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tteokdoroki · 11 months

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Thinking about the freshly corrupted priest Gojo pumping his dick in the confession booth while the sinful vixen sitting in the other cabin went from confessing her sins of corrupting one of the local fathers and having him cream down her throat to giving him instructions on how to handle his throbbing cock lovingly

Go faster now, father- squeeze the tip just a little bit...yes that's a good boy...now spit on it, make a mess of yourself and give everyone a show, all their eyes are peering down and up on you.

And with that, good morning aali my love <3

-glasses anon

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. confessional.

about. you confess your sins to father satoru, but with the lust bubbling between you both, things get a little carried away.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, sacrilege, religious imagery/references, guided masturbation, male masturbation, priest!gojo, fem!reader, wc: 1.6K.

what good is a priest who can’t follow his own teachings? one that succumbs to the slightest hint of femme fatale?

gojo thought himself a strong man. a good one. but once again, he’d found himself drinking from the devil’s cup offered up by a lost little angel who has strayed away from her path to light.

“and i really didn’t mean to. father toji— i mean fushiguro— seemed so stressed! like he needed a helping hand.” you whimper unevenly from your side of the confessional booth. guilt buzzes in satoru’s veins as he imagines you teary eyed and distraught on the other side of the wall. the mere idea of you crying sends pleasure and lustful hormones shooting through his bloodstream and right down to his erection — the tip flushing a shameful shade of bright red.

you continue relentlessly, each word a breathless whisper laid over the swell of your sinful lips.“s-so i offered some relief in the only way i know how. i let him use my body, let him use my throat. he said it was okay…” but i just feel so wrong for corrupting him like that under the watchful eye of the lord. is it wrong that i liked it, father ‘toru. having that man’s cum pour down my throat?”

you’ve strayed too far away from the light and you’re pulling him into the darkness with you.

“f-fuck.”

“is something wrong father toru, your voice sounds rather strained.” by the tone of your own, he can just tell that you have your head cocked to the side innocently. perhaps your lip is caught daringly between your teeth — eyes gleaming with mischief while you mask your amusement at the damage you’ve caused. the young priest’s dick throbs against his inner thigh, smearing white along his baby soft skin. satoru grabs at his girth, squeezing it as if to stave off the pleasure that he should be disgusted by.

clearing his throat, gojo internally curses as the words stick to its ridges — almost as if he doesn’t believe what comes out of his own mouth next. “i-i’m fine. have you prayed? i’m sure he would forgive you for your sins.”

“i’ve been on my knees every night.” you mumble through a pout that he can’t see — earning another hiss from the priest while his angry red cockhead starts to bleed more arousal, forming a dark stain that seep’s through the fabric of his black slacks. “if you don’t mind me asking… does it hurt, father toru?”

“does what hurt?” he exhales slowly, pearly white lashes fluttering against the apples of his cheeks. gojo, against his better judgments, pops the button of his pants to provide some relief to his aching cock. it doesn’t help at all.

“your cock. father fushiguro felt the same after i confessed what i’d done with father getou.”

shit. “yes… it does.”

“i maybe be able to help.” your voice somehow sounds closer — as if you’re in the booth with him. “can you touch it… touch yourself for me, please?”

when you ask him so sweetly, how can father satoru say no? he follows your instructions like a man charmed by a succubus from the deep depths of hell. his whole body shudders and his breath stutters when he finally takes his forth between his king and slender fingers, squeezing at the base as precum beads like a rare oyster’s pearl in the centre of his slit.

this is so wrong. “holy…holy shit,” but it already feels so good. gojo hisses, chest heaving as he instinctively bucks into his closed fist. it’s warm, sends shockwaves of pleasure down his spine to build in his pelvis while each vein that wraps prettily around his cock pulses with a new wave of lust laden blood. “what should i…?” he coughs shakily, hips slowly beginning to fuck upwards to chase the feeling of his palm. “what should i do now?”

“spit on it, father.” you command him gently, blessing him with your praise where the higher being above might condemn him. “get it nice and wet for me, like i would, okay? squeeze the tip when you do—“

father ‘toru easily follows your word as if it reads passages from the bible. carefully, he leans forward — letting hot, gooey trails of spit dribble over his blistering and bright cockchead. his entire body twitches at the new sensation, which is surprisingly cool in comparison to how hot his body feels. sweat tracks it’s way down his body, soiling his hood robes and freshly pressed clothes. it makes his pure white locks stick to his forehead, and gathers on his cupid’s bow and it really is all too much.

he feels like hell on earth.

there’s a dull thud that echoes from satoru’s side of the booth, his head knocking against the wooden walls when it falls back. in the same breath, a loud and borderline pornographic moan rips it’s way through satoru’s firm chest — it battles through his lips (caught between sets of perfect white teeth), and reverberates throughout the confessional booth, no doubt catching the attention of people passing by.

“ohmygod,” comes his pathetic whimper while he clenches around himself once again, throat bobbing as he swallows down his sinful sounds. “why does that feel so fucking good? g-god, please!”

satoru’s fall from grace makes a sick smile spread across your lips and you cock your head to the side. you can only imagine what he looks like if this is how he sounds, his clothes a sweaty mess, his eyes delirious and darkened with ungodly and immoral desire. all this while he begs for god, begs for forgiveness, begs for you.

“you’re doing so well for me, ‘toru. can you go a little faster for me? now that it’s nice and wet.” the way his name falls gently from your tongue is like thick honey running through satoru’s ears — you drag a veil of lust over his mind and once again he follows your orders. he pumps himself faster, harder, precum slinging over the edge of his knuckles as they turn as white as his hair from the grip he has on himself.

he can’t help but let his mind stray and wander off into damned territory — chasing the vision that his clouded mind creates for him. would your cunt feel as good as this? wrap around him as tightly? a stream of unfiltered and colourful curses pour from gojo’s mouth in a similar manner to the arousal from his mushroomed tip, dripping a searing hot trail down to his throbbing balls.

lewd squelches slip through the cracks of the confessional booth and filter right through to you. satoru has no idea how pleased you are to have ruined him, how much you’ve longed to hear him mewl and sigh from touching himself against the will of god. “you sound so messy, ‘toru,” you moan out just to mock him a little — listening out for his strained and strangled whines, gargling down the saliva that pools on his tongue. “think you can make an even bigger mess for me, father? one that everyone will see. those above….” you purr, the tail end of your words harmonising with gojo’s hiccups. “and those below.”

satoru is no better than a sinner come to spill their truths to him. sitting there with his painfully hard dick in his hands, fisting it to oblivion as opaque white stains his hands and his fingers and his knuckles. there’s so much of it, so much lust and precum and he hasn’t even reached his peak yet. everything is so fucking hot, his dick slick between his sticky thighs and all-too-tight robes.

“almost there, satoru. i need you to let go for me.”

your goading voice through the thick oak wall pushes satoru’s hips to canter up higher and higher. he wants to please you so bad that it hurts and makes him cry. he whispers your name into the buzzing air like it’s a prayer, chanting it over and over again until it becomes the only word he knows.

“fuck… i can’t—“ gojo sighs airily, his thighs shuddering as the knots in his stomach begin to unravel. “christ… I feel like ‘m gonna burst!” angelic blue eyes roll deep back into the man’s skull, disappearing from the world to hide from the atrocities he’s committed.

“then let go, let it all out. you’ve done so well.” you say sweetly over the sound of gojo languidly jacking himself off. one, two and three more pumps before he’s releasing thick white ropes of cum over his robe and his chest — seeping into his clothes.

gojo’s so fucking dizzy, cumming so hard that he sees bright lights and swears that he’s landed at the gates of heaven — though he’s sure his actions today would stop him from getting in. there’s a ringing in his ear as he comes back down but all of his limbs feel heavy, he’s too weak to move.

“f-father satoru?” you whisper innocently, as if your very voice didn’t lead the man to death. “i think our time is up.”

“yeah?” he mumbles in response, the words slipping around on his tongue. “i think… you did good today. you’ll have to come back again next week, to make another confession.”

if only he could see your sick little smile, one might have thought you were the devil. who knows what’ll happen if you’re alone together in a confined space. “if that’s what you need from me, father.” you giggle slyly. “see you next week.”

“see you next week.” gojo repeats.

and just like that, you’ve dragged the poor priest into the corrupted depths of hell.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #angelshubnetwork #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #ʚ glasses anon anon’ ɞ

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lulu-4-u · 12 days

Text

TOUCH IT

The strongest sorcerer to ever live, in all the heavens and the earth, feared by cursed spirits alike, was… bored.

Lounging in his seat, Gojo Satoru let out a low hum, his head tipped back lazily as the council droned on and on about his newest mission.

The weight of the room was thick with tension, but none of it seemed to touch him. His fingers tapped a careless rhythm on the armrest, legs spread out in front of him, exuding a carelessness that bordered on irreverence.

"…growing threat…potentially catastrophic…dangerous sorcerer…" The words buzzed around his head like an annoying fly he had no intention of swatting away.

He exhaled through his nose, continuing his little hum as the head councilman's voice grew more insistent. The man's brows were knitted together, speaking with all the gravity that someone in his position ought to muster.

But it was all white noise to Satoru—at least, until—

"Gojo."

A beat.

"Gojo, this is serious. Pay attention..." The councilman's voice sliced through the monotony, sharp enough to make him lazily shift his head to the side.

Slowly, Satoru turned his head, letting his neck roll as he turned his attention to the source of the command. His eyes, usually hidden behind his shades, seemed to sharpen with the motion, focusing like a hawk about to strike.

Even through the dark lenses, the icy intensity of his gaze bore down on the man. His smile stayed in place—easy, almost playful—but his stare was dead.

Empty.

It was a predator's look, concealed beneath the mask of casual indifference.

A tremor rippled through the room. The councilmen around him shifted in their seats, unease crawling up their spines as they suddenly remembered exactly who they were addressing.

The strongest. The untouchable. The one who smiled but never truly revealed his hand.

"So..." Satoru's voice was deceptively light, a mocking tilt to his words as he spoke. "You want me to take out this 'big bad' or whatever, yeah? Because they're, like, super dangerous and might cause some, I dunno, world-ending chaos?" He let the sentence drag, his smile never faltering, but his eyes remained locked on the councilman like a wolf sizing up its prey. "That about sum it up?"

The councilman, clearly rattled, swallowed hard. His voice faltered as he stammered out a weak, "Y-yes, correct."

Satoru sighed, long and exaggerated, before standing up in one smooth motion. His towering frame unfolded effortlessly, drawing every eye in the room.

Stretching his arms above his head, he dragged a hand through his snowy hair, letting out a groan as though this entire affair was just a mild inconvenience to him. "Alright, alright," he drawled, adjusting his shades as he flashed them another easy grin. "Let's just get this over with."

You were carefully decorating the last of the cupcakes, smoothing the frosting into perfect swirls, when the familiar ding of the bakery bell rang through the back. "Just a minute!" you called out, wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist.

It was just you on the morning shift today—your coworker had called out last minute, promising to take your afternoon shift so you wouldn't have to pull a double.

Not something you were unfamiliar with, but still, it left you scrambling to deal with the shop alone.

Your fingers were still a little sticky with frosting, and you knew there were probably a few smudges on your face, but you couldn’t keep a customer waiting.

Quickly, you smoothed your apron down, pushing through the swinging door that led to the front of the shop.

As you stepped behind the counter, the first thing you noticed was a figure crouched down, examining the glass display case where rows of colorful cupcakes, cakes, and pastries were lined up neatly.

From your angle, you could only see their side profile—a tall, lean figure, slightly hunched as they squatted low, eyes fixed on the sugary treats.

You scurried behind the register, hastily plastering on your customer service smile. "Hi! How can I help you—?" Your sentence trailed off, the words drying up in your throat as the figure slowly rose to full height, straightening out.

Your hand froze mid-motion as you adjusted your glasses, your face warming with an instant, involuntary blush. Standing before you was quite possibly the most striking person you'd ever seen.

His hair was the first thing to catch your eye—white as freshly fallen snow, a stark contrast against the black suit that clung to his lithe, muscled frame. He wore it effortlessly: black business pants, a sleek turtleneck, and a long jacket draped over his shoulders in a way that screamed confidence.

But it was his eyes that left you breathless. The brightest, most piercing shade of blue you had ever seen, framed by delicate, pale lashes.

They gleamed behind a pair of circular glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose, as if he’d forgotten they were even there. His head tilted slightly, curiously, like he was taking you in just as you were gawking at him.

There was something both playful and intimidating in the way he smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but made your heart race all the same.

Your breath caught, and you fumbled with the edge of your apron, trying desperately to calm the heat that was crawling up your neck. You quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, blinking rapidly as if to reset your brain. "Y-yes! W-we have plenty to choose from," you stammered, forcing your voice to steady itself.

Your heart raced, the thumping in your chest almost deafening as your eyes darted anywhere but at him, unable to hold his gaze for too long without feeling your cheeks heat up all over again. "Is there... um, anything in particular you're looking for?"

The man didn’t respond right away, and you half wondered if he hadn’t noticed your nervousness—or maybe he was just too polite to say anything about it. But the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

He hummed thoughtfully, the sound deep and drawn out, leaning casually against the glass display case. His hand came up to prop his head up as he tilted it slightly, his lips forming a small pout. "Hmm... I'm not sure. I'm looking for something... sweet." His voice dipped on the last word, and there was no mistaking the suggestion behind it, as if he wasn't just talking about pastries.

Your breath hitched, and you could feel the flush of embarrassment crawl up your neck again. You scrambled to maintain your composure, glancing down at the cupcakes and cookies like they held the answers to his cryptic request.

From his Satoru's perspective, you barely reached his chest. He couldn't help but notice how tiny you looked in comparison, especially with your hair tied up into a neat, tight bun, a silk scarf wrapped around your head as if to keep stray strands in check.

You wore a baking apron that was thoroughly covered in flour, smudges of icing trailing from your hands to your face, and a couple of spots dabbed on your cheeks.

The glasses perched on your nose kept slipping down, and you pushed them up in a quick, nervous motion every time they fell.

Your wide, inquisitive eyes blinked up at him, and he noted the light freckles dusted across the bridge of your nose.

Cute.

Everything about you—from the shy glances to the nervous fidgeting—made him want to toy with you, just a little.

"Well, if you're looking for sweet, we have a variety of cupcakes that are really popular," you offered, your voice wavering slightly as you gestured towards the rows of neatly frosted confections. "Or, um, cookies... cakes..." Your words trailed off as his gaze lingered on you, and it felt as though the temperature in the room had gone up a few degrees.

He didn't seem particularly interested in the pastries, though. His eyes remained on you, as if you were far more interesting than anything in the display case.

"Hmm, that's tempting," he murmured, his smirk growing just a little wider. His eyes flickered to the cupcakes, but only for a brief moment before they returned to you. "But I think I'm in the mood for something... softer."

Your heart did a somersault at the way he emphasized the last word words, and you couldn't help but wonder just what exactly this man was getting at.

"O-oh, softer?" You fumbled, trying desperately to keep your brain from melting. You forced yourself to focus, tapping your fingers nervously against the counter. "W-we have some cream-filled pastries, if that's more to your taste?" you managed to choke out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Whatever it was, you weren't sure how much longer you could handle it without combusting on the spot.

"Maybe..." He dragged the word out, enjoying the way you squirmed under his attention. "But what would you recommend?" His voice dipped again, lower, almost teasing, like he wasn't just asking about pastries anymore.

"I-I'll just choose something!" you stammered, turning quickly before you could embarrass yourself further.

Your pulse raced as you headed to the back, reaching for the dessert you had made earlier—a strawberry cheesecake, heavily decorated and sweet. It was indulgent, something you'd crafted for yourself during a quiet moment, filled with all the sugary indulgence you allowed yourself on rare occasions.

You pulled out a small slice, plating it carefully, your fingers trembling slightly as you arranged it perfectly. When you returned to the counter, you placed a small sample in front of him, offering it with shaky hands. "Here, try this," you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

He didn't need any further prompting. With a smooth, almost languid motion, he picked up the small fork you offered and took a bite.

You watched as the dessert disappeared into his mouth, his lips curling upward in a satisfied hum. The moment his eyes brightened, a wave of pride hit you. A low, pleased hum escaped him, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

He savored it, his gaze flickering back to you with delighted approval, as though the simple dessert had been crafted by the hands of gods.

"This is fantastic," he murmured, the praise making your chest tighten. "Where do you get this from? Who made it?"

You glanced away, feeling your face flush under his stare. "I, um... I made it."

"You did?"

With a small nod, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Y-yes, I made it this morning."

His lips twitched into an amused grin, but this time, his eyes didn’t stay on your face. "Well, that explains why it's so perfect..." His gaze, deliberate and slow, trailed downwards, lingering for a long moment on your chest. It wasn't subtle—he wanted you to notice. You felt the heat creeping up your neck as his eyes lingered on your name tag.

"...Y/N," he read aloud, his voice low and teasing, drawing out each letter. He let the name hang in the air for a moment, before lifting his gaze back to your flushed face.

The intensity of his gaze, combined with the deliberate way he said your name, sent a jolt of awareness through you. You tried to keep your composure, your hands trembled slightly as you packed up the rest of the cheesecake, placing the box on the counter.

"Here you are, Mr...." You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name. Your eyes flickered up to meet his again, a silent question hanging in the air.

He caught your hesitation, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Satoru," he said smoothly, the name rolling off his tongue like a secret only he was sharing with you.

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly as you cleared your throat. "R-right. Mr. Satoru." You glanced at the register, trying to refocus as you gave him the total softly.

He blinked in mild surprise, his smirk widening. "That's practically half off from the price on the card," he remarked, amusement evident in his voice.

You could feel your face grow impossibly warmer. "O-oh, um..." Your lips fell into a small pout as you avoided his gaze, your hand twitching up to adjust your glasses again in a nervous habit. "I-it's no big deal. I mean, I like to, uh, give stuff to new customers... in hopes that they return, yeah..."

Your voice trailed off, and you immediately wanted to kick yourself for the weak excuse. But it was too late now. You shrugged your shoulders, trying to act nonchalant, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Satoru's chuckle made your heart skip a beat. Even his laughter sounded handsome, deep and melodic, sending your pulse racing. "Is that so?" he mused, his voice holding a playful edge. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cheesecake, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Well, I'll definitely be back... Y/N."

He winked, and you nearly melted on the spot as he turned toward the door. With a casual wave, he added, "See you soon, Sweets," leaving you standing there, flustered and wide-eyed, barely able to process what had just happened.

The bell above the door rang as he left, and only then did you release the breath you had been holding. You stood there, staring after him, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Sweets?

A few hours later, the warmth of the late afternoon sun filtered through the bakery’s front windows, casting long shadows across the floor as you wiped down the counters.

It had been a relatively quiet shift after he left, though your heart was still recovering from the encounter. As you finished up, the front door swung open with a familiar jingle, and you turned to see your coworker rushing in.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry I'm late!" The boy practically stumbled through the door, one hand frantically adjusting the tie of his high school uniform, the other pushing his hair back in a desperate attempt to look more presentable. "I got caught up in something!"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flustered state. Itadori Yuji, always full of energy and apologies, was like a golden retriever in human form—warm, friendly, and almost comically eager to please. His messy pink hair and wide, bright eyes gave him an air of youthful enthusiasm, and his genuine smile could light up a room.

"It's fine, Yuji," you said with a laugh, waving him off as you headed to the back to grab your things. "You're not that late."

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally finished fixing his uniform. "Still, I hate being late. Promise it won't happen again, if it does, I owe you lunch!"

"Deal," you replied, opening your locker and pulling out your bag. As you walked back toward him, you noticed his name tag was crooked, dangling off one pin. With a quick flick of your hand, you reached out to fix it, adjusting it until it sat neatly on his chest.

"There," you said, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Much better." His warm grin mirrored your own as he stood there, slightly flustered but grateful. "Have a good shift, Yuji. Oh, and the manager should be stopping by later to check in on you."

"Thanks!" he said, already grabbing an apron and getting ready to dive into work. "I’ll handle it. You get out of here and enjoy your break!"

You gave him a small wave and turned to leave, but just as you reached the door, you heard him call out behind you. "Y/N!" Yuji's voice was filled with enthusiasm, and you turned to see him waving both hands energetically, grinning from ear to ear. "Goodbye! See you tomorrow!"

You waved back, shaking your head with a fond smile as you stepped outside, the cool afternoon air brushing against your skin.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm of your steps as you strolled home, your mind wandering as you took in the sights and sounds around you—the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional chatter of people passing by.

It was a rare moment of peace after the hectic shift, a brief escape from the buzz of daily life.

As you rounded the corner, something unexpected caught your eye—a small form, huddled on the edge of the sidewalk.

Your pace slowed as you approached, your brow furrowing in concern.

It was a cat, lying awkwardly on its side, its fur matted and dirty. A quick glance told you it had been hit by something, maybe a car or someone careless.

Normally, you would have continued walking, not wanting to get too involved. But just beyond the cat, two tiny kittens sat mewling helplessly, their cries piercing the quiet air.

Your heart clenched at the sight.

With a soft sigh, you crouched down, inching closer to the injured cat. It hissed at you, its eyes wild with pain and fear, its body tense as it tried to protect its young. But you ignored the warning sounds, reaching out slowly, gently, until your fingers brushed under its chin.

"Hey, it’s okay," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing.

At your touch, the cat stiffened for a moment before going completely lax, its body relaxing against the ground. You stroked it tenderly, watching in quiet as the distended paw began to shift, the bones cracking softly back into place.

You could almost feel the snap of pain yourself, a sharp ache spreading through your own wrist as the cat's injury healed before your eyes.

After a few seconds, the paw was as good as new. The cat stood, shaking itself off, and without a second glance at you, it gathered its kittens and disappeared into the safety of the alleyway.

You remained crouched there for a moment, watching the small family as they vanished from sight, the ache in your wrist growing stronger.

Slowly, you straightened up, flexing your fingers as the pain began to dull. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

Feelings.

That's all you'd ever known. Whether you wanted to or not.

All your life, you'd felt things—things you shouldn't be able to feel.

Anger from your neighbors down the hall as they argued about their personal issues, envy from classmates who resented your successes, and worst of all, the fear radiating from your parents as they stood helpless, unable to comfort you through your relentless sobs.

You could feel their confusion, their frustration.

But at the end of it all, they couldn't fix something they couldn't see.

Over time, it grew—your ability to feel. At first, it was just emotions. You could sense a slight shift in someone’s mood, a flicker of sadness or anger, just an inkling of what they were going through. But soon, it became more than that.

You began to feel their thoughts, whispers that echoed faintly in your mind, giving you glimpses of what lay beneath their surface emotions.

And then... it escalated. Suddenly, you could feel everything.

Whatever someone was going through—physically or emotionally—washed over you like a wave. Their pain became your pain. Their joy became your joy. It all found its way to you. No matter how far you distanced yourself, it clung to you like a shadow.

It was overwhelming, relentless, like you were drowning in the feelings of others with no way to claw your way to the surface.

As the years went by, your condition worsened. What started as a manageable, if confusing, ability turned into a burden too heavy to bear.

The world became unbearable. Every day was agony, the constant onslaught of emotions and sensations from those around you leaving you raw, exhausted, and desperate for relief.

The cacophony of the city—the anger, the fear, the pain—was like a living entity, clawing at your skin, leaving you shaking and fragile.

Your parents were at a loss. They didn't understand what was happening to you, couldn't see the invisible weight pressing down on your soul. They could only watch as you withdrew further, your silence growing more suffocating by the day.

When your father finally made a call to a buddy—a man who had a cousin that owned a small apartment complex on the edge of the city—it was an act of desperation. They didn't know what else to do.

So, at fifteen, they sent you away. The cousin gave your parents a deal, allowing them to pay for three years of rent upfront for the ‘penthouse’—a small, one-bedroom apartment that was anything but luxurious. It was decrepit, cheap, and hidden away in an area most people avoided. The walls were stained with years of neglect, the air thick with the smell of dust and mold.

But it was quiet. Isolated.

And for the first time, you were alone with your thoughts.

Alone with the pain.

But that wasn't the only thing you had to deal with. Upon leaving home, you unknowingly stepped into a new world—a world of curses and sorcerers.

It happened by accident, of course. During one of your bad days, when the weight of others' emotions became too much to bear, you found yourself overwhelmed, losing control, but this time was different.

This time, it happened in public.

You don't remember exactly how you ended up on that street, or why you couldn’t move your legs when you wanted to run. All you knew was that your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, and everything was too loud, too bright.

The emotions pouring out of you were anything but silent. They radiated outward like a tidal wave, flooding the space around you. People nearby started to feel it—your pain, your panic. The air grew heavy with the thick, chaotic energy you couldn't control.

You didn't know it at the time, but there had been sorcerers nearby. They had been in the middle of an exorcism, dealing with a high-grade curse just down the block. But your outburst—your instability—had thrown everything into disarray.

By the time you calmed down, the sorcerers had won their battle, but the damage was done.

You were on their radar.

At first, the solitude was a relief. The absence of people meant an absence of feelings—no more sadness seeping through the walls, no more anger gracing your vision from out of nowhere, no more envy creeping in with every inhale of breath, rattling you to the bone. But as the years passed, the silence became suffocating in a different way.

You found yourself missing the world outside, the life you had once known slipping further and further away. And yet... somehow, you survived.

As the years passed, you learned to cope with your abilities. Instead of rejecting the constant barrage of feelings, you began to embrace them, to accept the pain and emotion as part of you.

It was hard, terrifying even, at first.

There were times when the spasms would hit, your body wracked with the pain of others, and you'd think you were slipping back into the endless agony of your youth. But you learned to shake it off, to focus, and slowly, everything would melt into the background.

Now, at twenty-three, you've managed to regain some semblance of normalcy. You work part-time at a small bakery just a block away from the apartment, a quiet job that doesn't demand too much interaction with people.

And as you've grown more confident in yourself, so too have your powers.

Now, not only can you feel and change others' emotions, but you've learned to take away their pain as well—absorbing it into yourself, inadvertently healing them.

You glanced down at your wrist, the ache in your wrist from earlier was a reminder of that, the subtle way your body absorbs and dissipates pain.

You didn't know when it started exactly, but the more you leaned into your ability, the more you realized how much power you had over others' emotions—and their suffering.

Arriving home, you expected to be a typical Friday night of you sitting comfortably on your worn-out couch, book in hand, ready to lose yourself in another evening of quiet solitude.

But the buzz of your phone said otherwise.

Your best friend, Sumi, didn't give you a second before launching into an excited explanation about some classmates going out to celebrate the end of exam season and begged you to join them. She pointed out how you never went out anymore, and that you'd been practically living as a hermit

You tried to resist, your first instinct to decline and stick to your quiet night in, but Sumi;s persistence wore you down. She had a way of making even the simplest invitation sound like a grand adventure, and after a bit of internal back-and-forth, you finally relented.

After ending the call, you stood up, looking around your small apartment. It had been a while since you'd gone out, and a part of you felt nervous, but another part—one you hadn't acknowledged in some time—was starting to feel a flicker of anticipation.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to step outside your comfort zone for once.

The music was loud, vibrating through the floor and up into your bones as you sat squeezed into a booth, surrounded by people on all sides.

You hadn't expected the party to be this big—Sumi had said it would be a small celebration, but it turned out to be anything but. The entire club was packed, and the crowd seemed to pulse with energy, the lights flashing erratically in rhythm with the heavy bass.

It was... overwhelming, to say the least, and you'd already considered slipping out the back more than once.

But every time you thought about leaving, someone—whether it was Sumi or one of her classmates—would pull you back into the booth, keeping you tethered to the chaos.

After a while, you accepted your fate, sighing softly as you forced yourself to take a sip of the drink in your hand. The alcohol was meant to distract you, to keep your mind from spiraling into overstimulation.

The lights, the smells, the music, the press of bodies around you—it was all too much. But if you focused on the cool burn of the drink sliding down your throat, maybe you could hold yourself together a little longer.

A few drinks later, your muscles loosened, and the tightness in your chest began to melt away. The alcohol took the edge off, softening the sharpness of your senses, and you finally started to feel relaxed.

When Sumi eagerly dragged you onto the dance floor, you didn't resist, allowing yourself to get swept up in the moment.

The music pounded through the air, and soon you were caught in the rhythm. You let yourself get lost in it, swaying with the crowd, Sumi's infectious energy keeping you in the moment.

"You're finally having fun, aren't you?" Sumi laughed, spinning around you, her blonde hair whipping in the flashing lights.

You smiled faintly, your body relaxing into the music. "Yeah, it's... not so bad."

But as the alcohol worked through your system, the familiar buzz started beneath your skin. The sensations around you grew sharper—eagerness, excitement, arousal.

You could feel it all.

As you danced, it became harder to focus, every emotion from the people packed around you began to seep into your mind, their energy flooding your senses.

It was too much, and yet you couldn't seem to pull yourself out of it.

You wanted to scream, to escape, but the crowd held you tight, the sensations enveloping you like a suffocating blanket.

The music blurred with the flashes of emotion that weren't your own. It was like you were taking in everyone's feelings, all at once. A wave of drunken joy hit you, followed by a sharp stab of lust from a couple nearby.

And then, you felt two hands grip your waist from behind, steady and firm, tethering you to the moment.

A more coherent version of yourself might have jumped away from the unknown touch, startled by the sudden intrusion. But instead, you found yourself leaning into it, falling backward into whoever dared wrap you in their embrace.

The sensation of strong arms circling your waist held you in place, and the firmness of the chest against your back was like a solid wall anchoring you amidst the chaos.

You blinked slowly, your mind swimming as you squinted your eyes open. The faint tickle of soft hair brushed against your neck, and you could tell the person behind you was tall—taller than you by far. They had to slouch and bend over slightly to reach your ear.

It was only when you caught a glimpse of white, snowy hair out of the corner of your eye that you froze. A familiar shiver ran down your spine, and the sharp sensation of lust and arousal hit you like a wave, pouring off the figure behind you in an overwhelming rush.

It was intoxicating, and for the first time tonight, you felt your own emotions cut through the fog of everyone else's. Your heart raced, and the heat rising in your cheeks wasn't from the alcohol anymore.

You didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. But any doubt you had vanished when a smooth voice purred into your ear, "Hello, Sweets~"

The words sent a shiver through you, and before you could fully process the situation, you were whisked off the dance floor. One second you were drowning in the crowd, and the next, you were being led—no, practically carried—through the bustling club.

Satoru, with an ease that belied the chaos around him, guided you up the steps to the VIP section, his hand never leaving your waist.

In what felt like no time at all, you were settled in a more secluded booth at the top balcony, away from prying eyes. The noise of the club felt distant here, muted by the heavy drapes surrounding the area.

Satoru moved with purpose, easily sliding into the booth beside you, his presence commanding and all-encompassing.

You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat as his bright blue eyes locked onto yours. There was a teasing glint in them as he took in your flushed face, a smirk curling at his lips.

Without warning, he cupped your cheek, his large hand warm against your skin, and pinched your face lightly.

"You're a lightweight, huh?" he teased, his tone light but dripping with amusement.

You swatted his hand away with a roll of your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "'m not drunk. 'm tipsy," you muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of control, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Satoru chuckled, leaning in closer. His arm draped casually over the back of the booth, but the movement subtly caged you in, his broad back shielding you from view. He didn't seem concerned with the world beyond your little corner, his attention entirely on you.

"Tipsy, huh?" he drawled, his voice lowering as he leaned even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You're definitely something."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his finger gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're a pretty girl, you know that?" His words were soft but carried a weight that made your heart race.

Your mouth went dry as his finger trailed along the edge of your chin before brushing the underside of your lip. The touch was light, teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. His eyes darkened slightly, the pupils dilating as his gaze lingered on your lips, a light flush dusting his own cheeks.

"I could get used to this," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb stroked your bottom lip. "The way you look at me... I wonder how much better it would feel to have you under me."

The suggestiveness of his words hit you like a punch, your entire body flushing with heat.

You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw lust pouring off him in waves, and for once, you weren't overwhelmed by it. Instead, it mixed with your own growing attraction, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

Your breath hitched, and though you were flustered, you couldn't deny the pull between you.

Every part of you screamed to push back, to regain control, but the way Satoru's fingers lingered on your skin, the way his eyes drank you in like you were the only person in the world, made it hard to focus on anything but him.

Your mouth moved before your brain could catch up. "I do too..." The words were barely a whisper, slipping out between the pounding of your heart and the electric charge that hummed between you.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Satoru closed the space between you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that made your head spin. You could feel the desperation in the way he kissed you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, exploring, tasting. He licked into you with fervor, groaning low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest.

It was as if he couldn't get enough, like he was drinking in every little sound you made, savoring it.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on you—gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and leaving no space between your bodies.

The plush cushions of the sofa gave way beneath you as you felt your back press into them, Satoru already pushing you down. His body hovered over yours, his weight pinning you in place as his hands roamed freely, one sliding up your side, fingers brushing your skin under your shirt.

Every touch sent sparks through your veins, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips when his palm finally slid under your skirt, pressing against the warmth of your skin.

His hand moved higher, fingers brushing over your upper thigh as his other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place beneath him. You squirmed under his touch, your body responding to every movement as if on instinct.

The sensation of his fingers ghosting over your skin was enough to drive you crazy, and you arched into his touch, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if to anchor yourself to the moment.

Satoru groaned again, this time louder, the sound muffled by the kiss. His body pressed closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the solid strength of his chest against yours.

It was dizzying—the way he seemed to consume you with every touch, every kiss, as if he was starved for you. His lips left yours for only a second, moving to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"Satoru..." you breathed, barely able to think as his lips found yours again. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeper, more possessively, like he never wanted to let you go.

Before you could catch your breath, Satoru moved again, flipping you both upright with ease. He pulled you on top of his lap, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he settled you onto him.

You both sat there, panting from the intensity of the makeout session, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you stared down at him.

His eyes were dark, hooded with desire, the usual playfulness in his expression replaced by something more intense. His face was flushed, and a light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. His hands, strong and confident, kneaded your exposed thighs, your skirt having ridden up from all the movement.

The warmth of his touch against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel your mind race as you took in his features—the sharpness of his jaw, the way his pale lashes framed those piercing blue eyes, his lips swollen from kissing.

Satoru licked his lips slowly, and you could feel the heat between you grow as he scooted you even closer on his lap. A shiver ran through you when you felt him hard beneath you, the sensation making your body tingle. He tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you.

"Hey, Sweets," he purred, his voice low and teasing. "Wanna feel how bad I wanna fuck you?"

If you weren't already lost in the feeling of him against you, you might've recoiled in embarrassment at his bluntness. But instead, your body reacted instinctively, pressing down onto him, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you.

The low groan that escaped his lips, paired with the small jump of his hips in response, had your heart racing even faster.

It was your turn to lick your lips, and you noticed the way Satoru's eyes snapped down to watch, darkening even further as his gaze locked onto your mouth.

You leaned in slightly, your lips hovering near his ear as you whispered, "Only if I get to make you beg for it first."

Satoru's breath hitched, and his eyes flickered with surprise and excitement at your boldness. His grip on your thighs tightened, and his cocky smirk grew wider, clearly pleased with your response. "Oh, Sweets," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful challenge. "I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun tonight."

Satoru wasted no time, his hand sliding between your thighs with practiced ease, his eyes focused solely on your face. You could only bite your lip in response as he easily slipped his fingers beneath your underwear, his breath growing heavier with each passing second.

"Shit… you're soaked," he breathed out, voice rough with desire.

You can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment, heat flooding your body as his touch sent sparks through you. It was almost too easy for him to slip a single finger inside you, sinking in to the knuckle with no resistance.

His thumb began working in small, slow circles, rubbing against your clit, and your hips twitch involuntarily in response. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel your body reacting without thought.

Your hips moved on their own, instinctively jutting forward in small circles, matching the rhythm of his fingers as he skillfully worked you over. You barely had time to catch your breath before he added another finger, pressing deeper, massaging your walls with a deliberate, teasing pressure.

A sharp, breathy squeak left you when he found your G-spot. "There she goes…" he murmurs with a low moan, his own hips twitching slightly beneath you, as if the sight of your reaction was enough to affect him too.

Before you know it, the tension inside you snapped. You gasp, feeling yourself reach the peak as your body shudders and tightens around his fingers, your mind reeling from the pleasure coursing through you.

While you were still clenching and twitching from your release, Satoru didn't hesitate. He pulled your underwear to the side and swiftly guided you down onto him, bullying his dick into your small hole.

A low hiss escaped his lips, followed by a growl as his entire body tensed beneath you, almost as if he was in pain.

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of you when he bottomed out in one stroke, your hips pressed flush against his. The fullness in your lower stomach was overwhelming, your thighs burning as they settled around his waist.

Your body reacted instinctively, twitching and clenching down as another orgasm washed over you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Satoru groaned, his voice thick and slurred as he lifted you up and down slowly, your whole clenching tight like a vice.

A low moan escaped his lips as he stared up with dazed and half-lidded eyes, as if he were completely drunk off the feel of you. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his head lolling back against the cushion.

You could only cling helplessly to his broad shoulders, your body trembling like a ragdoll as his hips picked up speed, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room with each deep thrust.

You were lost in the feel of him, lost in the way his lust matched yours, the heat between you nearly unbearable.

Satoru's hand found its way to your neck, fingers wrapping around it like a collar as he tilted your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. You could feel his breath, hot and ragged, as his other hand trailed up slowly, his thumb brushing against your lips before slipping into your mouth.

A moan escaped you, muffled around his digit, your thighs twitching in response to the growing pressure building deep inside you.

Satoru's hips snapped up harder as if he could feel how close you were. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and just as you felt yourself about to tip over, his voice broke through the haze, panting and breathless in your ear.

"Y'know…" he rasped, punctuating each word with a rough thrust, "…I was sent here… to kill you…" His grip tightened on your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned into your ear. "But how… can I get… rid of something… this… perfect?"

His voice was filthy, dripping with lust, and his words came out between gasping breaths. "My perfect… little cock-sleeve…" He smirked against your neck, his voice growing lower and more ragged with each thrust. "… And I'm never letting you go."

You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you as his words sank in. Just as you tipped over the edge into one last, mind-numbing release, you couldn’t help but wonder what your future held next.

A/N: not me screeching into my pillows while editing like i didnt write this 😭😭

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acapelladitty · 5 months

Text

sweeter than honey

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: "You'd let me," Cooper pauses to allow the truth of the question to hold in the air, "rip my teeth into you and take a bite of you for myself? No knife. No healing. Just teeth." Groaning at the very thought as you consider the other wicked things those teeth are capable of, your thighs widen in open invitation. "Yes."

(warnings for: oral sex, cannibalism, biting, blood, sub space painkink, cum marking, masochism, teasing)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Slick with sweat, your breath comes in shallow pants as every inhale breathes fresh life into your burning lungs while you drift in the pleasurable haze of your post-orgasm comedown. The sloppy mess which steadily drips free of your cunt to the leather duster below is quick to stain the fabric as Cooper's electric eyes gaze up at you from the flat position between your thighs where he'd long since dropped his body.

"Nothing like it, darlin'. Sweet as honey and enough to make a man want more."

His mouth and chin glistening with your release and his own spit, for someone whose own mess streaked the dusted ground where his groin has rubbed itself into a frenzy, Cooper didn't seem quite finished with you as he licks a lazy stripe across your slit - the simple move making your legs jerk as his tongue grazes your engorged and overly sensitive clit.

Brain fuzzy, you can only squeak out a casual acknowledgement as you lazily egg him on with a dopey grin.

"Take more if you want."

Cooper scoffed.

"Last time, your foot kicked seven shades of hell outta my jaw cause it was too much for you, sweetie. I ain't falling for that shit again."

"Not like that." You smirk, recalling the fantastic yowl which fled him as your overstimulated body acted of its own accord and cold-clocked his wicked mouth. "I mean take what you want."

"You know what I want." Low voice rumbling from his throat like an approaching storm, Cooper presses his lips to your thigh in a chapped kiss before continuing. "But some things just ain't likely, are they?"

"I'd let you do it."

"You would, huh?"

"I mean, if you wanted-"

"You'd let me," Cooper pauses to allow the truth of the question to hold in the air, "rip my teeth into you and take a bite of you for myself? No knife. No healing. Just teeth."

Groaning at the very thought as you consider the other wicked things those teeth are capable of, your thighs widen in open invitation.

"Yes."

Something savage, almost animalistic twists at his features as he takes the encouragement for what it is, his face rubbing against your thigh as he nestles himself against the flesh. His lips ghost across the skin of your inner thigh with reverence; licking the skin there with a textured tongue as he steals a taste of what's soon to be his.

"You sure, darlin?" It's an ask, more like a plea, as he tries to hold back the excitement in his tone - his blazing eyes flashing up at you for one final acknowledgement, a final chance to back out and forget the offer.

"Do it, Coop. Take what no one else ever will."

Teeth blunt and not designed for a clean tear, it hurts like fuck when he sinks them deep into the flesh of your thigh; the heat of the pain burning like hellfire and forcing your spine to go ramrod straight as you beat your fists against the floor and writhe in place against it.

"Fuck! Fuck- ow! Fucking hell, Coop!" You whine out, the words only able to break free of your gritted teeth as the white-hot pain levels out into a terrible ache which makes your limbs tremble and tears slip free of your eyes.

Despite it all, there's a heat in the actions - a thrill of pain and pleasure rolling across your spine as you glance down through watery eyes to see him swallowing down the small part of you he had ripped free.

Part of him now.

It was enough to make you light-headed. Well, that and the blood loss, as the fresh wound bleeds freely and droplets trickle across the skin of your legs as they follow the curve of your thighs to drip to the duster.

His mouth licking at the wound, almost like a cat as he catches the blood he can - his hands slips up to cup at your cunt and his fingers are quick to spread your lips as he sinks past the mess he left to circle his calloused digits around your clit.

Mewling out something incomprehensible, nausea and arousal making the pressure in your skull difficult to ignore, you can't muster up the energy to push him away as each gentle touch feels like fresh lightning scoring across your overheated flesh.

"Every part as good as the last, sweetheart." Cooper speaks eventually, flashing bloodied teeth at you as he covers the wound on your thigh with his free palm, the pressure making you squeal in discomfort. "A man won't be able to forget an experience like that."

"Remember it well, handsome, cause that hurt like fuck and I ain't doing it again."

The threat of an approaching orgasm quickly making your heels curl against the ground, you gasp out your response before his actions have you reduced to a babbling, sobbing mess - so lost in that hazy space where pain melts with pleasure that you doubt you'd even notice him sneaking his way in for a second bite.

Slipping higher until the sensation of his breath on your cunt makes your brain short-circuit, Cooper is as enthusiastic as ever as he growls playfully at your words.

"Noted, sweetheart."

#no metaphors here. just a straight up fucking CHOMP #fallout #fallout tv #cooper howard #the ghoul #ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard fic #cooper howard smut #ghoul smut #walton goggins #fallout amazon #fallout fic #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you

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utterlyotterlyx · 7 months

Text

White Flag

Cassian x Rhys!Sister Reader

Summary - There had never been a moment where you and Cassian had seen eye to eye, despite his attempts to make peace and make a friend of you, it wasn't something that you wanted.

Warnings - angst, swearing, teasing, back and forth banter, mentions of blood

The Day Court had become your home from the moment you had decided that you couldn't bear to be around Cassian any longer. Luckily, Helion was a good friend of yours even if he wasn't overly fond of your brother and his inner circle. and granted you sanctuary before you had even finished asking him the question.

A part of you didn't even know how it had all started, that outlandish flare of dramatic hatred that passed between you whenever you were too close. Maybe he was threatened by your athletic prowess and strength, maybe you despised how often a new female ended up in his bed

Things had come to an abrupt head when you had punched him square in the nose for making a comment about your mood, asking if your cycle was drawing near. Blood gushed from his nostrils and he stuttered back a few steps, cradling the now broken bone and groaning as blood dripped onto the floor.

"Why is he bleeding?" Rhys had enquired after entering the room, sensing the stench of blood through the closed door of his office.

Cassian stood by the sink, bloody rag clasped around the injured affect, "Because he's an idiot," you replied with astounding calmness, feet propped up on the arm of the chair and your fingers flipping idly through the pages of your book.

"I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose."

You had hummed, a smirk pulling at your lips when you noticed Cassian's hazel gaze ripping through you, "I think it's a new phenomenon."

Rhys had usually kept out of your spats, like the rest of the inner circle, they knew your sass was not something to play with, it was unfortunate how Cassian skipped over that fact.

Then there were the countless family dinners that were interrupted, and sometimes ruined, by your joint fire.

"You know, Cassian," his ears pricked upward but his eyes narrowed, he'd like to believe that maybe for once you'd say something nice to him, to stop this feud between you, "Remember that one time I said that you were cool?" He nodded, falling victim to another one of your games as the room held a collective breath, Rhys already pinching the bridge of his nose, "I lied."

Cassian growled, slamming his fork down on the table and standing from his seat, the chair skidding along the wood with his brute force, "I can't help imagining how much more awesome the world would be if your dad had just pulled out."

You were smirking, that shit-eating smirk you always wore when you managed to get him to bite, "Please, save your breath, Cassian," you cooed obnoxiously, popping a honey soaked carrot into your mouth, "You'll probably need it to blow up your next date."

Azriel had choked on his wine and you spared him a sidelong glance, convincing yourself that if Cassian's red face turned one shade darker then he'd surely erupt in flames.

Then there were the missions that Rhys had assigned you and Cassian to, he thought forcing you two to work together would put an end to the nonsense that was your tiff. Azriel was the unlucky one who had to accompany you both so that you didn't wind up killing one another.

An ash arrow hurtled past your face, grazing the tip of your pointed ear, you had dodged its full puncture successfully and heaved out a sigh as you took cover behind a nearby tree, "Oh my gosh, did you see that?! I almost just died!"

Cassian had sauntered past you, sword coated in the blood of your enemies, strands of brown hair falling from his bun, and dirt dusting the side of his face, he grinned at you, "Tragic that you didn't."

Azriel audibly groaned, sick of both of you, it had been three full days of trudging around the outskirts of the winter court, he was freezing, Cassian was making his head pound with his constant complaining, and you were certainly catching a cold.

The Shadowsinger had finally had enough when he had heard you and Cassian arguing at the edge of the clearing, the latter had gone to bathe, to wipe away the blood and dirt from his skin, only to turn around and find that his clothes had been plucked from the bank.

"I didn't do it," you told him through laughs as Azriel approached, Cassian was stood in the water up to his impeccable v line, fists clenched and seething through his teeth as his body shivered from the cold.

"Then why are you laughing?!"

You were leaned against the trunk of a tree, clad in your warm clothing that Rhys had insisted you wear, badass or not, you were still his little sister, "Because whoever did it is a freaking genius."

Rhys had had enough of it. Of all of it.

An ultimatum had been delivered to you both, after being pulled into Rhys' office by the scruffs of your necks by Azriel, you had been told that one of you had to move out of the House of Wind permanently. Though, Rhys' plans of keeping you apart had completely backfired when you had stood up and told him that you were leaving the Night Court altogether, the words shaking the room enough that even Cassian felt guilty that your feud had become so severe that you actually wanted to leave your home court.

"And go where?" Rhys had rose, that power pulsating around him like a heartbeat, a drowning effect that made you all feel dizzy as his eyes darkened and jaw clenched.

"The Day Court," you stated like it was already decided, "Helion has offered me a place within his court and I accepted. I leave tonight."

"Over my dead body!" Rhys rumbled, it was deadly enough for even Azriel's shadows to cower behind him whilst Cassian looked at you bewildered.

Ticking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you quipped, "Well, go lay down and die then because I'm not going to be told what to do, especially not by you."

"You are my sister. You are a Princess of the Night Court."

"And I am allowed to make my own decisions regarding my life and future," you looked to Cassian and frowned, your eyes dipped with an emotion he'd never seen in you, "And, right now, my life is not here."

That was how you found yourself within Helion's court, doused in white and gold, with tanned skin from the bright never-ending sun, with your toes dipped in sand and the ocean breeze drifting through your hair.

It had been a year since you had left Velaris, and gods, you missed the City of Starlight so much. The Day Court was wonderful, beautiful in its own incredible way, but it wasn't Velaris, your home.

Helion had found you walking along the sandy shores when you should have been readying yourself for the ball starting in a few hours. Rhys and the entirety of your former family were visiting to celebrate the announcement of Feyre's pregnancy, stopping in every court bar Autumn and Spring to spread the joy, to signal a new age for Prythian after all of the torment they had been subjected to.

"I would have thought you'd be ready by now," Helion noted, watching your cream coloured dress float in the breeze, you held your shoes between your fingers and gazed outward to the ocean.

You hummed, "Part of me isn't looking forward to it," you admitted.

The time you had spent in the Day Court had made you softer, had given you a new perspective. There was much more to love in life than arguing and feuding, and you had spent a little over two weeks trying to figure out why you and Cassian could never seem to get along.

Helion draped an arm over your shoulder, his golden crown shimmering in the sunlight that was usually focused on you, focused on making your skin glitter and smile, "It's been a year since you left, I'm sure they're all looking forward to seeing you."

"Or telling me how much easier their lives have been without me," you laughed sadly, slumping into his side softly as he turned to lead you back up to the palace.

"You're a changed woman now, Y/N. I think that more than anything they'll just be happy to see you thriving."

Fuck.

You were so late. So late that it would be noted as disrespectful no matter how much longer you took. Helion was right, you should have been readying yourself much earlier rather than trailing your toes in the sand.

Helion had gone to great lengths to secure you the most spectacular dress anyone had ever seen. A rich gold garment that snaked tightly around your breasts and curved perfectly over your thighs and ass, no sleeves attached to it, but he had gifted you a set of matching arm cuffs and one for your thigh which was exposed by a high slit, as well as ear cuffs which gave a subtle nod to the Day Courts abilities to hone their gifts of invention.

You were practically running down the halls whilst putting your heels on and clasping your necklace around your neck, taking a sharp left which you knew would lead you to a more secluded entrance where you hoped you could slip in unnoticed.

Sliding through the small opening in the wall, you ducked your way along the length of the room, popping up and smoothing your dress out before reaching for the nearest passing tray of flutes, downing half of the liquid to make it seem like you had been there for longer than you had.

"Very smooth, Y/N," A familiar voice purred with amusement laced in his voice, you turned to find Azriel stood behind you, he looked surprised as he took you in, acknowledging the tanned hue and glow that had possessed your skin, your violet eyes seemed a shade or two lighter than Rhys'.

"Az," you breathed, placing your flute down on the table beside you and throwing yourself into his open arms, you both laughed, and he inhaled your scent, salted summer oceans and velvety rose petals.

Pulling back, you smiled up at him brightly, showing all of your teeth. It was like Day had thrown up on you, though, Azriel couldn't deny that gold most certainly agreed with you. Another force jolted into your side and you lifted your arm to find Mor bundled into your ribs, squeezing you tightly and refusing to let go to the point you had to physically unwind her from you.

"I've missed you so much," her bottom lip wobbled as tears gathered in her eyes, you reached for her, wiping the stray droplets with your thumb.

"You know I'm only like ten minutes away from you, right?"

"Not the point, Y/N," a deep voice drawled, it made you shiver, and before you could even properly move to find the owner, you were already gathered up in his arms, "Hello, little sister."

"Hi, Rhys," your eyes found Feyre stood a few feet away from you, a hand cradling her swelling bump, you moved to her, looking down at that bump, "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you."

Rhys couldn't deny that you seemed different, that you had changed since the night you had left Velaris after your argument, after the ultimatum he had wrongfully forced on you. Feyre had told him that you would be fine, that you deserved to see what life could be outside of Velaris, that you would one day come home to them a different woman than the one who had left.

They all watched as Feyre guided your hands to her stomach and you felt your nephew wriggling around and kicking, "Hey, stop kicking your mama," you had bent down to whisper, "She's been through enough," and the little thing within her halted, settling into a comfortable position and Feyre sighed with relief.

Straightening your posture, you took your flute and took another sip, feeling overwhelmed by all you had missed, "I'll be back in a minute," you told them, Rhys moved to follow after you but Feyre stopped him, she knew how much it must have been for you, she was always the understanding one.

Your usual haven was empty when you had reached it, a white stone balcony at the end of a secluded hallway that looked out onto the lapping waves colliding with the mountain upon which the Day Court Palace lay.

A single tear flowed down your face and you heaved in a breath, trying to control yourself by clutching onto the stone railing. Your hair whipped around your face, and the fire lanterns flickered in the breeze.

"I know that we aren't friends, but if you need me to punch somebody out, you know I can and will," the voice you used to grimace at called to you from a metre or so away.

Spinning on your heels, you saw Cassian before you, illuminated by the moonlight so that you could see his unbound hair and muscular chest that peeked out from his undone shirt, "Thanks, but I'm good," you sniffled softly, grabbing your flute and finishing off the sparkling liquid inside of it before placing it back onto the stone ledge.

Cassian frowned at you, his eyes roamed over your face and figure, smiling in approval at your bright eyes and tan skin, and the masterfully tailored dress and accessories you adorned. There was something soft about you.

"It's good to see you, Cassian. You look happy," the admission tugged sadly at that ball of bliss inside of you, the ball that had been enriched and glowed like starlight.

He approached you, stepping out into the night and understanding why you had blindly led yourself there, he had followed you, noticing how you weren't paying much attention to where you were going and simply allowing your feet to carry you there.

"I could be better," he expressed, taking another step closer to you and finding nothing untoward in your expression, no anger, no distaste, nothing but warmth, "It's weird seeing you not being mad with me."

A gentle laugh pushed through you, it crinkled at the corner of your eyes, "If it means anything, I don't think I was ever really mad at you."

"Yeah?" Cassian coaxed, wanting more of an answer from you.

The lanterns scattered light over the side of your body, the small speck of glitter in your jasmine body oil shimmering softly, "I think I was jealous of you if anything," you had turned away from him and propped your elbows up on the stone platform, staring up at the stars longingly, "You're a true Illyrian and I'm not, not since I lost them," your shoulders rolled, and Cassian saw the faint crescent moon scars ripple at the movement, "I think I saw you as reckless, you were making so many stupid moves that could end up with you being hurt or losing your own wings," you flinched at the thought, "I'm sorry."

"I get it," he told you, mirroring your stance and looking upward at the sky which held nothing on Velaris, "I think I'd be the same if I were in your shoes."

Cassian on some level had always known that you harboured some resentment toward them, for their privilege of not having to worry about having their wings clipped. It had broken them all when it had happened to you, that was the moment you'd turned cold toward him, causing more arguments than anything else.

"This court has changed me, I'm not that person anymore. I hope you know that."

Cassian grabbed your wrist as you moved to walk away, pulling you flush to his chest and tensing as his rough fingers ghosted over your cheek, "I never thought you were that person. I tried to fix it, you know, fix whatever I had done wrong. I was the one who made sure you always had enough strawberries in the house and made Feyre swear to take credit for it. I was the one who made sure your bathroom cabinet was always stocked full of bath oils and healing creams, not Mor. That gift three solstices ago you loved so much, the blanket made from the dresses of Selene and your mother, that was me too, not Az."

"But why? We hate each other?"

"I never hated you, the truth couldn't be more opposite," you could feel his heart beating through the silk of his shirt, through the satin on your dress, he grazed his fingers around the cuffs on your ears, "I love you actually, a lot, and I stupidly thought that if all the words I could get from you were teasing jabs then it would be enough, just to hear your voice."

"You love me?"

Cassian grinned, lowering himself and stopping only millimetres away from your lips, sparks of fire sparking between them, "Always have, Princess," when you didn't move away, he closed that gap between you and allowed the world to explode into a kaleidoscope of colour around your forms, you fisted into his shirts, pulling him closer, and his hands found the small of your back, leaning into you.

Panting, you pulled away, opening your eyes to find his hazel spheres pressing into you, his nose touching your own. You laughed, a laugh that send shivers of joy down his spine, "I can't believe we were in love all this time. I swore I would never become this trope."

Cassian chuckled, a rich a deep thing that made you yearn for him, he kissed you again, with more hunger than you had ever felt, "Who doesn't love a good cliché, my formiddable mate?"

Authors Note

I'm happy now x

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papiliotao · 2 years

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・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception.

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken. Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it wouldn't come as a shock if it turned out that his intentions were simply being misinterpreted.

One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you.

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks.

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

Sorry if there are mistakes. I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it :( Either way, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day/night!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#aether x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons

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winxanity-ii · 8 days

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TOUCH IT

ship: gojo x fem!empath!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v, fingering); overstimulation word count: 7.0k (omg, i forgot to post this; it was originally supposed to be 2-parts but i just let it all stay together 🥹long fic again, i promise kast time jajaja... ) A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★