#I can’t be spoken to right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In 2020, Tumblr had 29.4 million users in the US.

#I can’t be spoken to right now

tonycries · 6 months

Text

Government Hooker - T.F.

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N. WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard. Set in the Brooklyn Babyverse.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall.

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges.

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt.

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room.

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”.

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer.

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before.

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.”

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.”

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him.

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes.

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive.

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie.

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder.

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C’mon, didn’t I kill it out there?”

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front.

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes.

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine.

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.”

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm.

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate.

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air.

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.”

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant.

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room.

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up.

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances.

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant.

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room.

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit.

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.”

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties.

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed.

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth.

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it.

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall.

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core.

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally.

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth..

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy.

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you.

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack!

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out-

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek.

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.”

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard.

And then you’re cumming.

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face.

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak.

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out.

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken.

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same.

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack.

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything.

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him.

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background.

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.”

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more.

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more.

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly.

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head.

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly.

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening.

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him.

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut”

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.” breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air.

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back.

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him.

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his.

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow.

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate.

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.”

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat.

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out.

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him.

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me?

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer.

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack!

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’ like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now.

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by.

Smack!

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji.

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric.

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking.

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.”

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper.

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete.

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him, you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?”

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air.

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table.

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears.

Genuine danger.

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction.

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time.

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress. But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up.

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on.

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for?

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together.

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges.

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’”

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs.

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent.

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke.

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car.

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision.

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There.

The door swings open.

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun.

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable.

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement.

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.”

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now.

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you.

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.”

You’re being pulled away before you know it.

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away.

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out.

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs.

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground.

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over.

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red.

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious.

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit.

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji.

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,” you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod.

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight.

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony.

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-”

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing.

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.”

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

8K notes · View notes

d1stalker · 22 days

Text

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it.

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look.

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh softly, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett fic #logan x reader #x men #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #deadpool movie #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x you #marvel fanfiction #mcu

4K notes · View notes

whateveriwant · 3 months

Text

Ok I lied. Here’s some more Simon fucking himself stupid because apparently he has a chokehold on me. (prev: part 1, part 2)

You’d think a man that regularly fucks his own brains mushy would have a poor performance in the bedroom, right? For a normal man, perhaps, but this is Simon Riley we’re talking about; ‘vigor’ is his middle name.

So even after going for multiple rounds, cycling through multiple positions, and getting covered in multiple fluids, your boyfriend is as ready to go as ever… physically speaking, that is. Because as far as mentally goes, he dropped out a long time ago, somewhere between taking you on your back and then on your knees.

Now you’ve reached the part of the night you like to call your ‘wind down phase’, where you’re just looking for one last, easy release before you throw in the towel. But where you’re tired, sensitive as hell, and already feeling tomorrow’s soreness starting to creep in, Simon’s still pinching and pawing at you like he can’t get enough.

As you lazily ride him, fingers curled over his thick shoulders, Simon’s own hands are pressed hungrily into the meat of your hips. From where he’s sat against the headboard, his lower back propped up by a pillow or two, he’s in the perfect position to guide you back and forth in his lap.

It’s as you feel the slow approach of your final climax that you begin to pick up the pace a little, only to slow right back down again as a sudden noise has you distracted. It takes you a second to place the sound, but once you recognize it, you’re immediately grinding your movements to a halt.

Simon’s phone only rings when it’s you or his work calling. And seeing the current situation you find yourselves in, you know it’s not the former.

The phone rings and rings, neither one of you bothering to move for it. The call gets sent to voicemail, and for a moment you think that’s all it’s going to be, but as the phone promptly begins to trill again, you know something else is up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach over to the nightstand to grab the device. “It’s John,” you tell your boyfriend, seeing his Captain’s contact flash across the screen. You turn the phone around to show Simon, but it seems he has little interest in it, his grip on your waist unwavering as his phone buzzes away in your hand.

“Should you answer? Could be important,” you say. The boss making back to back calls speaks of urgency, if not emergency. But Simon’s focus lies solely on where your two bodies are connected, a sex-fueled tunnel vision if you ever saw one.

Though one look at Simon’s face tells you he’s in no place to have a meaningful conversation right now, as the phone darkens again, only to then light up for a third time in a row, you know this is serious. So despite the haziness in his eyes and the limpness of his jaw, you decide to answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment before you hear the deep baritone of Price’s voice calling out. “Simon?” He waits a beat. “Simon, hello?” He tries again when he hears nothing in response.

While Price is kept in limbo, you’re busy trying to rouse your boyfriend back from brain death. “Simon, it’s John,” you whisper to him, hoping to not be heard by the other man on the phone. Unfortunately, Simon gives zero indication he’s heard you, his bleary gaze looking right past you.

“You there, Simon?” Price’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Bringing your hand up, you lightly tap Simon on the cheek. “Baby, it’s John. Your boss,” you whisper again, slightly louder this time.

Again, he offers you no response, just a slow blink, an even slower trickle of drool starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

As you hear another gruff, “Simon?”, being spoken over the phone, your taps become a little more insistent, a little more forceful.

“It’s Price, Si. Price. Captain Price,” you hiss, urgently patting him against the cheek.

Somehow, whether by miracle or sheer force, you’re able to knock Simon’s last two brain cells together and coax forth a vaguely human-sounding reaction from him.

“Priiizzzzze,” Simon rumbles out, a garbled approximation of his Captain’s surname.

The line goes quiet for a beat, and you can almost imagine the man on the other side blinking in confusion. Then, “You alright, Simon?” he asks earnestly. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

Thankfully, Simon seems to have regained the smallest hint of his bearings again, and he manages to hum a solid, “Mmmf.”

Price takes a moment to consider what he means by such an ambiguous response, and deciding it translates to ‘Speak freely’, he does just that. “Well, I’m callin’ because we’ve just received word of some new developments comin’ out of Hong Kong. Laswell’ll want to give a full briefing tomorrow mornin’, but essentially–”

And that’s about as far as Simon gets before he checks out again.

As Price continues to lay down the basics for him, Simon’s focus shifts back to what he really desires: the person he’s currently buried to the hilt inside.

His Captain’s droning acts as little more than background noise as Simon reaches up and begins toying with one of your nipples. The action is unexpected (not to mention ill-timed given the circumstances), and you try batting his hand away, even as a pleasurable tweak has you choking back a moan.

However, unfazed, Simon drags his fingers down, down, downwards, slowly tracing the midline of your body until he reaches your throbbing sex. His fingers are warm and slightly rough as he begins to stroke you, applying just the barest of touches, but it’s enough to light your nerves on fire.

This time, it’s harder to stop your moans from spilling forth, and you’re forced to mash your lips together lest you reveal your presence to the Captain still chirping on and on. Your free hand darts down to grab Simon’s wrist, meaning to tug it away, but instead, you find yourself pausing, holding onto him as a shudder wracks up your spine.

You know you should push him away – or, at the very least, tell him to ease up a little – but it just feels so fucking good that you can’t bring yourself to do either.

Besides, even if you were to speak up, would Simon be cognizant enough to heed your words? A quick peek at his expression tells you all you need to know. The lights may be on upstairs, but there is no one home right now to answer the phone.

You can feel the hand between your legs grow wetter and wetter as you start to leak droplets of your arousal. The slippery fluid makes Simon’s fingers glide that much smoother, that much slicker as he rubs you.

Even the way he’s touching you now – the way he’s expertly taking you apart – isn’t the result of conscious decision making by Simon. His movements, however deft, aren’t directed by any true rhyme or reason; they’re pure muscle memory at this point.

Simon’s other hand on your hip starts to rock you against him, and you find it’s getting harder to keep yourself under control. Try as you might to tamp your voice down, your ecstasy soon gets the better of you, and before you can stop it, you’re muttering a less than subtle, “Fuck.”

Immediately, you realize what you’ve done, and you slap a hand over your mouth at your mistake. As Price’s side of the call goes similarly quiet, you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to kick yourself for your carelessness.

Just as you think the jig is up, however, you catch a lucky break, as not a second later, Price resumes, “–boots on the ground to confirm what these sat images have been pickin’ up.”

The feeling of relief that floods you is almost akin to euphoria, and you exhale deeply (but not loud enough to be picked up over the receiver) as you bring your hand back down.

That was close; way too close for comfort, honestly. And yet, despite how close you just came to exposing yourself, Simon is totally, completely oblivious to it all.

This time when you reach for the wrist between your legs, you successfully tug it away. You feel like you’ve tempted fate enough for one night.

Though Simon puts up zero fight as you remove his hand from your sex, that’s only because he then reaches up and quickly stuffs his slickened fingers into his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he savors the salty taste of your arousal, a sort of blissful wave washing over him as he sucks his fingers clean.

Somehow, though you’re not sure how it’s possible, you swear you can feel him grow even harder where he’s buried inside you. The sensation makes you squirm, wanting to bear down on the fullness within you, but you force yourself to resist the urge to tilt your hips back and forth.

This is almost torture at this point, like you’re caught in some kind of kinky Saw trap. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. But thankfully, it appears you won’t have to endure it for much longer.

“All that’s to say, it looks like our timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be shippin’ out earlier than expected,” Price starts to wind the one-sided conversation down.

Though Simon has been relatively mute this entire time, for some reason, at this moment, he takes the opportunity to let out a long, “Mmmmmm.”

While you know the noise isn’t much more than an appreciative moan at your taste, Price is unaware of that fact, and so he asks, “That’s not a problem, is it, Lieutenant?”

You both wait a few beats for Simon to respond, but with less than a handful of working neurons left in his brain, you figure that’s unlikely to happen. Knowing Price is still expecting an answer and your boyfriend is unable to offer him one, you realize you have to take matters into your own hands once more.

So puffing out your chest and straightening up your spine, you muster up your best Simon impression as you expel a deep, gravelly, “Hmm.” The several seconds that follow find you holding your breath in anticipation, praying to whatever god will listen that Price buys your impersonation.

It’s after he eventually says, “Alright, well, I’ll expect you at 0800 for tomorrow’s brief,” that you breathe again, feeling nearly on the verge of passing out.

Frankly, this whole ordeal has left you exhausted. From having to hide from Price to having to pull one over on him, you feel like your heart is liable to give out any moment now.

If only Simon had been more of a conscious participant in this conversation maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. You and him could have quietly laughed and swore together in your shared misery. Instead, he’s too preoccupied with squeezing your nipple again between his wet fingers to notice anything’s the matter.

You don’t even bother pushing his hand away this time as you can sense the call is mercifully coming to a close.

“Have a good rest of your night, Simon,” Price says through the speaker.

If you weren’t so wrecked right now, you could almost leap with joy from how utterly relieved you feel. From the moment you answered this call, you thought you’d undoubtedly be found out. Truth be told, you’re not sure how you managed to make it through the past several minutes unheard and undiscovered. All you know is that you did and you’re beyond grateful for that.

But before you can hang up the phone to celebrate, Price has one last thing to say. Just as you’re about to press the end call button, just as you’re about to fling the phone to the far side of the room, just as you’re about to collapse into a boneless heap because you’re finally, finally, finally in the clear, Price gives one last farewell that makes your stomach fall out of your ass.

“And you too, (Y/N).”

The call dies, and you wish you died with it.

#i made him like a literal caveman in this so i hope y'all are into some freaky unga bunga stuff 😭#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

4K notes · View notes

babyleostuff · 3 months

Text

boys and their toys

𝜗𝜚 THEME: angst (+ hints of fluff) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SYNOPSIS: fighting with you has to be one of wonwoo’s biggest nightmares, so when you reset his game - will that be enough for him to finally lose his temper?

natalia’s note: i know you can’t technically pause a game, so this is probably going to be big highly inaccurate, forgive me gamer people ://

“did you touch my computer?”

uh-oh. no “darling”, no “love”, not even a “baby”. that couldn’t mean anything good.

you turned off the stove, and quickly wiped your hands. it was honestly amazing how the lack of your usual pet name made you spiral because why did your heart start beating so fast all of a sudden, but… did you touch your boyfriend’s computer today? you never had the reason to, it’s not like you shared his passion of gaming, so you never really touched it or did anything with it. even if you wanted to check something you always did it on your own computer or your phone.

“yes, wonwoo?” you asked slightly out of breath, peeking into your bedroom.

your boyfriend sat at his gaming chair with headphones covering one of his ears, his brows furrowed and lips pursed out, as he was typing something furiously on his new purple keyboard. “i paused the game before i left for practice today,” he said, and by his cold tone you figured you wouldn’t like what you were about to hear, “and now it’s gone.”

he finally turned his head to look at you, and to be honest, you’d rather he’d turn back to the computer screen. wonwoo was never the one to pick fights with you, he always insisted on cooling down and spending some time apart to gather your thoughts so no one would end up hurt, and even during the biggest fights you’ve had in your relationship, you’ve never seen him so outwardly furious.

suddenly self-conscious, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “i don’t know what happened. i didn’t touch anything.” because you didn’t, you were certain of that. “you know i never use it anyway.” sure, you cleaned today, you had your day off, and with wonwoo at work you didn’t have anything else to do, so you figured it’d be the perfect time to do some cleaning and dusting. but there’s no way you reset his game, right?

“my keyboard is clean, so you had to do something with it,” wonwoo said, his brows furrowing even more. you didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to darken, and you certainly didn’t like the tone of his voice. he wasn’t yelling at you, but then again he was always so soft spoken with you that you weren’t used to hearing him being so cold.

“i was cleaning, but i didn’t press anything,” you said quickly. “i swear.”

“you must’ve, because clearly the game had been reset,” he scoffed. “how many times have i told you not to touch my computer when a game is on? is it seriously so hard to understand?”

you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. wonwoo, your wonwoo was calling you dumb? “it was an accident,” you straightened your spine, and walked further into the room. “i wanted to clean the keyboard for you since you have been complaining about it being dirty for days now. maybe if you weren’t so lazy you would've done that yourself,” you loved him with all your heart but you wouldn’t let him disrespect you over something as stupid as a video game. “i wanted to do something nice for you, and you know i’d never do anything to your game on purpose.”

for a second you thought he’d say something back, but instead he only shook his head, and covered his other ear with the headphone.

you couldn’t actually believe him.

like an idiot, you stood in the middle of the room in disbelief. you didn’t know why he was so pissed about it, sure - you knew how much time he spent to get to the level he was on, but it was still just a game. besides, his behaviour was so unlike him, and it made everything so much worse.

“have fun playing your games, wonwoo,” you said, though you weren’t sure if he heard you. not that you cared. you quickly gathered your things, and left his apartment. there was no way you'd stay there, and act as if nothing had happened.

after a couple of days of radio silence you weren’t sure what to do next.

it’s not like you would call him or text him or anything - it was his job to man up and apologise, but a part of you, the part that always cared for him no matter what, really wanted to check up on him, which you weren’t sure how you felt about. he was the one to make you feel like the smallest person on earth, he was the one to make you feel like you did something wrong, so why did you feel responsible for checking up on how he was doing?

you didn’t want to make any excuses for wonwoo, that didn’t feel right, but… you really wanted to talk this out. you had never gotten in a fight where you spent so much time apart - even when you fought when he was on tour you still managed to make up rather quickly.

and soon you started noticing the small things you were starting to miss. his glasses laying around the apartment, and him running around trying to find them before work. his arms wrapped around your waist as you’d be cooking dinner. his featherlight kisses he’d place on your forehead after coming home late thinking you were already asleep.

for someone who insisted that fighting with you had to be one of his biggest nightmares, he was being really stubborn.

you sighed and waddled over to your kitchen to make something to eat. after your fight you really lost your appetite, but you knew you shouldn’t treat yourself so harshly after what happened. to be honest you generally lost the motivation to do anything.

just when you managed to put the pan on the stove you heard a loud knock. the sun had already set, and you felt more than ready to call it an early night after dinner, nor did you expect anyone to come over. “yes?” you opened the door a bit hesitant. a small part of you was hoping it’d be the person you were really starting to miss at this point, but to your disappointment it was a delivery guy, the last person you’d expect to pop up at your front door.

“i didn’t order anything,” you said, frowning. your first thought was that it simply had to be a mistake, but then you noticed that the bag the guy was holding was from one of your favourite chinese places. well, whoever ordered it had a great taste.

“is this your address?” he asked and showed you his phone with yes - your exact address.

he did not just order you takeout.

“who was this ordered by?” you asked immediately.

“um, let me check,” he muttered, “jeon wonwoo.”

you thanked the guy, and took the bag from him.

and it didn’t stop there.

for the next couple of days you were greeted with a delivery guy at your door at the exact time you usually ate your dinner. you always thanked them and took the takeout because free food is free food, and if this was wonwoo’s way of being stubborn then so be it - you wouldn’t let the food go to waste just to be petty.

but you wouldn’t lie - anytime you were greeted by the amazing smell of your favourite food your heart beat a bit faster. wonwoo has always always been a man of silent acts of service, and it never failed to make you feel loved, even now when you were fighting.

the day after the city had been struck by a storm. it was bad, the rain was pouring for the whole day, and you could hear the thunder constantly rumbling in the distance. thankfully you didn’t have to go out that day, but it made you miss wonwoo even more. you always used to cuddle on days like these if he was fortunate enough to have some time off.

when you got the weverse notification you picked up your phone, and clicked on the app immediately, a reflex you picked up early in your relationship, and read the message your boyfriend posted.

make sure to bring an umbrella with you today. and if you’re going to drive, be careful

you didn’t have to think twice to know he wrote this thinking about you. anytime it rained, even if it was a drizzle, he turned into a worried mum, and nagged you about being careful and bringing an umbrella with you, as if he didn’t put it in your bag before leaving for the schedules for you.

after a week and a half after you stormed out of wonwoo’s apartment you were starting to settle into your little routine of coming back to an empty home, getting the takeout, and eating it alone in your bedroom, where you could feel your boyfriend’s presence more than anywhere else in the house. if you were feeling extra sappy that day you wore one of his hoodies to make yourself feel even more miserable.

but something changed that week.

you just closed the door with another takeout when you got the message you were waiting for all of those lonely nights.

can we talk? please

maybe you should’ve been more stubborn, and ignored his message. maybe you were wrong for typing out a “yes”, but you didn’t care. it didn’t mean you’d forgive him, you were still very much angry at him, but you needed to see him. needed to see if he was okay.

i’ll come by after work tomorrow eat well

you smiled at your phone with teary eyes as you noticed one more thing you were missing. his stupid “thumbs up” emoji he put in half of his texts.

you weren’t sure what to expect the next evening. you didn’t know if you’d start yelling at him or if you’d start bawling your eyes out after seeing him after what felt like an eternity. what you were sure of was that you were nervous as hell, which was kind of ironic because you didn’t even feel that way before your first date.

this time when you heard the knock on your door you knew it wouldn’t be the delivery guy.

sort of.

“i brought food,” wonwoo said, as if that was what mattered to you.

he looked bad. the dark purple circles under his eyes. the slumped wide shoulders. the cheekbones more prominent than ever. tearing your soul apart would hurt less than seeing him like this.

“will you…,” he took a shaky inhale, looking at you from behind his glasses. you had to resist the urge to grab his face and adjust them, as they were sitting crookedly on his nose as usual. “will you let me apologise?”

“that’s all i’ve been waiting for you dumbass,” you sighed, and grabbed his hand to pull him inside your apartment.

even though you didn't know how this night would end, whether you would be able to forgive him today, or if you would need more time for everything to go back to normal, you were glad to have wonwoo by your side. you were convinced that the fight happened for a reason, whatever it may have been, but despite everything, you were happy that you could go through it with him.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot

2K notes · View notes

rowarn · 8 months

Text

first i would like to formally apologize.......also first time trying hybrid au so i humbly apologize if it's not as good as other people's!!! first time for everything and all that!!!

hybrid!au, angst, hurt/comfort but also hurt/no comfort, VERY mean!simon, cat hybrid!reader, dog hybrid!soap, owner!simon

part 2 !!

Simon who has retired from the military and decides to get himself a hybrid companion. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it – he’s grown lonely. He doesn’t have any family and all the socializing he did was in the military and he doesn’t have that anymore. So he decides to look into finding something to fill that gap in his life.

Enters Soap – a young hybrid who once upon a time worked for the military just like Simon. The pup got injured in action and was forced to retire.

Simon figures the two of them will fit together quite well.

And he’s right! The two of them get along swimmingly. And it turns out Soap is very good for Simon. The endless energy the hybrid had (despite his injury) forces Simon to actually leave the house multiple times a day instead of hiding inside until he drives himself stir crazy.

Now, he has to take Soap out for walks, runs, and even takes the hybrid to the park so he can run around with other hybrids and play catch with Simon. Soap LOVES it when Simon throws the ball as far and fast as he can so Soap has to spend several minutes hunting the little thing down.

Simon actually finds himself feeling…happy. For the first time in a long time.

Soap carves out a space in Simon’s life and the Brit is more than happy to let him take up as much space as he needs. He adores Soap. He knows the two of them are going to be companions for a long, long time.

But then on a routine nightly walk, Soap freezes at the entrance to an alleyway, ears perked and alert as he hears something Simon can’t. His tail stops wagging and his blue eyes work to pierce unblinkingly into the inky depths of the alley.

And that’s how they come across you; a skittish cat hybrid with no home to call your own.

Soap is ecstatic. His tail starts wagging so hard that it actually hurts when it hits Simon in the leg.

The pup begs Simon to bring you home. He wants a hybrid friend of his own! Something ugly and dark works it’s way into his chest when he hears that – was he not enough for Soap like Soap was for him?

He tries to tug Soap away by hooking his fingers into the leather collar around his neck but the hybrid doesn’t move, simply staring with a grin at where you sit on the ground in the alley.

Simon doesn’t like cats. He doesn’t want a cat. And just seeing you makes him frown.

When he finds that he can’t get Soap to move, he starts bargaining. He swears that they’ll look into finding a nice dog hybrid for Soap!! Stll, it doesn’t work. The dog hybrid has got his heart set on you for some reason.

And that’s how you find yourself living in his home. And he’s not happy about it.

You glare at him any time he has the audacity to walk into any room you happen to be in in his OWN damn house. It pisses him off.

He doesn’t like you. And he makes it abundantly clear any time he sees you with the way his lips curl up in disgust. He shoos you away like you’re a nuisance even when you’re just lounging in the warmth of a sunbeam through the window.

Where Soap eats borderline gourmet, he usually just slops some random low-quality hybrid food down for you. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly resentful, he doesn’t even let you eat at the table with him and Soap.

But Soap adores you. The pup gets so excited to see you whenever he gets home from a walk or a day at the park. He hunts you down immediately wherever you may be just so he can excitedly tell you all about what happened outside – the birds he saw, the hybrids he played with, what he ate.

And you listen intently. You’re not one for many words, Simon notes, but he often finds you muttering barely audible things to the other hybrids. You’ve never spoken a word to the human.

Simon doesn’t know why that upsets him too – it’s not like he wants you to talk to him. He just thinks it’s disrespectful of you to ignore the man giving you food and a roof over your head. He also thinks it’s fucking disrespectful of you to steal his hybrids heart the way you have.

The longer you’re there in his house, the more Simon hates you. Annoyance morphs into despising you. He’d have thrown you out back onto the streets by now if he could get away with it but when Soap wasn’t by his side, he was by yours.

It ticks him off when he walks into a room and finds you purring happily with Soap curled up around you, big burly arms holding you snuggly against his chest as he snoozes.

Simon didn’t even bother naming you, Soap’s the one who picked something to call you. Simon usually just gruffly calls you ‘cat’ if he needs to speak to you – which he makes it a point not to do very much.

You still don’t speak to Simon. Even when he ‘forgets’ to feed you, you don’t say a word. You don’t complain or seek him out for something to eat. You just choose to starve.

He wonders if you hate him as much as he despises you.

And you and Soap remain the best of friends. The pup is always yapping happily to you and you’re always listening.

As time passes, you even start to follow Soap around. It no longer seems like one-sided adoration.

You love Soap, he brightens your day and makes you happy. You want to be around him all the time. You never thought you'd like a dog but Soap was just so sweet and kind that it was impossible to dislike him -- even when he ruthlessly kissed your face all over and pinned you down so you couldn't escape just so he could give you all the affection he wanted. You never got mad, never showed your claws (in fact, you were extra cautious of your claws with him). You slept with him whenever he wasn't busy snuggling with Simon -- and you'd never dare interrupt the two of them while they were having quality time together!!!

And that also makes Simon furious. Because Soap is his. How dare you have the audacity to think Soap is yours? Simon has put so much love and effort into his relationship with Soap and you prance in with your stupid fluffy tail and little purrs and you’ve got the dog-hybrid wrapped around your finger in no time.

God, he hates you.

It seems like everything comes to a head on a rainy day. The rain always makes Soap hurt, his old injury and joints act up. It leaves him docile and sometimes a little cranky.

He had been a little short with you all day and that hurt. You already dealt with your owner, the man who took you in, refusing to show you any kindness, and now the one companion you had would barely look at you.

It wasn’t your fault you didn’t know how much pain Soap suffered from. You loved the rainy night, it was perfect weather to snuggle up to your favorite hybrid and snooze away.

You found Soap, sprawled on his back on the couch, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t think anything of it. You crawled onto the couch, intending to snuggle in right beside him.

But when you put the tiniest bit of your weight on him, his blue eyes popped open and a loud yelp erupted from his lips. You startled, hissing as your tail puffed up and fuzzy ears pinned back.

Soap practically lept from the couch to get out from under your weight, hitting the floor with a loud thump that had him whimpering softly to himself, curling in on his side.

Simon was storming into the living room not a half second later – finding his beloved pup curled up whimpering and shaking and you, ears pinned, tail puffed, and taking up the spot Soap once was.

Simon didn’t care what had just happened – all he knew was what it looked like; like you had pushed the poor pup off.

Because to him, that’s what cats were; vile, selfish, mean little shits.

You were dragged to the door and tossed right out into the rain without a second thought. Before you could even get your wits about you, the door was slamming in your face and you were alone. You sat on the step for a long while, shivering from the cold rain soaking your thin clothes, just waiting for the door to open again.

But before you knew it, the lights inside were turning off and you heard the front door’s deadbolt slide into place. And you were still outside, alone with nothing to your name but an old t-shirt that you had stolen from Soap.

Simon hadn’t even bothered to get you clothes of your own. Or a collar like Soap’s – one with Simon’s name and number on the back. You had always wanted a collar like that but you knew Simon didn’t care about you enough to even consider you his own hybrid.

You tried your best to stay out of his way and stay quiet and as small as possible so he wouldn’t grow angry or uncomfortable with you. You didn’t ask him for food when he forgot or get under his feet like Soap did. You tried your best to be good and hoped that someday the human would come around but as the days passed, you knew that it wouldn’t happen. You still did your best to not make trouble for him though.

It seemed he was just waiting for an opportunity to get you out of his house.

Your tummy growled, reminding you that you hadn’t been able to eat dinner yet. You stood from the front step and wandered down to the sidewalk, bare feet splashing in the puddles, taking a last glance at the now dark and still house you called home for many months.

With your head hung low, you made your way back to familiar areas where you knew you could dig through trash to find at least something so you wouldn’t sleep hungry tonight.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #cod x reader

4K notes · View notes

ghostsangel · 16 days

Note

Totally free to say no but would you be willing to write something about Ghost's girl not introducing him to her family and she gets a little squirrely if the conversation is brought up until Ghost sees an invitation to her sister's wedding and she reluctantly asks if he'll be her plus one. Only for him to find out it's not her being embarrassed of him or not wanting them to know about him, it's because they're fucking awful to her... If you wouldn't mind doing a plus size reader if you do that would be amazing! Thank you! Your writing is amazing!!

omfg i love this concept<3

simon ghost riley x plus-size!reader

tags/warnings: fatphobia, reader’s mom is a bitch, soft and protective simon. no smut in this one! just fluff.

Simon is a little worried.

You two have been together for over a year now, and he’s never heard you mention your family. He’s told you about his, sure, but every time the conversation shifts to yours, you begin fidgeting in your seat and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, I haven’t spoken to them recently.”

“We’re not very close.”

“I don’t wanna talk about me. How was your day?”

Simon always thinks the worst—you’re too ashamed of him to introduce him to your family. Part of him understands. He’s a giant scarred man who looks scary at any point during the day. Maybe your parents were mega religious and would think he’s some sort of demon come to possess you.

So, Simon eventually just stopped asking—especially when the last time he asked you, he pressed for more information and you almost broke down into tears. He couldn’t stand to see those crystalline drops prickle in your eyes and your lower lip wobble, so he just tugged you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you until you calmed down.

He dropped the subject.

Until today. He sat on the couch, some cop show playing in the flatscreen you two hung in your living room. He hears the door open, watches you trudge inside, your brows pulled together and a frown on your face.

“What’s the matter, doll?” He asks, eyes running down your body slowly. He loves your body—your big soft tummy and thick thighs that he suffocates himself in. Your large breasts that somehow your bra can’t even contain and your plump ass he loves to squeeze with his large hands.

You sigh, holding up a piece of card stock. Shuffling over to him, you sit on the couch, your legs slung over his lap.

“My sister is getting married,” you mumble, so low Simon can barely hear you.

His eyebrows shoot up, his hands splaying out across your thighs, rubbing small circles into the skin. He says nothing—doesn’t wanna push you for more info.

Your eyes flick from the invitation to his face, taking in the handsomely scarred skin. The scar runs across the whole left side of his face, and it’s part of his beauty. You reach up, running your fingertips over the scar, laughing softly when Simon kisses your fingers.

“D’you wanna be my date to the wedding?” You ask reluctantly, avoiding eye contact in hopes you won’t see how uncomfortable you are.

Simon stifles the urge to light up, sit up straighter. Instead, he nods nonchalantly, quirking his lips up into a half smile. “Sure, baby. Anything for you.”

That’s how the two of you wind up walking into an elegantly decorated villa. Simon thinks you look gorgeous—a pretty emerald dress that clings to your curves in just the right way. He found a suit that somehow fit him, and your eyes graze over his thick muscled figure. He looks sexy.

You’re holding his hand tightly, almost like an anchor, your hands sweaty. It isn’t until you see your mother that your heart starts pounding in your chest and you tug Simon closer.

His eyes flick down to you, giving your hand a squeeze and a kiss on the top of your head as your mother waltzes over. You have her eyes, but that’s all. She’s wearing an elegant dress that clings to her tiny waist, and her eyes flit from Simon to you, a hint of disdain in her eyes.

“Glad you could grace us with your presence,” your mother says stiffly, her eyes rolling down to take in your outfit.

“Mother,” you mumble, clenching Simon’s hand. “This is my boyfriend, Simon.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says gruffly, holding out a hand.

Your mother doesn’t take it, simply nodding at him and curling her lip up at she takes in the sight of him. He lowers his hand, and you feel his body stiffen.

“Really, you’d think for a wedding you would wear something a bit more…appropriate,” you mother spits out, her voice low.

You freeze, unable to come up with a response. Her words take you back to years of verbal abuse—“Do you think you need a second plate?”, “Come on, dear, why don’t you go take a walk with your sister to burn those calories!”, “You’ll never find a boyfriend if you weigh as much as you do.”

“I see you still haven’t lost the weight,” she continues, her eyes hard. “I thought you’d finally make an effort for your sister’s wedding. She looks beautiful, by the way. Size 2 wedding dress. Unlike you—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Simon’s voice is gruff and low. His eyes flick to your face, taking note of the tears welling in them and the way your eyes are glued to the floor. His free hand clenches into a fist, and he understands now why you never want to speak about your family.

“I was speaking—”

“Well, you’re done now,” he says, his eyes dangerously cold. “Don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talkin’ to, but this is my girl. She’s fuckin’ perfect, and if you say one more nasty thing about or to her, I’ll pop out your eyeballs with my fingers.”

Your mother’s mouth hangs open, and you blink back the tears and look up at Simon, grateful he’s there. Grateful he’s in your corner and that he loves you. You squeeze his hand, and he smiles down at you.

“I never have been spoken to like this—”

“Well, someone should.” Simon tugs at your hand, pulling you against him. “We’ll be going now. Don’t expect to hear from us. Have a terrible life.”

He leads you away from your bewildered mother, out of the villa and to his car. He bends down, wiping at your eyes with his thumbs, concern in his own.

“You alright, baby?” He murmurs softly, cupping your face.

You nod, looking into his eyes. “I couldn’t say anything,” you mumble. “Every time she opens her mouth, I freeze. I’m so—”

“Shhhh, love.” He leads you to the car, opening up the passenger side door. “Come on. Let’s go get ice cream and go home. I’m itchin’ to give you some proper lovin’.”

He squeezes your thigh all the way home, the two of you eating ice cream and laughing, Simon trying to take your mind off of the terrible encounter with your mom.

And when the two of you get home, he strips you bare and worships your body until you’re crying out his name.

2K notes · View notes

foldingfittedsheets · 3 months

Text

I, like I suspect many of the tumblr populace, ran into the issue in my youth of reading a lot of words I never heard spoken. My vocabulary has always been above average but my implementation is often flawed.

Like the day I told my dad I was the epitome of something and he laughed in my face. It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t correctly intuit the emphasis. (Mine was Ep-i-TOME vs Ep-i-to-ME).

My dad didn’t apologize for his rudeness but after my initial disgruntlement I just learned to roll with it. I’d get corrected and laugh it off. Some words were more frustrating though because it necessitated having to rework the word in my brain every time I read it. Like a few years ago when I learned I’d had “seneschal” wrong for decades. (I can’t explain why I thought it was sen-shull and not sen-es-shawl)

I learned that I had harbinger wrong during a Transformers movie without needing to embarrass myself. Thanks, Shia Lebouf. (Har-bing-er (wrong) made way more sense than har-binge-er (right) but no one asked me)

At this point in my life though I’ve managed to work out most of the kinks. I don’t often get corrected anymore.

But there’s one other snag that crops up between me and my beloved. I’ll confidently say a word and they’ll go, “That’s not how that’s pronounced.”

“Yes it is,” I’ll say, very firmly. Because in these cases I’ll generally have heard with my ears and repeated a word verbatim. I’ll know I heard it, so it can’t be wrong.

And pretty much every time I’ll be saying the British pronunciation instead of the American one. I’ve consumed enough British media that often it’s the only time I heard certain words said and I never realized American English handles it differently.

In some cases I’ll switch to the accepted American one. But they can pry machismo out of my cold dead hands, the American version is so stupid I can’t even handle it. I now recognize we stole the Spanish word but we made it worse.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #story #writing #pronunciation #language

2K notes · View notes

gojoest · 19 days

Text

BURDEN and REVERENCE — gojo satoru

MDNI, pregnancy freak!satoru, f!reader, established relationship (married + reader is expecting), pregnancy, lots of pet names (love, pretty one, baby, sweetness, my beautiful wife), fingering, humping, cumming in pants (<- hinted), wc: 1.5k, not proofread, dividers by @/cafekitsune

what your fingers can’t, your husband’s will ;)

“Stupid Satoru”, with a shaky breath you mumble under your nose. “It’s all because of you—", you whine to yourself.

Grabbing onto the sink in the bathroom with one hand to support yourself, you desperately try to make the other one work its way (and magic) between your legs, albeit ineffectively.

You can’t properly reach down and take care of yourself now — courtesy of the swollen belly that your very husband brought upon you. No matter how much you bend and shift, your baby bump is still in the way. Your fingers alone prove unable to make it to the spots in you that are itching to be touched right now.

“Stupid, idiot, bastard— “

“I love you too”, a familiar voice reaches your ears — the words are spoken with a smile that’s imbued itself in the timbre of it. “You look beautiful”

A sigh breaks past your lips. “In distress? — Sure”

Your husband — and the father of your unborn child, Gojo Satoru — stands tall at the bathroom entrance, looking at you with lovesick eyes, admiring your naked body with reverence. “I’m sorry”, he breathes.

It is not an apology for being late though.

Times like this one are the raw example of the changes he had forced on your body.

There are certain things you can no longer do by yourself now that your belly’s grown quite a bit, or you can — but at the cost of great discomfort, you must admit. Tying your shoelaces, reaching certain parts of your body when you shower that require you to bend down, or when you try to get off on your own — all those innocuous activities have suddenly become quite the challenge now with his baby growing inside you.

At times like this, you need him — and he is more than happy to help and serve you.

Truth be told, he bears a little bit of guilt for burdening you like this, but it is a guilt that he likes to let plague his conscience…

…because he’s completely enamored with this state of you — pregnant, swollen with his seed that is blooming in your womb like a flower, the you that is reliant on him to wash your feet, to rub your ankles, to paint your toenails, to fuck your depths your fingers can’t reach — now those are the parts of your body only he has access to; not even you.

You need him, and he loves that.

Slowly rolling his sleeves up, he inches closer to you. “Let me take care of you, my love”

To him, you look so beautiful in your naked glory on display. Leaned against the sink with a hand between your thighs, your swollen breasts like two open hands awaiting to be grasped by him, your round belly sticking out towards him — the view alone makes his cock stiffen in a heartbeat. Fuck, he mouths the word. The pressure in his groin is festering, really fast.

You free your hand now, knowing that he’s here to take charge of things, and once before you he takes a hold of it and brings it to his lips. Starting from the knuckles he paints your fingers with tender kisses, licking the remnants of your slick on them. “You should’ve waited for me”, he hums into your hand. “You know I love joining you — don’t keep this from me”, he pouts a little.

“I know, but…”, you knit your brows. “I don’t want to be a burden to you like this, all the time”

Maybe, you’re just having another hormonal episode. Maybe it’s just that, you think, because Satoru’s never given you a reason to feel like you are weighing on him.

Eyes squinting, Satoru tilts his head in confusion. His hips push forward, causing the erection under his slacks to rub against your belly — on purpose, to prove a point. “Do I look burdened to you, pretty one?”

You chuckle. A-ha— point proven, you see. “That looks like a huge burden if you ask me” — your remark drags a short laugh out of him.

“Mind if I share some of it with you then?”, he grins smugly.

“You say some of it, but you really give all of it to me”

“It’s ‘cause you take it so well, baby”

You slap his chest — Ah, what a dickhead — and smile at him.

His lips charge towards you and peck you softly on the forehead. “You are never a burden to me”, he whispers against you before he slowly starts to drag his body down — on his knees, in front of you. Kissing every inch of you along the way — the tip of your nose, your lips, your chin, the length of your neck, your breasts, your beautiful belly... “Sometimes I fear that I am the one burdening you — with my freakish desire of you, all the time”

“So you admit to being a freak”, you ruffle his hair softly as his cheek remains pressed against your baby bump. “You flatter me too much”

“No — I revere you”, he gazes up at you, his lips longingly kissing the skin on your belly as he takes both of your hands into his and places them on his shoulders. “Here — hold on, and relax your thighs”, his hands travel down between the plush of your legs and slide them open like they’re curtains. Your nails dig into his clothed flesh, earning a low hiss from him.

“Stay like this for me, love — stay open for me to reach you” — soft pecks on the flesh that separates his lips from his unborn follow each word that seeps from his mouth, as if to ease you into his finger prodding at your slit along with his thumb rubbing tender circles on your sensitive clit. His other hand rested against the bottom of your belly.

“Satoru”, you moan softly — but demandingly — at his touch. Clenching your cunt to try and suck him in — and you do, although not entirely. You force just about the tip of his finger into you. “I am ready”

…and you’re impatient, he smiles.

His middle finger tardily inches into you, urging his cock to twitch under his pants at your warmth and at the wetness soaking into his skin. Fuck, he curses quietly under his breath — his hips involuntarily buck forward with need, his clothed bulge pressing itself on the lower of your limb; he is humping your leg like a dog.

Fuck, he must be a sorry sight for you right now — he thinks. And here you are, being groundlessly anxious about burdening him… With what exactly? Have you ever seen a dog burdened by its owner? Isn’t it the other way around? — he ponders, while his finger sinks deeper into you.

“More, ‘Toru…”, you whimper. “Want m-more..”

Grunting at the way your muscles contract around his finger, Satoru slides it in further — repeatedly reaching in as far as possible, curling and drawing back. “More what, baby?”, he coos. “More depth—“, he rams his finger in, causing you to jolt and squeeze your hands harder around his shoulders, mouth hung open, voiceless and unable to even gasp. “Or more fingers?” — he pulls away, only to push back two of them in.

You gasp, barely able to draw in a breath of air, thighs squeezing around his hand. His fingers are thick, and they are long. Two of them almost feel like a cock inside you.

“Tell me, love — which one is it?”, innocently he asks, while his fingers maneuver inside you, not so innocently. A self-satisfied look on his face that you want to wipe off with the back of your hand, but all you can muster is a whimper of pleasure washing over you.

“Oh? Is it both, baby?”, he continues coaxing you smugly. “Is this how you were trying to fuck yourself? Is that it, baby? Am I doing it right for you, sweetness?”

“Fuck, S-satoru—“, you cry. Moving your hips in sync with his fingers, your round belly hits his face with each motion, clawing low grunts from his throat and desperate humps around your leg as he slides his throbbing bulge up and down on it. He was soaking his pants by now, but you were his sole focus. He’d clean his mess later, with you in the shower — but still, by grinding on you like a dog he wanted to let you know the effect you were having on him.

“I am, baby — I am fucking you”, he croons like a sweet addition to the squelching noises of your sopping pussy. “Cum on my fingers, my love. My beautiful wife — cum on your husband’s fingers”, his glazed digits pumping harder, hammering into you fast and filling the bathroom with echoes of labored breathing and loud smacks of his hand against your soaked cunt.

“C-cuming” — you manage to utter through rapid breaths, pussy pulsing and your walls grabbing more at his fingers as the wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your hands relax their grip and hug around his neck as you look at him with weary eyes, lips panting heavily still. “What a good girl”, he speaks to you. “Now come—”, his hand retreats from your folds, causing you to slightly flinch as he pulls away from your sore, sensitive cunt, “Let me clean you up, and maybe — burden you a little”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk x you #[ ♡ ] — satoru #pregnancy freak!satoru

1K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

em2dplatformer

EM_2DPLATFORMER

genesisoxysleep

Untitled

pikany

Pikany

poinsettia89

boring ass side blog

genesiskoussiafes

genchaii stamps