his soul to the afterlife.

"No, " was all you could mutter up. You didn't offer him an explanation, the complexity of Ivan's character was by far a mystery that only Ivan himself could unravel. Your close friend Ivan who saw the truth behind your facade left a cracked in your mask.

You turned back to the stage not wanting the conversation to go on. Fearing that the guilt will resurface back and force you to cough it up. Your eyes locked in on the opening scene.

The girls emerging from the mist, the demons below, scattered throughout the place had eyes filled with fear, the crowd remained blind by their sudden appearance. Quickly, the girl's weapons pierced their bodies, exploding them like confetti, all while performing their song live.

Despite their cheerful voices trying to bring you two back to the light, the ghost of them stubbornly lingered in the back of your minds.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Demons. The concept of them was first introduced to you by Celine. At first you were adamantly, utterly confused by her statements. Celine in your eyes, hated demons, full on despise them, would kill them if given the chance, but yet she kept you alive. A half demon, but nevertheless a demon.

Of course, you thought that was perhaps you were a family to her? One of the only blood that ties with her sister, your mother. Rumi was even raised by her. Longer than you. Your sister, who lived her whole childhood with this women. Yet, you couldn't stand beside this women like she did. You knew that if you and Rumi didn't have any blood relations to that women, you two wouldn't even dared to see a day in life. Your mother was a shield ever since you were born and even in death, her lingering presence prevented Celine from killing you. Killing you both. A barrier that still stood strong but unfortunately, deteriorated with time.

Sometimes, at night, you could hear her footsteps behind your bedroom door, hesitating to come inside. You wondered if she had her weapon in hand at some nights, you imagined how her hands clutched on the weapon, ready to strike you. You imagined her smile seeing the life leaving your eyes. You imagined yourself laying helpless. So, you turned the tables to let her favour you alive then dead.

Fear was an overwhelming emotion, trauma didn't leave you alone but accompanied you along the way. At dinner, Celine often talks about the past to you, the sunlight sisters, your mom, the moments before fate had caged the sunlight sisters to doom. The moment where they failed make a sanctuary on earth from the demons.

You studied her every words, precise, never leaving a single detail behind, implementing them, modifying your character to fit her standards to the point where you couldn't even distinguish if you were yourself or if you were an imitation of your mother.

You were stuck in a vicious cycle of deceiving her and losing yourself.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Celine didn't questioned your sudden change, in fact she seemed more glad as if the loss of her sister had never happened to begin with. As if fate had bestowed a replacement for her sisters place in exchange for the demons she had killed on her era.

Her presence behind your door stopped and your dreams although plaque with memories but at least the thought of whether you'll live another day is gone but that came with a cost of your identity. Your life.

Months isolated in that same place, far off from civilization, you still didn't really grasp on Celine's ideology that demons are horrible, despicable, incapable of living in humanity, for you yourself are metaphorically, a demon as well. But you had to fake your hatred. To live beside a hunter, you had to think like one. A sheep in wolf's clothing. A prey hiding in clothes of deception and lies.

Although you bare no weapons, just the thought of you despising those foul creatures made Celine at ease, as if the lingering possibility clouding her mind had disintegrated.

During these times, Till was bedridden in the hospital, his recovery took months of medicine and therapy. Surprisingly, when you were both reunited again, some part of yourself felt whole, despite the parasite that clings to your soul.

Till was the last person you had binding you back to yourself. To Mizi, despite bearing an unforgiven sin, despite the thoughts of wanting to erase her. •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

When the song ended, the girls looked up, eyes searching for your figure until their faces brighten, waving at you from below with smiles too hard to resist not sending them back. You waved back at them giving them a thumbs up before the three thanked their fans and went back stage.

"See you again at the studio tonight...And thanks for..that, " you said to Till, giving him a side hug on his shoulder then stepping into the elevator to catch up with the girls.

"Don't be late! " he managed to shout out to you, hand waving in the air watching the doors closed shut.

The concert lights dimmed as the fans went out with stars in their eyes after witnessing the performance.

─────────ೋღ 🍿 ღೋ─────────

You stood beside Bobby, waiting for the girls to descend from the elevator.

"Any thoughts on my offer Y/N? " he asked looking at you, eyes resembling a puppy.

"I'm sorry Bobby, I'd have to refuse, I already signed a contract a week ago, I would've loved to accept it if you'd just offered to me earlier but I'm satisfied with what I have for now, " you lied, your composure didn't falter. Lying to people had become a habit you used to favour you.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Bobby had been wonderful to you, kind, caring and a loving parental figure you never had. At first, you thought he'd have just left you alone after the girls introduced you to him, figuring that his main focus was the girls. But he exceeded your expectations.

At first, you found him irritating, lingering in places like a lost puppy, always finding ways to converse with you. You'd avoid him at first, seemingly uncomfortable, not used to people getting too attached.

But one night, when the girls went out for a midnight snack, you were in the living room, sensing there was no life, you sang a song you wrote before tragedy struck. Before you knew your real name.

Too deep into the song, floating in between time, you were stunned to find Bobby with a bag of chips, mouth opened in awe after your voice caught in you throat upon his arrival. Noticing he had been caught, he quickly dropped his chips and clapped for you. Eyes tearing up as if he had just witnessed something phenomenal.

You went up to him, panicked, hands gripping his shoulders making him swear not to mention this to anyone, not even the girls. You expected him to deny, after all. It wasn't uncommon for a manager not to exploit someone for their own gain.

Unexpectedly, Bobby agreed to it, fingers gesturing zipping his mouth. (You might've threaten him a bit more just for the idea to stick into him).The days went by and not a single soul had mentioned about it. Bobby acted normal, confusing you. Or perhaps you were not use to people not exploiting for power, fame, enjoyment. For, you lived in a time set front from the present, where humanity is crushed, people's intentions were dark as their innocence are coveted in blood and greed.

Slowly, day by day, he gained your trust, sustaining his presence in your life without an avoidance from you. And soon you began to share bits of secrets to him.

Nothing major but still a start.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

"Don't be too sad Bobby, if things doesn't go as planned, we'll come back on your offer-"

"OMG, Y/N, did you see us? Did you see us perform? Did you see me rap? Did you see Mira with those moves and Rumi hitting that note? OMG- were so glad you could make it Y/N! " Zoey bombarded you with questions just when the elevator opened and each one of them had a proud look on their faces.

They were your found family. People who filled the hole in your chest, their presence bought comfort and a sense of a warm home you never had.

"You guys did well there! The song was addicting! Don't get me started on the lyrics, ultimately the best, nice work Zoey! "You praised her giving her a side hug.

"Aww why the frown on your face Mira, of course, credits to the choreography master, the moves there? WOW, blew my mind, how'd you even come up with those? "This made Mira cracked a smile against her stoic face and you gave her a hug as well.

" Anddd Rumi, the note you hit there made the whole stadium shook! Honestly, it felt like I had descended from the ground! If I was dead, that'd totally revive me, " you joked as Rumi pushed your shoulder teasingly.

"Do you girls need water? " Before the girls responded Bobby shouted for the staff to give them water. The staff recognizing you as well bought you your favourite drink.

You zoned out from the talking, sipping your drinks whilst the girls seemingly in their own world and you with yours. Bobby had gone off to relax somewhere... You might've started to really zone off after that.

"Oh Y/N! Wanna relax with us at the couch tonight? "Zoey asked snapping you from your thoughts, anticipating you to accept.

" I'll have to decline, I have some friends to meet up with tonight! Have fun relaxing though! "You exclaimed patting Zoey's back.

"Aww man, oh well, have a nice hangout! If happen to come home early just join us! "

"Yeah and don't forget your way back again, " Mira teased making your cheeks flushed.

"Urgh, don't remind me that again, it was one time ok"

Mira and Zoey went into the car first, while you and Rumi stood outside.

"Stay safe out there, " Rumi reminded you giving you a tight hug and whispering a thank you to you before getting into the car. Eyes narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You laugh at her embarrassment, waving them off as the car drove away.

You looked down on your watch, 3 hours before your meet up. You strolled through the city, eyes flickered through the neon lights.

Without a thought, you walked through the streets, often times stopping for a few snacks to bring to the studio, distracting your mind, munching candies, stuffing food into your mouths, letting the sweet savoury taste melt on your tongue.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

It had been 30 minutes now, aimlessly walking around passing the time without an actual place in mind but upon passing a few buildings, you couldn't help but notice a tug on your heart, you didn't know why but your feet moved on it's own, uncontrolled, leading you somewhere with a mix of twist and turns until it stopped.

Your eyes locked on a clinic? Doctor Han? You wanted to pass by it but a force made you stepped into its door. Gripping you, pulling you in a desperate attempt. The cold air greeted you in, the smell of tonics and herbs filled your nose.

You walked around the lobby with curious eyes trailing on each photo until it landed at one particular photo. It was a Doctor Han with a man and..your mother?

Something inside you was urging you to find out more, a voice calling out to you from the depths of your mind. You looked closely, squinting your eyes to inspect the picture, heart racing as your mind trying sort out your memories. You could've sworn you've seen him before.

Who are you? Why do I feel like I've met you before-

"Are you here for a check up? " the tiny doctor asked squinting his eyes towards you as you flinched.

"AH!"

"Oh, uh, no- I was just lost, sorry for the disturbance! " you exclaimed bowing your head.

Well this is embarrassing.

"Then what are you here for? "He questioned lifting his brow.

"Just, wanted to check out your clinic that's all!" You smiled, a bit too tighten.

"I see...." He proceeded to walk around you, trying to piece out whatever it was in his head.

"If you don't mind me asking, do you know that man in the picture? " you asked pointing at the it. Trying to distract him from you.

"Ahh him? We used to be friends long ago, " he explained, now eyeing the man.

"Used to? What happened to him? "You asked seemingly interested.

The doctor ignored your question and kept on talking more about his discounted check ups prices but you zoned out into the picture. You noticed something unusually disturbing. The bracelet your mom and the man wore in the picture was the exact one Celine had hanging from the hilt of her weapon.

Hushed voices started to cloud your ears, numbing Doctor Han's voice.

They invaded your mind, overwhelming your thoughts. You could hear women pleading, desprate as shouts echoed through the air. Scenes played in your eyes, flashing you with blood and death.

" I'm sorry Doctor Han, but I have to go— I'll look into your offer! "You managed to say to him.

You ran out of the clinic, panting. Slightly hoping the voices would go away but it followed you. Growing louder to the point where you had to leaned on the wall, catching your breath, eyes closed shut trying to steedy your heartbeat. Trying to shut the voices out.

Suddenly, a soft fur came in contact with your body, startling you. The voices slowly dissapeared upon it's presence. You tilted your head, trying to figure out what you had just encountered.

A blue tiger?

A bird appeared itself on top of it, wearing a top hat? The bird turned it's attention towards you, 2 sets of eyes now appeared on it's face.

What the—

Before you got a chance to recover, the tiger sprinted away as the bird cling on it's head. You stood there, blinking, trying to see if you had really gone insane.

You quickly followed them, not knowing where they would lead you.

Just the thought of disappearing to the unknown for a while felt calming.

Taglist🍿: @enerofairy @p1nkpaperstars @azzberry @whimsybloom @animewagons @crescent-z @kisekiworker @matchablossom12

🩷End of chapter 2🩷

Next chapter? 🫣

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Ok, I feel more better with this🥹 If anyone manages to read the deleted version, which one did you prefer? 🫣 Thank you so much for your patience 🩷 also for the notes on the previous chapters🥹😚 Honestly, I've never thought of continuing this story after I've written the prologue for fun😝 but I'm glad people are liking how this turned out.

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luvxzaa · 27 days ago

Text

SEUNGMIN KIM

It’s been 3 years since your together, and it’ll been 3 month since your pregnant.

Genre : fluff Warning : Crying, pregnancy, bad word to I thinks WC : 860

Seungmin and YN had been a couple for three years now. Three years since they had taken the plunge, a little gropingly, a little blindly, with doubts about the future and fears they hadn't necessarily dared to name out loud. But today, they could no longer imagine living without each other. Their bearings had adjusted, their habits had become intertwined, and their daily lives were filled with the precious little things they had built together.

That evening, they were having a quiet dinner at home, as they often do after a long day. The meal was nothing special — a simple dish, hastily reheated — but that was exactly what they liked best. Nothing extravagant, just the two of them, their forks clattering together, and the usual affectionate barbs.

Seungmin squinted at YN's plate, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

— What's that supposed to be? Have you been cooking or conducting a dangerous science experiment?

He was teasing her, as always. It was their language.

She smiled a weak smile and looked down at her food without answering.

He frowned slightly, tilted his head.

— Are you ignoring me now? Do you realise that you've just broken the sacred rule of sarcasm at the table?

She shrugged, obviously lost in thought. There was an unusual silence. He looked at her for a few seconds, then put down his chopsticks.

- Hey. YN.

She slowly looked up at him.

- What's going on? I can see you. You've been somewhere else for a while. It's not just your dodgy food, is it? What's on your mind?

This time, his voice was soft, without the slightest trace of mockery. That look was the one he reserved only for her. The one that said he was there, entirely, whatever she had to say. Because after three years, he'd learned to read her, even when she wanted to hide her feelings. And he intended to stay by her side until she felt ready to tell him what was in her heart.

And that's when she knew she had to tell him. You know when you have big news that can turn everything upside down and everything can fall apart? Well, that's the moment.

She drops her fork, and starts playing nervously with her hands under the table as Seungmin looks at her worriedly.

Her eyes begin to sparkle, as a sad smile appears on her face.

"You know that I love you, right? Seungmin doesn't answer, just frowns as his heart clenches and fear suddenly overwhelms him. "You're the love of my life. You have to be that man Seungmin, please..." "What happens to you, Yn?" She flinches slightly at his tone.

She bites her lip as her hand runs nervously over her stomach. "I'm pregnant, Seungmin," she just says. Seungmin doesn't move, her gaze following the bottle of water on the table, transfixed. "I know it's a big thing, and we didn't plan that. You were there when they put my IUD in, I don't know how it's possible, but the blood tests and the ultrasound, it's..." she stops talking nervously.

"We're having a baby?" he says, his voice trembling. Yn finally looks up at him, and the scene she's hearing makes her melt. Seungmin's eyes are bright, and a little red while he's still staring at the bottle. "That not one of your shit right ? We really having a baby, Yn ? She bursts into tears as she nods, laughing slightly.

Seungmin's lip trembles slightly as he watches his beloved break the news. "Fuck," he hides his head under his hands as his shoulders begin to shake.

One gets up and grabs a handkerchief. She goes to sit on her boyfriend's lap, crying herself, as she moves her hands away from his tear-filled eyes. She brings the handkerchief to wipe away her tears. "we're going to be a real family, my puppy..."

Seungmin bursts into even more tears as he lays his head against Yn's shoulder and hugs her. She responds without hesitation, and hides her nose in her hair. "You're so annoying, fuck! I love you..." he hugs her even tighter as he pulls her head away from his shoulder to grab the handkerchief.

"I love you so much" He said, looking at her as he pressed his lips to hers. "I have to call my mom..."

So yes, it turned out pretty well after all...

#skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin #kim seungmim #seungmo #skz fluff #skz stay

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slowcatsisland · 10 months ago

Text

Dracule Mihawk; Ideal Type Deep Dive

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: this is prolly a little OOC and a little bias on my part so apologies if you think so too

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Think Morticia and Gomez Addams

Mihawk would like someone that matches his dark and aloof aura

Mihawk is rather disengaged and bored of just about everything in life, but his lover is the one thing that he is engrossed by. I’m talking obsession, like a couple that’s too in love with each other that no one else is in the room with them.

Mihawk would be drawn to something with intense, dark features like darker hair and eyes. Sucker for lipstick, any shade of red. Black lipstick is one of his favorites too.

Mihawk would need to be with someone that can hold their own. His partner needs to be able to fight and be strong enough to defend themselves in a majority of scenarios.

Mihawk lives for thrill whether he admits it or not. His partner and him in a wild love chase *chef’s kiss*. Someone who can match his ‘cat and mouse’ energy and be frisky with him. Someone that likes to mess around with him and ignite their relationship. Be that some caresses then a smooth exit out the door or challenging him to something, he’s following you as soon as you’re out of his sight.

Mihawk would love long length dresses. Something that screams regality and empowers his lover and makes them look beautiful.

I see Mihawk as being a sucker for teasing. Your gown has a deep v neck and your cleavage is exposed perfectly? He’s looking. There’s a thigh split in your skirt or dress? He’s looking. Your corset hugs your waist and accentuates your hips. He’s looking and feeling you up. Whisper something in his ear, give him a long moment of intense eye contact, rub your hand along his chest then exit the room. He loves loves loves it!! He loves it all I cannot stress enough he’s transfixed by his lover for life.

Mihawk most likely wouldn’t want someone clingy, but someone obsessed with him. There’s a fine line and it’s easy it blur it. Whining about how he’s been gone from Muggy Kingdom and made you feel kinda lonely might come across as irritating if he heard it too many times. Someone who could keep themselves busy until he returns and grab him by his coat collar and tell him that he spent too much time away from the island is more enticing to him and makes him just as obsessed as his lover. (I really hope that made sense)

Mihawk likes someone that can banter with him too. Someone that can flirt with him whether it’s just them in the room or a whole navy fleet. Someone bold and confident in themselves, that loves themselves maybe a bit too much.

(Literally just imagine a scene with you and Mihawk exchanging flirtatious eye contact while fending off against marines and yall end up right next to each other and just as the last marina drops he grabs ahold of you and whispers another love confession against your lips omfg..)

Mihawk would want someone that is well rounded. Someone who knows the way the world works and has a good brain underneath all their beauty. Someone cunning enough to scam a poor barkeeper out of their berri but compassionate enough to feed the stray cats of the town. Someone that can hold a conversation with him of the best wines or whiskey and defend their favorites against his own.

Someone with manners. Mihawk appreciates couth people that talk with an air of knowledge and slyness and can read through the lines of marine propaganda. Mihawk needs some romance in his relationship, there must be love and trust, not just looks and lust.

Mihawk would pour his whole being into a relationship and needs that to be reciprocated. While he might be nonchalant, he can still be dedicated. People may know of his lover, they may not. He doesn’t really speak upon it but won’t deny it if someone were to bring it up.

Someone that was also a pirate would suit Mihawk. They can handle being away from him for long periods of a time, they can defend themselves and have connections to powerful people (shanks imagine you knew shanks outside of Mihawk’s rivalry with him). He would never entangle with a marine, he has a strong hatred for them because of his past. A civilian that hasn’t led a tumultuous life wouldn’t be best prepared for whatever hardships may come Mihawk and his love’s way.

Someone who knows how to dance!!! Oml imagine dancing with Mihawk and not js white girl dancing I’m talking duo romantic dances. Theres romance, there’s sexual tension, there’s a bond that flows between y’all’s bodies.

Someone with desire in them. Lemme explain, someone that can go a couple months without his help sexually, but craves him so bad when they finally reunite they can have a passionate session once alone. Someone to match his romantic freakiness.

Mihawk would want his partner to have a healthy relationship with sex. Sex is an act of devotion, and whether him and his love engage it 0 or 3 times a day, he wants both of them to enjoy it to the fullest.

Mihawk would prolly want his lover to be morally grey. If he kills someone and you get mad at him for it, yall won’t work out. There are exceptions to this, and he can easily change his ways if that’s what his lover coaxed him to do though. But if he retells how he hunted down Don Kreig’s whole pirate fleet because they awoke him from his nap, he can’t have you try to slap him and give him a lecture on how he’s a heartless murderer (bc he is a heartless murderer).

Mihawk is loyal, and it’s a given he would expect that back. No matter how long yall are apart, no one else should satisfy you in the ways a lover should because trust ain’t no one doing that for him.

Someone who loves food, he’s quite a good cook and frequents the Baratie. The Baratie is well accustomed to serving the two of you on your monthly date (oml I should write a blurb abt Sanji tryna make moves on you while Mihawk watches in amusement looking all smitten or smth lmao).

Mihawk would prefer his lover to have a calm rationale. If his lover starts freaking out and screaming over something inconvenient or starts harsh arguments over miscommunications the relationship is doomed to fail.

Someone that is a gossip lol. Read the news and try to theorize why Alabasta was featured twice and the first time it mentioned the Warlord Crocodile’s casino having a river around it bc it’s Alabasta and it hasn’t been raining there in months apparently. Some fun stuff like that haha.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Mwah 😽

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jellyfitzjelly · 1 year ago

Note

May I request a NSFW prompt where non-tiefling female reader (crush) went to check on Zevlor in a rut but didn't know what's wrong. She offered to help from now on & confessed her feelings because she didn't want him to think it's out of pity?

I deviated a bit from the prompt, I hope that's okay! I ended writing about 3.8k of words about Zevlor in rut... I think I might unwell about this lol. Hoping you'll enjoy, anon!

From desire sprang delight | 3.8k words | NSFW | AO3

You feel excited as you make your way to the barracks to see Zevlor. You’ve been in love with him ever since you laid eyes on him at the Grove, though you’ve never admitted your feelings to him. You are too afraid to ruin the friendship you have built with him. You two have kept in touch after defeating the Elder Brain. You helped the old Hellrider settle into a new life in Baldur’s Gate. You know there will never be anything more between you two, but as long as he is happy, you are happy too. You greet him on the training grounds, but you immediately notice something is off. Zevlor looks uncomfortable, jittery and smelling of strong cologne and sweat. You wonder if he is sick, but he assures you he is fine. You start your biweekly sparring session. The old Hellrider is clearly distracted, so much so that for once you manage to get the upper hand for a short time before Zevlor inevitably gains his advantage back. Suddenly, the air thickens and his eyes seem to burn brighter as he pins you to the ground. You are overwhelmed with the scent of his sweat, but it surprisingly isn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it seems to make heat pool in your belly. Your heart starts to pound as you gaze at the ex-Commander baring his teeth. He looks so…feral like this. Zevlor seems to snap out of his trance-like state and sharply pushes himself away from you like he’s been burned. You blink as you watch him get up, panting.

“Are you alright?” you ask with concern.

“Yes, yes,” he answers huskily. “I’m just more tired than I expected. I think we should stop there.”

You nod, a bit perplexed by what happened. You got into the changing rooms with him.

“You can go first, take your time,” the tiefling tells you. “I have some things to sort out before I can wash.”

He leaves you to strip. You undress and go inside the water room to quickly wash so you can help him with whatever chore he has. You come out and dress into the spare clothes you have brought, but you realize your dirty shirt is nowhere to be found. You look everywhere, puzzled, but you still can’t find it. You wonder if a servant took it for whatever reason. You decide to ask one of them in the nearby kitchen. On your way you pass by the storage room. You are stopped dead in your tracks by a noise coming from the room. You try to listen, and you hear something that sounds like a groan. You press your ear against the door and hear another groan. You wonder what’s happening. You quietly open the door a bit to take a peek and you are greeted by a shocking scene: Zevlor has his nose buried in the underarm of your dirty shirt, his pants down mid-thighs, as he fucks his fist. You stare, transfixed, at Zevlor’s cock. It’s large and ridged, the head wet with precum. The Hellrider moans, eyes closed, as he fucks his hand with desperation. You notice an odd swelling at the base of his sex, one that looks sensitive: when the tiefling squeezes it he lets out a loud moan he tries to swallow back. You look on as heat pools into your belly until it becomes unbearable. You slip a hand in your pants, finding your engorged clit. You gently give it circling strokes as you watch Zevlor snaps his hips into his fist.

“T–Tav!” he growls, his pace growing even more urgent.

It lights a fire inside you. You match the tiefling’s pace as you rub yourself, bucking your hips and wishing so badly it was your cunt Zevlor was fucking. You bite your lips as come silently, your clit pulsing under your touch as you watch Zevlor spills a seemingly endless stream of semen. His thighs are shaking with the strength of his orgasm. When hellfire eyes turn to look at you, you panic. You turn around and run back to the changing rooms with your heart thundering. Not long after, Zevlor arrives. His eyes widen when he sees you, and he gives a guilty look to your shirt which he’s been holding.

“Ah, you’re already out,” he says awkwardly.

He smells strongly of sweat, but somehow that just stirs your arousal again. Zevlor shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

“I wanted to have your shirt washed, but I thought better of it,” he explains.

“Oh, I see,” you say.

A heavy silence settles between you.

“I should go home, I do not feel well,” Zevlor eventually says. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel our usual drinks and dinner.”

“Of course,” you answer. “You shouldn’t work if you are ill-taken. I’ll walk you back to–”

“No need!” he hurriedly interrupts you.

You blink, a bit hurt but also puzzled.

“I am sure you have plenty of things to do. Don’t worry about me,” the Hellrider assures you.

You smile and nod. You leave him, feeling conflicted. He has lit a fire of lust inside you, but you are also deeply concerned. Has he seen you? Have you destroyed your friendship? The prospect is terrifying to you. Yet you now know he desires you. What should you do? And what on earth is going on with Zevlor? Was he sick? Or just pent-up? It’s so unlike him to give in to his needs like this in the middle of the day… No, something’s wrong with him. He needs your help. You know how reluctant he is about asking for help. You need to find out what’s going on.

You realize you virtually know nothing about tiefling anatomy. You need to read up on it and you know exactly who to turn to: Rolan. If you are completely honest with yourself, you are also curious. You keep thinking about that odd swelling on Zevlor’s sex and you can’t help but wonder if this is normal for tieflings. You go to Ramazith’s Tower and ask Rolan for anatomy books on tieflings. He gives you the books you request with a look that makes you blush.

“May I ask why you are suddenly so interested in my kind’s bodies?”

“Oh, just…curiosity,” you half-lie, your cheeks burning.

“Nothing to do with Zevlor, I suppose?” Rolan smirks with a knowing smile.

You splutter, deeply embarrassed but also feeling like the young man knows something you don’t.

“He– He looks sick, I want to help him,” you finally manage to get out.

“Sure,” he snorts and leaves you to your reading.

You are deeply confused. You can hear Cal and Lia giggling somewhere in the tower, having probably heard your conversation. You decide to study the books rather than dwell on why you feel like the butt of the joke. Fortunately, you soon find out why you feel like it.

Zevlor is in rut.

Tiefling reproduction is different from humans’. At least once a year they go through a period of intense fertility coupled with a strong sex drive. Males develop a ‘knot’ that ensure semen is not spilled out. If they are not mated, or do not act on their needs, they can become physically ill. Their sweat smells stronger during this period to signal their fertility to other tieflings. You suddenly understands why Zevlor smelled so strongly earlier. Your mind wanders then to him with his nose buried in the damp underarm of your dirty shirt as he jacked off. Does your sweat arouse him? It makes you shiver with arousal to think about it. Your heart also breaks: Zevlor is going through this plight all alone! You need to help him. You need to show him how bad you want his knot inside you. You want the Hellrider to claim you, to fill you. But…would he accept? Just because he wants your body doesn’t mean he wants you. Maybe…Maybe it’s just the rut talking. You shake your head. You mustn’t reason like this, you’ll only intimidate yourself out of seeing Zevlor. You need to go now and tell him your feelings. He needs help, whether he likes it or not! But first, you should prepare…

For probably the hundredth time today, Zevlor swears in Infernal as he spills once again into the waiting basin. He sags in the armchair he is sitting in, panting and cursing himself for his foolishness. He hasn’t had a rut in a few years with the amount of stress he had been under: the Descent, the travel to Baldur’s Gate, the Absolute, trying to settle in… He’s thankful Tav still wanted to talk to him after his terrible moment of weakness. She helped him find peace and build a new life.

Zevlor has been in love with her ever since their meeting at the Grove. A simple look from those enchanting eyes and he was smitten. He knows it would never be. Such an incredible young woman like her wouldn’t spare a second glance to an old man like him. Zevlor settled on having her friendship and he was happy with that. The Hellrider was content with what he had….until his rut came. After such a long time without it, his rut has come back with a vengeance. He hasn’t had such a strong rut since his youth. Work has been a torture this past week. Zevlor was a fool to think he could control himself in presence of Tav, he should have cancelled altogether their sparring session. The aggression only heightened his arousal, and to have her under him, at his mercy… Watching gods, he almost lost control and kissed her at that point. Her intoxicating smell was driving him up the wall. He ended up stealing her shirt when she went to bath to release some tension. He imagined fucking her, pushing his knot into her tight sex and filling her up. He felt deeply ashamed and embarrassed to do this at work, with Tav’s sweat-drenched shirt no less, but he couldn’t help himself. The worst in all this is that it backfired on him. Zevlor hopes the young woman will never know what he was doing with her shirt. Now he is home with only his hand to satisfy himself. It feels like some kind of twisted torture. No amount of release is enough to sate him. Zevlor knows having a partner would make things so much easier, but even the idea of going to the brothel displeases him. He cannot find it in himself to fuck someone while thinking of Tav.

A knock on the door echoes. The Hellrider groans, willing whoever this is to go away. There is another, more insistent knock on the door. Zevlor curses in Infernal under his breath, wondering who has decided to show up when he is so wrecked.

“Zevlor, can you hear me? Are you ok?” he hears Tav’s voice behind the door.

The Hellrider curses again. What is she doing here?! The gods are truly out to get him, it seems. There is a more urgent knock on the door and Zevlor finally gets up. He’s thankful he has gone soft again. He hurriedly throws on a shirt and some pants before striding to the door. He winces as he gets a whiff of his own sweat. He reeks. He opens the door and is greeted by the enchanting view of Tav in a summer dress. She looks beautiful like this with her hair up. He wants nothing more than to have her.

“Are you alright?” she asks with concern.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry,” he lies. “It is simply a minor cold. I’ll be back on my feet in a few days. You shouldn’t have come, I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

He prays to the gods she cannot smell the heavy scent of sex stuffing his place right now.

“But I can’t catch what you have,” she tells him like it’s obviousness itself.

Zevlor pales.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re in rut, Zevlor. You’re in pain and you need a mate.”

By the gods, no. It cannot be.

“You know?” he squeaks, panic overwhelming him.

“I saw you earlier. With my shirt,” she says, blushing bright red.

Zevlor is torn between kissing her and throwing himself down the stairs.

“I want to help you, Zevlor,” she continues.

“Out of the question,” he snaps.

He won’t have her pity. He can withstand anger or disgust, but not pity.

“You’re suffering! Let me help you! I can take it!”

“I said no!”

He tries to close the door, but she jams her foot against it. Damn woman. She never knows when to back down!

“Zevlor, I am not leaving,” she tells him sternly.

“I don’t want you,” the Hellrider lies.

“Oh yes, you do! And…And I want you too.”

Zevlor’s eyes widen at that.

“Look, I– I get it. You’re just attracted to me. I am fine with that. It’s alright if you don’t return my feelings, but I won’t let you say I am doing this out of pity!”

“Your feelings?” he blinks.

He gets a whiff of her perfume and he starts hardening immediately. Fortunately the young woman keeps her eyes on his face.

“I– I love you, Zevlor,” she stammers, getting beet red.

The old Hellrider finds her adorable like this. His desire surges forward like a tidal wave and he finds himself gripping her by the shoulders claws digging into flesh. She looks at him with her wide doe eyes, and the tiefling has to fight to keep himself from kissing her.

“I need you, Zevlor,” she pleads, and Zevlor breaks.

He crushes her against him as he brings her into a searing kiss, letting her feel his hardness. She gasps into the kiss, grinding back against him. The ex-Commander drags her inside and closes the door. She’s back at his mouth immediately, hungry. He wraps his tail possessively around her thigh, brushing the tip against her crotch and making a sound in his throat when he discovers she doesn’t wear anything under her dress.

“You little tart,” Zevlor growls against her lips and immediately regrets it.

How can he disrespect her like this? His rut has made him lose his mind! Yet the young woman moans, rubbing herself on his tail. He can feel just how wet she is for him, and he loses all reason after this. All he is preoccupied about now is stretching that tight little cunt with his knot. He hoists her up and sits her on the armchair. He nips at her throat, mouths a clothed nipple and dives under her dress. He noses at her bush, breathing in deep her intoxicating scent. His knot pulses at the smell.

Later, he tells himself.

He spreads her folds, salivating at the enticing view in front of him. He all but gobbles up her clit and sucks on it. Tav squeals above him, arching up as her legs wrap around his head. His cock aches as he eats her out. He swipes his tongue lower for a taste. He recognizes the taste of lubricant right away. Arousal overwhelms him so much at the realization Tav took the time to get her hole soft and pliant for him that it has him almost orgasming on the spot. He slips a careful finger inside and finds her relaxed and slippery. He goes back to teasing her clit with his mouth. Tav bucks into him, making all sorts of sweet sounds that spread Zevlor’s control thin. He digs his claws into the supple flesh of her thighs as he comes up for air, unable to resist his instincts any longer. He crawls back up to kiss her, shoving his pants down and kicking them off before rubbing his cock against her vulva.

“Yes! Yes,” Tav moans, bucking against him.

Zevlor loses all control on himself when he hears her. He pushes her legs on the armrests and he breaches her with easiness. She keens all the same. The old Hellrider grabs her hips and pushes forward, enveloped by her heavenly heat. He has to stop for a bit, breathing through his nose to keep himself from spilling right now. Tav grabs him by the neck to bend him down so she can kiss him, nudging him with her hips. He resumes, his pace erratic and urgent. The young woman doesn’t seem to mind, far from it: she tightens around him every time his ridges rub her sweet spot. He thumbs her clit, spreading her wetness as he fucks her hard. She writhes and arches, her face a mask of ecstasy. He has to have her. He must have her. Gods, he cannot let her belong to another man. He tries to tell himself it’s just the rut talking, but he knows deep down that after this he won’t be able to deny himself. She’s his. Just like he is hers.

He feels his knot swelling, his need calling for him to claim her. He looks down, greeted by a view he will never forget: Tav, in the throes of pleasure, a strap down revealing her breast, her dress hiked up, her lovely neck flushed. He wants nothing more than to keep her like this for the rest of his days, drunk on the pleasure his cock gives her. He pushes forward, his knot catching on her entrance. Tav moans brokenly, shoving herself down on it. Zevlor pushes and pushes and pushes, breathless with need.

He chokes when his knot slips inside. The young woman constricts around him, and that is the end for him. His release crashes over him like a storm. He moans high and loud as he fills her up. Beneath him, Tav cries out as she shakes with her orgasm, clawing at him. They stay like this for he knows not how long, mind blank as the pleasure tears him apart and stitches him back together. He slumps forward, resting his forehead against the armchair just above Tav’s head.

“We need to do it again,” she wheezes, panting.

“My next rut is in a year,” he chuckles with disbelief.

“I meant I want to do it again today.”

Zevlor’s eyes widen, shocked. Tav smiles widely at him, blushing. Gods, she’s beautiful. His back starts to pain him though, so he hoists her up again. She whimpers, tightening around his knot and Zevlor sees stars for a few seconds. He walks to the bed and lies down on it so Tav can rest on his chest.

“The advantage when you are old and decrepit like me is that your knot goes down much faster than if you’re young,” he tells her with a smile.

She looks at him, stern. It makes his cock twitch.

“Zevlor, you are not old or decrepit.”

She tries to shift, likely to sit up but she finds the knot still stuck inside her. She settles on glaring at him. The old Hellrider finds himself struck with fondness. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as he smiles tenderly.

“I didn’t even tell you if I return your feelings or not,” he tells her gently.

She scoffs.

“I know you love me too. I actually can’t believe it took me this long to realize you liked me. You look at me like I’m Sharess herself.”

Zevlor splutters, reddening. He truly did not expect her to be this cheeky…or to have guessed correctly.

“I could say the same of you,” he shoots back. “Why in the nine Hells do you not fancy a young man your age?”

“Why would I when you’re right here?” she chuckles and gods, all he wants is to kiss her.

She shifts and his cock slips out of her, his knot having deflated enough. Zevlor grunts. Tav looks with wonder at his sex.

“Don’t worry, being hard for this long is normal with tiefling,” he tells her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know either way,” she shrugs as she sits up and take off her dress. “It’s my first time.”

“What?!” Zevlor shouts, sitting up with alarm.

“Relax!” she laughs as if it’s a light matter. “I meant I never had sex. I got plenty of experience with myself…if you see what I mean. I am no blushing maiden.”

She eyes his cock with something akin to hunger. She idly wraps her fingers around the tip still wet from the lubricant and her fluids. Zevlor whimpers from the contact.

“I want to taste you,” she suddenly says.

Before the ex-Commander can answer, Tav grabs his knot and bows down to swallow him down. He’s left scrambling for purchase as she wraps her tongue around his ridges and squeezes his knot She’s clearly not inexperienced.

“I– I thought you were a virgin,” he moans as he tangles a hand in her hair.

Gods, it felt so good.

“Blowjobs don’t count as sex,” she smirks before swallowing him down from tip to knot.

Zevlor shouts, tensing up as he watches his lover deep throating him. He swears in Infernal as he throws his head back. His thighs are starting to quiver with his impending release when Tav lets him go. She straddles him and rubs her vulva against his sex.

“Wait–” he pants, but she plants her gaze into his and lowers herself onto his cock.

Zevlor watches her cunt swallows him, his semen and her fluids making obscene squelching noises. He bites his lips as he digs his claws into her hips, trying hard to stay still while she slowly impales herself on his cock. She fucks herself slow and careful, hands above her head holding her hair as she scrunches up her nose in concentration. The old Hellrider devours her with his eyes, taking in her beautiful naked body. As she picks up her pace she lowers herself on him. He runs a hand down her back as she works herself on his cock. Suddenly Tav grabs him by the horns as she bears down on him. Zevlor keens. The young woman is above him arms stretched, holding onto his horns as she fucks herself on his cock. Her breasts swings with her thrusts and the tiefling watches, mesmerized, before capturing one in his mouth. He sucks hard, making his lover keen as her entrance catches on his knot.

“Fuck– You’re so big,” she whimpers as she’s taking him in.

They both shout when Zevlor’s knot locks into place inside Tav, both coming at the same time. When she slumps onto his chest, he wraps his arms around her.

“Are you alright?” he croaks, trying to catch his breath.

His lover hums dazedly, clearly on her way to sleep. He pets her hair with fondness. She deserved some rest after making him the happiest man in the world. This is going the best rut he’s had in decades, he smiles to himself.

#zevlor #zevlor x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #mine bg3 #my fanfictions

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