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gorejo · 1 year

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▸ A SOUVENIR FOR THE MORNING - GOJO SATORU. - forbes gojo!au

synopsis: you’ve avoided him for the last eight years, only for him to pop back into your life, leaving you with no room to run away as he asks you to kiss him. catch is, he now has a golden ring on his promise finger.

content: 9.2k words (idk how this happened, and it's unedited bc it's too long to go through) afab!reader, she/her pronouns, cursing, explicit smut, light angst, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, and anxiety triggers (picking at nails), pet names (baby, sweetheart, love, angel, good girl). minors do not interact.

The room is packed with people when you walk in. It was hard to recall some faces from the mirage of dimmed lights making you feel mildly dizzy and it didn’t help how the buzzing in your head from the smell of champagne and the loud chatter from the already drunk almost thirty-year-olds that can’t seem to contain their liquor-like novices, made you want to go home increasingly more.

“It’s only 9:41, and they’re drinking like they’ve never tasted alcohol before,” you heard Shoko mumble as she searched through her purse to reach for her perfume, “you want some?” Your best friend offered with a smile as she looked at you through the bathroom mirror.

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “can’t have all the boys following me around with that,” you teased.

Shaking her head in disapproval, “If you see me go home with any of these drunks, I give you full permission to hit me, no, in fact, I’ll pull up to your apartment every morning with coffee and take you to work for a week if I do,” Shoko shuddered while furrowing her brows only to quickly soften the moment she saw you lightly picking at your thumb – an anxious habit you’ve picked up throughout the years, only but the keenest of eyes being able to notice your anxiety.

“You okay love?” Her voice was sweet as she leaned against the restroom sink.

“Mhm, of course,” you faked a smile, “I guess I’m just a little nervous seeing everyone, you know,” lightly chuckling as you bit your lips. Little was underlying, when the knot in your stomach was building up, making you force down the urge to entirely vomit in the moment.

“People are thrilled to see you again,” placing her hand on your shoulder, “it’s literally been years for you,” she huffed, pouting as she reminisced over the years she attended alone.

“well ‘m sure one will be sure thrilled —” her voice suddenly drained from a crowd of people entering the restroom, slightly pushing you towards her, “nevermind come on, let’s go get something to drink,” Shoko muttered as she led you out, gently massaging your tense neck as she encouraged, bringing her lips to your ears, “if anyone bites, I’ll chop their dick off,” Shoko threatened with a flashing smile as she led you to a nearby table.

It’s only 9:41 — no, 9:42.

College reunions, who looks forward to that?

There was no particular reason for you to be anxious, it’s been years since. You’ve prepared yourself for this, meditating every single day since you got the notification in your email on a Tuesday evening — an invite to rsvp for a room at the Aman Hotel.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if you’ve been consistently going out to these every year since they’ve held one. But every year there seems to be a conflict in the schedule that forbade you to go.

One year it was your boss last-minute asking your team to work overtime, when a rookie employee lost all the data when he supposedly fell asleep, accidentally losing months of all your blood, sweat, and tears to make it for the deadline on your next advertising project.

Poor kid was fired the next day.

The following year, you were determined to go, going as far as walking to the restaurant, when the sudden nausea of socializing plagued your mind. The joyous welcomings and celebrations annoyingly muffled in your ear as you groaned past a familiar voice that seemed to call out your name from a distance. Your feet walking on their own volition through your sleep deprivation. Only to wake up in your bed with countless text messages from your best friend asking what the hell happened.

No wonder it was so fucking loud that night.

Another was simple, not your fault this time. Shoko couldn’t make it because of her rounds at the hospital.

Never in hell were you going to show up alone.

And the last one, well your taxi got a sudden flat tire. That in itself was a confirmation for you not to go, nor did you have any dying wish to go. Quickly texting your best friend, huffing out a sigh of relief as you pressed send.

<< sorry… can’t make it tonight. I promise, next year!!

Today, well things seemed to have aligned. No overtime, no flat tires, no sleep deprivation, no nothing.

Maybe it was an excuse?

Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding it?

But ironic is it, that life seems to protect you when most fragile, only to push you out into the void when least expected making you feel even more vulnerable, feeling so exposed in such a cruel world.

Or maybe the universe was waiting for this moment, that despite your consensus or approval, it was determined that you were ready to confront it — well it, being the owner of a pair of brilliant light blue eyes that sparkled like an aqua jewel, shining brighter than when you’ve last seen them clouded in tears as you let go of his trembling hand for the last time, crushing his pure heart as you left him with, “i’m sorry.”

Was that already eight years ago?

But whether it was the consequence of your selfish choice or a blessing of choosing to be selfless, luck was on your side today…

… well, you hoped at least somewhat on your side.

“My … look who it is,” you heard a voice from behind you.

Turning around, though the shame of suddenly cutting him off enticed your heart as you faced him, you couldn’t help but smile at his familiar face walking over with two drinks in his hand.

Holding the same gentle eye smile, with a lock of his black hair falling down on his left side, donned in a white dress shirt with his sleeves cuffed at the elbows, no tie but buttons loosely opened with a pair of dark slacks and shined dress shoes. Geto Suguru walked over.

“Aren’t you still handsome,” you complimented with a sweet smile.

“Don’t feed into his ego like that,” Shoko chimed as she nudged your arm, “his head is already big enough.”

“Who me?” Exaggerating his response, only to soon level down to the same amiable smile, calm cadence you’ve remembered him to have as he offered you a drink, “I have to take all the compliment I can get, don’t know when you’ll go awol and go missing for another eight years.”

“Funny…” you muttered, rolling your eyes while taking the drink by the stem, “and thank you, Suguru.”

“Where’s mine?” Shoko jabbed while shooting a glare at his nonchalance.

“Not here,” Geto flashed a smile, innocently shrugging.

“Whatever, I’ll get my own,” shaking her head in disapproval, grumbling while making her way to get a drink, but still making a point to stop in front of the man to warn, “Don’t say anything weird Suguru, I barely got her to come today.”

“Relax, ‘m just trying to catch up with an old friend,” Geto countered, making a point to whisper while smiling at you.

“I won't hurt her, that I promise,” Geto affirmed.

Your best friend walked off only to turn around for a brief moment as she worriedly looked back at you “Text me for anything okay?”

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry,” you reassured.

“And don’t forget what I said, I’ll even cut his,” deadpanning while looking at your male counterpart, “I got no problem doing it, I’m medically certified anyways, there’s nothing that a sharp scalpel can’t fix, ” Shoko stated with an innocent smile while walking off.

“So,” releasing a sigh as he pushed the strains of his hair back, “how’ve you been?” Geto smiled.

“I’ve been… okay,” you confessed while placing your lips against your glass before taking a sip, “could be better.”

“Thought you were living your life,” Geto teased, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Shoko wouldn’t tell us much about you.”

“I… I told her not to,” you confessed while leaning against your table, the pain of your heels starting to ache up your back.

“How come? Weren’t we your friends too?”

“I just didn’t think it was best to keep myself in the circle when I —” biting the inside of your mouth to stuff the suffocating knot forming underneath your lungs.

“ — When you broke up with him?” Geto finished your hesitation.

Nodding yes, you softly whispered, “I thought it was for the best for him.”

“For the best huh?” Geto chuckled, “well I guess you didn’t know him too well then.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed as your mouth started to feel dry, “I did it because we weren’t compatible, I would’ve been a stumbling block for him,” you stammered as your voice started to shake, “I- I would’ve halted his growth, and he would’ve hated me in the end if I selfishly held onto him when he was worth so much more than being with me,” you confessed with lips quivering as a tear fell, only to quickly brush it away before Suguru could notice.

But nothing passes with him, he reads right through you. His voice softened, “Was this your insecurity you’ve decided for him or — ” turning his body to face you while his body leaned on his arm against the standing table, “Was this something he actually would’ve struggled with?”

“I can’t change the past Suguru.” You shamefully avoided his gaze, “I still stand by my decision.”

“I don’t doubt that,” shrugging as he exhaled, “I mean, you did avoid him for almost a decade.”

“H-he seems happy,” you let your thoughts slip.

“You think so?”

“Shoko would tell me about everyone, you, him” you unnoticingly spewed out your thoughts. “Of course not in full detail, but that you’ve established your own studio, and that you’ve finally released those photos.”

“Mhm, that’s correct, would’ve loved to have invited you to the exhibition, it was quite… a moment,” he chuckled while playing with his fingers.

“That Megumi’s in high school and that he’s gotten in trouble for beating up the school bullies,” lowly laughing as you remembered how cute yet scarily mature he was for his age.

“Nanami hates corporate life, but still listens to what he has to say even if it’s outrageous.” Taking a sip of your drink, the sparkle of the beverage mildly burning your throat, “... and that he’s traveling the world living his life.”

Mumbling under your breath, “he’s even recently gone to Paris and had a night picnic with —”

“You stalked him?” Geto teased as he huffed out a laugh when he caught your shocked expression

“No — I mean, Shoko would tell me,” you stammered.

“Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart," Geto teased, "but just to let you know, he just got back. And from what I know, they haven’t met since he arrived. His plane should’ve landed,” while dramatically looking at his watch, “I don’t know like an hour ago? He’s probably on his way over here,” Geto handsomely winked as he suddenly placed a gentle hold of your waist and brought you near his side.

“You know… he’ll look for you, now knowing that you’re here” Geto whispered into your ear.

“How does he know… I told Shoko to not tell —”

Blinking innocently at you with a smile, while playing with his phone, “can’t avoid the poor guy forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you sighed knowing what Geto had done, “just didn’t have a chance to run into him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” releasing you with a smile, “ if you’re really sure about where you stand, then don’t run away from him.”

Geto's eyes flash to the entrance doors for a split second and land back on you.

“But would you look at that,” humming as he pointed to his empty glass yet his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the first in a while that you felt your heart sinking, all the blood in your body rushing out, making you suddenly feel lifeless and queasy.

“Gonna get another glass, you want one?” Suguru suggested.

“I’m okay, but thank you Suguru,” you quickly stated as your heart started to beat faster by the second.

“Sure, just don’t be a stranger again,” Suguru teased as he started to walk off, but your hand immediately reached out to catch his arm to quickly reinforce, “I- I mean it… thank you.”

Knowing your implication, smiling as he received your thanks, “No need, as fucking cringe it is,” chuckling as he shook his head, looking over your shoulder and back at you, “he’s my best friend, of course, I’ll be there for him.”

Letting go of his arm, your hands anxiously balled into a fist as you quickly turned around to avoid him, doing anything to hide from his sight. You felt your breaths becoming increasingly more difficult to inhale, and stagnant as your palms started to sweat.

“I’m not avoiding him… I’m not avoiding him” you quietly mumbled to yourself, your words contradicting your actions as you walked further away onto the balcony, texting Shoko,

<< I’ll be outside getting some fresh air (: let me know when you want to leave.

Closing your phone, as you let the night breeze wash against your face, leaving light chills around your body, you nervously sighed, “It’s been eight years you say…”

—

Your story was nothing short of the typical — difference in class and status, trying to make things work just for the convenience of love. It wasn’t hard at first to situate yourself into his life, nor was it any difficult for him to become accustomed to yours.

They say time will change things, circumstances will get better. Be patient with your season, and you’ll be rewarded for your hardwork.

But somethings never change no matter how hard you try to alter the dice. He’s rich and you’re just average.

Money works for him, while you had to take on multiple jobs just to make your next rent at the start of your career.

He was bound for greatness at a young age, trained by the best professionals and tutored by an exquisite league of mentors. While you had to settle for things, simply dreaming of the what can be. Thus, you worked even harder. You pushed yourself to keep up, to become of the level of who he’s supposed to be, and what he could accomplish.

When he dozed off in class, you stayed up. You studied, pulled all-nighters, chugged caffeine, and oftentimes had to push back dates with him for simple study sessions — he didn’t complain, said he liked to just sleep with his head rested on your lap while he cuddled into your stomach while you studied.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be your personal radiator,” he would chime with a boyish grin on his face, taking off his sunglasses as he stretched his long legs before latching behind you like a koala, “wake me up when you’re done, I’ll drive you home,” Gojo peacefully murmured without forgetting to place a kiss to your shoulder, while you stressed over your next exam.

With him, even the coldest days always felt warm.

And on the next day, he’ll always take you to class with some soup and hot tea, murmuring about your poor dietary choices and how you often neglect your health to study. But at least he’ll be gentle, and wish you the best on your exam with a light kiss — an innocent kiss that lasts a bit too long, his hand always gracing your body as he reluctantly releases you, brushing off the saliva that linked your lips together — his good luck charm he’ll argue, a little tease of what he’ll reward you with later when you got home for being his good girl.

Gojo will always try to convince, “Life isn’t always about studying, baby,” stating with a pout, after your fifth time canceling a date he’s planned to instead go on a simple walk outside your flat, “you gotta live life to the fullest! And why stress when you’ve snatched me?”

“Well, I can’t live life to the fullest if I don’t study now, Satoru. And who’s gonna pay for all that ice cream you eat? All the sweets you stock up on?”

“What do you mean?” Deadpanning as he stopped in his tracks, “you have me, what more else do you need? I'm a double threat — I’m rich and handsome.”

“Satoru — I… never mind,” rolling your eyes, as you were hit with his puppy eyes.

“Just promise,” his tall frame blocking you, “that you’ll always stick with me.”

“I’m not a piece of gum to just stick onto you, Satoru,” pushing him away, only for him to reach out to delicately hold your hand, “You know, if you’re a gum, you’ll be the sweetest one.”

“Yea, why so?”

“Because every time I eat you, you taste so sweet,” he teased with a flirty wink, “if you get what I — ow!”

Rubbing his forearm that barely hurt, Gojo loved to exaggerate when he was with you.

For Gojo, things came easily for him, as if the universe highlighted his life as a thousand-year blessing, nothing was out of his reach — that is, nothing but you.

Shocking to many, he pursued you first. When asked about how you guys met, or what’s the story behind you two, or even if no soul asked… he’ll blabber on with an outrageous story, saying he fell in love the moment he laid his eyes on you, that you were the apple of his eye — an over the top fanfiction of you and him of how he just knew you were the person for him when you stumbled into the library, arms full of books and coffee in the other, and you magically just happened to just bump into him. And if it wasn’t for that encounter, then he would’ve never gotten your number.

And without your number, he wouldn’t have been able to woo you with his charm, he’ll always add with a wink.

“You can say it’s fate,” he’ll proclaim, “I never went to the library, you know,” as he munched on his icecream with Megumi and Tsumiki savoring theirs, both unbothered by the story he’s told them countless times, “and the one day I chose to follow Suguru because he was simping over someone, I get coffee spilled all over my clothes and meet her? Damn, the heavens just wanted us together.”

All you remember of that day was that your precious coffee went to waste, with your books embarrassingly spread out on the floor, and you were stuck having to dry clean his ridiculously expensive clothes.

But with him, you experienced all your firsts.

Your first handholding — Satoru confidently took your hand, immediately interlocking his fingers with yours, his palms engulfing yours entirely, “don’t be scared baby, I’m not scared,” flexing his muscles as he proudly smiled, “I’ll protect you!” as he leads you through the haunted mansion, jolting through every jump scare, absolutely refusing to scream.

You remember his palms felt particularly clammy that day.

Your first kiss — on a spring picnic as he laid on your lap, his eyes sparkling a little more than usual as he looked up at you, innocently asking, “can I kiss you?”

Your first argument. Ignoring him for a whole week, only for your resolve to quickly break when Suguru urgently called you to his house stating that Satoru was deathly ill — dark circles under his eyes, cheeks frail from not eating, wrapped up in his blanket as he dramatically announced his dying wishes while sneaking obvious glances at you.

Geto’s diagnosis: pure insanity.

To your first cuddle buddy, to innocent make-out sessions, to wonton looks and lustful touches for more. leading to your first sexual experience, both unknowing and inexperienced as he groaned into your ear in the back of his car one rainy night as you struggled to take his girth.

He was your first taste of goodness — like a forbidden fruit, you increasingly wanted him more. In soul, mind, and body, you etched yourself into him, making the tear even more painful to rip apart.

Sure, loving him was easy — but loving you, the version who was so lacking compared to him and insecure was hard.

You tried to ignore it, you did your best to brush off the insecurity that came with each day of choosing him. But having the message that you were worth less than he was being constantly blasted to your face — the blatant discrepancies between social classes and the nature of how you both grew up, to the constant side glances you’ll get wondering how someone so normal like you, got with such a high net worth — gradually, it all made you dissociate from him.

So you worked even harder. You stayed up longer than anyone else just to get that better grade. You worked that extra shift just to prove that you were capable. You doused yourself in knowledge, yet tried to stay humble to be seemingly perfect… but in that, you unknowingly pushed him further away, losing parts of yourself while at it.

And your final straw? It was a text message you accidentally read on his phone while he silently napped, cutely dozing off as you massaged his scalp.

From: Mom.

>> Remember the girl I talked to you about? Nitori-chan’s family requested that we set up a date for you two. The faster the better, no need for our families to meet, it’s all settled.

To: Minako.

<< Let’s meet. When are you free, Minako?

From: Minako.

>> Whenever! I can meet now!

>> Is this about our potential engagement?

To Minako.

<< Yea, let's meet tonight to talk about it.

You remembered, that night you couldn't reach him.

The final trigger that blew it over. The rambling of your thoughts paralyzes you from thinking rationally.

You didn’t need to search up who she was. Nitori Minako, the youngest daughter of Japan’s leading technology company that rivaled to that of America’s fruit. A girl that was a year younger than you — smart, adamantly cute, cunning and rich — always following him around a bit too closely for your liking, preaching about how “Gojo-san promised he’ll marry me when we were young! Isn’t that so cute?”

how long was this going on for?

Has he always been going on secret dates like this? Was he always just willing to let it slide when you rejected his dates because he had other options?

Was he leading you on this whole time before he’ll leave you for what he rightfully deserved?

Was all of this a lie? All of what he said?

The pinnacle of your sanity breaking as your thoughts became corrosive and brittle the more you dove deeper into the pitfalls of your insecurities — of course what people said was right, there was no way someone like him can settle for any less.

... Ultimately, everything led to you quietly blurting out as he rambled about his day.

Playing with your hand, smiling like a loser as he intertwined your smaller fingers with his, “Geez, there was this jeweler that I wanted to take you to, but dammit, the store closed early today. Maybe we can go — ”

“Let’s break up,” you suddenly announced, looking straight ahead.

The room suddenly felt quiet, so quiet that the thumping of your heart felt like loud sirens blaring next to your eardrum, and your body felt numb.

After a few seconds, Satoru stammered, “w-what?”

Sighing as you closed your eyes, “I said, let’s break up, we aren’t — ” you reiterated.

“I heard you the first time,” Gojo hissed, still playing with your fingers but his grip now harsher, “just wanted to make sure you weren’t bullshitting right now.”

“I’m not joking, Satoru,” your voice stripped of any emotion, “we aren’t good for eachother.”

“Says who?” the man challenged.

“It’s something that’s been on my mind,” you responded back while trying to pull back your hand, “l-let go, Satoru, it hurts…”

“Is it because of the text?” Gojo refused to let go, even more so gripping even harder, “Fuck... I'm sorry I should've explained earlier," his voice pleading for you to listen.

"I swear nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, b-baby look at me,” your boyfriend’s — now, ex-boyfriend's — voice elevating and shaking.

“Gojo,” softly pausing after his name, “let’s end it when things aren’t so bad… I can’t have you hating me more when we have no other choice but to break up,” finally pushing his grip off, “it’s inevitable, we’ve been walking towards a destined finish line from the beginning, let’s just call it quits a little earlier.”

“no... you can't do this, you can't do this to me,” he vulnerably uttered, his body noticeably trembling as a tear dropped onto the back of your hand as he reached over to touch you, hoping it'll mend whatever hatred you had towards him, “you.. we promised,” his voice shaking.

“I’m sorry Gojo,” you dodged his grasp, “guess promises are only good if you can keep them, and I can’t.”

Days of him begging at the forefront of your door, crying as he asked for an explanation, his missed texts and calls that would go straight to voicemail, to Suguru stepping in to ask what the hell was going on… all leading you to cut off every aspect of Gojo Satoru out of your life, except Shoko.

After two years of dating, at the ripe age of 20, you experienced your first heartbreak with Gojo Satoru, marking the end of the final chapter of your love story with him.

To you, he’ll be the greatest warmth you’ll ever experience.

To him, you’ll be the heartless bitch that left him cold.

—-

“Hmm,” looking at your empty notifications, “guess she’s a little busy right now…” you hummed. Despite your outwardly calm demeanor and the stillness of the serene summer night, juxtaposed was your mind with wandering thoughts that wrecked havoc in your head.

Shoko would update you occasionally about him, not going too far into details. You knew he was successful in his craft, excelling in it as he ranked 11th in Forbes 30 under 30 list, losing the tenth spot barely to a Zenin. It would be a lie if you weren’t curious about him, your mind wandering and weak during the quietest of nights, making a burner account to stalk his socials, only to immediately regret the moment you see photos and stories that presumably show that he’s in a relationship — with a gorgeous one in fact.

You’ve briefly heard of his dating history, hearing it from Shoko directly, as it mindlessly slipped through her tongue as she complained that he’s broken up with another girl.

Throughout the years, you’ve concluded maybe this was your punishment for leaving him. Damnation to feel stuck in the same perpetual regret of hurting his heart, of choosing to look at your fears instead of maybe trusting in him.

But, at least he looked happy. and you clung onto that reserve.

Maybe it was for the best that things happened this way —

Your ears perked up as you heard the tapping of shoes coming towards you, your stomach suddenly dropping to the floor.

“Were you planning on avoiding me the whole night?”

You were sure, there was no denying that was his voice.

Yes, it was a bit deeper from when you last heard it. The decibel of his voice is now infused with power and confidence, yet still with the underlying tone of softness from what you remembered.

“Ah, sorry… how rude of me,” you mumbled, the pounding of your heart beating through your ribcage. You quickly placed an arm over your chest, a hand over your heart, doing anything to muffle the harsh pulsing, terrified that he was going to hear, “it’s been a while Gojo,” you offered him a light smile, “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me Ieiri is waiting for me,” you tried excusing yourself only to be met with his stance unchanging, unmoving.

You felt his eyes pierce into your skull, “Gojo?… ah that’s right,” his voice guarded as he looked over in another direction, his face pointing specifically elsewhere, the moonlight highlighting his perfect features.

“I think she’s pretty busy, don’t you think?” he shrugged.

Dammit she was your ride home. Guess coffee is on her for the next week.

“Oh sorry,” you muttered under your breath.

Grinning as he licked his lips, “You’re awfully saying sorry a lot over nothing,” Gojo chuckled, “guess old habits die hard,” his last words spewed with a hint of bitterness as he clenched his jaws.

Only to relax seconds later, placing his drink on the railing, softly grunting as he pulled off his jacket, and placed it over your shoulders, “It’s cold, don’t want you getting sick now,” the smell of his cologne filled up your lungs, hypnotizing your senses — a bit strong but nonetheless intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for feeling a sense of security from the weight of his heated jacket, and in response, you started to immediately pick at your thumbs.

“It’s okay!” You tried to object, trying to take it off only to be met with a stern yet gentleness of his voice, his large hand stopping you, now calloused and thick yet the warmth of his palm brushing against your smaller one felt nostalgic and sinful, as your eyes immediately noticed a gold sparkle on his ring finger, “it’s fine. my body runs hot, remember?”

“T-thank you,” you muttered, the harsh beatings of your heart quickly making your cheeks feel hot.

A ring? you wondered.

“So, what made you come today?” Gojo huffed as he looked off into the distance.

“Had no excuse not to come.”

“I see,” his voice deep, taking the last swig of his drink, deeply inhaling to release a long breath, “It’s good to see you though.”

“Yea, me too,” you quietly responded, the awkwardness of the conversation eating at your bones, the tightness of your stomach knotting increasingly more.

Laughing as he turned around, his long legs crossed, showing a bit of his socks peeking out of his slacks as his dress shoes reflected the moon's shine. Surely, they were expensive, probably equaled to a month of your rent on his feet. With his arms crossing his chest, leaning against the railing, the quiet winds brushing against his soft hair, lightly masking his cerulean eyes as he faced you, “Liar, you were always good at that.”

Taking you off guard, your eyes immediately connecting with his, your breath stopping as if a sudden load was pushed onto your chest, you felt a wave of sadness rush over you as you ventured into his empty eyes.

Since when did he have that ring?

Did he find someone at Paris? Shoko told me — no, there’s no way he found someone so soon.

Or maybe he’s trying to settle down —

“Are you happy?” His question brought you back into reality.

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve asked a hard question,” he responded, his voice now harsh and impatient, “I asked if you were happy.”

Your finger pricks at your thumb, “I guess so…”

Rolling his tongue against his teeth, his finger playing with his ring.

Taking no regard for catering to your comfort, he jeered, “Why’d you do it?”

“What are you talking —” you stammered.

“You know damn well what I’m referring to,” Gojo spat.

“Excuse me,” You muttered, your eyes refusing to disconnect despite your whole body fighting against it.

“I- I got to go, Ieiri is waiting —”

“No, you already used that excuse,” pulling you in by your wrist, immediately caging you in between his arms, with you now leaning against the railing, your eyes level to his broad chest — has he always been this big?

“Answer me, at least you can have the courtesy of honestly telling me why you left me like that eight years ago.”

“I don't remember,” you stated with eyes threatening to spill.

“Liar,” his body leaning down, the hurt in eyes even more apparent than before, “you’re a fucking liar,” Gojo spewed with no resolve to withhold a solid tear from falling, his face now dangerously close — lips even more threatening to touch.

All you wanted to do was say sorry, to cup his face and kiss his tears, to say it was a mistake that you’ve never intended to let him go — you selfishly tortured him by continuously keeping him in your heart without giving him a chance to prove you wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could respond.

“Did you not trust me?” Hurt was apparent in his voice, “Was I that untrustworthy for you to just leave like that and just disappear for eight years?”

“No, no… it’s not like that,” you tried comforting, unknowingly placing your hands on his chest, “it was never like that.”

"then tell me why," he forced out through gritted teeth while furrowing his brows.

"I just thought it was for the best," you quietly whispered.

"you thought it would be for the best?" Gojo scoffed, "And how the hell did you come to a conclusion to just leave like that?"

" 'm sorry, Gojo... I - I truly am," you pleaded while clenching his shirt.

"You must've really enjoyed watching me beg huh," Gojo challenged, "absolutely thrived knowing this was all for my own good, right?" Gojo spat out his anger.

"It wasn't like that, i'm so sorry, I was hurting —"

“Stop fucking apologizing! you don't get to do that," His voice shattered the serene night. Chest heaving as he clenched onto the stone railing, "I didn’t go through shit these past eight years just to hear your selfish sorry's,” he stated with gritted teeth, as he threateningly moved even closer, “d-did you even love me?”

“Yes, of course!” You immediately cupped his face, finally letting go of the years you craved his touch, your heart shattering as you felt him melt into your wicked hands.

“Then kiss me,” he suddenly whispered, the slight scent of alcohol mixed in with cologne altering your judgment.

“Y-your drunk, Gojo,” you pleaded, immediately letting go of his face as you tried to push him off.

His voice elevated, "Why not?" Gojo growled, "Like you said, it's not like you left because you didn't love me. Or are you lying about that too?"

“don’t make this hard, we — I can’t do this with you anymore,” guilt running through your veins as the image of his ring blared loudly in your head.

You couldn’t do this to another girl, he wasn’t yours anymore…

“stop the bullshit,” Gojo growled before his lips slammed into yours, his large hands cupping your face, leaving you no room to run away. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, teeth painfully clashing yet you didn’t mind. because against your resolve, your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to taste the sweetness of his saliva and feel the warmth of his tongue.

The groan of his voice vibrated against your lips, as his clothed hip bucked into your pelvis, his lips trailing down from yours to your neck, tongue sloppily trailing down with it as his hands wandered down to hold your hips.

“Tell me you missed me,” he moaned out as you gripped the ends of his hair, his tongue teasing down your sweet spots, pecking kisses as he inhaled your scent.

“Say you loved me, I don't care anymore if it’s a lie,” your ex now pleaded, his hot breath heating your cheeks.

“… I love you,” you confessed.

Lowly laughing like a maniac, staring deep into your wanting eyes, the man whispered back, “aren't you fucking heartless.”

...

You don’t recall how you made it into the hotel room. In a moment your lips crashed with his on the balcony, and only a second later you found yourself with his large hand securely wrapped around yours, silently waiting for the elevator to bing on the twentieth floor as your ex-boyfriend led you into his hotel room.

Now, currently, you’re pressed against the wall, shoes thrown aside groaning with your hands tangled in his soft hair, as he hurriedly stripped you out of your dress, lips hungrily moving against each other as he growled into the kiss.

Though its been years, his touch never faltered from remembering your body — immediately tracing over your sweet spots that he’s located in your early twenties, now with more experience and strength he dove deeper in.

“Fuck, missed these beauties,” he groaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumb playing with your hardened nipples as he quickly released the back strap of your bra, promptly latching his lips onto your swollen ones again right before you released a moan.

Your body had a mind of its own. Fallen into sin, your hands unbuttoned his shirt, quickly revealing his toned, muscular build as your hands ran against his pecs. You felt his stomach flex as you started to unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his lips hungrily chasing after yours as he caressed your body, hands slipping down further into your inner thigh, his index starting to play with your swollen clit — his fingers have always been so pretty, especially with his ring

“G-gojo stop!” Your eyes immediately shoot open.

“What,” annoyed, the man hissed, looking into your eyes with his pupils dilated, hair absolutely disheveled, until moments later his lips are impatiently back onto yours again.

“We.. we can’t,” you cried out as you melted in his touch, “y-your ring,” you gasped out, suffocating as he stripped you of oxygen.

“Ring?” he stopped for a brief moment, chuckling as he brought up his finger, “you worried about this?” he teased.

Intoxicated in his touch, you were willing to throw away your pride and dignity just for one night — one night can’t hurt, right? So you take the ounce of courage you had left, placing a tender kiss on his lips as a sign of surrender as you gently cupped his face, “take off your ring,” you whispered as you guilty looked away.

Chasing after your kiss, pushing you further into the room as you yelped at his force, your arms entangled around his neck and fingers around his hair as you tried to stabilize yourself, “I promise you it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he coaxed with his sharp canines flashing through his wickedly handsome smile.

And running his lips against your chest, leaving small denture marks on your skin that forced moans out of you, with his pants now pooled at his ankles before shimming them off, his cock fully erect, unapologetically twitching in his briefs.

“For you, I guess,” Gojo hummed as he watched the thin line of spit that connected you both dissipate away, existing as a sign of proof of the situationship he currently had with you.

Taking his ring off, he set it down near the bedside table, "there it's gone."

At least for this night, he was yours.

You’ll repent for your sins, and receive any punishment the gods had to give you tomorrow, but today, you chose him.

And right now, you also chose to kneel in between his thighs, hooking your finger under his waistband to pull his briefs off. Satoru immediately lifted his hips to help you while releasing a sultry groan as he felt the cold air elope his sensitive tip.

Was he always this thick? You remembered his cock being pretty, but also what the fuck were those two veins running down his shaft? And was he always this… groomed?

“Are you just gonna stare at it… or do I need to use your mouth to get some action?” Satoru impatiently asked with his cock twitching, his finger brushing against your heated cheeks as he palmed his member.

“It’s just been awhile,” you murmured, licking your lips before you opened your mouth to have him enter.

“Fuck, " Satoru shuddered as the base of your tongue brushed against his frenulum.

"i must be dreaming,” Gojo murmured under his breath, your head rising up as you released his cock with pop! With your hot tongue swirling against his head, there was no chance for Satoru to stay strong. and you enjoyed every second of seeing him slowly unravel in your power.

“j-just like that,” he ordered while placing his hand on top of your head, guiding your momentum.

His precum tasted salty but pleasant. Hell, he wasn’t even close to the other men you’ve been with, incomparable starting with the size of their dicks to his.

Hallowing your cheeks and expanding your throat to take in his shaft, with your hands gently playing with his balls, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat the moment you saw his head fling backwards, gasping as he pushed down his spit down his dry throat.

“You like that?” Gojo hissed as he bucked his hips into your warm crevice, “you missed my cock, angel?”

You honestly agreed, tears staining your vision with his length stuffed into your orifice, only to get a spiteful laugh in return, “well, guess that makes two of us,” he huffed while crowning over your body, pushing himself deeper into you, his stomach hitching as he groaned out your name.

“Fuck this shit,” he moaned, as he urgently pulled himself out of your mouth, sacrificing his impeding release for abstinence.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped when your thumbs swirled around his pulsing head, “you always do,” he purred as he nibbled on your lower lip, promptly pulling you onto his lap, one hand straddling your waist while the other mounded your ass.

And looking up at you, with his blue eyes now darkened in full blown lust, his hot breath sending chills down your spine, “tell me what you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Y-you,” you shamefully confessed, gasping as his cock grazed against your sensitive folds, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you started to grind against his length, “I want you inside me again, Satoru” you whispered into his ear, lightly moaning out his name.

“Shit,” Satoru croaked, pulling himself down as he gently released you to lay on the bed, “I dont have a condom,” he confessed as he gently kissed your cheeks, “ you gonna be okay without it?” he asked.

“Mhm, j-just hurry… please,” you murmured.

“Good girl, now come here,” he coaxed as he placed a soft pillow under your head.

Taking a brief moment to observe your face, reading any sign of forced emotion that you might try to hide, only to ease himself into the kiss when he feels you impatiently desiring his touch, “relax, baby,” he cooed as his kisses traveled southward.

Placing each delicate kiss on your body as his soft hair trailed behind, lightly tickling you as your thighs gently caged his waists into you, “you know they wanted me to thank you,” Gojo breathed out as he split your thighs open, settling himself in between your legs.

“W-who?” you whimpered as his calloused hands massaged your muscles, his soft lips easing out the tension boiling in your core while your hands immediately went straight to grip his hair.

Lips drawing closer, closer and closer until his breath knocked against the frame of your dripping cunt.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” blowing air onto your sensitive nerves, looking up to watch your body shiver at his power as he slid his finger down your folds, pushing in one finger, two, and eventually three into your tight hole as he watched you stretch, your viscous juice soon dripping down his forearm.

“They wanted me to thank you for how good I eat pussy now,” Gojo smirked before he took a swipe of his tongue against your womanhood, spreading out your cunt as he purposefully flicked his tongue against your clit, lightly sucking on the bud thereafter.

…

How many times as it been, you wondered? More than once or twice, maybe four… five — you moaned out when you felt your legs hitching up to his shoulders, his cock hitting just at the right spots he remembered from years ago.

“Angel,” Gojo huffed as sweat dripped down his temple, grunting as he felt your tight walls fluttering against his length at the call of his sweet pet name, “you have that much leisure to be thinking about something else when I’m fucking you?”

Kissing your ankles, his pelvis showing you no mercy as his wet skin slapped against your ass, the sound and sultry smell of hot sex filtrating your room, “still so fucking tight,” Satoru grunted as he pushed his body onto you, your legs hooking against his shoulders, his strong arms holding you from under.

“G-gojo!” you rasped out, barely audible and inable to breathe from his heavy weight and humidity of the room, “it’s too deep! Slow down!”

Growling into your ear, his teeth nibbling against your earlobe, his hot breath stinging your face as he scoffed at your choice to call him so mundanely.

“you gonna be so impersonable,” his thrust going deeper, harder into you, “when I’m so deepily inside you?”

“Ngh,” gasping, “it’s too much,” you sobbed with his face planted into your neck, and his ass clenching with every push he drove into your gushy walls that still wrapped so perfectly around his — just like how he’s last felt you around him, just like how he’s molded your insides just for himself.

“You let anyone else fuck you?” He suddenly hissed, panting as he tried to catch his breath, the sweat on his back making it difficult for you to hold onto him, “you let anyone else see this side of you?”

“It’s too much —” you pleaded, avoiding his question.

“Answer me,” he lowly ordered.

Unable to withstand his power, absolutely willing to fold for him and his desires, you fastidiously nodded, “only a couple,” you shyly confessed.

"how many," he growled, disappointed in your answer, "how many fucked this."

"o-one or two, ngh I-I don't remember," you panted.

“One or two, you say,” he cooed as he pulsed his cock swiftly into you in rhythmic motions, satisfied seeing his length disappear inside you. his pace driving you to the brink of insanity as your lower belly started to fire up again as he knowingly pressed his palm down on your stomach.

“Then I gotta fuck you twice more to force out all memory you have of those stupid fucks,” grunting as he cupped your face to look at him, lips swollen with his skin marked by your nails, hips unapologetically thrusting into you as he watched you unravel in his lead, “because this pussy’s always been mine.”

Seven.

He’s definitely made you cum seven times. you remembered the count just before he groaned out your name, his thrusts sloppy and strained, gasping as he pulled you tighter into his embrace, face caved into your neck as he finally released his thick loads into your abused walls, sobbing out cursed moans as you held him, expending out every last ounce of energy you had for him in mere four words,

“I’ve always loved you,” you whispered before completely passing out.

You failed to notice a tear fall from his eyes drop to your face. He hoped that it’ll stain you, wished it would reach all the way through to your heart to burn you. But he couldn't, so instead he carefully wiped it away as he gently kissed your face — inch by inch of your canvas before he chose to face you again.

“you’re so heartless,” Gojo chuckled as he pulled you in for a tight hug, straight into his chest as he laid beside you, refusing to pull out and have his cum spill onto the sheets — a feat he’s never dared to do with anyone else, he’s always fucked protected.

“what am I going to do with you," he breathed out.

"even with all this time, I’m still so weak for you,” he quietly confessed, reaching over to the side, reaching for his ring to put on the empty finger, before he too fell into the abyss of another dimension with you in his arms.

—-

Lowly groaning as you opened your eyes, your body felt oddly heavy and aching, but yet warm and safe despite feeling on the absolutely verge of possibly snapping in half and breaking with any force.

Blinking a couple times before you started to register the room, you felt a slight huff next to your ear and the tightening around your waist as your back leaned against something hard.

Gojo Satoru, in all of his glory, was sleeping so soundly next you.

Carefully turning around to face him, you observed his features as you ran your fingers against his skin.

His lashes were still so long and soft, you giggled when Gojo twitched his nose at your touch.

His cheeks were still so smooth, without a spec of a blemish, but you can see the little bags under his eyes and the small creases on his skin. he’s probably tired from traveling.

Your finger travels down to his chiseled jaw, and defined collar bones, examining the light scratch marks on his pale skin, and the bruising of his nipple — wait… his lips are chapped and swollen, and his cock… oh god, his cock was brushing against your stomach — hard and pulsing.

Immediately gasping, you felt the blood in your body drain at the revelation that you’ve fucked your ex — no, you fucked your ex of eight years, that you were still crazily hung up over that most likely had a girlfriend waiting for him to respond back to.

Before you could think, your adrenaline pressed forward to act before your mind, immediately unlocking his hands from your naked waists, standing up too quickly only to stumble from your trembling legs. You felt something drip down your thighs — white viscous slowly running down your legs, your face heating up at the memory of last night.

“I- I need to leave,” you whispered, quickly gathering your discarded clothes and undergarments as you rushed to the restroom, forcing down your whimpers as your sensitive cunt brushed against your thighs with every step you took.

“I can’t be here, t-this was a mistake,” you stammered while putting on your dress, quickly stuffing your used panties into your purse.

You looked like a mess, but it didn’t matter because you needed to get the hell out of there before he woke up, but somehow your feet didn’t move in the direction you wanted them to — out the door — but instead towards him unknowingly sleeping.

And quietly sitting against the edge of the bed, carefully pushing away the edges of his bangs that covered his handsome face, you decided to take a minute to absorb the last images of what you’ll have of him. And there you decided to let a tear or two drop from your eyes as you said your last goodbyes, gently kissing his lips before you made your way out the door, whispering, once again,

“I’m sorry…”

—-

It’s been close to an hour since your walk of shame out the door. Since then you quickly checked out of your room and made your way out of the hotel.

You immediately called for a taxi to get home, groaning as you were hit with the realities of your mistakes last night.

Treading up the stairs your legs quivered with every move. It's been a while since you've been fucked that hard, nor even had a partner that lasted so long.

You needed to text Shoko, you prayed that she didn’t blow through your notifications when you suddenly went missing last night. Sighing, you absentmindedly tried to find your phone in your bag as you punched in your door keys.

You started to think, maybe the whole fucking universe was now against you, for your sins, because your phone wasn’t in your purse.

You tried to retrace your steps to where you’d last used it as you made yourself over to your bed, stripping off your clothes as you walked over to the shower.

And to your last memory, you texted Ieiri out in the balcony… and then,

“Shit,” you hissed, remembering how your bag was tossed to the side when you were being feverishly stripped of your clothes, “it’s probably under his bed or something.”

“I hope no one calls… or tries to contact me until he leaves his room,” you groaned as the hot water massaged your tense shoulders while your fingers ran down your body.

Washing every crevice as you also tried to erase away the memory you had with him, you forced yourself to retract your tears. This was your punishment you repeated, this was the outcome of your selfishness. You lathered yourself in soap, trying to scrub away the pent-up guilt until you noticed something flash under the light.

You never wore your jewelry into the shower, you’ve always had a habit to take them off to not tarnish.

But there was a golden ring, a ring that fits a little loosely on your promise finger.

Unable to understand why, all that circled through your mind was to go back.

Quickly washing off, throwing on any pair of clothes before running to your door, you could feel your anxious heart beating loudly in your chest as your ears started to feel plugged from the tension. And just when you’re about to open your door, you hear a buzz that silenced every chaos around you.

Looking through the peep hole, you felt faint, your heart entirely about to burst — is this reality or am i still dreaming?

“It’s me,” you heard his calm voice.

Your hands trembled as you slowly opened up the door, your eyes taking a moment to quickly scan his body — donning the same clothes as yesterday with the top buttons of his white shirt undone and ends stuffed into his slacks, his hair lightly messy and eyes a little sunken.

“How’d you get here?” you gasped with your ringed hand clenched, hidden behind your back, while the other pricked at your thumb.

“You left your phone in my room, and I found it because Ieiri was blowing up your phone," Satoru calmly stated as he handed over your phone, "so I asked where you lived to drop it off.”

“She didn’t say anything?” you warily asked

“Well, she did ask about us."

“And… did she threaten you or anything?”

“No, why would she? But,” stretching out his arms as he released groan, “I told her we fucked,” he boyishly smiled.

Afraid to confront your messy rendezvous with him, you nervously bit your lips, and you avoided his gaze. Noticing your tendencies, you felt his hand cup your face to meet his while his thumb gently soothed your aching lip, "hey," he whispered, "don't do that."

And stepping closer to you, the mild fragrance of his shampoo dancing in your nostrils, “Did you see it?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you acknowledged, “I saw it just now while showering,” you looked into his eyes to seek an answer, tears starting to cloud your vision.

“You know, I’m not the same anymore,” he confessed, “I have power, I’m strong, and I’m able to do things now,” pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “but the only thing that stayed the same about me," chuckling as he shook his head — as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

"is that I didn’t change my number since we’ve broken up,” he stated before taking a step into your apartment, the click of his shoes hitting the tile floor echoing throughout the hallway, “I just hoped maybe one day you’ll call.”

"why?" you honestly questioned, unable to understand why he would choose to do that.

"I don't know," Satoru shrugged while pulling away, "guess I really tried to subconsciously manifest the we were fated to be bullshit that I preached."

“But that girl,” you quietly muttered while you unknowingly pouted when you saw his arms cross against his chest, the tightness of his sleeves about to burst from his muscles bulging.

“Girl… what girl?” Your comment took him aback.

“The one you were in Paris with,” your face feeling hot, embarrassed that you outed yourself for stalking him.

“You stalking me?” He chuckled while leaning against the wall, "it's not what you think," Gojo sighed as he pushed back his hair, "that girl, it was Suguru.”

Raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, sighing as he saw the unbelief in your eyes, “Here look,” he commented while pulling out his phone to show you pictures, “we went for his art exhibition or some shit because his girl couldn’t make it with him.”

“B-but you came late to the reunion.”

“Yea, because I wasn't going to pull up looking mid when I needed to make you regret ever dumping me,” he joked while pinching your cheeks, "I didn't have plans on attending until that jerk sent me a photo of you," he shamelessly confessed.

“You’re stupid,” you grasped his hand to check his finger — ringless.

“But it was worth it, no? Got you to indirectly confess,” emphasizing his last few words, “that maybe you still love me."

"Whatever," you mumbled, "I said I loved you."

"fine by me," Satoru accepted, " but the fact is that you still think I’m hot, no? Or maybe you just missed my cock? ”

“You’re crazy,” you stated while wiping your tears.

“Yea, I know,” his gaze softens as he sees you playing with his fingers, your small ones wrapped around his.

“and this ring is too big for me,” you cried as you melted in his touch, his right thumb gently rubbing against your cheeks.

“That too, I know,” he smiled stepping closer into your house, and slowly closing the door behind him, “we’ll get another one together soon, only if you'll let me.”

"I'd like that," you whispered.

“I just couldn’t get it for us when you heartlessly broke up with me eight years ago," Satoru confessed while brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m so sorry Satoru,” you snuggled your face into his strong chest, his arms tightly wrapped around you, cooing as he steadied your breaths, “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.”

“I’ve hurt you, I’m the one that caused all this,” you heaved as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

“Through everything,” kissing your swollen eyes, taking his time to savor your touch as his lips traveled their way back to its home, briefly kissing your ringed finger as he looked into your eyes.

And sealing his final destination, he whispered before locking his lips with yours once more,

“I’ll always find you even if you run away because you’ll always be mine.”

author's comment: sheesh, I didn't expect this to get this long... but here it is! I wanted to write the typical exes-to-lovers trope, but I was stuck on the quote with Satoru teasing how his past partners wanted to thank the reader for teaching him how to eat pussy... and here we are over 9k words later.... oh wells

again, i hope you enjoyed it!!

p.s. i might just have one exes to lovers in the drafts for geto, as well.... hahahahaha but you didn't hear that from me, nope (,:

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #darkmode.#forbes30!gojo

10K notes · View notes

angellcherry · 8 months

Text

— home.

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw

» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”

» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare

His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.

He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.

"You weren't answering your phone..."

"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook shook his head.

"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...

It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.

"Can I get a shirt, please?"

He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, baby."

Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.

God, how could someone be so fucking cute?

You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?

He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.

While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.

"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.

Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.

"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.

"Hm, what about you?"

Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey."

You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.

"I missed you, too."

Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.

He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.

"So tiny."

Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.

A raw shade of red caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.

His heart dropped.

It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?

Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.

He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.

"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.

"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."

You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.

"You can't help me either way."

Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.

"Baby—"

"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."

Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mold you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.

"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."

He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.

"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."

He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.

Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.

"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."

You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.

"I... I don't know..."

Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.

"But I know," he promised. "I know."

He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.

"Let me be there for you—"

You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?

Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"

There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.

"I— I..."

A pause, filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.

"I love you," he repeated.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.

He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.

"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."

There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.

But you cradled it instead.

Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —

"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.

It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.

He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.

A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.

He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.

He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.

Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.

But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.

Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.

His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.

He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.

He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.

So fucking small.

It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.

The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.

He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, time stood still.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.

"I missed you so much."

He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.

"I missed you too..."

You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.

"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."

He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.

But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."

He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.

Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"

The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.

"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"

Clench.

He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.

You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"

Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.

"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"

Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.

"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"

His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.

He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.

With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.

"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"

You hummed, snuggling into him.

"More than okay."

Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.

"I'll wash you up in a sec."

"In a bit... Stay with me."

"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."

Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.

He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.

Never again would he let you hurt like this.

And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.

This was all that mattered.

This was home.

#hi! 👋#I literally made this blog just to get this fic out of my system lmao 💕#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fluff

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makelemonade · 5 months

Note

straight horny to your request, so basically arranged mirage with neuvillette and wriothesley (separately) BUT! they gain baby fever 😋 write anything you have in mind, thank you 🫡

arranged marriage + baby fever

wrio, Neuvillette - fem + AFAB reader

I suck at titles LOL and it’s kinda short I am so sorry 🙏🏽 this is my first time writing baby fever idk if I did good but WHATEVA

Wriothesley

- I won’t lie to you…I barely know his character LOL uhm…

-like I’m at the part in the archon quest where we just met him

-so I hope this is like…okay

-I’d assume that Neuvillette maybe put you two together, seemingly as a duke needed his duchess. After all his complaining about being an independent man he finally agrees to the marriage.

-at first he’s not really fond of you. Sure, he’s nice to you, but don’t see it as anyrbing more. He still has a job to do.

-but then he really takes into consideration just how sweet you are for him- you’re so obedient and it starts to drive him crazy

-you always have his tea ready for him and he can’t lie when it comes to the fact that maybe he is starting to like you

-and god the way you know how to massage him, whether it be his back, arms, legs, neck- it fucking drives him crazy

-so naturally you start to massage his dick too.

-he loves to make love to you and fuck you- yes they are two completely different things to him. he babbles about how grateful he is to have such a slutty and obedient wife like you

-he LOVES to call you “my wife” when he fucks you, and he loves to think back to when he was so against it and he’ll slap himself because who would not want such a good wife like you?!?

-it means your his, and he loves it.

-what drives him absolutely insane is when he sees you with Sigewinne; you’re so caring, attentative and always so helpful to her that he starts to let his mind wander

-he thinks you’ll look cute with a swollen belly, one he can rub everyday. He imagines what your kids will look like- will they act like you? have your eyes? his hair?

-he needed to fuck a baby into you, and stat.

-he will waste no time in dragging you away to his office or really anywhere in the fortress to breed you…!

“fuuuck baby,” He drawls out his groan, hiking your legs further up his shoulder while also pushing them down as your pushed deeper into his desk.

“so- so goddamn cute, agh! helping Sigewinne and being such a good mommy…”

“Nghh~ oh! Wr-wrio!” You gasp when you feel hot ropes of his cum begin to fill you up, and he makes no move to stop.

He watched the way your tits bounced as he fucked into you, and he moved one hand up to grope at them, imaging how swollen they’d be later in the future, and how he’d get to massage them for you…

“Gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart! Needa fill you up…breed you! and you won’t waste anything. Right, you’ll be my good wife…”

Neuvillette

-MY MANNNNNNNNNN

-okay I’d imagine that Furina def arranged this marriage and let me tell u he was NOT AGAINST IT

-why would he be?!? you were gorgeous, adorable, kind, sweet- everything he’d ever imagine for his beloved to be so of course naturally he’s gonna develop these feelings for you

-he watches how you treat people and is so grateful to be able to call you his wife that when he’s talking to other people, he doesn’t even use your name and just tends to say “my wife”

-in full honesty, he also acts like that for another reason; he feels like he owns you with it- that your his

-your his to kiss, find comfort in, talk to, cry to, fuck, make love to, breed- everything! You were his and only his

-and the way you acted with the melusines….how sweet you were to them…his dragon instincts came out insanely.

-you were so kind to them, always helping them with everything and of course with him basically being their dad they start to see you as a mom too 🥺

-one night, he just can’t help it anymore and he’ll force you down in the bed, not letting you move so he can get all of his cum in you.

“Agh! Darling, stay still…” He grunted, pressing a kiss to the love of your ear as he roughly and passionately rolled his hips into yours, his fat cock hitting all the right spots.

“Such a good wife, aren’t you, my dear?”

You couldn’t answer, too fucked out on his cock but also his cum. He’d came multiple times in the last hour and honestly you couldn’t even remember your own name.

“You’ll take it all, right? You’ll let me breed you, fill you up, make you my mate! Hah…”

“Y-yes!” You gasped, holding onto him for dear life. “Breed me…f-fill me up!”

That sentence alone is enough to make him go haywire and he moans as he cums for the nth time, his seed spurring around the edges as he continued to fuck into you.

And when you find a hydro mark embedded on your pelvis, he’ll know you’re officially his mate <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin fic #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin neuvillette #wriothesely genshin #genshin wriothesley #neuvillette x reader #neuvillete smut #neuvillette x you #wriothesly x reader #wriothesly smut #wriothesely x reader #female reader #afab reader

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anantaru · 11 months

Text

DAY 19 — EDGING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — zhongli, xiao, ayato

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, edging & orgasm denial, nipple play, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), petnames used: good girl & baby, dom/sub dynamics

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

patience and thoroughness, two cardinal commodities that zhongli had, without fail, used as a well fortified hold in an abundance of undertakings in his long life.

keen to obey, you immediately open your arms for him, afterwards wrapping them around his head as zhongli's warm lips patiently ghost over your chest before hovering his tongue to study the shape of your beautiful breasts, his teeth lightly taking notes of the pulsing perception on your erected nipples before concealing them with his mouth.

although in spite of that, your momentary flash of excitement to experience some sort of pleasure had soon fled a few breaths later, when zhongli abruptly pulled his mouth off your chest, licking at his wet lips before drawing himself back to brush gentle kisses all over the wet splotches on your skin— and at the start, you believed that there wasn't anything ulterior going on and that zhongli wouldn't make you suffer in such ways, yet, thinking back at it now, on how gullible you were to believe that truly only amplified the paining pleasure and yearning in you more.

soon enough, he showed you the fruits of his ministrations when you're writhing underneath his warm figure— your thighs plastered with an abundance of your arousal sticking and soiling the linen beneath you with his seedy cock messy and oozing of pre.

"you trust me, don't you?" he whispers over your lips as your hearts thud in sync with your chests pressed together, a mirage of heavy pants and whiny hiccups gradually inhaled by each other as his erection slips and prances through your quivering pussy, easing his tip as deep as it could go in as you squeeze around his girth.

"of- of course," you mewl back weakly, "but please— just once, baby, just once," and you haven't been this sensitive in ages it's almost embarrassing, harboring the weight of his well above average length swelling around the margins of your ribbed walls stole all sense of self control inside you.

but zhongli, oh how much he was enjoying this, stills his hips once again, robbing you of yet another orgasm as his hand slowly looms over to cup your cheek before exploring your face— unhurriedly tracing over to your puckered up lips, silently brushing against your brow, noticing the immediate love and how you practically melt into his palm.

fuck, you're so beautiful when you're frustrated, that much he was clear on, there was nothing more bewitching then your naked frame quivering and yearning to climax, or when you suddenly begged him for it, even when he repeatedly tells you to be patient, his cock remained crowded inside and pulsing against your creamy walls as he taps one finger above your mouth.

unhesitating, your jaw falls open to welcome two long, slender fingers slipping into the swelling of your warmth, letting zhongli's digits spread over and rub across your tongue before pressing down— for some reason, the way zhongli was watching you eagerly through golden eyes, admiring you and focusing on your face, was a bigger turn on than you originally expected and there's a fetching, delicious burn buzzing over your lower region as his girth moves again, harshly thrusting back to pick up on where he left off.

undoubtedly, he'll take his precious time to examine the rest of you— after all, rushed studies breed lousy results— and morax wanted to inspect you entirely, almost possessively, so he'd always know which buttons he had to push on you.

𖧡 — XIAO

"i know baby, i know," you coo out before hitching your hands into the sides on xiao's hips while perfectly slotted in between his thighs, mocking the very sentence he always seemed to mutter whenever it was him who was pleasuring you that night.

while now, it's a certainly contrasting picture when you slurp up his creamy cum that splattered all over your tongue and lips, cheeks and chin, drinking it up before spilling a little on top of his shaft, eagerly smearing the mixture of spit and seed on top of his semi erect cock before palming his balls, practically starving with his pants remaining bunched up around his ankles.

you just love having him deep inside your mouth, rob an orgasm off him before giving him one to salivate on, his length throbbing and thudding over your pink muscle while you're fluttering your lashes up at xiao, so you could watch how he was silently succumbing into nothing but your warmness engulfing his most sensitive part and your throat feeling like a soft wet vice, showing no signs of gagging when you let him slowly thrust into it.

you begin to curl your hand over his balls before applying a gentle pressure that made him jolt up from his chair, his breath quickening as he hardens entirely under your tongue— xiao couldn't figure out if you're going to allow him to cum again or if you're going to rob him, edge him on and delay his delicious, although slightly painful orgasm from how unbelievably reactive and sensitive he had gotten all because of you having a little too much fun tonight.

"don't—," he grunts, his sweaty chest glowing under the dimly rid room as he watches how you're tilting your head, his cock head squished into your cheeks so he'd see the silhouette of it, "i'm so close.. ’so close,"

it's too much sensation at once thrown at him, but xiao braces himself, each hand resting into the arm chair before digging his nails into the leather, because in truth, he doesn't want this to end and hoped he'd ve able to survive your unforgiving pace.

you lift your eyes back up at him and his flustered expression prances above you like the sweetest eye candy, a moan uttering from your lips as it quivers over his shaft until reaching his base— soon after, xiao cums again, much faster and sooner, his cum warm, thick and heavy inside your mouth as he turns in his chair just slightly, shivering all over and looking down at the mess in between his thighs where he met your hungry gaze instantly, your tongue leisurely trailing over his tip like you haven't coaxed out yet another orgasm out of the man— the mere sight of you sinful, your chin plastered all over with his salty whites and your tongue dripping of it.

but it's still not enough, xiao fears, not when he feels you palm his shaft again.

𖧡 — AYATO

despite ayato's long-lasting pursuit of bringing you to the edge enough times that you had honestly lost count, the satisfaction in his voice, brushed together with small praises consisting of, "you're such a good girl to me," and "you always handle me so well," only made you crave it more, crave him more, whilst being tied down by your wrists hovering above your head, a small cloth tightly attaching you to the headboard.

all too soon, you notice that ayato's restless thrusts and fondles with your body turned all the more sloppy in their ministrations— the soft, insistent brush of his slender fingers sliding over your erected nipples drawing an overflow of convulses on your fluttering pussy before he moves his restless cock again, collapsing his entire weight into your frame while you're too sensitive to even voice anything, your heart hammering fast and blenching over your ears as your legs shut around his hips, the weight of his cock nestled hard inside your slickness.

more than the absent sounds of your needs— despite a couple broken hitches and pitchy begs, ayato continued to thrust into your spongy walls, letting transparent desire become visible in his glimmering gaze as he raises your hips up by himself, so he could easily lunge you back and forth, back and forth, with a deep strike of both pleasure and pain clustering your overflowing keenness, his cock head repeatedly touching the ache that coiled around your sweet spots, sharpening the edge of your orgasm

and yet, ayato ponders, the thought of gripping your hips as you took him so perfectly, the desperate sounds you would exhale together with the wet smacks of skin on skin resounding over your ears— the taste of your beauty, made the yashiro commissioner shiver fathomlessly, realizing that he could not deny your orgasm for as much as he wanted, or was able to, without also denying his own before he bites down on his tongue in pain, sweat bedding above his brow bone as he drags his seedy cock along the spots of your walls before making you both experience it.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #xiao smut #xiao x reader #ayato x reader #ayato smut #genshin x you #kinktober #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #xiao x you #ayato x you #zhongli x you

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fiendishfables · 7 months

Text

"You already know how much I love you~"

A 2024 Valentines Day Special Ft. Luci + Reader

a/n: Happy Valentines! I don't have a valentine (its my cat) but fuck that, I'm going to snag some cheap candy-

summary: Lucifer decides to take you to a special spot; one where everything began anew for him and his true beauty is revealed

warnings: fluff, cuddles, wholesomeness, Luci just needs some cuddles guys, just cute shi-

words: 1.6k+

additional notes: I like to think there is just some random cherry blossom hidden away somewhere in Hell and that is where our short king got the honor of falling. Or he created the tree upon impact, one of the two. I JUST WANT HIM TO HAVE SOMETHING NICE, THE POOR BABY-

This was honestly not what you had pictured in your brain when your boyfriend had said he wanted to take you somewhere special...

Currently, you and your boyfriend, Lucifer, were making your way up a hill. Its adorning grass was a brownish-green, making it look like autumn had begun to actually seep into the worlds crust instead of just being dusted off until next year. Another thing: it looked strangely untouched. Everything in Hell looked like literal shit, so this was a pleasant surprise, other than its stained color.

You looked up to see your boyfriend had left your side and was practically sprinting up the hill, like he was a Labrador who just saw a squirrel. You raised a quizzical eyebrow but felt the small, familiar tug of a smile grappling for a hold on each corner of your lips. A sigh slipped from you as you shook your head with amusement at his childish antics. He really never failed to make you smile.

Once you had decided to pick up your own pace with what you were using to climb the grassy hill, he had already reached the top. You met him in the next thirty seconds that followed.

Atop the hill he had brought you both to was a beautiful, giant, cherry blossom tree. Its pink petals swayed gently in the wind, brushing against one another and the branches that held them together in clusters. A few delicate petals would come free from the hold of a branch every few seconds, going on to continue its life in a different way, as it drifted towards the ground.

This particular blossom you were watching drift downwards was then caught, gently, in the hand of your boyfriend.

You had almost forgotten he was there, having been mesmerized by the beautiful pink and white colored tree hanging above both of your heads. Seeing him now, he was sitting underneath the cherry blossom, a soft smile on his face. He shifted his fingers so the plush, pink petal was between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it up and out to you like a silent offering.

You chuckled softly, walking further under the tree and plopping yourself down beside Lucifer, watching him examine the petal between his fingertips, almost as if deciding what to do with it.

He turned to look at you again, smiling still (when was he ever not when he was around you). That smile then turned to a smug smirk as he gently blew on the petal now in his palm, whistling softly. The action sent the petal drifting towards you and up, into your hair, where it found a place to nestle itself comfortably amongst the strands, lightly tickling your forehead as it passed by.

"Magic?"

You gave him a small smirk of your own. You knew he liked to do these little acts to impress you; not saying they failed to deliver, but you knew to expect them by now. Still, it was always a pleasant experience.

The ground beneath the two of you was covered in soft, little cherry blossom petals, showing the trees shedding tendencies. The grass that could be seen under the mirage of petals was actually green here, unlike the shit stained looking grass you had walked on leading up to the hill.

He offered a smile, a nod, then looked away, letting out a sigh as he raised his head again. His eyes seemed to be scanning the cities of Hell below; the hill gave a perfect view of all his people, the bustling populations giving light to the aspect that Hell was more alive than the pricks up in Heaven would ever accept.

Whilst observing all of these things, you also seemed to sense that your boyfriend was being a lot quieter than usual. He hadn't spoken since he had brought you up here to sit together. Not once. It was out of character.

"Luci?"

You spoke to break the ever-growing silence, turning your head and shifting your eyes back up to his, only to see him already staring at you. This caused you to flinch a bit in surprise. He noticed this and instantly looked ashamed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked away from you.

"Ah- uh, sorry, darling. Just..thinking..."

He spoke almost nervously, like he was expecting something; walking on eggshells.

You looked at him sympathetically, smiling gently as you took his hand in yours.

"Babe, what's wrong? You can talk to me, y'know?" You said, gently running your thumb over his knuckles in a hopes to soothe him if possible.

He took a deep breath, your eyes trained on the steady rise and fall of his chest. There was silence for many minutes before he finally spoke.

"This is the place I fell."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, the words taking a second to process before you realized he was talking about the cherry blossom. You looked up on instinct, taking in the swaying colors of pink and white, the wind letting them dance around freely and fall how they pleased.

"You...here? Like, fell...here? Of all places?"

You were a tad bit confused. The King of Hell, a.k.a. Lucifer, a.k.a. your boyfriend...fell in this exact spot? Fell where you were sitting right this second?

His nod was the only thing to answer you besides the delicately whistling wind.

"Well...its much nicer an area than I expected for what is to be deemed such a tragedy." You mustered an awkward smile. "Why would you bring me here?" You asked, now more curious than confused.

He looked over at you then back at his feet, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, like he was trying to shield himself from an invisible force.

"Well, ya know....I-I trust you a-and...I-I figured since, ya know, we've been together so long now...that maybe you'd wanna see the place most special to me..."

His slight stammering made a twinge of pity go through your heart but you quickly pushed it away. He didn't need pity right now. He needed support. This place had to be a bit of a touchy subject for him, considering its literally where he first landed when he was casted out from Heaven. You doubted it had many good memories attached to it.

"Most special?" You questioned. That did not make much sense in your mind.

"Yes. I feel like, in a way, my falling was another chance gifted to me. I mean, hey," He chuckled and his normal sparky attitude began shining through once again. "I'm King of Hell, am I not? I think I got a pretty good rep going." He puffed out his chest playfully, glancing over at you.

You laughed softly and leaned over to gently kiss his cheek. His already rosy cheeks amplified in color.

"That's one way to see it. I appreciate you showing me this place, Luci. You being vulnerable enough with me to tell me more about yourself and what's happened to you...I know it must be hard. This place sure is beautiful though." You smiled, looking upwards at the tree from underneath it, then back to him, a smirk replacing the smile.

"Do you think your fall is what caused it to grow with such vigor and beauty? Your fall is probably what birthed the tree, made it so beautiful and prosperous."

Lucifer blushed and waved a dismissive hand, biting his lip to fight his usual smile. This caused you to chuckle softly.

A soft, serene silence fell over the two of you. You could tell he was pondering your question just from the expression on his face. You hadn't expected him to actually try and answer it, if that's what he was planning on doing.

"...You really think so?"

His eyes were watery when he spoke again, as they turned their loyal gaze onto you. Just those words meant a lot to him and it showed, plain as day. He was rarely classified as a beautiful being. Not in Heaven and especially not by the living.

You smiled and nodded, slightly surprised by his reaction but going in full swing.

"I know so, Luci. There is no think about it. Someone with as beautiful a spirit as you is bound to spread that beauty. I have no doubt."

In the next second that followed your ceased speaking, Lucifer had flung himself on top of you. He sniffled as a few silent tears fell down his cheeks as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, peppering soft kisses there. One of his hands held you close to him whilst the other carded gently through your hair, tangling the loose blossoms into the strands even further. He lifted his head to look at you, big watery eyes filled with so much affection; so much love for you it was insane.

Hellens, just the way he looked at you. Like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever yet to lay his eyes on. Like he was a dying man and you a fresh drink of water. Like the one ray of sunshine on a rainy day. Like you were a goddess.

But not just any goddess.

His.

His goddess.

One of a kind.

Your hand gently came up to sprinkle some more of the pink and white colored cherry blossoms into his pale blonde hair that you had come to love so much. Pink really was a good fit for him, you thought.

"I love you..." He whispered softly, sniffling. "So..so much. More than you'd ever be able to understand."

You smiled and let your lips meet in a gentle kiss, before parting once again so you could speak.

"I love you too, Luci. But I think you already know how much."

And it was true.

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almostempty · 2 months

Text

Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms

Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peñal x f!reader

Summary: Looking for an escape from a horrible day, you take a sexy stranger home from the bar.

Warnings: smut, pwp, dom reader/sub jav undertones, switch reader/ switch javi undertones, oral sex, piv sex, AU unprotected sex has no risks bc it's fictional, pwp but some feelings involved, pet names, dick & pussy pronouns,

Notes: still practicing, would love feedback, constructive criticism, or delusional inspiration <3

thanks to @miss-oranje-disco-dancer for your thoughts on part 1, i hope this part lives up to the first, and to @gothcsz for encouragement, and the kind anon who asked for part 2

WC: 5.3K

AO3: here

Part 1: here

Masterlist: Here

It hurts gasping to catch your breath. Lungs filled with water. Eyes shut so tight a dull headache starts behind them. Every second feels like an hour. In your empty room, alone in your bed. Drowning. Sweat cooling and drying on your skin as the airconditioner hums. A sticky, wet pool of come between your legs. Damp, sweaty sheets. Great, add them to the laundry pile and everything else from your life you’d like to toss out the window. And over what? A man you said ten words to before your smile and fingers digging into his bicep begged him to fuck you?

When you open your eyes, you can still see his staring back at you deep, warm brown. A new mirage to haunt your mundane existence. You can still hear his baritone voice scratching your ears. You blink and blink, but it doesn’t fade. Javier is standing before you. No shirt on, jeans unbuttoned. Sweat on his golden chest still casting an ethereal shine. He’s holding a fresh glass of water. Your dehydrated body salivates. He’s not a mirage in a desert, though. His shirt is still on your floor with yours.

You scowl at him, drawing a confused look from him.

“Something wrong, cariño?” he asks pointedly.

“No.”

He sets the water down but doesn’t move closer. He gives you a look. Like he knows your ‘no’ was bullshit. How would he know? He doesn’t know you. Irritation creeps in, replacing the suffocating emptiness. He places a hand softly on your thigh. Gentle so you don’t bolt and run into the street to get hit by an unsuspecting driver in the dark, unable to see you until their headlights flood your eyes and reflect.

“Thought you’d left,” you answer quietly but honestly. You don’t know him. Why do you care if he thinks you look pathetic?

“That fast? Without a shirt?”

You shrug.

“You want me gone?” He asks, revealing nothing about his own desires. Stoic and frozen to avoid bias.

“No,” you shake your head, grab the water, swallowing and swallowing. It's so cold it hurts. You hope it never runs out. He can’t see who you really are if you’re hiding behind a glass. Despite your wishes, the glass runs dry. Javi takes it from you and sets it down.

You look at the man in front of you with sober eyes. He’s incredibly handsome. Without being fueled by blind rage, alcohol, or a contagious horny fever, you aren’t quite as confident. In fact, you suddenly feel overcome with vulnerability. A cord of insecurity wraps around your throat, constricting. You reach for another cigarette to escape the sensation, but Javi intercepts. He takes your hand in his, pulling you towards him until he gets you out of bed and standing before him. He pulls you towards his broad frame and holds you tightly. Pressed against him, chest to chest, you listen to his deep, slow breathing. Skin to skin, he co-regulates you like a baby, fragile in his arms.

You fight against it. Feeling pathetic. Unable to bare your fangs. Unable to slash with your claws and push him away. He holds you too tight. A heavy lump in your throat renders you unable to speak. Too raw. You’re lost at sea. Circling a whirlpool of dark thoughts. You wait for his rejection. An excuse. A line. A wink and a slap on the ass. A reason to stop fighting and drown. You shouldn’t care if he leaves or ruminate on what he says. He was a distraction. A hot, talented, unforgettable distraction. Another cigarette to burn down to your fingertips and discard in the pile of ash.

As if, once again, he could hear your hurricane of thoughts bellowing and howling for your attention, Javi shushes you.

“Quiet.” He runs his fingers up and down your spine. A little light shimmers behind your ribcage. His touch is soothing, and his voice is grounding as he hums into your ear about how soft your skin is. You inhale, your face pressed against his body. He’s spicy, earthy, and smoky. You bite and lick at the flesh you can reach. A barely there noise rumbles in his throat, only for you, only for the ear flush against him, flesh and blood.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, “enough.” The light in your chest flickers again. It’s dim, but still, it could guide someone through the dark forest of viscera in your chest cavity to your heart. You shudder. Letting someone follow that beacon through the labyrinth to your jagged, glowing soul? No. What if they see the ugly shape, naked and scarred and bruised? What if they know what you need? What if they give it to you altruistically.

A stony scowl sets in place. Corners of your mouth weighed down and brows drawn tight. You break out of his hold. Rough and harsh against the warmth between your bodies.

“How do you know?” You demand an answer.

“Know what?”

“Why are you shushing me?”

“Too loud up here,” he taps the pad of his finger to your temple. A fissure streaking down your stone barricade.

“How do you know?”

“You have tells.”

“You don’t know me like that,” you jab a finger at his chest. Hostile and baiting.

“I’m observant,” he says like it’s a reasonable explanation, unperturbed by your bristling. You stare at him expectantly, waiting for more. Might as well cross your arms and tap your foot. Observant? What the fuck does that mean?

His hands flex at his sides, his mouth twitches, and then he rolls his shoulders, staying loose and relaxed. Like some thought just rolled through his whole body. “I’m not a good guy,” he says like it’s a fact. Not a threat or self-deprecating. Neutral.

“But, I know what I’m good at,” he continues, “you clench your jaw, start breathing shallowly, and your eyes–”

“Got it. I’m a walking billboard,” you cut him off sharply.

“No.”

You stare back at his face. Unreadable. You wonder what his tells are.

“I’m observant,” he repeats. You raise an eyebrow at him. “And,” he pauses, “I may have some special training and experience.”

“In …observing?”

“Something like that.”

“What are you Javi? A PI? Secret agent man? FBI?”

“DEA.”

“DEA?”

“Formerly.”

“Formerly? Did you get fired? Caught on the take? Testing the product?”

He snorts at you. You cracked a smile out of him. It softens you. A playful ease reemerging.

“Retired.”

He’s a man of few words, it seems. His walls have a strong foundation. You scrutinize his face and body swiftly and blatantly.

“You either have some freakish age-defying genetics, or the DEA retirement age is earlier than I thought,” you muse, earning a little huff of air that sounds like a stifled laugh from him.

“Chose an early retirement; resigned.” Something else is on the edge of his tongue. It doesn’t formulate.

“Did you like it?” You ask with sincerity. He blinks. Unprepared for that question. Shit, was that the wrong thing to ask? You notice the lines in his face. He runs his thumb across his bottom lip in thought. You wonder if that’s one of his tells. It’s kind of a slutty one, you think to yourself, suppressing a smile as you focus on his mouth. His lips. Soft and plush. The way they fit against yours–

“I don’t think so,” he decides, “maybe early on.”

You smile up at him, “s’good that you’re out of it then,” you say with an assertive nod.

He nods back with a deep exhale. Release. Like he’s letting go of something, but his eyes seem unfocused now. Another tell? Maybe you need special training to know. He seems far away in his head. Withdrawing. No, you want him to stay present with you. You liked how it felt when he appeared connected. Here. With you. You liked his confidence. The chemistry egged you on like you both were in on a secret. You think you might know how to bring him back. Plus, he needs it, you decide. You aren’t done with him, and he hasn’t disappeared completely. You readjust internally. More. You’re still smiling, but with an edge he hasn’t caught yet.

“Hey, Javi?” You purr.

“Hmm?” Still faraway.

You pick up one of his hands in both of yours and kiss each finger. Watching his face. Looking for the light behind his eyes. The tactile sensation draws it out like a stagelight, he’s fixed on your mouth. The size of your hands around his. The hunger in your eyes when you look through your lashes at him.

“What else are you good at?” You drop your voice. Your demons chitter and flap around the room. Maybe they’re chasing his. You drag his fingers down your body. Slowly. Both your heads droop, chin to chest, watching the private show. Just for you, except it’s for him. Between your breasts, down your soft belly. Lower and lower. Breathing your shared hot air. All you can hear is the fan in the airconditioner and your pulse. Time weighted down by the tension. You pause. His hand is heavy, dead weight in yours, letting you have him. You reverse, tracing back up, the same path, until you’re about to kiss his fingers again, but instead you wrap your lips around one and suck.

“Fuck,” his eyes widen briefly, and his jaw hangs slack. You pull off his finger wetly. Alluring. You don’t have to act. The expression forming on his face brings out your devious seductress. Smiling, wide. You bite your lip, toning it down. Batting your lashes at him. You’re like an image from a dream he’s been having since he was a teenager. He hopes he doesn’t wake up from it.

“Javi?”

“Yes.”

“What else are you good at?” you repeat. Tolerant of his lapse in responding. For now.

The switch flicks. He regains autonomous control of his limbs. Hands curl around your form, until one rests along the back of your neck, fingers slid into the hair at the base of your skull. The other wedges between your legs. Hot against the sticky mess you’d been forcing yourself to ignore since he first got out of your bed. He’s here, back.

“Good at making a mess of this pretty little pussy.”

“Mmm,” you agree. His voice unlocks something ravenous.

“Good at making you come wrapped around these fingers,” he slips and swirls them through the mess between your legs. Obscene.

“Mmm.”

“Good at filling you with this cock until you forget how to say anything ‘cept for ‘please, Javi’,” he declares as his other hand wraps yours around his growing length.

“Yes.”

“Good at giving you something to feel,” he continues on. He is no longer a man of few words; he’s not a laconic lover. A filthy little devil dances on his tongue. He’s a willing vessel. Tugging at your hair and slipping through your folds.

You giggle airily, and he pauses his running list of sex skills, waiting for an explanation. What could possibly be funny to you right now.

“Giving me something to feel,” you slip between another giggle. “Right now,” you pull at his wrist, “I feel like we could use a shower before we keep going. We’re messy.”

He laughs with you, and you adore how his eyes crinkle when he smiles wide.

You wash each other in the shower with care. Roles reversed from the cab of his truck, you sternly demand he behaves in the shower, citing an unreliable hot water tank. It’s hard to resist fooling around covered in soap, but he holds up his hands in surrender. He promises to behave. But his cock refuses. It pokes and prods at your soft belly and lower back. Teasing. Begging to be scolded for disobeying. Protesting in opposition to Javier’s earnest affection. He’s gentle washing your back. Vulnerable letting you wash his. It’s rejuvenating. He cleared your mind earlier, and gave you something to feel, with care and attention. You commit yourself to returning the favor. You’ll give him a break from whatever led him to brooding on a barstool.

You have a feeling he doesn’t give up control very often. He’s such an attentive listener, though. He’ll do great, you decide.

He knows something has changed. Wretched observant thing he is.

You are busy thinking, but you don’t have the same look on your face as you did at the bar or when he came back to your bedroom after getting more water. Your mind is racing, but with vigor. It radiates through the hot steam. A sparkle in your eye. Fluid movement. As if it were all premeditated, you dry off and direct him.

He’s bewitched by the riddle of you. Bold and quick witted, but raw and honest. It’s easy to notice when you’re lost in your head, but he can’t predict you. Time speeds up and slows down in your presence. Like he was knocked out cold, face to pavement. Then thrown in the backseat of a speeding car, but it’s on a cross country trip. When he makes eye contact with you in the rearview mirror from the backseat it’s unnerving. Is he your hostage? Were you the getaway driver?

You catch him drifting away. Naked and wet in your too bright bathroom, exposed like he’s on an operating table under the bright fluorescent lights. You watch as he towels off on autopilot.

He realizes he wants to stay longer, not because he knows the broken look from your face earlier, but because something else already stitches you together. You’re peculiar. Direct. Expressive. His speed. Some unspoken understanding, resolute and vibrant. Cutting through the void of the unknown. Real. He can read when you disappaer, but he can’t predict you.

Javi shakes his head to himself, lost in this train of thought. You’ve known her for a few hours. A couple drinks, sex, and a shower, he reminds himself. He also knows how you taste and how you feel wrapped around his cock, whining please, and that thought fans the flames.

Enough. You decide. He needs this.

He smells fresh and sweet from your body wash as you lead him back to your bedroom. He pulls your back into his damp chest, running his hands along your body and nearly purring in your ear. Good.

You whip around and take a step back, surprising him. He hesitates. You’re analyzing. Calculating. Your eyes drag over his body. His big brown eyes and kiss-swollen lips register that you pulled away from him. His hands flex like a predator, ready to grab and pull you back to him, but restrained. His cock reaches out towards you unabashedly, shouting for your attention.

You can’t help but feel the smile you feel pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“Javi?”

“Yes?”

“Are you good at following orders?”

“Nope.”

You laugh, surprised by his quick honesty.

“Kind of oxymoronic,” you ponder.

“How?”

“Well, now I don’t know if you should earn my favor for answering honestly or if I should prepare a punishment if you’re going to misbehave.”

Something flickers across his face. He swallows it.

“Let me try again.” You move closer and cup his cheek in your palm like he did to you when you first sat on your bed for him. You look into his eyes and speak softly, “You gave me what I needed earlier. Made me feel so good I forgot everything else.” He waits for you to continue, but you feel his chest puff with pride. “I’d like to give you what you need now, Javi.” He swallows again. You wondered if he’d have a quip for that, but he looks so serious. Focused.

“But first, I need to know if you’ll be good for me, Javi. Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”

You feel him melt slightly, into your palm, nearly imperceptible the weight shifting into your hold.

More. The wildfire within you is lit. Blazing.

“Yes,” he nearly whispers. A flush of heat crawls up his chest.

“Can you follow my orders?”

“Yes, mi reina,” he said, consenting. That’s new.

“Mmm,” you purr at him.

“Does your pretty cock know that?”

He blinks with a thin veil of confusion at you. Uncertain.

“Yes,” he confirms.

“Look at me,” you order.

You sink to your knees in front of him. You ego does flips in your stomach. He looms over you, but you hold the reins. You pepper little kitten licks up the underside of his shaft, holding his eye contact and pausing. You rest your soft cheek against his thigh. He’s tense. Waiting to know the rules.

“Does he look greedy to you?” You study the precome weeping from the head of his cock inches from your face.

“No, mi reina.”

“No?”

You avoid his crying erection and impishly toy with his balls. Lazily, you kiss and lick and suckle at them for your own enjoyment. And when you stop, you feel the weight of his gaze, and his unanswered questions, the payback.

“So good for me watching and not touching,” you praise. “But, baby, look. He’s drooling like a rabid dog.”

You swipe up a trail of the glistening fluid with precision, doing nothing to relieve him. He swallows tightly, his body buzzing with tension like a livewire. He finds it easy to dole out pleasure, direct his energy towards someone else, drown in unraveling a woman’s desires. But your knowing look at him is unnerving. Rattling his bravado. You move with precision, intensely.

“Tell me, Javi,” you peer up at his face, “do you have a greedy cock?”

You’re going to ruin him.

“Yes,” he relents through an exhale. You’ve found it. Kept locked in a cage. Leashed in the dark. How did you find it? Did he lead you there?

You tilt your head at him.

“Yes, mi reina,” he adds.

“Say it for me, baby,” you push.

He takes a shallow breath. You grin at him like a Cheshire Cat.

“I have a greedy cock, mi reina, a greedy disobedient cock.” Unlocked, you pocket the key. You’ve unleashed something within him. His feels a swirl of sick pleasure twisting in his core.

“Yes,” you exclaim with a bright look that gives him a rush. He wants to keep making you look like that.

“You can touch.” You reward him. Too easy.

He reaches for you, and you swat at his hand.

“No, baby, you can touch your greedy cock, not me.”

A whiny little groan comes out of him, prickling with need.

“Slowly,” you add, watching as he obeys. His hand pumps slowly. You can’t resist. Holding out your tongue, you move close enough that his rosy head taps against your wet tongue just long enough to get a taste. You hum. Pleased with his obedience and the taste of him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes tightly.

“Your eyes stay on me, though,” you remind him gently, with leniency for his current state of executive functioning.

“Would you like to know a secret?” You tease as you stand up and lean into his ear.

“Yes,” he pants. Breathy and gravelly. Delight coats your expression, you

“I like your big greedy cock,” you lilt.

A soft whine is pulled from his throat. You frown dramatically at him. Causing him to pause his tense strokes and his brow to furrow. You love the intoxicating feeling of having him at your mercy.

“But you already knew that,” you admonish, shaking your head at him.

“Already knew that,” he repeats. You’re not sure he could tell you what he just agreed to know.

“Not a very good secret then, I guess,” you think aloud. You’re light and lucid, bouncing around him as he’s anchored in the quicksand of your spell.

“But do you know,” circling behind him, you press your soft tits into his back, and you continue to rasp towards his ear, “how wet my pussy is now? Just from the idea of taking your cock down my throat? She’s about to drip down my legs.”

“Fuck,” he pants again and stops moving. You feel like the sun. You urge him to turn towards you as you crawl onto your bed and lay in the center. His eyes flick all over you, wanting to see everything.

He’s fighting to figure out where to lock his eyes. It feels euphoric to see how openly aroused he is by you.

“Did you know that?” You repeat.

“No.”

“S’what I thought,” you reposition yourself, “you wanna see for yourself?”

“Yes,” he answers rapidly. Eager.

You show him. Parting your legs to display the evidence. So wet and tender for him.

You’re locked in a timeloop. When you see his eyes flood with lust, and his body tenses, your desire swells in your core, flooding your glossy folds. When he sees your glistening sex fluttering and pulsing, it nearly brings him to his knees. A horny sisyphian wet dream. Turning each other on. But, crucially, you know how to break free.

“You wanna taste?” You ask.

“Yes, please.” Good manners.

He starts to move towards you, and you press him back.

“No, baby, lay right here, and I’ll give you a taste.”

He’s obedient. Settling next to you. For a moment, he has the urge to drag you by the hips to sit on his face. To take you for himself, no games. But then he hears your sweet voice praising him and feels overcome with a dizzying sense of validation.

“So perfect, baby, look at you,” you continue showering him with adoration. You’re mesmerizing with your sweet scent, wet lips, and your glassy eyes. Too good for him. He doesn’t deserve your attention like this.

You see the crease between his brows as he starts to overthink. Enough. You bite sharply at his nipple, and he yelps and gapes at you. You straddle his waist and give him a stern look.

“Stay here with me, Javi,” you order, ”don’t disappear in there.” You tap a finger lightly against his temple. He nods.

You hover over him and slip his swollen head through your folds, easily coating his length. He shudders and groans. So openly vocal and responsive to you. That’s good. I like to hear you, baby. You use him as you please, like a toy circling your clit. But it’s everything about him that saturates you in pleasure.

“Feel so fucking good,” you praise before pulling back and shifting down between his legs.

You lick and suck your arousal off of him. Loud and messy. You climb towards his face. “Open,” you place your hand under his jaw, “taste,” you murmur before feeding your tongue into his mouth. Kissing hungrily he lets out desperate, deep groans. Relaxing into your movements he simply accepts what you give and lets you feel his uninhibited reactions.

He finds you vexing and tantalizing. Letting him touch and taste, but not directly. He’d have half a mind to argue with you—despite having tormented you just the same—but how you light up and laugh when you best him fills him with a more profound desire. He likes how you look when you’re in charge. He likes that he just has to keep up. He likes being all consumed by the present moment, so caught up in you he can’t think about anything else.

You break away, seemingly satisfied with his participation thus far. You’re ethereal and glowing above him.

You slide down and return to your retribution. Teasing by lightly drawing your fingers around his leaking cock as it lies against his lower abdomen. You revel in delight over his muscles tensing and flexing, and he huffs impatiently as you increase the intensity of your vengeance. You trace the same outline with your tongue; you use his moves from earlier, breathing warm and cool air over his length and watching it twitch.

You stare up at him as you run the flat of your tongue from his balls up to his tip. He looks wrecked, staring back at you, and you feel powerful, holding his attention.

He catches the flash of a smirk before you slip your mouth around his tip and nearly overwhelm him with the warm slip of your tongue and the pressure of your mouth wrapped around him.

“Fuck,” he rasps.

You don’t let up, swiftly taking him further down. You focus on breathing and working him into the back of your throat, then back to just the tip. Your saliva drips and coats him as your hands work in time with your bobbing head. It’s messy, and the noises are pornographic as you pour your enthusiasm onto him. He’s cursing and groaning while you continue on, and you can’t take the sight of him anymore. You pull off him and crawl up the bed on your hands and knees. You sit up and pick up one of his hands.

“Javi, I have a problem,”

“Shit, what?”

“When your cock is in my mouth, my pussy gets jealous. She’s too empty,” before he can respond, you drag his hand through your obscenely wet folds.

“Fuck,” he chokes out. It must be his favorite word.

“Mhmm,” you agree.

“Use me,” he says in a hoarse voice.

“I intend to,” you reply.

And you do. You ride him with an unrestrained vigor. You start bouncing up and down, tossing your head back to give him a little show. You drive him into a frenzy as you freely describe how good he makes you feel. And when he looks wholly fucked out, you taunt him for looking so pleased when his body is yours to use.

When he breaks, you feel his hands caress your body greedily. He squeezes at your hips, and he gapes with stars in his eyes at your tits perfectly filling his hands. He gropes at your ass and digs his fingers into your plush skin, pulling you down harder onto him with each bounce.

You consider how you might torture him further for touching without asking, but decide you just need to see him come undone. A single thought crosses your mind like a brilliant marquee on an empty boulevard.

He remains happy to obey as you instruct him to swap positions.

“You’re going to keep fucking me hard and deep while I come on your cock,” you order as you trail your hand down to your clit to your liking.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Come. Come on my cock.” He chants raggedly as you do. Your orgasm ripples across your body until the oversensitivity hits, and you press your hand into Javi’s chest. He pauses, hovering over you. You breathe as you come down and observe the exertion written across his features.

“Again,” you state, and he slides back into you. “I need it now, Javi,” you continue. “I need you to come. Fill me up. Just like you promised.”

You can’t get there with him again fast enough, but don’t need to. You just want to feel him deep inside you, releasing everything he’s got. And he’s more than willing to follow orders. He thrusts into you deeply until his hips jerk, and you can feel him pulsing inside of you as he comes.

“Please, take it.” You make out in between words that he smothers in your skin.

When he collapses on top of you, and your fingers rake through his hair, it’s as if he turns to liquid, and your soul absorbs him up.

You hum contentedly at him and push until he rolls off.

You order him to stay in bed before you’re off to clean up, bring him a towel, and of course, refill water glasses for both of you. As you walk into the kitchen, you see the flashing light on your answering machine. You didn’t notice it when you got home earlier, but it reminds you of the reality of the night. You know it’s a scathing message from your ex for walking away hours ago.

You feel a thread of annoyance, but it doesn’t escalate as you return to your bedroom.

Javi is where you left him and watches you with a funny look in his eyes as you carry on about your tasks until you return to his side. He likes seeing you move about your space, naked and unhurried. How insistint you are about taking care of him, it feels natural.

“What?” you grill him for staring.

“Nothing, nothing,” he assuages, raising his hands in defense.

You like how he looks in your bed with his dewy skin and mussed hair.

“Seems like you can be good at following orders,” you note.

“Depends on who’s doing the ordering, I guess” he shrugs, and you roll your eyes.

You offer him a cigarette and notice the time on the clock on your nightstand.

“It’s late,” you state, and he nods, taking a long drag.

“Stay,” you suggest, hoping it doesn’t sound needy.

“That an order, mi reina?”

You didn’t expect to hear that endearment outside of sex. It makes you float.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He’s there. In the morning when you wake up. Taking up too much space in your bed, sprawled on his stomach. Trapping you under a heavy arm. Snoring hot air into your shoulder. His body is a furnace, the sheet balled up towards your feet, leaving his bare skin exposed to the morning light. His smooth back and the curve of his ass are candid and honest next to you. You figured he would’ve disappeared before you woke up. Like a cryptid. You thought you’d be searching for any trace that he was real. Fortunately, you are surrounded by evidence. He is real, and unguarded. And somehow weighing your whole body down with just one arm. You squirm trying to check the time and he stirs. You still.

“Morning,” he grumbles. Of course his morning voice is sexier than you could’ve imagined.

“Morning.”

He peels his arm from your skin, releasing you. Free to stretch you reveal the ache in your shoulders from sleeping in that position with a groan. The room smells like sweat and sex, with faint notes of your shampoo and his aftershave lingering on your pillows. You instantly miss his touch, despite the fact that you were overheating from his warmth. You wait for a clue. What happens next? He was supposed to be temporary. A high you chased. Just a distraction, help you avoid reality and your emotions. But you like having him spread out on your mattress in the morning. You’d like to hear more of his voice.

He flips onto his back and scoops you under his arm. Oh. Head on his chest. You hear the strong beat of his heart in his chest. You might as well try.

“You want–” “Can I–”

You both laugh, your head bumping into his chest. You urge him to go first. Reveal his hand.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” he asks, “maybe after another shower,” he adds considering whatever fluids are still pasted to his skin.

You couldn’t have resisted the smile spreading on your face if you’d been warned ahead of time. You know he feels it pressed against his skin.

“I was going to offer to make coffee, but that does sound better.”

“Good.”

“Plus, I could use a ride back to my car. It’s still outside the bar.”

“A ride, hm?” His voice melts over the top of your head. You’re not listening to the words. Floating in a cloud. Just the baritone of his voice keeping you in the air. “C’mere, I’ve got a ride for you, cariño,” he growls into your hair before pulling you all the way on top of him. You shake with airy laughter, sitting up. Your laugh lights up his eyes. He looks at you like he wants more.

It’s enough.

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thepixelelf · 9 months

Text

ah! love - 3

genres: married life au, family au, fluff, a little... angst? but we know it ends up okay (best friends to lovers) relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 2.0k warnings: none notes: joshua centric!! also they live somewhere where it gets cold sometimes. I know that Joshua's had a little less time in the a!l spotlight, so I hope this satisfies the shushus[?] out there! this is the first >1k bday fic I've written in a while idk what came over me lol

ah! love masterlist

Joshua saves the day...wait, the night?

Joshua loves his kids. More than anything, though that thought sometimes scares him if he thinks too hard about it. The point is, he loves his sticky little mischievous imps, no matter how many times they throw up in the middle of the night, or run around with food half-chewed in their mouths because they've yet to develop a fear of choking like he and the rest of his partners have, or the half a million other things they don't warn you about parenthood. He loves his sons, end of sentence. Period.

But that's not to say they were his idea. Like a lot of the current life he feels overwhelmingly lucky to live, none of this was his idea. He hadn't even dreamed of it -- even his sleeping consciousness couldn't have been so creative as to spin the love story that led to his present. He hadn't fathomed marrying you and his other two best friends.

The marriage was Seungcheol's idea. But apparently you and Jeonghan were already thinking about it, too.

Joshua had been entirely caught off guard.

He was thinking too rigidly, he realized. Their marriage isn't legally recognized in any sense, and it was for that reason that he'd never even considered it in the first place... but it's still his marriage, whether penned and signed or not. There are three rings on his finger to prove it.

The kids were Jeonghan's idea. Well. The kid was sort of his, Seungcheol's and your idea. Jeonghan had said he'd always dreamed of having two kids -- a boy and a girl, like him and his little sister. You'd had your own fears about children, as did Seungcheol. You were scared you wouldn't know how to parent, wouldn't be able to raise a child in the way they deserved. Seungcheol worried how a child raised in their unconventional family would be treated by their peers. They'd all chosen the life they would live together, society's judging eyes be damned, but the child wouldn't have a choice, least of all an informed one.

Over the breakfast that was long forgotten after Jeonghan made his casual suggestion and vulnerable confession, you and Seungcheol eventually needled him down to one kid. Maybe.

As for Joshua, he didn't say a word. He was too lost in his own head, imagining a swaddled baby in your arms, and you in his. A shimmering mirage of his lips pressed upon your forehead, before he bent slightly to kiss the baby's tiny hands.

One kid may have been Jeonghan's, Seungcheol's, and your idea, but with Joshua, and circumstances as they were, you came home with three.

So perhaps some of this was his idea.

Not this, though.

"Papa...?"

Joshua blinks himself awake. His room is mostly dark, but warm light filters in from the hallway. The culprit? A little boy with one hand on the doorknob and the other wiping the corner of his bleary eye. Joshua can't tell who it is by looks alone, since the boy is all but a silhouette in the doorway, but he knows from the sound of his voice that it's Vernon.

Slowly, he removes his arm from around your waist. It's unlucky, maybe, that tonight you chose to sleep in Joshua's room, and then Vernon decided this was the place to be, too. He scoots away from you, then tries to lightly step across the room to kneel in front of Vernon. "Hey, bud," he whispers, trying desperately not to wake you up after a long day. "Can't sleep?"

"Bad dream," Vernon mutters.

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Bad dream?" Joshua sat up from the couch he was sleeping on just a minute ago, and he watched you whip around like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

But you only had a glass of water in your hand, and you winced as you turned off the tap. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."

"You didn't." Not really, anyway. The couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on in the first place, which was why he offered you his room to sleep in while you needed a place to stay for the night. Actually, both Jeonghan and Seungcheol had offered their beds too, and it became a bit of a squabble, but you'd settled things by just picking the room offered to you first.

"Liar," you said, and even though the only light in the room came from the moon through the balcony windows, he could hear the smile the word came through. Still, there was a certain tiredness in your voice.

"Seriously. What's wrong?"

A sigh left you.

"Come, sit," he insisted. "Talk to me. You know I'll annoy it out of you eventually."

Another sigh came from you, but this one of reluctant, amused acceptance. You walked across the combined kitchen slash living space in in their three-room apartment, set your water on the coffee table, and sat on the other end of the couch from him. Too far for his liking.

"What's your mood like tonight?" you asked him as you relaxed into the cushions, your head resting so that you stared at the ceiling.

"On what scale?"

"Hm... holiday rom coms?"

He thought hard for a second. "The Princess Switch 2: Switched Again."

You snorted, rubbing your hands over your face. "Not good then?"

"Well, you did have to abandon your apartment because the heat turned off and your dumb landlord is completely MIA." He shifted his body to face you, one arm propped up on the back of the couch to lean his head on. "But you showed up here wearing a comedic amount of layers, so the day had its funny moments."

A laugh bubbled from your throat, and Joshua found himself smiling in the dark. "I guess you're right. How's your mood in terms of..." You let your head flop to the side to look at him. "...a hug?"

He had to wonder sometimes if you had absolutely no idea what he would do for you if you asked. A hug wouldn't be on that list-- it was so easy that it didn't even constitute consideration.

But his heart warmed, because even though he knew he'd never refuse to give you something so simple as a hug, you knew he wasn't constantly the physical affection kind of guy. You wanted to ask him. You wanted his comfort, but only if he was willing.

God, was he willing.

"All yours." He opened up his arms, and you all but sank into him.

You both stayed like that for a while, silent, but warm. He was satisfied with you in his arms, but he could tell your mind was still stewing.

"You gonna tell me what's got you up so late?" he muttered, rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your sides.

"Do you ever think about the future, Joshua?"

Sometimes. But it was always with you in it. "Not really."

Leaning back, he brought you to lie almost on top of him, so now he was the one staring at the ceiling.

You sighed. "I try not to... at least not too much. But sometimes, on nights like these, I'm scared that I..."

He waited for you to continue, but when you didn't, he gently patted your back. "That you what?"

"That I want too much."

Joshua breathed in. Held that air for a few more seconds than necessary. Breathed out. He wondered if it would always be like this-- you being brave enough to speak aloud the fears he kept locked up.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, because what else could he say?

Me too?

No. He couldn't know if you meant it in the same way he felt, and it would be selfish to let his words and feelings out now, while his two other best friends were asleep mere meters away.

You chuckled, as if to dispel any vulnerability you'd revealed. "Easy for you to say."

You had no idea.

"I'll protect you."

"Ah, right. Did you read my mind? We'll have to sleep out here tonight."

Not yet catching up to your joke, Joshua loosened his arms around you and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

You lifted your head, a cheeky, bitable smile on your lips. Your voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush. "There's a monster under your bed."

⭒-⭒-⭒

Joshua ends up in the kitchen downstairs, all three boys sitting on the counter since Papa Seungcheol isn't there to discourage it. He tried to help Vernon right back into bed, he swears, but as soon as Seungkwan roused from his sleep and asked Vernon what was wrong, a conspiracy of monsters under each of their beds spiralled out of control. Even Chan got dragged in, heavy sleeper that he is.

Now, Joshua's showing them his ultra-secret monster repellent recipe. He melts an ice cube on a warm pan like a slab of butter, then pours warm water over it. Hiding more ice in his hands, he pretends to pull it from the pantry and adds that to the "mixture" too.

The boys watch, entranced and more than a little tired, as Joshua carefully pours the pan's contents into a measuring cup filled with yet more ice. He then pours that into a spray bottle they use to water the plants and screws the lid on. "There," he says proudly, presenting the bottle in front of the boys like it's a fine wine.

"What's going on down here?" your soft voice comes from the bottom of the stairway.

Joshua winces. "I was hoping I wouldn't wake you."

"It's alright," you say, though he can tell you're still fatigued. You walk over to the kitchen and pet the first boy's head that you reach, Chan's. "What are you all doing up?"

While Vernon makes grabby hands for you to run your fingers through his hair as well, Seungkwan answers. "Papa Shua's making monster-go-away juice."

"Monster-go-away juice?" you echo, then turn to Joshua with feigned shock and a quiet gasp. "Not your secret recipe?"

Joshua smiles. You're always so quick to match his humour. "I know." He throws the boys a look before meeting your eyes with full, teasing seriousness. "But I think they're ready."

Your eyes glimmer with laughter, but you hold yourself back for the sake of the bit. Turning to your sons, you wag your finger. "This is powerful stuff, boys. You have to use it carefully."

Chan's eyes are wide, sparkling with awe as he takes in your every word. Seungkwan and Vernon are equally rapt. Joshua's going to have to explain all this to the more straightforward husbands tomorrow, but tonight? Seeing the adorable looks on his sons faces and the playful tilt of yours is totally worth it.

"But don't worry," he chimes in. "It only works on monsters. It's harmless to humans. See?"

In a flash, he points the bottle at you and pulls the trigger, spraying a thin mist of water-water right in your face. You flinch in surprise, affronted, but only Joshua can tell. You laugh, then look at the boys again. "See? Nothing." You snatch the spray bottle from him. "It doesn't do anything to papa Joshua, either."

Okay, he thinks as you spray him not once, but three times, he deserves that.

"Now, papa Joshua and I are going to take care of any monsters, and then we're all gonna go to sleep, okay?"

The boys nod, and Vernon yawns, then motions for you to pick him up. You send a look Joshua's way, and he sends one right back. He gathers both Seungkwan and Chan in his arms, but before you start the trek up the stairs, he stops you. Each of the sons in his arms get a kiss to the top of their head, and then he leans over and presses one to your temple. Lastly, he bends down and, while Vernon has raised his arm to once again rub his eyes, Joshua kisses his tiny little hand. Just like he imagined over breakfast not so long ago.

No, waking up in the middle of the night to save his sons from imaginary monsters was never his idea. Neither was this life, or this family.

But Joshua wouldn't have it any other way.

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riaki · 8 months

Text

winner | satoru gojo x reader

"i hate you."

three words that destroyed the very world satoru had spent building with you for the past nine months. his footing gives way beneath his feet and he can feel himself slipping, scrambling for purchase on an icy slope while your cold words bite at him like an icy, bitter wind.

his world is collapsing. it hurts to think, and it hurts to look at you, and the way you're looking at him hurts. like he's chewed gum on the bottom of your shoe, mangled and ugly.

you've always been easy on his eyes. god, it normally never hurts to look at you. the burden of his cursed gaze feels a little lighter when the world around him is brighter and sweeter and softer because of your pretty smile. suguru eats sweets to wash away the taste of cursed spirits, and you're the eye candy that relieves the migraines behind satoru's six eyes.

at least, you were.

the hot summer sun beats down against the cement of the sidewalk; the streets blur and waver with shimmers of heat and the mirages of puddles on the road. the two of you stand to the side, shirt pinched between your fingers as you fan yourself to try to alleviate the heat on your skin, wondering why you decided to go out today.

tokyo is hot during the summer. the value of yen is lower than normal, so tourist season swings about like a tsunami, flooding the streets with families and travelers who explore on the trail of their wanderlust. shibuya is crowded and there are foreign footprints all over akihabara. the cute shop awning you're standing under reminds you of a beach umbrella, but the image of hot white sand and pristine crystal waters only makes you feel dizzier with the heat.

satoru is used to the summer heat, and the complaining that comes with it. it doesn't help that lately, it's all that suguru ever talks about. he's starting to think he should've bought a popsicle for his best friend, too.

but then you speak again, and he's immediately snapped back into reality like a slap to the face; your voice drips with venom, normally so sweet but there's poison in your veins, polluting your heart.

"i can't believe you won. of all people." you complained.

satoru gets under your skin like no other.

satoru looks down at his popsicle; a baby blue, soda-flavored. everything seems to come with a soda flavor. icy sweetness melts away, dripping down the wooden stick and sliding over his fingers, blue against his skin like veins of sugar. he rubs his forehead, scowling and squinting. the heat is giving him a headache; the popsicle helped, but your angry glares make him want to hide in the freezer box you both picked your lucky desserts from.

his popsticle stick has one word etched into it; when he looks over at yours, it's just smooth, tanned wood. no marks.

'winner'. that's what it says on satoru's popsicle stick. suddenly, the syrup feels as sweet as strawberry jam in his mouth and the sour look on your face makes it all the better. an unabashed, unbridled grin spreads across his lips stained blue, shit-eating and awful and it only makes you despise your boyfriend more.

so that’s what you’re so pissed at him for. he looks like the cheshire cat with white fur and shades. suddenly, his world is right as rain again and everything is brighter when you look at him like you want to rip his guts out and cook them on the burning hot sidewalk. ah, true love.

he opens his mouth to speak, swiping his soda-stained tongue over his lips, reveling in the way your jaw clenches in irritation as your ice pop melts in your hands under the searing summer heat.

“well, guess we know who’s side the gods are on today—”

“shut up.”

satoru just grins, leaning in and pushing the hair away from your face to press a quick, syrup-flavored smooch to your forehead. the heat clings to your skin, but the little imprint of his lips on your skin leave a cool, tingling feeling that has you smiling, even though you hate that he won and you didn’t.

satoru gets under your skin like no other, and finds his way to your heart.

my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and / or plagiarize !

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rottingparts · 1 year

Note

I saw the mirage imagine and It was so good like it got me barking. But anyways, can I have a smut request of mirage. Like, overstimulating or teasing mirage until he can't stop jerking his hips Or or or if your comfy you can you add like teasing on the neck too??! For example, umm, like reader putting there mouth on their wires and making them cry for more??!

If you're comfortable doing this. do it , please do it

OMG NOW YOU GOT ME BARKING!!! This is more teasing than anything, and it was supposed to be like a few paragraphs and ended up longer than that, and honestly I could have made it longer... Hope you enjoy, sweet nonnie! -Rot

Summary: You have a great idea, and Mirage is intrigued, even if you won't tell him what it is.

WARNINGS: 18+! MINORS DNI! Teasing, grinding, human!reader, Dom!Reader (kinda), Mirage is a switch, no specifications of reader's gender in any way

Word Count: 800

“I wanna try something.”

Your words were innocent and sweet, but it was definitely not a question. Mirage seemed to get a hint that whatever was on your mind was not innocent and was on board almost immediately. He did not ask what you had in mind, he only asked what you needed.

“Sit down.” You smiled at him.

“On the ground?”

“No, on the wall,” You snorted at your own answer. “Yes, on the ground, silly.”

“No need for sarcasm,” Mirage pouted. “But, since I love you so much, I will do what you say.”

‘Yeah,’ you smiled at Mirage, him having no clue what you were thinking, ‘I’m sure it’s ‘cause you love me and not because you’re horny.’ Once Mirage sat down, you walked over to him. You looked over at him and cocked your head.

“You got me kicking my feet and shit,” Mirage smiled at you, his feet moving back and forth as he sat down and looked at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“When is Noah coming back?” Your eyes met Mirage’s optics and he thought for a moment.

“One hour.”

You nodded, still not answering Mirage’s question. Mirage did not ask again though, he trusted whatever you were doing would be fun. You walked closer to Mirage and you could tell he was growing more excited. His feet moved a little faster, and once you took position, they froze.

You straddled the Autobot as best you could. Your eyes looked up at his wide, bright blue optics and you gave him a sweet smile. “I want you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Mirage seemed stunned, “You always want me to touch you-”

“This is about you right now, baby. Keep your hands at your sides, or at least to yourself, until I give the okay,” You waited for him to nod, “okay?”

Mirage nodded and you gave a quick nod of acknowledgement back. You rested your hands on Mirage’s shoulders and pushed yourself up ever so slightly. Mirage watched with anticipation as you positioned yourself over him. His optics never left you, and you did not want them to.

Without saying a word, you started to slowly grind against him. Your eyes moved from his chest plate and up to his optics, and he looked like his spark was going to stop. His fingers twitched against the ground. He wanted to do nothing more than touch you, but Mirage listened well enough when it came to you and pleasure.

“You’re practically giving me a lap dance,” Mirage groaned, “And I can’t touch you?”

“Trust the process,” You kept your eyes on him. “And, feel free to uh, help yourself relieve any pressure if you need to.” Your movements did not falter. And neither did, Mirage’s. He was quick to get his spike out. “But-” Your movements stopped, “Don’t touch yourself, either.”

Mirage looked like he was going to explode. “How am I supposed to-”

One of your hands left his shoulder and you leaned back, slightly. Your hand ran up his spike, so gently you were sure Mirage really would explode. Mirage whimpered and you grew hot. His whines filled the air as you would grind against him and touch him. You were being so gentle, too gentle.

Mirage’s hips jerked upwards and hit you as you were coming down. You smiled to yourself, happy with the hold you had on Mirage. Your hand brushed over his neck, not on purpose, but that was going to change. As soon as you touched the wires Mirage jerked again. An idea struck you and you smirked to yourself. Mirage could tell something other than him was coming.

You leaned up, your hand moving from his spike and back to his shoulder. You were still grinding, mostly to help yourself at this point, because you knew what you were about to do was going to be all Mirage needed. Your lips hit the wires. You could feel Mirage twitch, his entire body jerked. His hips bucked up again and you smiled against him.

Your lips grazed the wires, a soft kiss being placed against them before you pulled back. Mirage whimpered again, close to begging. You just knew it. Your breath hit the wires and Mirage was becoming uncontrollably horny. Worse than before. Your lips pressed to them again and a loud cry escaped from Mirage. You smiled against him and nuzzled his neck, his hips bucking into you several times before you spoke.

“Okay.” You stayed still, lips still on the wires.

“‘Okay’ what?” Mirage was frantic, voice almost cracking.

“Touch me.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Mirage had the roles flipped. You were on the ground and Mirage was over you. You could feel Spike against your thigh. He stared down at you, ex-venting heavily. “C’mon,” Your voice was soft, “We gotta do this before Noah shows back up.”

Mirage was ready to fucking go, “I don’t even care if he finds us at this point. I hope we’re still going at it when he gets back!”

You had wound Mirage up and you couldn’t be more excited with the results. You were going to need to do that more often.

#valveplug #rotb mirage #tf mirage #mirage #mirage x reader #mirage smut #transformers smut

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vettelsvee · 5 months

Text

AFTERGLOW | Mick Schumacher

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

mick schumacher x vettel!reader

summary: mick's girlfriend knows that something's wrong with him. after talking to her dad and her stepmother, she decides to face her boyfriend.

word count: 2956

warnings: angst. bad language. mick being aggressive. use of y/n.

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

If Sebastian's retirement announcement had hurt you, the way you boyfriend had been acting towards you, for no apparent reason, hurt even more.

You were on you father's terrace, with your legs stretched out on a chair in front of you and the sun shining on your face as you watched the latest news about Taylor Swift. Beside you, Hanna was tending to her baby, who was in her arms playing with a small plush toy you bought her that surprisingly become her favorite. Sebastian appeared out of nowhere carrying a tray full of snacks and drinks, which he carefully placed on the table before immediately caressing the heads of the women in his life. The German sat beside his wife facing you, his eldest daughter.

As much as you enjoyed visiting your family for no reason, today's visit had a reason with a name and surname: Mick Schumacher. Since both of you had finally decided to start a romantic relationship, everything had been a bed of roses. However, the past few weeks have been hell. The boy's behavior towards you had changed radically. What used to be a daily routine filled with laughter, gratitude and support had turned into distance and avoidance, as if they you college students living together during the school year because they had no other choice.

Before starting to speak, you poured yourself some lemonade that Vettel had made hours earlier with her, and took a slight sip despite being really thirsty. You felt nervous as you began to initiate the conversation, but the warm looks you father and stepmother were giving you helped you relax.

"I need to share something with you," you began, "because if I don't tell someone, I feel like I'm going to end everything I've fought for all this time. Plus, I feel like you're the ones who can help me the most in this regard," you added.

The couple exchanged curious looks, not knowing what you were referring to. Any idea passed through Hanna's mind, while the Aston Martin driver could only think of the possibility that his little one might be pregnant. Hanna could see the panic in her husband's face; she simply placed her free hand on the German's thigh and gently caressed it, trying to calm him down. They shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly, and that seemed to be what his wife was telling him as she gave Sebastian a glance.

"I've noticed that Mick has been behaving very strangely lately," you began to explain. "I don't know what's going on in his head, but we hardly talk, we don't usually go out of the house like we used to and... well, let's say we don't show as much affection to each other anymore," you said apologetically, trying not to get angry at the laughter your father was making. "I feel like the Mick I've known all this time has been just a mirage, and I don't know what to do about it."

Sebastian and Hanna exchanged knowing looks, and the woman let him speak first.

"Y/N, I understand what you mean, but you have to know the pressure Mick faces daily," the blonde explained lovingly. "Formula 1 is like that: it doesn't just drag you, but also those you love the most. Your boyfriend has many eyes on him, and as if that weren't enough, he bears the responsibility of carrying on his father's legacy."

The older blonde agreed with her husband. She passed the little one to Seb, got up quickly and sat next to you,now cry out of frustration, and started to caress your hair lovingly as a comfort.

"Your father is right, Y/N, and I have to agree with him because I've been with him for almost twenty years," Hanna commented. "Every person has a completely different way of dealing with stress. Sebastian used to yell at me every time he breathed, and look," she pointed at him, "here we are. Some people open up to anyone they meet, and others shut themselves off to avoid worrying those they love the most," she stated. "Just because Mick isn't like he was a few weeks ago doesn't mean his feelings towards you have changed. Sometimes, they just need space and a little time to silence the demons in their heads."

You nodded, taking a sip from the glass you held in your hands to calm your nerves. You let out a sigh you had been holding in for quite some time, worried about the possible reaction the two in front of you might have. They continued to talk about more trivial matters, and that conversation, although short, had been very meaningful, was set aside, although not for the girl, who continued to torture herself wondering what she could do to make Mick feel better while listening to talk about baby care and nurseries.

"Thank you, dad. Thank you, Hanna," you replied, getting up from your seat and looking at the adults. "I guess I needed the advice of someone who might have gone through the same thing as I am right now," you objected. "I promise I'll do my best not to despair anymore. I'll let you know when I know more."

The couple got up shortly after you, already heading towards the door, possibly to return to the apartment you shared with Schumacher. Sebastian, still holding the baby, opened the door, unable to say anything else. Hanna, on the other hand, smiled warmly at you and gave you a hug.

"Remember, we're here for you, sweetheart," your father's wife said kindly. "Communication is key in any relationship. If you see that Mick is still not ready to talk about it, give him space, but don't forget to remind him that you're there for whatever he needs."

You nodded and left the residence, leaving the driver and his wife somewhat worried about what could happen between you two.

You opened the door to your home with trembling hands, feeling a pressure in your chest from the concern about the scene your eyes would encounter as soon as you entered.

The first thing that greeted you was the sound of hooves scratching the parquet floor, which soon grew louder as Angie approached rapidly to welcome you home again. You bent down, leaving your belongings aside, and took some time to caress your furry friend, whom you had grown fond of since the moment her owner introduced her to you. While admiring the way the animal's tail moved, you began to hear the running water from the shower, a sign that Mick was home, as you had hoped.

Sitting on the couch and staring at the TV, whose screen was filled with deceptive advertisements for food and clothing, you heard a door open and steps that seemed to be approaching you. You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for what was about to come when you saw her boyfriend walk past you, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with another smaller towel.

You decided that things couldn't go on like this, so you approached the boy more angrily than you thought, who was preparing dinner, obviously, just for himself.

"Yes, love, I had a great time with Seb and Hanna. Thanks for asking how my day went!" you shouted sarcastically.

Schumacher turned around, leaving the wooden spoon on the bowl in which his salad was being prepared. Your face was fully red, and your aggressive demeanor reminded him of Sebastian's moments of fury at Red Bull. The German looked at you coldly, and you only felt his blue eyes radiating hatred, something you had never seen in the boy before.

If you weren't up for games that night, neither was Mick.

"I don't care how your day went," the blue-eyed one responded disdainfully, "but if you had such a great time with your perfect family, maybe you should consider moving in with them."

The driver’s statement hurt you more than if you had been stabbed in the stomach. You couldn't believe the words coming out of the mouth of the one you considered the love of your life. When you opened your mouth to reply and yell a thousand worse things at him, the words got stuck in your throat. Schumacher made a move to leave, but you reluctantly took his hand to keep talking to him. For you, things weren't going to stay like this.

"After everything we've been through to get here, is this how you're paying me back?!" you exploded, releasing all the anger you had accumulated. "Is this the way you planned to treat me from the beginning?"

The driver turned to you, his jaw tense. His arms were crossed, and he was squeezing his clenched fists tighter and tighter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, blondie," he spat with disdain. "If you feel so bad, maybe you should reconsider what this relationship means to you."

You approached him with fury, and began to hit him in the chest with your hands. You were tired of, at any point in your life, the people she loved the most ending up hurting her.

"You have no idea what you mean to me!" you got closer and closer to Mick, who seemed to feel small compared to you. "You became my everything when I had nothing, but now you've become a stranger with whom it would seem ridiculous to say that I've shared traumas from my life that no one knows."

"You have no right to judge me, Y/N!" roared the boy with a voice filled with aggression. "You don't know what I have to face every day: criticism, expectations, my father, you, the team..." He raised his hands in the air as he spoke. "Do you think it's easy being in this messed up world?"

"It's not just about you, Mick!" you exclaimed, tears starting to blur your vision. "It's about us and everything we've been through together!"

Words continued to fly in the room, laden with pain and anger, exchanged between the couple as if in a tennis match. You had reached a point where the argument wasn't focused on trying to resolve whatever was happening between you, but on hurting each other with hurtful comments, fighting to see who could inflict more damage.

"This makes no sense, Y/N," Mick shouted in frustration. His gaze was filled with panic and accumulated anger. He felt it increasingly difficult, at that point in the argument, to contain his rage.

"Love, please, calm down," your voice trembled. "We're not getting anywhere, just giving the neighbors a free show that we'll regret later," you pleaded.

Schumacher didn't relent. He felt a wave of helplessness washing over his body. He reached out his muscular arm and grabbed the first object he could find, a frame with a picture of him with you and Angie on a day you spent in the mountains, and threw it against the wall mercilessly. The sound of impact and shattering glass echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the sobs and gasps of air from the young woman.

You couldn't help but step back, feeling increasing pressure in your chest and filled with fear. You knew the boy was losing control of the situation, and you were afraid it would escalate to physical violence against you. You had experienced that kind of abuse with your mother, and you didn't want to relive it with the same person who once told you that love didn't hurt.

"Mick, stop, this isn't you!" you cried out in anguish. "What's wrong with you?"

The German clenched his fists tighter.

"I've already told you, Y/N: you don't understand! You can't possibly understand. The pressure, the expectations... it's all overwhelming," he sighed anxiously, "and I feel like it's going to break me at any moment."

You approached him slowly, but at a safe distance, in an attempt to calm him down that you hoped wouldn't be in vain.

"We're in this together, sweetheart. Why don't you confide in me instead of shouting at me like a madman in an asylum?"

"Because I don't want you involved in this," Mick looked at you with a mix of anger and pain. "You've had enough worries in your life already."

You went cold, speechless in response. The blonde seemed to have calmed down. Now, his gaze begged you to keep speaking because, if not, he would go crazy at any moment.

"Mick, I love you," you continued as best you could, "and that means I want to be there for you, even in the toughest moments. You can't expect me to walk away when you need me the most."

"It's not that simple, Y/N," the driver paced back and forth, seeking a way to remedy everything he had caused during those weeks of tormenting Gunther. "The pressure is overwhelming, and the comparisons with my father are becoming less bearable," he confessed. "People don't care how hard I try. They always end up making me feel like I’m not good enough."

The blonde took a deep breath, struggling to keep calm while seeing that the root of the problem was surfacing:

"And how do you expect our relationship to work if you shut yourself off? I can't guess what's going on in your head if you don't tell me," you said in a barely audible whisper.

"Because I don't want to be a burden to you!" he retorted. "I don't want you to see me as a failure."

Determined to end all the fuss, you took a step forward and, despite the boy's protests, ended up taking his hands and directing his gaze to yours.

"Mick, you're not a failure: you're human," you said. "Making more or fewer mistakes is completely normal, and I'm here to support you and make you see that," you expressed sincerely. "I don't care what people think or say about you. To me, you'll always be the best at what you do, and there won't be a comment that will change my mind."

He looked at you. Angie had clumsily approached the boy's leg, stroking him and causing him some tickles with her fur, something that made you laugh in that moment of tension.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? How can I move forward with all this?",

Feeling her resistance beginning to dissipate, you rushed to give him a hug, something the boy didn't reject. You both had missed each other, and the gentle caresses you shared in that brief moment were proof of that.

"Start by trusting me. Share what worries you and what you're afraid of. You don't have to fight alone: you know I'm here for whatever you need."

Mick, with his eyes full of tears threatening to fall, held you tightly to his chest, trying not to hurt you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered with a trembling voice, "for everything. My contract with Haas... it's over. Gunther doesn't trust me for next year."

You quickly pulled away from Mick. You had been left in suspense, and your boyfriend's pale face had already given you many clues, such as why he had told you before the cooling of your relationship that he didn't want to continue racing, or how Seb's retirement didn't affect him as much as you had thought it would.

Mick had faced very painful and traumatic experiences, such as his father's accident. However, although his dismissal might seem less significant than the former, for his girlfriend, it was more serious because there was nothing worse than someone compromising your mental health, and that was exactly what Gunther Steiner had been doing to her guy.

You approached him with slow steps and hugged him once again.

"Darling..." you whispered, trying to sound as understanding as possible. "It's okay, alright? Gunther doesn't deserve you. Besides, I'm sure that when something bad ends, something better begins."

Schumacher collapsed into your arms, tears finally escaping from his eyes. The mask he had been wearing for all the previous weeks had finally shattered, revealing a vulnerable version of himself that he didn't want you to discover.

"I feel like a failure," the blonde sobbed with a choked tone due to the tears. "I've fought so hard, I've given everything I have even when I couldn't anymore... and it seems like it's never enough."

You hugged him tighter, tenderly, hearing the boy's quick heartbeats loud and clear.

"You're not a failure, Mick," you revealed to him. "You have so much talent and you can do great things, it's just that you started your career in a crappy team with even crappier treatment," the boy laughed, music to your ears. "This is just a bump in the road, and you and I are going to get through it together."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, love," Mick looked at you tenderly, mentally regretting his behavior over the past few weeks.

"I'll always be here for you, truly," you continued, gently stroking his cheek. "You're so much more than race results, and I won't stop telling you until you believe it, even when you get tired of hearing me say it so much!"

You ended up laughing heartily, initiated by Mick. Maybe you weren't the perfect duo in the eyes of others, but you were for yourselves and those who knew you best.

If the invisible string theory was real, you and Mick were proof of it. You could even say the same about the multiverse hypothesis: in this one, and in millions more, a stubborn blonde couple, no matter the problems you had to face, would end up together, whatever it took.

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scholastic-dragon · 1 year

Text

I think this is the third post I promised in the poll lmao, I've been all over the place recently. Yall better get ready though cause I'm planning something big for my birthday in two weeks. 🫢

Also my dumbass did not proofread so if anything is off I am sorry

Wanna Ride?

Mirage x Fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, no protection cause he's a car, using a vibrator, mirage is babygirl and I love him, PRAISE, spelling mistakes,

Slipping on your thin sweatshirt, you giggle to yourself as you grab your keys and head out of your apartment.

Rushing down the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator, you jog out to the back parking lot where you see a gray and blue striped Porsche waiting in your spot.

Hearing the big metal door close behind you, Mirage honks at you, revving his engine and opening the passenger side door for you. You skip happily and slide into the car, the seat warm against your practically bare thighs.

"Hi, baby, I missed you," You laugh, tossing your purse into the backseat. Mirage revs the engine again, his voice coming out of the radio.

"Not as much as I missed you," He pulled your seat belt on and pulled out of the parking lot, taking you deep into the quiet dark that was New York.

"So, what're we doing tonight? Your message was quite vague," You tease, watching the lights flash by, you loved late night drives.

"Well, Prime said I had patrol tonight so obviously I invited you along,"

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, leaning back in the chair and crossing your legs. "Of course, you'd do that, even though last time-"

"What was that?" He interrupts, his driving not slowing down or faltering.

You squint your eyes, looking out the windows, hoping something wasn't about to fall out of the sky towards you. "What was what?"

"Your dress," He states, you bite your lip, hands gripping the edges of your sundress, trying to hide your blush.

"It's...just an outfit," You smooth out the fabric against your thighs, folding your hands in your lap, looking out the window, hoping he wouldn't mention how red your face was.

"hmm," He hums, then cranks up the AC blowing cold air on you, making your skirt flip up, exposing your lower half.

"Mirage!"

He gasped, making your blush crawl down your neck. "You're not wearing underwear!" He laughed, the sound reverberating through the leather seats. "You dirty girl, you wanna get laid,"

"I didn't think you'd be on a mission from Optimus! I thought it was just gonna be a fun drive," You try to fight the blush and heat racing through your body but you can't.

"We can still have a fun ride," He speaks quietly, still driving down the dark streets. "Show me,"

You gawk, stuttering, feeling your hands start to shake. Biting your lip, your hands travel down your thighs, taking the edge of your dress and pulling it up to your waist. You roll your hips forward, readjusting to present yourself to him.

It felt so daring to do this, but with the rising threat to the Autobots, Mirage had his windows tinted. Thankfully, even though you were still on a main road with other cars, no one could see how far down you were slouched in your seat.

"Shit, baby, you shaved for me?" You loved how he always made you laugh, it helped lighten the mood and ease any tension you had, in all situations with him, not just sexual.

"We haven't seen each other in a few weeks, I wanted to surprise you," You mumble.

"Oh, I'm surprised alright," the glove box pops open, showing a small cardboard box and a few loose papers. "Open the box, baby,"

Leaning forward, you pull out the little box, flicking open the lid and feeling yourself get even redder.

Your vibrator sat wrapped in tissues. Taking it out, you slam the glove box shut, making him groan then laugh.

"I was looking everywhere for this!"

"Well, now you have it...why don't you show me how much you missed me?" He revs the engine, making your seat vibrate against your legs.

You smile, spreading your legs and setting the toy against your slit. Rubbing it up and down to coat the silicone tip before pressing it to your clit and turning it on.

You gasped, biting your lip to keep your noises down, gripping the seats with your other hand. Your nails digging into the leather and making Mirage groan softly.

"That's it, baby, just like that," He praised, taking a left down a side road that didn't have nearly as much traffic.

His praise and compliments always made you feel so incredibly sexy. You knew even though you couldn't see his eyes that he was watching you. It was such a strange and surreal feeling: one that was truly addicting.

Feeling yourself grow wetter and more turned on, you slipped the toy down your folds and to your entrance, feeling it pulse beneath the toy.

"Shit, baby," He swore, sounding winded.

"You like the view?" You tease, gaining a bit of confidence.

"I can feel you leaking against the seats," peering down, you see a small puddle forming between your thighs. Fuck that's hot.

"I feel like I should apologize,"

"Don't you dare," He speeds up, turning down another few winding roads, you had no idea where he was going.

You pushed the toy in about an inch inside you, mewling softly, rotating your hips on the seat. "I wish you were touching me," You sigh.

"As you wish," the glove box whirs softly, then from under the door, you see Mirage's arm emerge, his cools finger stracing your knee.

You gasp, laughing softly. "I didn't know you could do that,"

"It's a bit of a twist, but damn is it worth it," He says breathlessly. His fingers are cold and soft, the metal tickling your skin as he drags them up the inside of your legs.

Putting his hand over yours, his palm engulfing your hand and toy easily, he shuts it off and places it in the cup holder.

With his knuckle, he rubs it up and down your folds, making you moan softly, both hands gripping his seats.

"Fuck, you're soaked," He moans, his thumb pressing and rubbing small quick circles on your clit.

Taking his middle finger, he runs in down your folds before pressing it at your weeping entrance. Pushing in at a slow pace to not overwhelm you.

One of his fingers was as thick as two of yours. You moaned loudly, feeling sweat form at your temple and shoulders.

You lean forward, taking off your sweatshirt and pulling the top of your dress down, pulling your sleeves to the side to expose your blue bra.

"You like the color?" You run a hand over the lace, teasing your nipple through the fabric.

"That's my blue," He whispers in a daze.

To get back at you, he starts moving his finger, a strong even pace that has you clawing at the seat and door, trying to not scream out in the open road.

"Fuck, Mirage," You can hear the wet squelch as his finger moves in and out of your core, it's turning you on even more.

"You like this, baby?" You nod, moaning and panting. "You're doing so well, you want another one?"

"Yes,"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'd like another finger in me," You're too close to cumming to care how desperate you sound.

Pulling his finger out almost all the way, he lines up his ring finger, pushing against your slit and letting your wetness drip down onto his fingers. Then he pushed forward, being slow and careful, but still making sure it felt good.

When you hissed in pain at the second knuckle, his thumb pressed and rubbed your clit. You threw your head back, feeling your stomach tighten, a band pulling in your core.

"Please, Mirage," You moan.

"Please what, baby?" He pulls out onto a dirt road, going along a quiet neighborhood.

"Please let me come," You beg.

"Oh. You're gonna cum?" He teases, moving his fingers and clit in a maddening rhythm. "You gonna cum all over my seats? Squirt and stain the leather?"

Fuck, you loved it when he talked like this. You moaned loudly, feeling the band grow taught, his fingers squelched as he finger-fucked you hard.

He curled his fingers, pressing them against your g-spot and pressing his thumb against your clit, rubbing harshly.

"Mirage!" You scream, feeling the band snap and your vision go black. Sound faded out, nothing mattered except the amazing feeling of cumming around his fingers.

Your back arches before setting against the leather, panting heavily. Opening your eyes, you see that he's stopped.

You're in a garage, you're not where but it looks abandoned, it was dim and dusty.

"You alright, baby?" He removed his fingers, rubbing the back of his hand against the expanse of your thighs.

"Yeah, that was just a big one," You laugh, unbuckling and opening the door. On shaking legs, you roll your shoulders hearing the classic mechanical whirring of Mirage transforming.

As you turn around, he's already coming at you. One hand cups the side of your face, and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you up and pushing you against his chest.

He kisses you hungrily, moaning and groaning into your mouth. Even with metallic lips, they were smooth and warm, not in a way you understood, but appreciated nonetheless.

He lifts your feet off the ground, swallows your gasp, and pushes you against a wide support pillar.

"Do you know who's garage this is?" You pant in between kisses.

"Nope," He smiles against your lips, moving down and nipping at your neck.

He doesn't have normal saliva, but his mouth does produce some spit like substance. It doesn't have a taste but leaves little tingles on your lips and skin.

"Mirage, I need you," You pant, your arms clawing down the smooth metal.

"Shit, hold on," He moans, his arms dropping your your waist, then suddenly he's on his knees and lifting your body up the pillar.

"Mirage!" You gasp, your hands holding onto his large metallic head.

He leans in, running his tongue along your folds, moaning loudly, his hands moving from your waist to under your thighs, keeping you fully supported above him.

You feel the strange layers of metal that make up his tongue, you don't have time to think about it more when you feel it pressing at your entrance.

He puts just the tip in, then licks up to your clit, giving it a little suck, then going back down, over and over again.

"Baby, baby," you pant, your hips rolling against his face. "I'm gonna cum," You whine.

He sucks your clit one last time, not hard enough for you to cum, then stands up, hauling you up and bending you over one of the old cars.

It had a thick layer of dust and looked like it hadn't been driven in decades.

Mirage pulls your dress up, keeping a hand on your lower back to keep you bent. You hear more shifting and whirring before feeling something hot and smooth rub against your thighs.

You moan, arching your back. He chuckles quietly from behind you. "You want this spike, baby?"

Oh, he must be just as desperate as you, he normally uses the "human" version of body parts as you called it. Spike was one that honestly fit.

He pumps himself, then slaps his tip against your folds, making you jump and squirm.

"Mirage, please," he eases himself inside, moaning loud as you. God, he's huge, in all sense of the word.

He pushes in until his cool hips are flush to yours, then leans over your shaking body. One hand gripping your hip and the other just above your head.

"Can....can I move?" He pants, you feel his legs shaking behind you.

"Yes, baby, fuck me,"

He pulls almost all the way out just to slam back in, strong hard snaps of his hips that have you moaning and crying in this random person's garage.

With your face pressed against the dirty car, you reach an arm up toward his hand. Your fingers curling around his, he lifts his hand and engulfs yours, squeezing firmly.

"F...frag," Mirage grits out, his hips moving faster. You'd laugh at the Cybertroian swear if you weren't on the verge of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," You cry, lifting your hips up slightly. His fingers are digging into your hips, you can feel little pin pricks and know they'll be bruised in the morning.

"Yes, yes, please overload with me," He leans down, pressing his face into your neck, hips moving at an erratic fast pace. "Overload....with....me!" He slips his hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing with the same pace as his thrusts.

You buck and moan and cum around him, feeling his hand grip yours tighter, feeling him fill you, his hips bucking into you deeply. He raises up on his tiptoes, curling in further around you, pumping until he was spent.

He sighs, stopping his hips and lowering back onto flat feet. He kisses and nips at your neck.

"You alright, baby?" He rubs his nose on your cheek.

"Yeah," You giggle. "Yeah, I'm alright,"

He straightens up, rubbing your hips and back in soothing circles. "Sorry, I didn't ask before overloading in you,"

"It's alright, baby, it's not like you can get me pregnant," You both laugh softly.

He pulls out and pulls the edge of your dress down, helping you stand on shaking legs. You stand on shaking legs, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes, hands on his chest you lean up into a kiss.

"I love you, baby," You whisper.

"Love you, too," He mumbles against your lips, holding you close to his spark.

#HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA #i wrote this thing WEEEKS AGO #like when rotb first came out #but then he came in third in the poll lmao #transformers #transformers fanfiction #tf #transformers rise of the beasts #tf rotb #transformers rotb #mirage #tf mirage #tf rotb mirage #mirage rotb #mirage x reader #rotb mirage x reader #it is my works

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