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scara-writes · 1 month

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paramour

Yandere!Cheating Duke X Duchess! Reader X Yandere!Lover Servant

I just want to write a reader who has the same/more power as/to the yandere(s).

The setting is still in the fantasy/manhwa world, medivial, any setting as long it's not modern.

CW: two yandere, rivals, cheating, consent smut, infidelity.

I'm making the darling a little more forward(?), daring, more power or that can go against a yandere. Atleast, that's what the darling thinks. Also, this is not polished like my other stories.[ Forgive me, I'm not good with smuts! I also love y'all comments and your ask/request(will answer them soon!). The Yandere Emperor and Yandere Crown Prince son really outnumbered the yandere Omega. Y'all are crazy for that!]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Mistress." He murmured. His arms hadn't let go off your waist. It was the first thing your eyes landed on when the sunlight came in to greet a new day from the window balcony. You closed your eyes again to find your way back to sleep again.

Your hands went to trace his back full of scar last night from your nails. You hummed when he gave you a pepper kisses on your exposed skin.

"Morning." He gave you one last kiss on your lips before snuggling between your chest. His arms hadn't move around your waist since last night."Mmmh..morning..." You muttered looking away—eyes still close—from the sun when it kissed your face.

"Do you want me to call the maids to serve you breakfast?" His sweet voice lull to sleep more. You whispered no. Last night, this man gave you something akin to that of heaven, something your husband never gave you.

Last night, you made love with this man. The same man you rescued from the human trafficking, kidnapping commoner from the outskirts of the kingdom. Now, indebted by your kindness he devout himself to you with his life.

You groaned, feeling your body is aching all over. This goes not unnoticed by your lover."Did I hurt you to bad?" He asked. His earth orbs are gleaming with shine and now getting filled with tears. "I-I'm sorry, I was rough with you mistress." His voice full of regret and loathe on himself.

You opened your eyes, ruffling his curly brown hair before stroking it. Staring down at his eyes. "No. You did good." You smiled at him, cupping his face, before kissing him in the lips. He whimpered,deepening his into yours.

The intoxication of alcohol must have taken over you. Drowning yourself from alcohol after your husband didn't arrive on the scheduled date, you waited for him for a whole day to arrive. Alone in the gazebo, Everett was the one who went to your weeping figure. That was a month ago. Everett offered himself to shower you with his love. At first you feel reluctant about this, you will never be the type of person to use someone just so you can feel yourself happy. Everett didn't care about it whether you use him or not. He wanted to prove himself that you are worth to be love. This man made your heart flutter in a way that your husband once gave you before the marriage.

"I-I love what happened last night, my mistress." He whispered bashfully, his pretty swollen lower lip,you bitten hard last night, went to reach his eyes giving you a wide smile. The sun kissed his tan face adding a charming look. His neck has full of bites and bruises from you. His cheeks become a little darker shade from blushing, he must have reminisced something last night.

Now, you made him your lover. Though not completely in love with Everett. You also shower him with items or materials that most commoners would love to have but it doesn't seem like this man is materialistic. He just wants you.

You didn't hide Everett to your husband.

What's the use of hiding your fling to Theodore when he was the first one to cheat on this marriage?

Despite being loyal to that man you loved. He had the audacity to tell you that you shouldn't pry on his private his life after you confronted him with a newly hired maid going out. "Our marriage contract states that the two parties should not meddle one another's private life else this contract shall be annuled."

So all of his flexing his love for you was nothing but a hoax? A show? A lure for you to agree to marry him?

Though, your marriage with him was for the politcial marriage. You once fell in love with Theodore. The same man who gave you flowers everytime you two date, the same man who kissed in your cheeks after he walk you home, the same man who always writes poems about his devotion to you. Did he pursuade you to continue this marriage by making you love him so that the two duchy became one? It may seem like you wanted this marriage at first. You didn't, your family wanted it and they have asked you—no annoyingly, they plead you to marry him, because your parents and his parents signed a contract that their children will reunite the two duchy.

"Your ladyship, the duke asked for your audience to join him in the breakfast." Your butler from the other side of your room, outside the door, knocked and speaks after. You frown upon hearing it, looking at the closed door, what does he want?

You feel strange about your husband nowadays. He had been asking for your presence this past few days. Never once he called for you after your wedding with him.

You clicked your tongue and turn to look at your lover. You saw Everett's face was frowning too. "Fine, tell him I'll be there." You announced to the butler. You look back at the man leaning his weight on you. You tap the curly haired lover to let you go from his hold yet he didn't budge after moving yourself to sit up instead you heard yourself going 'oomfh!' and find your lips were on his again. You groaned while he moaned weakly. He pushed you down on the bed, his lips never leaving yours until you were out of breath. A string of saliva trailed between your mouths. Everett was smiling before diving his lips into your skin, to one of your chest, fondling the other. You feel a little ticklish and panting at his stimulation. "Eve—! Wait! Ah..." Your voices went unheard, The male's mewling sucking on to your flesh like thirsty man who hadn't had a drink.

Your hand went to tug his hair as you moaned out his name. "Shi—Eve... Oh! S-stop... Ah.."

His other hand goes to put one of legs above his back and parted the other leg, accessing himself between you even more."m-mistress!"

You groaned when you felt him grind between you. He looked at you with a pleading eyes, he look like he will cry again, the tears filling up yo the side from his eyes. "M-mistress." He whined his mouth was already in another mound. You feel his hardness between. "p-please? I'll be good! Please... huff..I'll make y-you feel good!"

Your eyes are hazy from the pleasure. "You want.. hah... it?" His eyes getting filled again with tears. You tug him by the hair not enough to hurt him. You landed your lips on his ears. Panting and breathless when you felt his hands is still fondling your body. "You got..ngh... to earn it, pretty boy." You murmurs made him whimpered. "You have to be my good boy... Are you my good boy?"

He nod, a tear fell down to his cheeks, he leaned down to your lips, murmuring, i-am-your-good-boys, thank-yous and I-love-yous.

The room filled with noises that could make anyone flustered and uncomfortable. You didn't realize from your high you are feeling that the butler is coughing uncomfortably behind the door excusing himself as he will inform the duke what you told him earlier.

You went down the stairs with a difficulty, aching between your thighs. You can't find any dress to cover the one hickey on your neck, Everett apologize and helped you cover it with a foundation but it failed horribly from covering seeing that the foundation wasn't blend well and you do not want your maids do it for you. Not when you found out that almost all of them had already been with your husband. You were planning to replace them sooner.

You stopped at the closed door leading to the dinning room. The butler from earlier straightened his posture, clearing his throat after he saw you. He announced your presence behind the door opening the door for you."My lord, your ladyship is here."

You walked in after thanking one of the male servant for pushing the seat for you once you sit across the lord of the household, your husband, the Duke.

The breakfast before you was served cold. If you have arrived earlier you could have eaten warm. You glance at your husband, surprised that his plate has not been finished and it looked like he didn't touched it. You noticed his eyes is trained on to you since you came in, yet his eyes isn't on you but to your neck and the way you walk earlier.

His grey eyes seemed to be narrowing, he scoffed. "You're late."

You glance away, picking one of the utensil, stabbing the meat, landing it to your mouth chewing it. You gulped it down before taking another bite. The marinated pork seems to be delicious even if the breakfast a little no warm.

"It seems you are enjoying with your toy a little too much." He added, there was anger rising beneath his voice.

Oh, the egg is a little bland but it is still edible nonetheless.

"There are more new reports about your speculated infidelity to the public. Do you know that?"

You looked at him after eating the last piece of the sunny side egg, smiling: finally acknowledging his presence."Yeah, what about it? It's not like it will ruin our marriage. After all, you had a numerous of headlines about your 'rumored' infidelity too. Did our contractwas nulled after that? It didn't right?"

"(Y/n)."

"Yes, husband?"

His eyes widened a little before going back on giving you death gaze. "Kick that slave away. I don't like him." He demanded. Though he wasn't shouting. You frowned, how dare he?

"Why would I? It's my decision whether I choose to throw him out or not."

"I do not want him near my property." He complained, gritting his teeth at the last word.

"This is my property as well!" You sternly answered back. Not leaving another room for an argument.

There was silence between the room.

"... I... don't want him near you." You heard him. You blinked at the sudden word that blurted in his mouth.

You scoff standing up, "I think I should finish my meal somewhere..." You starts walking back to where you enter the room.

"(Y/n)." Theodore called you. You didn't observe the way his eyes longed for you. You were focus on the anger within you. "Are we forgetting something, Theodore?" You questioned.

He pondered, those orb you used to love held a confusion.

"Meddling into your partner's private life will annul this marriage... Wasn't that written in our contract?" You bitterly told him. "Sounds familiar right? Do not dare demand me to throw away Everett." You added.

Finally waiting for this moment for this to happen. Guess he will get to taste his own medicine.

"... As long as we do our part in this household we will act as husband and wife. Is not that what you told me?"

"..."

"Now then, I will excuse myself. I have no longer desire to finish my breakfast here." With that, you leave him there.

When you reach the door, opening it, you were surprise to see Everett waiting outside. "What are you doing here?" You asked him. Your frowned face was replaced with a confusion look before giving him a small smile. The man infront of you return your smile with a small grin, placing one of his arm on your waist."W-well, I feel bored and alone in my own room. So I found myself waiting here w-with the butler. Besides I saw you walking wobbly earlier and I-I am concerned that you might have even more difficulty walking... So f-forgive me for not staying put." The look concern on his face adding the pout from his lips made him look cute.

"What are you a puppy?"You poke his nose giggling as you walk away with him, your eyes went back to talk to the butler. Telling him you want to continue your breakfast at your garden, asking him to make it for a two people. The butler bowing to your order before going to the kitchen area to order the maid.

Your husband on the other hand, loath with rage and jealousy mixing under his eyes. His eyes narrowed especially when the slave you brought in leaned on top of your head kissing at the crown part of your head, leaning to your ear to whisper something akin to sweet talks. The arm around your waist went to rub your back.

If only you glance again on Everett's face. You would have caught him giving your husband a smug smirk.

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ddsmallz · 1 year

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i am, unfortunately, having a very straight start to pride month. and i am feeling UNWELL bc of it

#i am not pleased that i have feelings for one of my guy friends #who used to have feelings for me #but doesn’t anymore #bc i told him not to LMAO #i feel like if we ever do get together it’s going to be like tiva but without all the ninja assassins #just a miserable slow burn #it’s giving #when ziva realized she loved tony #but he was heart broken over jean #like pls #make this stop #i wanted to text him when i was drunk last night #wish supergirl could fling me into the sun #personal #ddsmallz

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

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those three words

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, descriptions of reader being short and curvy, like 3 uses of the word kid?, they say i love you for the first time <3, established relationship, protective!rafe, kinda drug dealer rafe but really barry just makes a ~scary~ appearance

“rafe-” your eyes widen as you take in the scary looking man standing in front of you, heavy footsteps making their way in your direction.

“it's alright, kid.” rafe moves effortlessly in front of you, blocking your entire body out as you grip onto the back of his shirt.

“who's that you're hiding?” the man asks. you peek around rafes tall frame to blink at the stranger.

“she's mine.” rafe simply grunts out, and the feeling of confusion and fear is replaced by pure flattery as your cheeks blush red.

“she's a cute little thing, huh?” he smirks at you, gold tooth catching the sun as you quickly duck back behind rafe.

“yeah, she's my cute little thing.” rafe turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently pushing you towards the sliding glass doors. “and she's going inside right now.” his tone is soft, but still commanding.

you glance once between rafe and the man before gulping and rushing inside up the stairs to rafes bedroom, locking yourself inside and even crawling under the covers like the warm material could keep you safe.

you wait patiently, silently as you listen, letting out a sigh of relief when the footsteps you hear making their way up the stairs are clearly rafes, not the stranger with the heavy gait.

“who was that?” you ask as you open the door, rafe pressing you back inside, easily flipping the lock behind his back to trap you back in his room.

“nothing for you to worry about, doll.” rafe smirks at you before his lip drops when you let out a frustrated huff. “come here.”

rafe moves to the bed, pulling you onto his lap, caging you against his body with his thickly muscled arms.

“shit like that is for me to deal with. you don't need to be stressing your pretty little head, okay?” rafe says slowly. you nod back even slower.

“what are you here for, huh?” rafe taps your nose, getting you to refocus on him, seeing your mind already starting to drift elsewhere. “tell me baby.”

“im here to look cute…” you glance down at your fingernails, painted a light shade of pink. “and make you happy…” your cheeks flush red at the next part. “and make you feel good.”

“exactly.” rafe nods. “so when barry comes around, you come in here and wait for me to get back, okay?”

you nod more enthusiastically this time, the worry and anxiety floating away. rafe is there for you, he'll always be there for you, to protect you. you just need to clear your mind and let him.

“so you gonna make me feel good now?” rafe ducks his head to bring it closer to your face. he towers over you, your tiny stature is part of what made rafe attracted to you. graced with beautiful mature curves but short legs and torso which made you pewny next to his massive height.

“course.” a smile stretches across your plump cheeks.

“get naked for me then.”

you slide off of rafes lap, feet padding softly against the rug he bought just because your bare feet got cold against the wooden floor.

you start with your tanktop, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth are you slowly lower it until you fling it away, cupping your hands around your bra, the light pink matching everything, just as rafe likes it.

you reach behind your back to undo the bra next, pulling the straps down teasingly slow before letting the cups fall away to the floor.

“god.” rafe groans out, unashamed as he grips his cock through his pants. “i like the show, baby, but i need you right now.”

despite his size, rafe moves quickly and smoothly, grabbing your waist and pushing you towards the bed, flopping onto your stomach.

before you can even adjust, rafe is pulling you by your hips towards the edge so your feet are hips are at the side of the bed, legs hanging down.

rafe loves how easily he can manhandle you, make you his little fuck toy as his hands push your skirt up, revealing a tiny thong that is quickly ripped away.

rafe watches as you spread your legs while he undoes his jeans, your pussy already gleaming with wetness as you bare yourself for him.

“that's my girl.” rafe smirks, grasping his freed cock and running it through your folds, feeling the way it soaks his head before he taps it against your entrance, once, twice, and then a final third time before pushing forward, burying his cock inside of you with a groan.

“oh, fuck.” you squeal out, rafe not giving you even a moment to adjust. he wouldn't need to wait for his hand or a fleshlight, so he doesn't wait for you either, instantly setting a rapid pace, his cock squelching into your wetness with every thrust.

“god, so tight. so tight and-” rafe let's out a low moan. “and fucking tiny.”

rafe grips your hips, lifting your entire ass off the bed, your flowy skirt falling even more down your back as he holds you up with ease, smiling to himself as his muscles bulge, knowing this is undoubtedly what will be on his mind next time he works out.

rafe pulls your hips back with every thrust to meet his as your arms scramble to support yourself, but no need as you ultimately resign to your fate, bare cheast pushing against the bed as rafe fucks you, ass in the air.

“god, so good for me baby.” rafe groans out. you're not doing anything other than staying still for him, but you still glow at the praise, clenching your cunt around his cock every time he pulls out.

“jesus, you don't want me out do ya kid?” rafe chuckles, having to work to get his cock out just to slam back in.

“love your cock.” you manage to say. “‘ts perfect.”

“aww, baby.” rafe coos out. “it's your pussy that's perfect for me.”

rafe thrusts harder as if trying to prove his point. you feel his cock swell inside of you and know it's moments before your cunt gets flooded. you relax when the warm cum fills you as rafe moans, fingers squeezing your hips so tight you're sure to bruise as he holds you down on his cock until it's done pumping.

“fuck.” rafe groans, pulling out as you clench your pussy, trying to not let the cum escape, loving the feeling of being filled up with rafe.

“come on, turn over kid.” rafe taps your hip as you flip onto your back, giggling as rafe falls with a bounce onto the bed next to you, pulling you in for a kiss.

“see, kid. that was exactly what i needed.” you can already tell the shift in energy from rafe, the way he's more relaxed now, face not hard set with stress.

the words escape your lips before you can help it. “i love you.”

your eyes widen once you realize what you just admitted, causing rafe to laugh. you pull away, suddenly feeling awkward and exposed, only for rafe to tug you back close.

“relax, baby.” he says, running his thumb over your cheek. “i love you too.”

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seiwas · 8 months

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₊˚⊹。so this is what it means to be in love | gojo satoru

wc: 8.9k

summary: gojo finds out what it really means to be in love.

contains: f!reader in mind, friends to lovers (prev. slowburn), suggestive scenes, might be mature/mildly explicit? (i only mention ‘butt’ once though…), ‘being in love’ as a journey, almost like a falls in love first (you) vs. falls in love harder (gojo), they fight, they swear, character death/s mentioned, shibuya onwards spoilers, lots and lots and lots of love

a/n: this is better read after the other parts in the collection but can work as a stand alone too!, there’s a jump between this and tell me about love (show me how) so gojo would have developed a lot in the relationship since then!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave <- you are here + (extended scene) too good to be mine -> 3.5a. this feeling inside of me—

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!)

Gojo catches onto love slowly.

He takes the hand you leave open just for him, and closes the space between your palms, reducing infinity.

Maybe he’s felt it all this time without knowing; after all, love looks a lot less profound as friends in your early 20’s.

But being in it—being in love? That’s uncharted territory.

Gojo’s been to a lot of places, has travelled back and forth from point-to-point endlessly. He’s survived battles, a war, near-death, and cursed spirits reincarnate; he’s got eyes—two bright blue and an extra four hidden, ones that see beyond human comprehension. Unearthing this simple truth shouldn’t shake him, shouldn’t even faze him. If anything, he should have seen it coming—

Except, he doesn’t.

It sneaks up on him, bit by bit, until he finds that being in love means getting to experience you all over again, just differently.

It starts with the little things.

Gojo has known you for so long (a decade and a few years more), but has only recently begun to notice everything: how your baby hairs stick out in the humidity of summer, the way you purse your lips in thought before finally deciding on a drink to order. You play with your fingernails subconsciously, out of habit, the soft taps on your nail beds an accompaniment of anxious conversations you’ve had since you were 23.

He knows you always blink twice before focusing on him, and it’s a mystery whether this is a recent development or something he’s just never noticed, but if you’re trying to enchant him by the flutter of your eyelashes, he wants to let you know that it’s working—except, he knows that you aren’t, because you’re just like that: a daydream without even trying.

These aren’t new things; he’s sure he’s probably encountered them all before, but lately they’ve evolved into cute things, and there’s no hiding the slight curve of his lips every time he spots them.

The sun is beaming brighter this summer, the ocean a faraway blur from the beach towel you set up under the shade. Going to the beach is never your go-to when you think of an extremely hot afternoon, but Yuuji’s been eyeing a weekend getaway since sorcerer work’s lessened significantly.

‘It’s a good effort,’ Gojo convinces you, ‘to get everyone together again.’

And it is—you see it now: Yuuji and Megumi preparing to fling Yuuta into the water while Nobara and Maki race along the shoreline. Toge stays close to Panda but he watches fondly, eyes crinkling every now and then, happy.

When you blink, the image of them softens—a captured memory in the heat haze.

The only older ones here are you and Gojo; Shoko’s always disliked the stickiness of sunblock on her skin, and Ijichi’s new position has made him constantly busy. Somewhere in the distance, you can maybe envision Nanami. He wouldn’t come if you or Gojo asked, but if it were Yuuji—

You rub at your eye, resting your chin on your hand as you will your tear ducts to please, don’t cry.

Yuuji's been smiling a lot more lately, an observation you note from the way his ears are perked up every time you look his way. It’ll never be the same as it used to be but it’s relieving to know that he can exist living as himself now. Just Yuuji.

You hug your knees tighter to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. Your place under the coconut tree provides ample enough shade but your back still burns from Gojo haphazardly slathering sunscreen on it after hearing an ice cream stand from miles away.

The mind is a weird place to be at times like this—split into bittersweet reminiscing and telling yourself to just take this moment and breathe, to live in it. You think about Megumi, and how you hurt for him, always will, for all that he’s lost despite every attempt to avoid it.

You should have been there for Tsumiki, you could have been there for both of them.

Your guilt never leaves you even on days that shine as vividly as this, but perhaps that’s the silver lining—that they’re still with you, always. You can carry pieces of them to these places, and scatter them to the wind, to the sand, to the sea, and maybe to the ice cream stand Gojo’s waiting in line of, surrounded entirely by kids. They all rise to half his size, but if you squint, you think the bounce in his step makes him blend right in.

A chuckle escapes you.

You could sort through your memories and land on one where he looks just like this—freakishly large limbs towering over a tiny, excited Tsumiki. Back then, an ice cream stop after school consisted of your pseudo-family of four, with Megumi on your hand and Tsumiki on his leg, both gripping tightly to combat a chilly 10°C.

Things are different now, evidently. Megumi’s outgrown it, and Tsumiki is no longer here. But Gojo has stayed the same, and it’s comforting to know that he will continue to be this Satoru, your Satoru, even when some things are gone.

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until he waves the ice cream cone while walking towards you.

Gojo is a sight in trunks the color of his eyes, with seahorses and starfishes in an alternating pattern of peachy-pink against cerulean blue.

You could have sworn you asked for your own cone, but he plops down beside you holding only one. For the both of you. The side-eye you give him is almost criminal, if not deadly, but your lips twitch from the smile you’re hiding (terribly).

He raises an eyebrow and you break character, shaking your head while laughing.

“Did you eat the other one on the way here?” you tease, craning your neck to lick at the bottom scoop (vanilla-strawberry-vanilla, Gojo’s signature order).

Your tongue lands dangerously close to his fingers, and he feels it, but his eyes only land on you—your lips, how they part for your tongue to glide smoothly on his–both of your–dessert. You look every bit of an angel in the soft, pale hues of your bikini, but Gojo’s thoughts are anything but saintly.

He blushes furiously, the tips of his ears and nose bright red as he turns away from you quickly.

“I’m fulfilling your dream of sharing an ice cream cone with me.” he tilts his chin up, proud, smirking slightly. He jokes about it knowing full well that this is his dream come true, just by the look of you.

You stay quiet, rolling your eyes but never meanly, no. You only ever do it fondly—he knows, being on the receiving end of it one too many times.

The beach towel scrunches when you scoot closer, looping your arm around his as you both rest your elbows on your knees. Gojo holds the cone between you two, tipping it towards you when it’s your turn to lick.

He shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t hyperfixate, but it’s so cute how you get the tiniest bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose—as if it belongs there, soft and sweet just like the rest of you.

You look up to find Gojo gazing at you, eyes glimmering like sunlight on the ocean, and a tiny smile that only widens when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, scrunching your nose in an effort to stop yourself from grinning.

When Gojo looks at you this way, as if you are his favorite place rediscovered, your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage.

“What…” you drawl, your smile impossible to hide in the lilt of your voice.

Gojo thinks he can count every eyelash, every speck of sand dotting your face, and stil not be bored of you. He can’t stop beaming.

Is this what it means to be in love with you?

“Nothing.” he replies, almost giggling, a little bashful but with every inch of sincerity. You know that smile, the only one that holds every ounce of Satoru. Gojo smiles big and wide to everyone else, but this small one you know, is reserved just for you.

He leans in, lips coming closer to brush against the tip of your nose. Your eyes fall shut, instinctively, and the pink dot is wiped clean, a hint of strawberry dancing on his palate. He’s done this more times than he can count, has gotten this near to know that close will never be close enough, but you still jolt a bit—PDA has never been your thing.

When he pulls away, you continue to stare at each other, locked in a gaze until the ice cream begins to drip down his fingers and onto the beach towel. It misses his trunks by a hair and you both laugh at how he belatedly tries to escape it even though it’s already there.

It’s indescribable, this moment, seeing you in slow motion, laughing as bright as the sun—the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. It takes every bit of him to look away so he can wipe his hands clean from the dripping dessert.

You hand him a packet of wipes and beckon him to sit in front of you after. Squeezed onto the palm of your hand is a copious amount of sunscreen you plan to slather all over him. A touch-up, if you will.

Gojo has sensitive skin, pale as bond paper and burns just as quickly. The high points of his face are already reddening, warm to the touch when you dab at them with sunscreen.

You’re so near, so close, sitting cross-legged in front of him with your knees touching his. The tip of your tongue sticks out just slightly as you focus on his skin.

Even though he knows, he still wonders what your lips would taste like, SPF chapstick and crumbly bits from the wafer cone. He wonders what your eyelashes would feel like, fluttering over his own.

The light casts a halo around you and he thinks it’s fitting for all that you do. You pamper him like this, slather love all over his chest and back, massage it in so it dissolves into him—and he feels it so deep that he tastes it.

How can your love be so sweet? He thinks, sighing as your fingers work sunscreen up his neck from his collarbone. You always apply his skincare like this: upwards, gently—‘no tugging, please!’—something about keeping his baby face even when he’s old.

“You should join them,” you mumble, rubbing more product onto the nape of his neck. You’re leaning over his shoulder, neck brushed against his cheek.

Gojo hums, watching everyone from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this.

“But maybe after 30 minutes, so the sunblock doesn’t wash off. You’re already burning.” you note, coming back to sit.

Of course, he’s already burning. How can he not when the sun is right in front of him?

You join everyone for a game of beach volleyball in the sunset of the afternoon. You’re transported back to high school, the last time you did this—you and Satoru against Shoko and Suguru, with Haibara keeping score.

From the way Gojo’s eyes are glossed over, you can tell he’s thinking about it too, the memory having seared itself into your brains forever, it seems.

Being paired together should feel familiar—the same, but it doesn’t—isn’t, because Gojo can’t concentrate, sneaking glances to notice all the little things about you that he never used to. Your skin shines from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and when you crash into him it’s both sticky and slippery. He should really ask for a time-out before you blind him completely.

You look unfairly good in your bikini, too good he can barely hear you calling for him; between the ocean and his blood rushing, any other sound is drowned out into nothing.

Maki and Yuuji absolutely demolish the both of you, reaching 15 first in the final set. Gojo blames the loss on you of course, even though he’s missed every pass you’ve sent his way and netted 60% of his spikes.

And maybe it technically is your fault—you and your (very distracting) little things. But it’s entirely on him that he’s fallen for it, fallen for you as much as this.

Gojo thinks of love differently when he sees a picture of himself and all it does is remind him of you.

There’s a photo tucked safely in his wallet (saved and set as his homescreen too). Shoko snorts when she walks in on him printing it, all six-foot-three of him hunched over the small inkjet printer in the faculty room.

“It’s all digital now, Satoru,” she scoffs, taking a puff on her cigarette.

Gojo doesn’t say anything even though he knows it’s true, too focused on watching the printer push out the two-by-three inch image he’s about to cut into.

Print photos aren’t as important anymore when cloud storage spaces are just as–if not more–accessible, but Gojo is admittedly sentimental despite every front he puts up to hide it.

He’s kept every single gift you’ve given him and camouflaged it as decoration in his office, and the family drawing 10-year-old Tsumiki made is still folded between the pages of a self-help book Yaga had given him when he first decided to teach.

When every moment is experienced so vividly, seen through a muddle of infinite energies, there are those he wishes could stay still—ones that take up space to remind him: ‘this is real, it happened, and here is proof that it did’.

He already has one of all of you, fresh-faced and barely pushing the peaks of youth at 16. A tangle of arms wrapped around each other—one of his gripping tightly on Suguru, and the other hanging loosely over you. Utahime is crouched in front, holding the hand you’ve placed on her shoulder while pulling Shoko into a semi-squish-semi-hug (because out of the four of you, Shoko is her favorite—completely valid; if given the choice, she’d be your favorite too). Nanami and Haibara stay close to Suguru, squatting low to balance the photo, and Haibara is smiling, the ever cheery grin Suguru loves to dote on, while Nanami is Nanami—sharp features and a serious gaze that you all know he’ll grow into someday, handsome with age.

For the longest time, Gojo has kept that photo hidden, locked away in the drawer of his bedside table as if keeping it there means the memory will stay guarded forever—untouched, unspoiled, unruined.

It would have stayed there if you didn’t stumble upon it while looking for his painkillers during another one of his skull-crushing migraines.

You approach him with the image hesitantly, eyes damp and glossy. Years have faded the colors ever so slightly, but the corners remain crisp from being stowed away neatly. You say sorry, that you shouldn’t have looked through his things, but you remember the moment it was taken so fondly: a visit to the Kyoto campus on a one-day break to train with other students.

Gojo has many theories about time and the multitude of spaces it takes—like how a person can exist at different points in time, disparate at each instance, and still take up the same big chunk of space. The opposite can be true too, that someone can live finitely (just once) and occupy spaces in every place you look: the face of a passerby down the road, a sign at the corner of the street, or even a photograph that immortalizes people you once knew.

He only shares when you ask, aware that he tends to be a bit of a nerd about it whenever it’s brought up, but you don't mind. You like listening to it all, no matter how insightful or confusing they are for you to make sense—a version of him not many get to witness. His explanations are comprehensible for the most part, except—

When Gojo tells you that he’s kept the image in his drawer, hidden, because exposing it to the space-time that exists now will erase every reminder that it ever happened, you hug him tightly.

Your sniffles are heard from the way his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your fingers gripping strands of his hair in empathy.

He considers your near-tears as a sign that the memory is long gone, decayed into the brittling tragedy of reality. But you smile, the corners of your lips bittersweet as you express disbelief that he’s kept it all this time.

You tell him delicately that some precious things are meant to be celebrated, put out to be remembered—to be experienced.

And it becomes clearer to him then, by the look in your eyes and remembrance soft-spoken, that what good is a photo unseen?

What good is a love unwitnessed?

When you gift him a frame a year after finding the photo, he hangs it by the wall next to his office door. The image is painful to look at, always has been (even when it was hidden in his drawer)—during Suguru’s defection, and death anniversaries especially.

The recent one for Nanami was heavy; the first time he’s ever been able to process grief fully.

Gojo can argue that it grows more difficult every time he catches a glimpse of it from his desk, but you have a way of honoring pain that doesn’t make it sting as bad—that turns it into a reminder of a love that was once there, of feelings that hurt as evidence that someone cared.

Now, he wants another photo printed, one of just the two of you. Not because it hurts, but because he wants this precious thing to be remembered and seen—for this love to be witnessed too.

It’s self-timered, snapped under the shade of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The picture is far from perfect: your eyes bright and mouth open mid-fear of his phone falling off the bridge railing.

You may look a teensy bit funny, but Gojo will always find it cute. Anyone can see it, at how he looks at you in that moment—like you are every bit worthy of the distance travelled and seasons waited. He gazes at you fondly, eyes holding clear skies and pink lips curling into a small smile.

It’s cheesy, but if you ask him what he thinks about this year’s flowers, he’ll tell you none of them (not even any of them combined) could compare to you. The cherry blossoms could be gone and he’d still see them everywhere (in the softness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks, the radiance you emit when you are truly, solely content and happy).

He remembers that afternoon well: the spring breeze that jolts his phone sideways, his hand resting on your lower back, unseen in the image. There’s no real reason for visiting the blossoms on this day of all days, but Gojo doesn’t believe in coincidences, and he’s counted down exactly to a year since you both had your first kiss.

It’s so silly, because he’s never thought of things like this before. He knows you probably don’t think much of it either considering that neither of you have made anything official yet since.

And he feels a little stupid for that, honestly.

You have a drawer of his clothes for the nights he stays over (more often than not), and even though you go on these little trips that are so obviously dates, you both still just tell everyone you’re ‘hanging out’.

He’s not fooling anyone here, not when he looks at you then with the feeling of his chest expanding, stretching to accommodate the overflows of his affection since learning the ways to love you—tenderness caught in little pixels of eternity.

When Gojo goes through all 179 photos from that afternoon, he filters out the ones to delete and picks this one out especially—favorites and resizes it to fit his home screen and his wallet too.

There’s something about the look on his face that reminds him of every time he’s caught the same one on you.

He slides the photo into the little sleeve behind his credit card, catching himself smiling—this must be because of you, he thinks, and the bits and pieces of yourself that have somehow become part of him slowly, sneaking into him unknowingly.

If this is what it means to be in love, with you, then he’s fucked.

Don’t you know that he’s insatiable? These traces of you will only make him want the whole of you.

You find the photo while he rushes to the restaurant restroom. On ‘hang out’s like this, you insist on splitting the bill, but Gojo has always been stubborn and you’ve learned that you can never argue.

He hands you his wallet to pay with his card, and when you slide it out, the photo falls. It’s face down on the floor when you pick it up, fully expecting it to be a photocard of some idol you know Gojo follows.

But it isn’t, and your smile widens.

When Gojo comes back, you’re looking up at him affectionately, biting your lips as if to stop yourself from speaking—the same way he always does.

It’s funny because, slotted between your two fingers is the photo he’s kind of flustered you found, but he has no time to be embarrassed when he sees a little bit of himself in the way you’re staring at him right now.

“So, Yuuji asked if we were together.”

You quirk an eyebrow, looking up at Gojo from the pile of laundry you’ve begun folding on your bed. He emerges from the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel.

Over the past year, Gojo has spent his weekends off with you, sleeping over and traipsing around your room in his pajama set as if he’s lived here just as long as you.

You snort as you fold, amused that this is even a question to begin with. Yuuji’s always been known for being exceptionally dense, but you didn’t think it was this bad. Gojo was especially touchy with you during that beach trip, and you’re sure Megumi and Nobara have caught up to let him know by now, somehow.

“What made him ask?”

“I think he wants to take you away.” Gojo teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he throws the towel on the chair across your vanity.

You roll your eyes, still sweetly, indulging him, “Sure.”

It’s now a running joke that Gojo’s threatened about Yuuji stealing you; you’ve always had a soft spot for bright eyes and even brighter souls and Yuuji is as close to that as anyone can get.

It’s not like that though, it could never be; Yuuji is just like your Megumi—the two boys you want to protect and care for in hopes of treating them better than their lives have ever.

Gojo feels the same, you know, otherwise he wouldn’t have guided them as much as he has (despite his... questionable ways). Still, your hands have always been gentler, kinder—and though shorter, have always outstretched much farther than his.

You have a way of inching yourself into people’s lives that just fits. He’s experienced it first-hand, can’t even dare to imagine what his life would be like if you didn’t.

He walks across the room to you, bed dipping as he steadies a knee before draping his entire body over your shoulders.

Now that you think about it, it makes sense that Yuuji’s confused, because Gojo has always been extremely touchy to everyone, just never when the feelings mattered, with you. Kiss him once, though, and it snowballs into an avalanche of firsts. And what he’s about to do right now, he thinks, might just trigger another one to form all together.

“As if I’d let him.” he mumbles right by your ear, chin tucked by the crook of your neck. It tickles when he speaks, his nose poking at your cheeks.

“Who put you in charge?” you scoff jokingly, unfazed.

He moves away from you in disbelief, mouth open as he stares at you mindlessly folding.

To be fair, he can’t fault you. You aren’t technically official even though you have kind-of-been for a little over a year. There’s no particular reason, just that you haven’t talked about it—part because you wanted him to approach it whenever he was ready, and also, because it just never seemed like a priority.

You laugh as he stares at you, stunned into silence, the pout on his face borrowed from all the versions of yours.

There’s no point of contention because you’ve only ever loved Gojo since you were 17.

“Kidding,” you kiss his cheek as an apology.

“Don’t even joke about that.” he huffs, you’re starting to take after him a little too much.

“You’re mine.” he murmurs after, arms wrapped around your waist and legs stretched out wide to encase you.

He says it as if it is the simplest truth.

Your heartbeat quickens, too loud and pounding; this is the first time you’ve ever heard this from him, and a part of you thinks this is just another one of those flirty side-comments he makes on a whim.

“You tell him that?” you hope he can’t hear your voice shake as he nuzzles your neck, your fingers trembling on the pair of socks you have yet to roll.

He hums, hugging you tighter. He waits for you to finish folding before letting you lean against him, offering his fingers for you to fiddle with. They’re cold, long and slender, veiny just by a bit, and he always gives them to you like they’re yours, you like to think.

There’s an inhale, a breath of hesitation, before he exhales.

“Something like it.”

You don’t say anything, only nod, and it’s nerve-wracking. He’s so nervous even though he knows he doesn’t have to be because it’s just you. And there’s no need to doubt what you’re feeling. But—

“You are though,” he pauses, “right?”

He has to be sure. This is a testament to you more than himself that he’s learned to ask instead of bulldozing you like he does with everyone else. Who else will he pick that up from but you?

There’s hesitation you hear that you think shouldn’t be there anymore; the fact that you’ve given so much of yourself to this man and he still thinks you’re unsure—

“‘Cause I’m yours.” he speaks, clearly, definitively, before you can even answer. And you know—you’ve known ever since that party years ago. A simple admittance: ‘I’m taken’.

You turn around to face him, eyes shimmering.

Can he see? You’re meant for him only.

All you’ve ever wanted was to love him; everything else he’s done up until this point is already more than you could ever imagine. The labels can only do so much to capture the gravity of what you are to one another: years of history unpacked into a mishmash of feelings overlapping—it’s a lot.

You sit cross legged in front of him, your knees touching his. He’s biting his lips again, an anxious habit you want to kiss away.

Gojo has proven far too much of himself already that he’s serious with you—your kind-of-confession, that confrontation, and the days after, all the ways you’ve both learned to love each other.

You cup his cheeks.

A single word cannot possibly define what he is to you.

“I mean, o-only if you want me to be.” he adds on, blue eyes darting back and forth.

Gojo runs his mouth almost all the time and you’ve never heard him stutter once in his life. Except now.

He’s endearing like this—a version of him you are slowly discovering.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” you finally say, and it’s a relief.

He feels good, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pull you closer, hugging you tighter as you both smile.

He kisses you once, twice, maybe a million times all over, travelling across your eyelids, the center of your forehead, down to the corners of your mouth before landing a real one right on your lips.

Gojo always looks pretty but he looks prettiest like this, worry-free, with love in his eyes and nothing but pure happiness in the way he holds you.

He won’t tell you that Yuuji asked about your anniversary, not if you were together.

At least now he has an answer.

Gojo stares at you like he wants to say something, a thank you maybe, but he bites his lips instead. No words will ever amount to this feeling, he thinks, of his chest expanding and heart hammering. So he kisses you with all of it, trailing soft smacks of his lips down your neck, tickling. The tips of his hair are still wet from his shower, leaving droplets on your skin as he nips.

You laugh—sprinkled in love.

“S-stop!” you push him away, “Satoru,” giggling, “tickles!”

“We have to consummate it now.” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to place you on his lap, squeezing your sides while nibbling at your neck playfully.

You roll your eyes at his antics, “It’s not–” you laugh out loud when he pinches your hips, “–marriage, Satoru.”

Oh, if only you knew, he thinks.

The image you’ve planted in his head is dangerous when he’s this drunk on love right now.

More decades, more years spent with you? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if time permits, he wouldn’t mind making that come true.

It’s crazy how much things can change—for all his life, he’s ruled out the possibility of love ever taking root in his ribcage.

You’ve managed to make it feel so easy, so good, even when he was shit-terrified not knowing how to love you like he should.

Now, he thinks, how could he ever miss out on love this way? A love this good, with you?

For all of Gojo’s life, he’s never had to be anyone else—always the strongest, the only one. He’s never had to change anything about himself, because what’s there to improve when you’re already the best?

In a way, this is why it works with you. You’ve taken him as he is, all the good and ugly and never asked for anything more than what he can give.

But being this in love with you—it’s foreign. There are pieces within him shifting, all on their own without him knowing.

How he wants to be better, for you. To be good enough to deserve all of it, and give back more of it too.

Gojo doesn’t realize how much love has changed him until he feels it uprooting every insecurity he never even knew existed, pulling it all up to the surface.

When things are going great, it’s hard to imagine them ever going the other way.

“You don’t mean that.” you mumble, voice trembling.

Gojo stares at you, at your lips quivering and the fists clenched to your sides. There are tears collecting in pools by your eyes, and if there’s anything else he hates in this world, it’s seeing you cry.

So why?

Why couldn’t he just shut up?

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” you take a step closer, gripping the edge of his jacket, “Satoru.” your voice cracks, begging.

It’s an out-of-body experience when Gojo registers that he’s fucked up, and he sees himself now, bird’s-eye-view, and thinks this is the worst thing he could do to you after all you’ve been through.

“I need some time to think,” he says, finally, the only words coming out of his mouth—but he can’t hear himself speaking.

He should have said sorry, taken it all back, he thinks, not make it worse by leaving.

He heads for the door, heart crunching under each footstep away from you.

Is this what being in love’s supposed to do? Break his heart while yours is bleeding?

You’re too good for Gojo, in every sense of the word—and he knows it.

You are far too kind, far too generous, far too patient with him. You give him more love than he deserves, definitely, and admittedly enough, with how he is, you have been settling for the bare minimum but that’s on him, not on you.

He had no right speaking to you the way he did, hurting you with accusations born from insecurities he’s never before had to deal with.

He knows it.

Who accuses you of ‘meddling’ as if everything out of you doesn’t come from the goodness of your heart? Of provoking you with ‘chasing the bare minimum’ as if he isn’t aware that that’s all he’s given you to work with?

Utahime was right in telling you to be careful with him, and he doesn’t blame her for it. He would have done the same.

He should have told you there was something brewing inside of him already—should have talked to you instead of bursting from all the things people have been saying lately.

Gojo hasn’t spoken to you in three days and the feeling this compares to is worse than anything else he’s ever had to face.

He knocks on your door at night, a little past dinner and too early for bedtime. They echo loudly within the walls of your apartment, and you drag yourself up despite your obvious look of heartbreak.

Gojo hears your footsteps and everything moves entirely too slowly; the lock, taking far too long to turn, the gap between the door and the door frame widening incrementally. Even your face comes into view as if in stop motion, frame-by-frame, gradually.

His hands are in his pockets, lips bitten to bleed. He’s pretty sure he isn’t breathing when he takes you in—puffy eyes and a sweater that belongs to him.

(Is it sick of him to say that he still finds you beautiful this way? Even when you look every bit the part of heartache?)

Gojo didn’t have a plan coming here, didn’t have a list of things to say, just the feeling that he needed to talk to you, see you, even just be around you today.

When your eyes meet, it’s quiet. You stare into him for one–two–three– (Can you tell that they’re watery? Can you see they’re puffed up too?) and then open the door wider to let him in. You head straight to the kitchen, never once looking back while dragging your feet.

He stands outside a few seconds more, waiting for you to take it back—but you don’t, so he walks in and closes the door.

He’s been in your apartment plenty of times before, has practically lived in it by how often he stays over. But this is the first time he’s felt wholly out of place, not knowing where to put himself, just standing in the space between your kitchen counter and the living room awkwardly.

You push a glass of water towards him and he can’t stop staring at it—at you, at your fingers that he wants nothing more now but to hold.

Even with all his faults, all his wrongs, you open your arms for him to walk into, allow him in as if he didn’t just hurt you.

And he wants to cry, at the fact that this place still feels like home, at how it’ll always feel that way wherever you go.

How are you still treating him so kindly? Still taking care of him? A glass of water is one too many for someone like him.

You turn away from him to pour yourself your own then he speaks—

“You should be angry with me.” Gojo says softly, but you hear it.

You pause, tilting the pitcher back upright.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” he says, a little louder this time, more desperate, more pleading.

Why are you never angry at me? he wants to ask.

You turn around to face him, putting the pitcher down.

Under your kitchen lights, his eyes shine like sunlight on the ocean, waves lapping on the shore. You think it might be a trick of the light, but his lips tremble when he closes them, as if he can’t speak any more.

It’s just as you’ve said, there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

You always give Gojo the benefit of the doubt, and though he’s hurt you—though this might be the most painful thing he’s told you yet, you know that he’s been under immense pressure lately. Stressed beyond belief from negotiating with the government on policies for jujutsu society.

It’s not an excuse, you know, but Gojo always has his reasons. He'll tell you eventually, you believe that much.

You give him a sad smile, struggling to stop your tears from spilling. His fists are clenched too tightly, nails digging in hard enough to bleed. He hasn’t moved since coming in, so you push yourself off the kitchen sink towards him.

You take his hands first, unfurl each finger pressed upon his palm and rub gently. He cries quietly for a love so pure that only you would attempt to ease his hurt despite the pain he’s dealt you.

You tiptoe second, pulling the sleeves of your (his) sweater before reaching up to wipe his eyes—beautiful and blue just like you’ve always known, droplets of the ocean at your fingertips.

“Be mad,” he whispers, “please.” squeezing his eyes tightly.

It hurts more when you aren’t, he thinks.

His hand comes up to grip your wrist, bringing it down to cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his skin, soothing, loving, and that’s all it takes for him to pull you in. He hugs you tight, arms wrapped around you, clutching.

He wouldn’t deserve you. In any life.

Gojo’s never cried this much before, head pressed to your neck as you rub circles along his back, shushing him softly. You start sniffling too, small at first until it turns into soft hiccups when you finally cry.

Your grip on him tightens.

“‘M sorry.” he mumbles, lips moving against your neck.

“‘S–” you hiccup, “–okay.”

“Stop saying that when it’s not,” he presses against you, nuzzling your neck, “I hurt you.”

“Then don’t–” another hiccup, “–call yourself–” hic, “–bare minimum.” you cry harder.

Gojo knows your heart and the tears that leak out of your eyes; he knows they hold pain for more than just yourself but every single person in your life. You, crying now, is evidence of that truth—shedding tears for him not just because of him when he thinks he’s the bare minimum.

This must be what it means to be truly, deeply loved, he thinks, to have someone know what you mean without even having to speak it—to know your heart, and all the good and bad parts of it.

“I don’t think I’m good enough to you,” he admits, pulling himself away from you.

When he sees your face, wet, with your nose and eyes puffed up from crying, he decides that he hates it more than anything else. Makes it sick to his stomach, even.

He cradles your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears. A whole hand of his could cover your face entirely, but he always, without fail, holds you delicately.

“That’s not–” hic, “–true.” you gather your breathing, holding him by the wrists as he presses his forehead against yours. “Only I get to decide that. Not anyone, not you.”

You kiss his lips, a small peck before nudging his nose with yours. You soothe each other this way—in the quiet, swaying to your own tune.

“You’re good to me plenty, Satoru.” you whisper, once both of you have settled.

He opens his eyes to look at you, smiling sadly as he cradles your face, “I didn’t mean it.”

Whatever he told you that day, taking it all out on you.

“I know.” you mumble, nodding.

You always do.

Gojo has always loved you, in some type of way—as friends, colleagues, a-little-bit-more-but-less-than what you are today.

But how he feels right now? It’s kind of ridiculous, borderline out-of-hand, and it’s driving him insane.

It’s such a simple, ordinary thing for you to do: you rush up to him, phone in hand and scroll to some video you found online. You’re so excited, a bounce in your step as if he’s the first and only person you want to show this to. Your eyes shine bright with a megawatt smile to match, and you’re talking so, so fast, completely lit up like fireworks in the making.

He knows you think that he’s listening but, he couldn’t care less about it honestly. Sorry. Not when the words go in one ear and out the other, because all that registers is how adorable you are, giddy and everything.

He makes a joke—completely unrelated, but you find it so funny. Then you’re laughing, full on smacking his arm, doubled over, arms hugging your stomach, guffawing. Your feet are kicking the air as you sink deeper into your couch. Gojo’s standing in front of you, post-enactment of some impression he made, and he’s frozen in place but warm all over.

Seeing you laugh like this, smile like this, being so pretty when you’re happy, the pounding in his chest goes crazy.

This isn’t the first time he’s made you laugh; he does it all the time. You almost always roll your eyes and chuckle, sometimes giggle with your eyes squinting and laugh lines creasing. But it might be the first time it’s like this: with you so bright, more than the sun and every other star in the sky.

And he thinks, this is all he could ever want—to make you happy for the rest of his life.

There’s too much of this feeling inside of him, clawing at his throat, itching to get out. He’s filled with it, has been filled with it for so long that it’s starting to overflow and if he doesn’t say this now he might just—

“I’m so in love with you.”

Gojo breathes it out, as if finally releasing it after all this time. You don’t think he processes it because he just stands there, in the middle of your living room, staring at you.

Your laughter dies with maybe a little part of you too (in a good way).

He looks so sweet, so sincere, and you see his heart, so big, so honest and pure. You get flashbacks of every Satoru you have ever known, at 15, 17, 23, to now.

It’s not like either of you don’t know; it’s plain as day, how you feel about each other—and you would have been fine going on without ever having to hear him speak of love this way.

But hearing it now, it’s far better than anything you could have imagined.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

He’s shocked too.

You don’t want to embarrass him, especially if he didn’t mean to say it, so you chuckle, moving on to break the quiet.

“I can unhear it if you want,” you offer shyly, genuinely.

Gojo looks at you, confused, before a pout makes its way onto his face. You sit up on your couch, playing with your fingers as you look up at him.

Sure, he practically blurted it out, maybe in the heat of the moment, or something, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s realizing that the only thing he really wants from this—

“Though…” you continue, biting your lips, “I think I’m pretty in love with you too.”

The little laugh you make has him, completely.

The grin that breaks on his face is infectious. Gojo, who is normally so pale, is now pink all over—red by his ears and down his neck. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that can be found in yours too.

This moment right here feels like first loves—teens first saying ‘I love you’.

“You think?” he asks incredulously, joking, “So you’re not sure?” he walks closer to you.

You laugh, candy for his cravings, and take his hand to kiss each knuckle before guiding it to your cheek. He runs a thumb across your skin, affection on his fingertips. His index finger hooks itself under your chin, tilting it to rest on his stomach as you look up at him.

A kiss to your forehead, tenderly, gently.

The best part about being in love?

He gets to be in it with you.

Gojo can’t sleep.

It’s not anything new—4 hours on average, maybe 6 on a good night. He doesn’t remember a time when sleep ever came easily.

Sleeping with you, beside you, has helped, but it’s never solved the problem. You’ve gotten him to a full 8 hours before, but never consecutively, and he’s starting to think that if you can’t do it, nothing ever will.

Your sleeping positions change every night, but they always come out as some variation of hugging. Gojo firmly believes that he might as well sleep alone if you aren’t touching.

Tonight, you’re spooning, arm slung over his waist and palm right on his chest, fingers interlaced with his. Your legs stay tangled together with soft puffs of air blowing at the back of his neck.

He opens his eyes and checks the clock by his bedside. 3:24 a.m.

He sighs deeply, carefully maneuvering his body to slip away from you. You used to wake up the first few times this happened, worried about an emergency or some kind of accident. Being a sorcerer trains you for things like that.

You’ve always known Gojo had bad sleep, just not the severity of it.

You don’t wake up to it as much as you used to, having grown accustomed to it after more nights together, but on the off-chance that you do, Gojo always kisses your forehead gently as if to tell you that it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.

You don’t wake up now, thankfully, so he grabs his phone and heads for the kitchen. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest tonight, far heavier than others he’s woken up from. He pours himself a glass of water before hopping on the kitchen counter, ready to sort through the bowl of candy sitting on the island.

The date today is October 31. Halloween. It’s been a few years since Shibuya but he still feels like he’s suffocating.

In the train station. In the box.

In front of Suguru—or Kenjaku, both, whatever.

He’s gone to therapy, just like you wanted, for the both of you, and grieving has been an interesting concept to wrap his head around since.

But no matter how much he trains his mind to deal with it, his body will always remember the feeling.

He snaps out of it when he hears your footsteps padding on the floorboards. Your figure emerges from the hallway, bed hair and eyes still sleepy, squinting.

“Satoru?” you rub at your eyes, his sleep shirt entirely too long as the sleeves extend past your fingertips. The extra fabric swings in the air. “You okay?” you whisper, approaching him.

Waking you up is the last thing he could ever want right now, but it’s hard when you’re also the only one he can talk about this with. When you know what it’s like to grieve everyone too.

He has every intention of brushing it off, of telling you to go to sleep, but one look at you—one look at him and it’s like you just know. He doesn’t even need to explain.

It isn’t hard to piece together, knowing what today is and seeing him choked up the way he is. You tell Gojo it’s your intuition, but he has a tell, and maybe you’re the only one who knows it.

His eyes—they’ve always given him away. There’s the Satoru you know, then a Satoru that’s far removed, gone away. You can spot it though, the moment it loses its sparkle, the moment it turns from blue to gray.

He feels a little selfish sharing this with you; he’s not the only one who’s lost people. You have too.

You stand in front of him and offer a sad smile, outstretching your arms as an invite, as if to tell him: you can stay here for as long as you’d like.

He moves into your space slowly, hopping off the kitchen island to slump against you.

He doesn’t hug you yet, not immediately, hands still shaky at the memory. You rub his back, hooking your chin on his shoulder as he bends down to rest his head by your cheek.

You take his hand delicately, bringing them to your lips so you can kiss every fingertip gently. When you finish, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper, like a hushed secret.

And he wants to, but also, there isn’t anything else to say that you don’t know already. You were there the first few times he had therapy, and when he felt comfortable enough to go alone, he told you all about it anyway right after.

If there’s a secret to fighting the Gojo Satoru with guaranteed victory, they’d only have to get to you—he’d be gone, entirely. You know too much of him, own too many parts of him already.

He chuckles dryly, vibrating by your neck. A step back and he’s leaning against the counter, bringing you closer by the hip, thumb stroking. He tucks away strands of your hair behind your ear, flattening down the bird’s nest that it is from your sleep.

“Nothing you haven’t heard before, pretty.”

Gojo’s been more tender lately, especially in the night when his piercing eyes turn soft, gazing.

You pout, the same one since you were 16. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the way he calls you such sweet, honeyed things; you’ve only recently begun to call him ‘baby’ and that alone has been enough to make your head spin.

Still, he wouldn’t be your Satoru if he didn’t surprise you. With how he is now, it’s hard to imagine a time when this was all so difficult for him, when even the slightest bit of your hands touching was challenging.

It’s hard to imagine that both of you are here now, living in the same space, by the kitchen at night, with the contents of your hearts memorized—the sorrow, the pain, the joy, all the love, every single one.

He kisses your nose, and that’s comfort alone.

This is his reality now, with you, and it’s safe.

It’s good.

“Do you want to make waffles?” he hears you mumble, running your hands over his chest, soothing.

The clock reads 3:56 a.m. Early breakfast doesn’t sound so bad, could also be a midnight snack.

(But he knows what you’re doing).

You don’t tell him to try to go back to sleep, never forcing anything you know he can’t do. Instead, you offer yourself to stay up with him, keep him company. Whatever he needs.

(And he loves that about you).

Gojo will forever argue that you might have fallen first, but he’s definitely fallen harder.

He could map out every single location he’s laid his love on—your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, and your lips, the same ones he’s kissed and nipped, bitten until he gets his fill.

Your neck and chest—a canvas for his desires. He glides a finger across your collarbone before lightly tapping on it thrice.

There’s the little dip at the base of your spine, and your thighs—

Oh, he could get lost in them.

He knows.

He has. Many times.

There’s an animal inside of him that only answers to you.

When you kiss his neck and grip his back, soft moans by his ear—short and sweet. He’s a gone man, wholly devoted to you, and you only.

You breathe his name out, “Satoru,” raspily, and he sinks into you—everything, all that he has spilling in the depths of you.

How can he possibly contain all this love?

It’s scary how so much of him already belongs to you, all these years—how you’ve been carrying pieces of him, all versions of him throughout every birthday, every moment you’ve touched his life and have it irrevocably changed.

“Are you happy?” he mumbles by your ear, voice deep and lazy.

It’s the morning, sunlight barely peeking through your curtains. Gojo hugs you from behind, arms caging you as he traces little hearts on your sides.

“Right now?” you whisper back, chuckling, “That’s not fair.”

He nips at your ear, a small bite, before you turn to face him.

He supposes you’re right, it isn’t fair to ask that now; both your bodies are sore, well-exhausted, and littered with conversations on love.

Gojo is pretty in the mornings just like he is all the time, his hair lending well to sunlight as much as it does to the moonlight. And his eyes—they shine a different shade during the day compared to the night.

You though, you’re an entirely different creature of your own: a goddess in bedsheets and pillows, wrapped in immaculate white.

You giggle when you face him, nose-to-nose, and he pulls you in tighter, grips you by the butt to slot you in right where you belong.

Are you happy with me?

He wonders, and you can read it—his eyes his greatest tell. You kiss him tenderly, lips moving gently against his. Then you smile, sincerely, before whispering—

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!) thank you notes: to @stellamancer for being there since the very start!! col wouldn’t even exist without you!! you’re every much part of the creation of this as i am :'), to @crysugu for being so ever supportive, cheering me on all the time!! and for loving col reader as much as i do!! and to you reading this and everyone else who has loved this collection so far!! of course!! a credit to all the writers whose works have inspired the way i view and write gojo: to @seravphs for teen dad!gojo and cruel summer influences, i draw so much of the way i understand these characters and their dynamics from you and your beautiful way of writing them and i hope my interpretation gives justice to that!!, to @augustinewrites for keeping up with the fushigojos, this series and the way you write them, with so much love, has always pushed for me to view gojo that way!! you’ve inspired so much of my understanding that gojo does believe in love and that when he falls in it, he falls in it hard!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #algorithm pls love me

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luveline · 5 months

Note

You are so talented I can’t even fathom it Jade! I seriously don’t know how you do it.

Idk if you’re taking requests rn for Spencer still bc I know you write him a lot but I love shy reader and post prison Spencer it’s so cute. I would love to see their relationship growing, maybe her realizing the feelings aren’t one sided by little things he says or does for her or how he reacts if she gets hurt.

No worries if not! Anything you write is a gift honestly. Happy New Year!

thank you sm angel, you're too kind<3 hny! ♡ fem!reader, 1.2k

cw violence and injury

You'll be fine, Spencer had said, patting you on the shoulder. Just trust me.

This is decidedly not fine.

You crouch low behind a raspberry chaise turned blood red in the poor lighting. When you entered the building moments ago, it was light. But now the lights are out and you can't tell your friend from foe; footsteps to your left could be Spencer where he'd followed you in, or they could be the UnSub.

I'm right behind you, he'd said with a borderline rogue smile. You think I'd let you get hurt?

Breath warms your ear. “Boo.”

The air gets stuck in your lungs as brutish arms grab you. Your gun points toward your own jaw and your pulse hammers so hard you freeze, a split second, the amygdala overwhelmed. Then the UnSub tries to grab your weapon, and everything you've been taught kicks in. You twist in his arms, throwing your head back out of the line of fire as multiple agents call to you to sound off, and kicking hard at the UnSub's legs, the subsequent soft spot between them.

You fall hard onto the floor, screaming as a weight lands on top of you.

Spencer shouts your name. “Where are you?!”

A hard palm hits you in the throat. Light bounces off of the UnSub's face as a teammate aims their torch in your direction, but you're wheezing and aching, your throat on fire and too overwhelmed to think. The hand that hurt you leaps for your gun. You hold onto it for dear life, even as he forces it once, twice into the soft of your face, leaving rings of flame behind your eye. You pull it hard from his hands and fling it across the floor out of reach, squirming under his weight, needing to be away, away—

You pull your knee up and kick wildly, a well timed blow hitting the UnSub in the face with a damp-sounding crunch.

“I don't have eyes on her!” Emily shouts.

“I do,” Spencer says. His torchlight floods your area as he shouts, “Stand down!”

You don't squeal, but it's not a very professional sound as you crawl backwards out of the way. The ring of fire behind your eyes feels ever so slightly above it now. The room is half gone. You wipe your eye and look down at your hand, dark staining your palm in a heavy smear.

“Oh,” you mumble queasily.

The power never comes back on, but you don't notice until after, when Spencer's dragged you outside to the front yard and lowered you to a soft patch of grass, an EMT beside him dressing your wound. “Did they get him?” you ask.

Spencer's brow wrinkles with his frown.

“Remember what we said?” The EMT asks.

“No?” You wince and hiss as he pulls the wings of a butterfly stitch closed over your eyebrow.

“You have a concussion. I'm trying to work out how bad it is.”

You honestly still feel like you're in the dark room. You reach out for Spencer's hand instinctively, needing comfort, a tether to the ground, and he clasps your fingers tightly. “You're okay,” he says steadily.

“You're smiling at me weird.” You glance over your shoulder at the cop cars and the flashing red-blue lights. “Did you get him?”

“Emily got him. Just after he got you.” Spencer looks like he might stand from his crouch, but he brings your hand to his chin instead, leaning on it showfully. “It's my fault, I'm sorry. I told you I'd have your back and I didn't.”

Your chest stirs with the memory of your panic. One moment you'd been underneath him, and aching, and now you're on the grass as the forensics bring in the floodlights, so bright it's like mini suns have come out on either side of the yard. You hang your head to hide from the light. The EMT tells you off.

“Does your throat still hurt?” Spencer asks you, pulling on your hand gently. “Answer me.”

“My head is swimming.”

Your memories fuzz over. When you look up again the EMT is gone. Spencer sits on the grass now beside you unhurried, your hand still clamped between both of his. His thumb rubs at your knuckles and the smooth stretch of skin beside them, apparently content to wait with you.

“She's okay?” Tara asks, seemingly having appeared from nowhere.

“Not enough medical. They're gonna look at Agent Walker and circle back. She might have to be admitted.”

Tara bends at the waist to look you in the eye. “You okay?”

“I'm fine. Are you okay?” you ask.

“I'm doing better than you. That's gonna be a terrific bruise.” She smiles at Spencer reassuringly. “Emily wants you. I can sit with her, she'll be in good hands.”

“She'd be in great hands,” Spencer says simply, “but I don't care. I'm staying here. Please tell Emily she can come here if she needs to talk to me. I'm not going anywhere until they've finished looking at Y/N.”

Tara grins. “Your funeral.”

You're slowly starting to feel like yourself again, or more aware of yourself at the very least. Spencer's touch is melding from comforting to heart-rending, his nearness a heat. He looks stupidly good-looking considering what you've just been through, the FBI vest tight on his chest, his sweet brown curls falling into his eyes as he plays with your fingers.

“I must look awful,” you realise suddenly, a stone's throw from tearful.

Spencer doesn't glance up at first. “You look beautiful, but the bruise is…” He looks at you through dark lashes. “It's a tragedy.”

“What?”

His small smile fades. “How are you feeling? Are things clear, or would you say that I'm out of focus? You're having moderate to severe concussive symptoms.” He shakes his head. “And the bruise is mottling already.”

“I'm sorry.”

Spencer laughs softly. After a pensive moment, he brings your hand to his mouth. Maybe he kisses it, maybe he doesn't, but the touch brings a sacredness to his promise, “I won't let that happen again. You trusted me to keep you safe.”

“I trusted you to tell me if I was ready, and I was. I remembered how to get out of it. I'm still here.” You fluster after you've spoken, feeling brash.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face. “You are. You did amazing.” He removes one hand from yours. A featherlight touch coasts down your cheek, brief and encouraging nonetheless. “It's going to be a really bad bruise.”

“Oh, well,” you say tiredly.

Spencer's turn to go quiet. He holds your hand on his thigh. “I could kiss it better?” he offers in a murmur.

You laugh and steal your hand back, unable to take all his attention at once. “Funny, Spencer.”

He gives you a warm smile. You can't tell if he's kidding or not about the kiss, but his devotion to you while you're hurting is real. You're not sure where that leaves you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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highvern · 4 days

Text

Honey

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strip tease, kinda public sex?, unprotected sex, creampie, simp mingyu, established relationship, dry humping (in a hot tub), fingering, face fucking/oral (m. receiving), porn with feelings, mingyu has a thing for being called husband, breeding kink

Length: ~2.8k

Note: inspired by the two seconds of mingyu in lalali. sorry @gyuswhore next time dont let your man act like a fool. this is a continuation of Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) but can be read as a stand alone! see below for their master list

Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) [f,s], Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II [f]

Pre-Drunk Goggles (in order): Peaches [f], Bite the Bullet [f, h], Jealousy [a, h]

Post-Drunk Goggles (in order): Silk [s], Aphrodite [f, s], Discovery [s], Lucky Me [f], adamas et aurum [f], Baby Blues [f]

Summary: The best way to recover from the stress of your wedding and celebrate your marriage? Some private time in the hot tub with your new husband.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Twenty four hours.

You’d been married for twenty four hours and can barely keep your eyes open from exhaustion. Not because of your husband and the vigorous but romantic sex he insisted on having on every surface of the cabin your friends chipped in to rent as a wedding present. No, you’ve barely managed to touch each other beyond agonizingly fatigued kisses and sentimental cuddles.

Last night you both barely managed to make it into the bed before passing out cold. This morning, you found Mingyu nodding off at the stove after insisting on cooking breakfast while you showered. A few lazy gropes during breakfast (Mingyu’s hand barely toeing the line of indecent on your thigh) and a hot kiss before he left the bed was all the action managed in the first day as a newly wed couple.

It’s still a funny word: husband. For so long husband was hypothetical; a distant idea that someday you’d have one. Maybe. If you found someone you could put up with long enough to start considering them as a long term partner instead of a fling.

And then Mingyu went from an acquaintance to boyfriend in a matter of months and the hypotheticals started shaping into realities with shocking speed.

The amorphous face of your hypothetical-husband slowly started to resemble Mingyu’s day after day. Week after week. And now, after months of planning, hair pulling, and a day full of tears, Mingyu is your husband.

And he’s waiting for you in the hot tub just outside.

It’s the middle of the day but time ceases to maintain importance on vacation. But after a late breakfast you both agreed the best thing for your aching bodies was an afternoon relaxing in the hot tub until you both pruned like raisins.

You spot the head of dark hair belonging to your fiance husband through the glass sliding doors leading onto the back porch. Beyond him is a full view of the lake, sparkling under the sun. It’s a deception of warmth but a breathtaking sight nonetheless.

But nothing compared to Mingyu whipping around at the sound of the door opening with a pleased smile. Until his eyes drop to your bikini.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asks with a pout.

Glancing down at the black two piece, you pout back. “I thought you liked this one?”

“I like whatever you wear, but the point of being married is that we can walk around naked as much as we want.”

“We already do that.”

“And it’s one of my favorite traditions,” Mingyu says, resettling across the tub to watch. “Now get that off and get over here. I miss you.”

You reach behind your back, you tug at the string of your top until the knot unravels. As the fabric slackens around your chest, Mingyu’s eyes follow with rapt attention. He’s seen you naked thousands of times but never fails to act like it's the first again. Your nipples peak under his stare, sensitive as the fabric brushes against them as you fling the top to the ground.

“Now we’re the same,” you say with a coy smile, closing the space to the hot tub in a few short steps.

“Wrong.” He fumbles for a second, hands disappearing under the surface. The water sloshes around as he battles to pull off his shorts and drops them to the deck with a splat. “The only thing I want to see you in are those rings.”

“Mingyu!” you gasp mockingly, ignoring the heat pooling between your legs in favor of dragging out the game. “What if someone sees?”

No one will. The cabins on either side of yours are dark and empty, and most of the houses skirting around the lake are so far away no one could possibly decipher what you two were doing in the shade of the porch awning anyway.

“Then they’ll see how beautiful my wife is.”

Blood rings in your ears at the way he says it; fond with a hint of pride. Like he still can’t believe you said yes in the first place. Like it was ever a question if and not when.

Mingyu whines pathetically as you scramble to remove your flimsy bottoms without flourish. It's too cold to stand around and do a full strip tease even if your husband’s eyes burn right through you. They join his swimsuit at the foot of the tub before you slip into the gentle embrace of the water.

Your ass barely meets the seat before Mingyu pulls you into his lap and kisses you. Arms circling around his shoulders, you sink a hand in his hair and tug until he welcomes your tongue. Your thighs straddle across his, bare skin on bare skin only interrupted by the silky feel of water. Even that doesn’t manage to disguise the electricity between your bodies. Or the fact that Mingyu's cock is already hard and waiting for use.

“Mmm. Missed you,” he whispers into the warmth of your cheek before descending across your jaw.

Bones turning to jelly, you melt under his attention like always. Mingyu loves to make you putty with little effort. You tip your chin up to make room for his tongue over the dip between your collarbones. “I was gone for five minutes.”

“Too long.”

He punctuates the complaint with a harsh suck of your nipple. It puckers between his teeth, sensitive and needy for attention. The sting serves as the perfect distraction from his hands sliding lower to palm your ass, fingertips grazing your entrance.

“Fuck,” you gasp. Your hips search for more pleasure, sinking back until Mingyu stretches you around his knuckles with practice ease. The water washes away any arousal lingering but you won’t give up the prod of thick fingers for a little discomfort.

“Can you say it?”

Even before it became official he loved hearing you say any declaration that he belongs to you: boyfriend, fiance, and now—

“Husband.”

Mingyu groans into your chest as you whisper his new epithet, exploding with renewed vigor across your neglected breast. Indulging in the way his cock twitches against your thigh at the word, you curl your hips into the pressure. It's a difficult choice: Mingyu’s fingers filling you just right or the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit.

Moving back and forth, the water sloshes over the sides of the tub as you greedily try to keep both. It’s hotter knowing Mingyu gets off on it too; the way you always want more, more of him, his hands, his mouth, his cock. Even rutting across his thigh after he cums until it hurts can make him hard again if you’re enjoying yourself.

Sinking a hand down, you tug at his cock, jerking him off right against your folds. With a tight fist, you crumble Mingyu to pieces with a few short strokes. The effort is rewarded with bites into your bottom lip and a hand at the base of your spine.

“Wait, shit,” he gasps. He’s closer than he wants to be. Clear in the tightness of his shoulders and pinch around his nose. Nothing gets him hotter than the memory of your first time together, when he used you pussy to jerk himself off; coating your panties in his cum. You know he still has a picture from the second time he did it saved on his phone after all these years.

Mingyu’s lips don’t leave yours as he stands, carrying you to the lip of the tub and sitting back down. He doesn’t let you slip to your knees in front of him at first. You’re trapped with lewd kisses and the flex of his fingers into the dip of your waist until he calms.

“Let,” kiss. “Me,” kiss. “Taste,” teeth. “You.”

Mingyu bucks into your ass at the offer before letting go. He’s never said no to a blowjob and he won’t start now given how much you like it too.

But he’s cocky, arms resting on the edge of the tub as he presents the nude visage of his front like a dare. It’s bold given his habit of devolving into a needy mess at the first hint of satisfaction.

Your hand keeps pace while your lips ghost down Mingyu’s neck. His nipples stiffen with quick attention, almost more sensitive than your own but that isn’t your goal right now. Your mouth starts to water when you reach his stomach, tracing the ridges and dips with all the time in the world.

Just as Mingyu gets the first syllable of protest at the tip of his tongue, you suck him between your lips with cruel enthusiasm.

All the kinks in his armor become the highlights: a coarse lick where he leaks, a tight fist at the base, your other hand cupping lower until he moans loud enough to echo across the lake. For your own sick pleasure, you back away enough to tap him against the flat of your tongue, pink against the tip of his cock, eyes on his until Mingyu is forced to look away or risk painting your face in white far too soon.

“Slow down,” he commands. More of a beg since his head tips back when you take him until the curve of your throat objects. “Fuck–Jesus Christ.”

You arch your spine, ass displayed like a prize. Another one of Mingyu’s weaknesses. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s let you suck him off without reaching over to feel how wet you get from the weight against your tongue. If he chances a look down again (inevitable) you’ve provided a great surprise.

His cock falls from your hold long enough to rasp, “Fuck my mouth.”

At the end of the day, who is Mingyu to deny his wife what she demands for?

Timid with the first thrust like always, Mingyu plants a hand on the back of your head, fingers woven into your hair for his own sanity. You like to surprise him by filling your throat as quickly as possible just to see Mingyu squirm. Nothing makes you blinder to your own limits than his pleasure. But years of taking him make it easy to work around.

He’s trying. The effort is in the twitch of muscles bracketing your shoulders, the gentle tugs of his fingers, the way Mingyu can barely bite back the flow of curse when you choke around him deep in your throat. Your jaw is already growing sore but no obstacle against the desire to see Mingyu shake.

Then Mingyu does something that shocks you.

Your hand pauses its work under the gentle squeeze of his. Mouth still full, you flash your eyes open to find him staring down in awe. For a second you wonder if it's just because time had been short the past few weeks between wedding planning and traveling. But then he pulls your hand away from his cock and towards your mouth, and you finally realize what caught his attention.

The rings. The plain band that matches the one circling his finger and the special one he spent months trying to keep a secret.

Mingyu kisses across your knuckles, thumb tracing the metal and stone like it’s a wonder. He did the same motion over and over again last night: walking back up the aisle as husband and wife, at the reception as you both greeted guest after guest while glued to each other, in the car ride to the cabin across the center console, before you both fell asleep still fully clothed.

Without any words, you’re pulled up into his lap for a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he sighs. His tongue slides against yours, slick as he tastes the mess you happily lapped up at his crotch.

“I love you too.”

You feel it. Feel it more than anything in the world. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It shivers down your spine, and blushes across your front. The effect of those three words, simple but so much more, seems almost too much for the daylight just beyond the awning of the porch.

Out of the water, the cool air prickles along your back, forcing your chest to cave against the cold but Mingyu is there to warm you up with the stretch of his cock.

You hide the satisfaction in the column of his neck, teeth razing wet across the vein there. He tastes like chlorine and that expensive cologne you jump his bones for. The idea of leaving a bruise like some teenager where everyone can see settles an ache in your core. It’s the first time Mingyu is inside you as your husband and it nearly rips apart the fabric of your being,

In a frenzy, your hips rut before Mingyu can orient himself to the snug feel of your walls. The angle is nothing short of cosmic. Clit rubbing against his pubic bone, cock battering that place inside that makes your joints lock. And the stretch after an unfulfilling glimpse on his fingers only burns you hotter.

The slap of your skin against his is an afterthought, background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. In the thick of need, you aren’t even kissing. Just panting into one another’s mouth with narrowed vision.

Mingyu sinks you lower in his lap with a smooth grind. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Like my husband is trying to get me pregnant.” You go cross eyed from the drag of his thumb against your worn bundle of never. Nothing makes him more desperate to please than the thought of you heavy with his your baby.

No chance it’ll happen any time soon but the sentiment does wonders.

Another hard thrust threatening to leave you bedridden for the next week.“Fuck—please.”

“You’re mine,” Mingyu groans.

Writhing against his grip, sweat blooms at your brow. You can’t manage to respond with more than a cracked whine. Too focused on the wave rushing across the edges of your senses.

“There! Fuck! Right there, Gyu.” You come in hot, carried by the rough way Mingyu forces you down his cock again and again.

Nails biting into his biceps, your insides flutter tight, trying to pull Mingyu deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Full, deep, stretched beyond belief. Eyes cinched, muscles vibrating, you cum on your husband's cock with a broken grunt you’ll remember to be embarrassed about later.

“That's it, take it.” Mingyu coos with an edge. “My pretty fucking girl, my wife. Mine, all mine.”

Your knees hurt and your legs are numb from exertion and a killer orgasm. But you won’t call it until Mingyu gets his fill too.

“Close?” you pant.

A hand at your throat is the warning, already knowing your plans to goad him to the edge if he isn’t there already. His thumb cocks your chin up so his tongue can lick the words right out of your mouth.

A few more weak movements spell his ends. Mingyu cums with a grunt. Muscles tense, stomach caved, you scramble for hold under the threat of slipping back into the hot tub from the rushes of his cock to stuff you full with his spend. You’ll be sore tomorrow from the way he forces your thighs wider, until you’re flat against him, taking it deeper.

A sticky mess grows between your legs, warmly welcomed since the last time you felt it weeks ago. A peek between your bodies gets you ready to go again. But you still crave more. Ringed white around the base, Mingyu twitches inside you again when you clench just to tease him.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Mingyu chants into your mouth until he goes slack with a long huff.

You find rest in his shoulder. Mingyu rubs his cheek against yours, innocent and domestic. He isn’t shy about most things but after you fuck eachother silly he likes to remind the universe its from a place of devotion.

“Marriage looks good on you.”

“You too.” You smile. “Now take me to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

“Whatever my wife demands.”

“That's my good husband.” The hand ruffling his hair is quickly snatched away, giving Mingyu the perfect opening to toss you over his shoulder before heading inside.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @bbychocolat

@dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #🫡 highvern

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sukiipjs · 2 months

Text

❧ BE QUIET

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ chris sturniolo x fem reader

↳ words - 1367

↳ summary - chris is pissed after losing a game and he decides to take it out on you 👀 (kinda rushed sorry!!)

↳ contains - smut, swearing, pet names (baby + ma), praise, hair pulling, sex, degrading, spanking, fingering, overstimulation

↳ song - altitude by montell fish

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

the sun starts setting as people get up from the bleachers, going back to drive home. the rugby game just ended and chris’ team lost. me and his brothers wait by the locker room for him before we also go back home.

as we all talk, chris quickly comes back out and he looks pissed, he walks right past us, already walking to the car. “chris the fuck?” nick yells out as we start walking after him. he just ignores us until we get to the car and he flings the door open, sitting down in the back.

we all get in, me next to him and nick looks back. “fuck is your problem, it’s one game.” he scoffs as chris starts yelling back “shut up nick! just fucking drive.” matt turns the key as we start driving.

i turn to him as he looks out the window, still super pissed. i whisper at him trying to give him a smile, “chris you okay?” he ignores me or maybe he just doesn’t hear with the music in the car. “chris? cmon it’s not a big deal right?” i whisper again and he turns his head to me, “but i’m the one that fucked it up, my teammates are pissed at me. just shut up, you’re being fucking annoying.” he scoff back, whisper-yelling so his brothers don’t hear.

he turns back to just stare at the window, ignoring me again. i turn, rolling my eyes, now ignoring him too. we finally stop at their house and get out. chris storms in and goes to his room, me following him. “chris cmon what’s your deal?” i yell out, him just stomping into his room, slamming the door.

“ignore him, he’s being an ass” nick scoffs, walking up to his room. i sigh a little, walking to chris’ room, opening up the door. “chrissss” i try to give a smile again as i see chris taking off his shirt, wiping some sweat off from the game.

i walk in, closing the door as chris looks at me, throwing his shirt to the side. he walks closer to me, pinning me to his door, staring me down. “take these off,” his fingers linger over my waist and shirt.

“what?” i ask dumbly, already knowing what he wants. his hand goes to my head, pulling my hair as he repeats himself, “take. them. off.” his jaw is tight, staring at my wincing eyes. he lets go of my hair, backing up a little so i can take them off.

i bend down to slip off my shorts, then my crop top. i leave on my bra and underwear as he stares down my body, moving closer again. “those too baby,” his finger slips on the waistband of my underwear, letting them go to slap back against my skin. his finger gently pulls down one side of them, his other hand goes up to the other side so he can pull them all the way down, slipping off my body.

“pretty girl,” he smiles, his hands now going to my back, clipping my bra off letting it fall down. my boobs slip out, chris’ face quickly going to smush into them, his hands glide over my back, grabbing my ass as he kissing around my chest.

“mmm” he mumbles before lifting his head back up, “get on the bed ma” i look up at him, slightly biting the inside of my cheek before walking over to his bed, sitting on the edge. chris stays at the door, slipping off his belt before turning around to walk over to me, his pants being thrown to the side. his hard outline in his boxers and a small wet spot on the tip being shown.

he kneels down in front of me, his hand pulling hair up again as he starts to mark at my neck. his other hand on my wetness, i gasp at his touch. his fingers circle around my clit as i let out a moan, “fuck! chris,” i gasp out, his lips then moving on mine, “be quiet baby” he says softly before kissing me more and more, my moans slipping into his mouth.

he suddenly takes his hand off me, letting me whine out, missing his touch. he smirks and stands, pulling down his boxers to let out his pent up hardness. “turn over,” he says firmly, i do as he asks and i turn myself over, laying down on the bed. “ass up,” he starts to kneel up on the bed behind me, his tip brushing against me as i stick my ass up, my knees supporting me.

he leans down on me, his grip going back up to my hair, pulling my head up as he pushing inside me, “be quiet, wouldn’t want everyone to know what a slut you are yeah?” he smirks still, starting to thrust into me, my back arching more as he pulls my head back.

“fuck baby, you’re so good” he grunts, my ass slapping against his hips. i try to hold back my moans as my eyes shut but small ones still tend to slip out, “chris” i whine out, his tip brushing against my spot as i squeeze around him.

my moans start to become more frequent, and louder. his hand lets go of my hair, letting my head lean down but then it goes to cover my mouth, pulling my head back up. “quiet.” he moans out, my moans and whines being muffled by his hand.

he starts pumping into me faster and faster, making my eyes shut harder, jaw clenching as i try to mumble out, “close-“ i squeeze around him more, letting myself go all on him. “fuck ma,” he groans, shooting himself inside me too. he makes a few more thrusts before pulling out, letting my head lean down as he takes his hand off me. his seed spills out me as i catch my breath.

my eyes shoot open when a stinging smack comes on my ass. my body jolts as i let out a whine, dropping my arms down to my elbows as another comes. “chris-“ i whine out again before two fingers push inside me, making me whine out more. “chris! chris too- too much,” i cry out, my back arching as my ass presses into his fingers more.

“take it,” he spits out, pushing his fingers in and out of me, speeding his pace as i get louder. he takes a hold of my mouth again, covering my noises, “how many fucking times do i have to tell you to be quiet.”

my walls clench around his fingers, my eyes shutting again, small tears forming at the corners of my eyes. i try to shout his name but it’s all muffled. “take it, take it” he repeats over and over, his fingers brushing against my insides before i once again, release myself over him.

he adjusts his fingers, making his thumb brush against my clit as he doesn’t stop his fingers from pushing inside me, “chrissss, too much-“ i breath out, getting a moment of air before the hand over my mouth has two fingers rest of my tongue, making me gag.

his thumb works on my clit, two fingers still pumping inside me, the other hand and fingers making me choke on them. my legs shake from these feelings, my climax being faster to come this time. the tears in my eyes slip out, my teeth gently bite down on chris’ fingers as i try to not gag again.

i release myself on him over and over, him never stopping until i beg him too. he takes his all his fingers out of me. sucking them off as i collapse on the bed and catching my breath. chris slips on some sweatpants before sitting on the bed next to me, running his fingers in my hair.

“you good baby?” he smiles, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “mhm” i mumble into the sheets, he moves himself down to lay next to me. “love you,” he smiles still, eyes on me. “love you too chris,” i peak a smile, scooting myself closer to chris.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @teenagetrash00 @matty-bear @venusbabysblog @m0r94n @sturnzsblog

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cherry-leclerc · 5 months

Text

close call ☆ cs55

genre: smut, humor, established relationship

word count: 1.8k

After a tough season, you and Carlos want nothing more than to unwind. Though, what you have in mind is known for not always having the best outcome.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+... shower sex, fingering

req!... sorry that it took me so long to post! school sucks :(

“Glad that shit show is finally over.”

Charles lets out a loud laugh as he throws his head back, shooting out a quick goodbye. Your boyfriend clumsily swings his arm over your shoulder as you both slowly make your way over to his car. Post-season testing was officially over and now came what you were both looking forward to.

Doing absolutely nothing.

“What should we do now?”

Tapping a finger against your glossy lips, you look up at the sky, trying to come up with an idea. Abu Dhabi was beautiful; there had to be a lot to do. Shimming away from his embrace, you turn to face Carlos. “We should go jet skiing!” His smile drops.

“No way.”

You stick your tongue out as you smack his toned chest. “But it was so much fun last time we went! Oh! Don’t you remember, Carlos?” The way your eyes shine with the memory makes him almost fall for it. But alas, he stood his ground.

“You flew right off the jet and almost died. That was fun to you?” He opens the passenger door. “Because it wasn’t for me.” Slamming it shut, he walks around the car, leaving you to slump into the Ferrari seat.

“I almost touched the clouds,” you try as he clicks his tongue, large hands maneuvering the wheel to reverse out of the parking lot. More like you almost met God. You groan as you turn your music up and roll the window down. You know how much he hated not being able to hear you and talk to you. Or how he hated not being able to see your pretty face when the wind makes your hair fly all over the place. Can you please stop? Bobbing your head up and down to the beat, you look out at the scenery.

“You’re being a brat-”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean - you’re being an angel!” He pulls his phone out before handing it over to you carefully, as if you would bite his head off at any moment. “Go ahead and pull up the directions, preciosa.”

As soon as he parks on the beach, you hop out, giddy with excitement. His hands flies up to fix his sunglasses that were beginning to slide down his nose. He squints at the bright sun. We don’t have the proper attire. Silently, you grab the keys from him as you open the trunk. Neatly, inside a tote bag, is your bikini and his swim trunks. He chews the inside of his cheek. Of course, he mutters as you take his hand and drag him along.

“I know you!” With a firm smile, the Spaniard waves at the older lady. Hello. Rushing past him, she waddles her way over to you. Despite being confused, you still let out a bright smile. Scanning you up and down, she nods excitedly. “I knew it was you!”

Growing a bit protective over this weird encounter, Carlos stands in front of you and forces a polite grin. And it’s almost as if you have no idea over the concept of danger because you just run around him and start introducing yourself. He shakes his head in disapproval, floppy brown hair following.

“I’m Tori! I was your instructor last time you were here! I could never forget someone so pretty.” She turns her attention over to the tall Spaniard. “She almost died on my watch, too. I thought you were about to throw a lawsuit on me.”

“I would have-”

“He’s kidding!” You lean in to hug her as if you're a long lost sister. He makes sure to hold onto the back of your skirt, ready to fling you back. Just in case. “What do you say we just forget about any of that, Tori? I wanna get on the jet ski.”

“Long forgotten! Let’s go.”

Carlos is left with his jaw on the floor as he glares at you both skipping away together.

“Nos vamos a morir.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“No. You’re not.”

You narrow your eyes at Carlos as you cross your arms in frustration. He doesn’t even bat an eye at your actions; let alone your words. “I will if you continue threatening me.” Turning to face Tori, who stands next to the white jet ski, you raise your hands up in alarm. “He’s threatening me, Victoria.”

“Por favor…” He rolls his brown eyes. “I’m only doing this because I love you. And because I want us to live a long and happy life together. Have a kid or two?”

“This won’t be the end of the world! I just want to drive it.”

Pressing a quick peck on your pink lips, he shakes his head. “Not this time.”

With a grumpy attitude and a deep frown, you eventually oblige. Taking you by the hand, he helps you take a seat behind him as he reaches out for the keys. Tori smiles. Just ignite it and off you go! Enjoy the ride.

“Mierda,” he gasps as he resurfaces from the water. Treading to keep afloat, he turns his head with urgency to find you. His heavy pants are the only thing being heard as he slowly loses his mind. Feeling something tickle his lower calf, he yelps as he lets out a strong kick against the tides. Poking your head out from underneath the blue waves, you choke on salt water.

“Asshole! You kicked my face!”

“I didn’t know that was you!”

Brushing long strands of wet hair off your eyes, you muster a dirty look. A large smile hugs his lips. “And you said I drive bad…What happened to being an F1 driver?”

Regardless of you pouting over his shoulder, you had eventually found yourself enjoying gliding through the waves. You could’ve sworn you saw a mermaid, too. Though, you can’t exactly pinpoint the moment your boyfriend lost control and sent you two flying.

He gapes before rubbing his hand against his jaw . You shudder. “I drive cars for a living, not jet skis…” You let out a teasing smile. Whatever you say, mi amor.

After your rescue from Tori and the crew, you both agreed to call it a day and just head back to your hotel. Except now, you wouldn’t let the story die.

“He was like, ‘I’ll keep you safe, baby. Don’t you worry, baby.’ He didn’t even last 5 minutes!” Folding over, you twirl all over the bed as you laugh; a frowning Spaniard holding the phone out. Lando cackles loudly from the other side of the FaceTime call.

“And he said you’re the bad driver.”

Jumping up, you nod profusely. “My fucking point!” The brunette briskly ends the call before tossing the phone onto the counter. I think that’s enough, don’t you think? You bite back a much needed smile as you shrug. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower, old man.”

Carlos would like to say that his ego wasn’t hurt, but that would be a complete lie. Maybe it was just a tiny bit bruised. Your words circle his mind as he grows more annoyed. He knows he shouldn’t be because he knows you meant it all as a joke, but now he feels like he has a point to make.

He still had some control.

Humming to yourself, you calmly finish rinsing your hair, making sure to get all the shampoo out. You’re about to turn around to grab your vanilla body wash, when a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. You scream as you push away, slipping and falling on your butt.

“Oh shit.” Aiming a harsh look at the 29 year old, you throw your head back as you let out a deep sigh. Why, Carlos, why? Hurrying to help you stand up, he kisses you all over your collarbones. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to surprise you!”

“Consider me surprised.”

His long fingers brush down your waist and in between your thighs. You let out a small whimper. “Forgive me? For almost killing you twice in one day. It wasn’t my intention.” He slips in a large finger. “You know it wasn’t my intention.” Your eyes have fluttered shut as you nod. I know it wasn’t. He smiles as he starts circling his finger inside your velvety walls. Letting out a moan, you rest your forehead against his chest.

The temperature of the warm water and the sounds you’re releasing are enough for him to become a tad bit too needy. Pulling his fingers out, he licks them before looking down at your confused expression. Without a single warning, he lifts you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his torso. You shake your head; eyes wide with worry.

“We’re gonna die if we do this.”

He shrugs, a long strand of hair pressed down against his face from how wet it’s become due to the running water. “What’s one more close call?” You’re about to protest, but that quickly goes out the window when you feel him thrust inside of you. Moaning in unison, you tug on his brown hair.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I don’t care.”

Not a single time during your entire relationship have you done anything like this, so, it came as a complete surprise for him to be so good at not dropping you and being able to keep his dirty rhythm. Mewling against his lips, you clench around him harder when he keeps brushing against your g-spot.

“Oh-”

Pressing his lips deeper against yours, he groans. “Stop fucking talking.” But you’re too fucked in the head to register his words. Oh God, Carlos. Shit, shit, shit. You run your nails against his broad shoulders. Just like t-that. Fuck- He slaps a large hand over your mouth as he flickers his dark gaze to you. You can physically feel your soul leave your body. “I said to shut up.” He thrust harder as your eyes squeezed shut. “Shut up or I’m seriously going to lose my mind and I will drop you.” Blinking fast, you nod as you bite down on your bottom lip.

You would do anything in order for him to keep going.

It doesn’t take long for you both to finish together; ropes of white cum painting your insides. Letting out a shaky breath, you lean your head against the wall. He smiles as he sucks down on your neck. Giggling, you pull away as you grin ear to ear. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“I had this one girlfriend-” You pinch his ear with all your might as he lets out a squeak in pain. “¡Era broma!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t find your joke funny.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t right for me to say that.” Craning his head down to make you look at him, he lets out a weak smile. “There’s only you, for me. That’s it. No one else matters.”

Climbing down, you kneel down in front of him, taking in his large figure and delicate hand wrapping around his hard cock.

“Best believe there’s no one else.”

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murdrdocs · 7 months

Note

i feel like mike is ALWAYS so grumpy,

him with his obnoxious sister and girlfriend is just so canon to me sigh

oh he absolutely is (also i blacked out and wrote 600 words of pure delusion ??? im so sorry i rlly have a problem omg)

first off, sleeping sans pills is a little hard for him for the first month or so. it’s hard for him to fall asleep and stay asleep, so he spends a chunk of the night just laying and staring at the ceiling where his nebraska poster used to be, waiting for sleep to find him instead of searching for it. when he actually gets up in the morning, his body just feels like he’d gotten hit by a bus, evidence of his restless night showing up all over the place.

and abby, as kind as she is, just doesn’t know when to shut up. mikes pouring them both a bowl of cereal and abby just continues talking about any and every single thing under the sun, completely oblivious to the agony her older brother is in. mike tries to be patient, he hums between his yawns as he fills her bowl with milk, he blinks lazily at her as she keeps talking. but at a certain point enough is enough and the cereal is a little stale and mike was really looking forward to a nice bowl of cereal to give him energy for the day but everything is shit right now so he ends up politely (at least as best as he can) asking abby to stop talking.

he thinks that by the time you’re supposed to come over later in the afternoon, he’ll feel better. he doesn’t have work until a few hours after breakfast, and he uses the time to take a shitty nap on the couch. a nap that’s disrupted by the doorbell ringing entirely too loud, followed by abby’s excited screech which alerts him of your arrival. he’s happy to see you, but he’s tired as shit and now he has to go work a dead end job and he can barely manage to paint an appreciative smile on his face when you walk him to his car and promise that you and abby will have fun.

by the time he gets back after work, the sun has set and it’s a few hours past traditional dinner time. the lights in the house are still on and when he enters he hears a movie playing. he’s so tired he only wants to take a shower and sleep but he knows you’ll refuse to let him do just that until he’s eaten, which ends up with all three of you at the table, you and abby having dessert while mike slowly makes his way through dinner.

he’s nodding off the entire time, and he’s sure he would’ve knocked out face first in his slice of pizza if you and abby weren’t talking his head off. you bounce off of each other like you’re playing an exciting match of ping pong, mikes head going back and forth as he attempts to follow a conversation with no real connections.

and to make matters worse, you’re both on mikes case, too, cracking jokes and being far too concerned and it’s too much for his tired head and his grumpiness just multiplies tenfold until he takes a final bite out of his pizza and storms down the hall to take a shower.

(of course, you find him when he’s slipping a shirt over his head after his shower in his room, hair dripping onto the cotton and flinging onto the carpet when he turns to look at you. he apologizes, tells you about how sleepy he’s been, and kisses you good night. but he’s still a Grumpy Guy, despite the chronic exhaustion)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #five night's at freddy's #mschmidtsworld!

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msgexymunson · 10 months

Text

Forbidden Fruit

Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!

A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;).

Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old)

5k words

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie.

This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover.

You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof.

Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands.

Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie.

God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way.

When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air.

"Hey sweetheart."

The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book.

"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie."

You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out?

Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again.

"So, where's the little boyfriend today?"

"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.

His grin widened at that.

"Oh, that's such a shame."

He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said.

It was like he'd read your mind.

"He wasn't good enough for you anyway."

"You think?"

He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.

"What you need is a real man."

Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back.

You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man.

Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication.

Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure.

Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do.

Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it.

Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place.

So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!"

Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps.

"Yeah sweetheart?"

Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame.

"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful.

Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet.

"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut.

Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on.

"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close.

Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents.

"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question.

"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it."

"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs."

Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement.

"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie.

He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away.

"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves.

Maybe he's not going to mention it?

The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.

Fuck, that perfect ass.

He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp.

OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host.

"Eddie, do you want a beer?"

He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart."

Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves.

Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own.

"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand."

You fall to your knees beside him.

"Show me your hands?"

Confused, you hold your palms up.

"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system.

He pulls your arm gently.

"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?"

Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit.

"Got it."

"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice.

He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck.

"So, did you finish?"

"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words.

"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?"

Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it.

"N-no."

"Shame."

What sort of alternative reality is this?

"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable."

You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly.

"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."

Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels.

"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?"

"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer.

"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all."

Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race.

"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt.

"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.

You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words.

"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. "

You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world.

Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth.

Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee.

"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-"

"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone.

"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy."

You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave."

His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides.

Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily.

A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that."

You stop and listen, and realise he's right.

"Sorry."

"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth.

"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."

You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head.

Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck.

As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes.

"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you.

"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy.

"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you."

"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help."

You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge.

"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look.

"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have.

"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless."

An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath.

Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room.

Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you.

"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me."

It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips.

"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.

"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze.

"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?"

You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you.

"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?"

His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy.

"Please, please play with my nipples."

A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest.

"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart."

Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard.

Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one."

A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly.

"OK Eddie."

"Good fucking girl."

"Oh God-"

Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub.

"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.

His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast.

"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me."

Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you.

It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release.

Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.

"Feel better sweetheart?"

You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything.

"Yeah I'm good."

"Don't lie to me."

Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes.

"If you're done I'll leave-"

"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,

fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.

"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"

"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me."

"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need."

You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver.

"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours."

Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap.

"Fuck. Spread your legs a little."

It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed.

"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy.

Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke.

"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more.

Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough.

"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit.

"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.

"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.

Holy fucking fuck.

That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing.

"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl."

He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving.

"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?"

His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.

"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!"

Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh.

"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh.

"I said beg."

His ministrations start to slow.

"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features.

"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek.

"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.

"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am."

A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper.

"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!"

"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart."

Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release.

They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away.

You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else.

"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling.

"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you.

If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over.

"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."

"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl."

Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants.

Oh fuck, just look at his cock.

It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.

"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big."

He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow.

Oh fuck you just said that out loud.

"Yeah? You want it? You want me?"

He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest.

"I need you Eddie."

He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his.

"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.

"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening.

"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up."

"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed.

His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.

The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips.

"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles.

The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips.

Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length.

"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside.

"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle.

You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can.

"Oh my fucking God, fuck!!"

You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud.

"Hey honey, we're home!"

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin.

"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen.

"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway.

"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement.

"Great news, night honey!"

You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed.

"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders.

"But I'm not done sweetheart."

He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.

"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"

"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his.

"Oh Eddie, oh-"

"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently.

He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.

Eddie knows.

Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process.

Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level.

"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again."

Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting.

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #eddiemunsonsmut #eddie munson older #older eddie munson #eddie older #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stanger things #stranger things smut

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radiance1 · 7 months

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Danny was having a good night, laying down on his side and purring contentedly while his tail swayed lazily. He was living a good life nowadays, freed from his responsibilities as the eternal prince of the Infinite Realms and taking on the mantle of the head of a Familia.

Perhaps, one of these days, he should try and find the wizard who turned him into a cat and thank them for it. What would a wizard even like anyway?

He pondered on that for a moment, perhaps a magical artifact or another could suffice? He stretched. Oh well, it didn't matter right now, he wasn't going to do it so soon anyways.

He opened his mouth, a yawn escaping him as he finished his stretch, tongue peeking out to lick his lips. He changed his position to something more comfortable, sinking into the lavishly soft pillows and reminding himself to get Catwoman something once again for giving him this high-quality cat bed.

Custom made too, multiple times bigger than him, the softest pillows he's ever felt and smelling extremely good. Even when multiple others forced themselves into his bed, even though they had their own as a gift from her as well.

Perhaps another diamond is in order?

His ears perked up as the sound a crash echoed throughout the warehouse, and he lazily peeked an eye open as the sound of paws running towards his direction made themselves known.

His nose twitched, the familiar scent of iron controlling the air as he sighed.

Kevin.

"Graaaaaaaaaaaamps!" A cat of what was once white fur, now stained with blood, skidded to a stop in front of him. Danny sighed once more, other eye opening as he looked at his first, and what others call his second-in-command. "I'm not that old, 150 is still quite young Kevin." He spoke calmly, no real heat in his voice and instead, amusement.

Kevin, predictably, ignored him. "You won't believe what happened tonight." Kevin then turned cheeky, stepping forwards towards his bed, and Danny had half a mind to try and prevent him from staining his bed, before discarding that thought just as quickly. "Guess!"

Danny's stare turned flat, and he had an urge to facepaw. Instead, he sighed, staring at the blood staining the other's fur before resting his head back on his bed. "You died again, didn't you?"

"Yep!" Kevin stepped onto the bed, both face and reply cheerful as the sun. "But that's not it!" Kevin bounced his way over to the elder cat, bloody pawprints marking his path on the previously clean bed.

Danny sniffed, a faint unknown tickling his nose before Kevin flopped on top of him, the blood stains on the smaller cat rubbing off on him, causing Danny to shift position, one that would support the younger better. "Oh, really?" He inquired, reaching out to grasp a glass shard from Kevin's side and placing it onto the bed.

"Yea! I fought spark, the spark!" Kevin purred, tail swishing behind him. "Can you believe it!?"

Danny hummed, picking another shard of glass from his first's skin.

"She was suuuuuper strong! Not stronger than you obviously, but she was really tough, I almost couldn't keep up with her!" Danny used a paw to silently request for Kevin to turn, and he did, with Danny plucking another shard from his skin. "She went all woosh, and boom! And then I went swish, and whish and she could barely touch me!"

"Mhm." Danny shifted, gently lowering the other, younger cat from off of him and instead to his side onto his stomach, reaching over to pick the shards from his back. "Then, then she used her power and then I was going fwoosh! Then I crashed into a nearby window and then we had to scatter because the human inside was mad about it." Kevin chirped, easily moving through his story despite the biggest pieces of glass being currently taken out of his back. "Then I ran all the way here because I wanted to tell you about it!"

"That's nice Kevin," Once he was done, Danny reached forward to lick the other on his head, his tail moving forward-the fur turning from black to glowing white- and flinging the shards of glass up through the air and into the rafters. "However." Danny's speech turned from that of a cat to one of a more humane-like tongue, his eyes narrowing at the form of one of those vigilantes running around the city- this one seems to be the Robin, based on his description of the hero- took the thrown shards of glass as a sign to drop down onto the ground.

"It seems you've managed to have drawn one of the humans into our territory in your excitement." Danny rubbed his chin against Kevin's head, uncaring for the blood soaking into his fur. "I don't blame you, that strain of human is known to be quite sneaky when they want to be."

Robin stood up, cape shrouding his form from ankle to shoulders. He narrowed his eyes at the scene, and Danny, in turn, narrowed his own as the rest of his fur turned glowing white, toxic green eyes staring at the lone human in a den of cats.

A silent threat.

"Care to explain, human known as Robin?"

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #ghost prince danny #Had to put that tag in the off chance this ended up as a ghost king Danny post

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mondaymelon · 4 months

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— 𝐥��𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ! ₊˚ෆ | albedo, xiao, childe x gn!reader

— cw: reader thinks theyre in a one sided love, accidental confessions + d r u g s, ig? do love potions count as that. these potions dont create fake feelings, they just amplify the affections he already has for you !! fluffy :)

[ The very man you've been longing for has finally fallen in love with you !? Ah, no... Instead, does it have to do with this mysterious pink elixir they've drunk? ]

"Oh? This shade..."

ALBEDO's eyes glitter with the glass' reflections, holding the test tube up against the light. The pink fluid within sloshes inside its confinements, shimmering in the sun's rays. "Strange." With his free hand, he whips out his pencil and pad, busy writing down notes in small handwriting, evenly spaced and well lined. "This formula should've been for a health recovery potion, which is red... How come the color is so light?"

"'Bedo, I'm here." Your voice rang into the previously quiet laboratory as you fling the door open, the invading wind carrying flakes of snow along with it. The blonde's eyes narrows at the sight of the inconvenience, dipping his head in silent greeting as he walks over and closes the door behind you. "What are you doing holed up here today too?"

"More work matters." He's about to close his mouth, already moved on from the brief conversation, but instead perks up, eyes rounding the slightest. "Ah, do you think you could offer some assistance?"

"Assistance?" You trail after him, eyeing the various ongoing experiments on the other tables, up until your eyes land on the practically glowing liquid that emanates a honey-like smell. "What, do you want me to drink that?"

Albedo immediately shakes his head. "No, there's no need to endanger your safety like that. I'll do the honors of consuming it, but I'd appreciate it if you could take some observations and write them down. Is that alright with you?"

A part of you was almost surprised at the relationship "progression", if one could even call it that. You had had your eye on Albedo ever since you had managed to get yourself lost in these mountains, only to stumble upon his lab at your wits end, helplessly shivering and lashes decorated with frost. He had nursed you back to health, and then provided directions back to Mondstadt... Since then, you had made it a habit to frequently visit the quiet male, whether providing just some company or bringing a snack or two, you just wanted a way to show your thanks! Somehow, somewhere along the line, you had developed feelings for him, feelings that you were rather sure he'd never be able to reciprocate.

"That... That seems doable enough?" You blink, hesitantly grabbing the pen that lay on the desk. "Just... ah- you should worry for your own health too, y'know?"

Albedo glances at you, taking the tub in his hands. "I'll be fine." And down it goes. Silence, at first, then his legs sway beneath him. You let out a noise of surprise, instantly moving to offer support, but the male manages to steady himself on the table, instead holding his hand out to keep you away. "Aha... oh, so it was that kind of concoction..."

Sensing the exasperation in his tone only alights more concern. "Is it dangerous? H-Hey, let's lie you down somewhere, and then we can-"

Your worries are effectively silenced as his... lips fall upon yours, jewel-like irises that shone with almost unnoticeable hearts, both his hands cupping your face in a touch so delicate you could've sworn it was never there, and the warmth from his pale, burning skin..

And just like that, you heard the usually level-headed and composed alchemist cursed under his breath for the first time. "No, it wasn't supposed to be like this-"

A shy flush left kisses on his features. He had always waited for the right time for his moves, albeit unnatural ones. It was far easy acting with equations and predicted outcomes, but you... you were something so natural, you made him thoughtless so effortlessly. It took him every effort to allow his usual expression to remain on his face, to not voice his feelings. Not now, he'd chide to himself. I'm not ready.

"...A-Albedo, what..." Stupid as you may be, it'd be impossible not to realize it, especially with the way his usually cool skin flamed with heat. "...A fucking love potion?" You touched a finger to your lips, still stunned.

"I'm sorry." He's ashamed, for being unable to control himself under the potion's influence. "The antidote, it's on the table." Dutifully, you hand it to him, your fingers brushing against his in the process.

"Ah-"

"I like you."

It hurts, to hear him say those words that you've been wishing to hear for far longer than you care to admit. "...What? 'Bedo, c'mon, drink the antidote, and then we can hold a proper conversation. You're not in your right mind right now."

"I've already drunken it." Was the moment now? The empty glass falls from his hand and onto the table, rolling to a still. "I like you."

"...What? No, is the cure not working or something, what is-" It couldn't be, but his turquoise-eyed gaze was clear.

"Must I state it once more? I love you." ₊˚ෆ

"Just what is it you have you brought me?"

XIAO's brows furrow with discontentment... or rather, disinterest. You were a peculiar mortal, it was an easy enough fact to gather from his encounters with you. And while he didn't find himself particularly delighted when you appeared, calling it annoyed would be a bit of a stretch. It's a flicker of a thousand emotions at once across the mask of his expression, all but one of them displayed for your viewing - indifference.

His golden, cat-like pupils stare down the small vial you've procured and gifted him, narrowing with suspicion in your growing silence. He prompts once more, "This is?"

"Hmm, think of it as a gift?" You chuckle sheepishly, recalling the rather shady conversation you had days prior, in a small store hidden away in the very edge of the city market.

"Dearest customer, perhaps you'd like this product? It's very popular amongst the young city goers these days, and I have a feeling you've been looking for something similar."

...A scam? "Sorry, I'm not interested-"

"It works. You're in love with someone, right?"

"How did you-"

"There's this distant look in your eyes. I see it all the time. Now, if you'll just purchase this..."

And just like that, you had been probably swindled into buying a likely useless product off of his hands. At the very least, you could use it to hold a brief conversation with the aloof adeptus who often decided to not turn up at all. "It's... a thank you gift for protecting Liyue all these years...?" In the corner of your vision that greatly encompasses a wonderful view of your shoes, you spot the unwavering features of Xiao's face give the slightest waver.

"There's no need to thank me." He says it all apathetically, yet accepts the gift. "You still have yet to answer my question, however. Of what nature is this object?"

"Ah... well, you see, I don't exactly know either? You could call it a local specialty, of sorts..." You weren't exactly lying, were you? You didn't know what it was, although by it's heart-shaped container and pinkish color you could likely wager a guess or two... but it was better to remain ignorant. At least that way, you wouldn't be to blame if anything unfortunate occurred.

Oh, but was such a term the correct word to describe such a happening? Had it all gone "wrong" the moment you bought the suspicious thing, or was it when you handed it to him, watching him drain the container of its fluid? Either way, something found its way inside your heart the moment the adeptus set the glass down with enough force to hear the sound of its surface fracturing into thousands of spiderwebbed lines.

"The glass... Xiao, are you alright?" You stepped forward worryingly upon seeing the adeptus clutch his forehead with his hand, eyes fluttered shut. Don't tell me... holy shit, was it the real deal? I'm so fucked.

"You..." His voice was deep, husky, almost with a raspy note as his eyes opened to reveal his sharp amber eyes. "What did you just give me? What are you doing to... me?" He grew silent as his slight stumbling paused, a hand gripping the balcony railing for tentative support.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes shone. Gold, no longer, but rosy pink, adorned with bright pupils cut in the shape of hearts. His breaths left small clouds of white that escaped his mouth with every quickened exhale against the cold air, yet despite the chill, his cheeks and ears were dusted with an almost feverish red.

You shake your head, wanting to step closer but growing afraid. Fuck, just how were you supposed to explain yourself? After pursuing your pathetic, so-called "advances" towards the man in hopes of one day achieving a level of intimacy, in longing of hearing those three, beautiful words part from his open lips... Ah, but you've screwed it all up now, haven't you? You might as well have fed him poison. "N-No, I didn't think it would actually-"

"I love you."

It's quiet.

Or perhaps its thunderous. That is, the sound of your heart in your ears, pounding without any heed of the absolute mess of emotions coursing through your veins at the moment. This wasn't right. He didn't love you, not in the way you loved him. An illusion, this was, a painful ploy that would do nothing to sway his heart.

"...No, no." You shake your head, taking a step back, too ashamed to meet his eye. "Xiao, you don't. It's... I'm sorry.""

"No, I do love you."

What? His eyes, his astonishingly gilded eyes, they've rid themselves of their hearts, yet the words still remain in his mouth.

You blink your eyes once, and then once more. "This…?"

"Adepti are naturally immune to such a thing. To fall for such petty tricks would be foolish to the highest degree. Despite this..." Xiao sidled closer, a hand covering the lower half of his face. "Does that mean... you wanted me to love you?"

Would he leave you if he knew?If such a thing could be possible. Unbeknownst to you, the male held some sentiments of the same regard, but how to address them lay far beyond his area of expertise. "And if I did, Xiao? What then?"

"I'm not well versed in the ways of mortals, but surely, I'd do this."

...His lips were soft. ₊˚ෆ

"Ahaha, so it's a gift for me?"

CHILDE grinned with delight, seizing the bottle from your hands into his. "Pink," was his only comment as his eyes swept over the vial. "Is this... valberry juice, or something?"

"Not quite~" You smiled mischievously, aware that no matter how many questions he asked, you'd be partaking in none of them. "Besides, it's more fun if it's a surprise, no?"

"Mmm, but the cute shape of it is making me pretty curious..." Childe's voice trailed off as he ran a single gloved finger across its glass expanse, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but 'find out', yeah?"

Hmm, would it be a pleasant discovery? You toyed with the idea and he drunk the substance. The sleazy-looking merchant that had sold you such a product had claimed to be a "magician" of some sorts. A bold claim, since you had traveled to the waters of Fontaine in occasions prior and witnessed a true magician in the act - although that was irrelevant. Either way, you had let your curiosity get the better of you, and impulsively bought it just to own the thing. It didn't require a large chunk of your wallet, nor was it completely useless... that is, as long as it was potent. If it wasn't, then you could laugh it off, saying it was something you concocted for the fun of it and he was your test subject, but on the offchance it did...

A guilty expression flitted across your face. You had held feelings for the harbinger since he had been stationed at the harbor, at first only courageous enough to gaze at him from afar, admiring the way his lips curved upwards in a smile and the way the sun's rays reflected across his deep eyes that resembled troubled waters. Somehow, one lucky incident had led to another, and now the two of you were considered friends, yet you longed for something more...

Perhaps this "potion" would help you settle things. It was time you escaped from your daydreams and delusions, time to put your heart to rest. The two of you were friends, and you should be content with just that-

"Damn, this shit is strong." Childe let out a low whistle, and you almost felt inclined to applaud him. "Sweet, too. Not bad."

"...Ha?" You shook yourself out of your stupor. Fuck, who gave him the right to look so pretty doing menial things? "So... You like it?"

"You could say that, but I think I like you more~"

"I'm... sorry?" May the archons remind you to report that man to the Millelith later for witchcraft! "Are you drunk?"

"You're a sly thing, aren't you?" Since when had he gotten so close? "Acting all oblivious now that I've caught you in your act, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" He held the now empty, heart-shaped bottle between his pointer finger and thumb, chuckling. "These things are notorious among the underworld, you know, although I certainly didn't expect this dearest friend of mine to bring such a thing to me... what a riot!"

"Ah..." All the words that you could've said in the moment seemed to fly out of your head, and now you only gaped at him, mouth ajar. "Uhm..."

"You're lucky I've been trained to be immune from 'poisons', if you could call it that. That way, I can say that it wasn't a lie."

"...A lie?"

"I like you."

"Wait, but I- I just did that to you, and you're-"

"What, that? It's funny, if anything... besides, it just shows that you want me as much as I want you, no?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) sigh i got burnt out near the end so childe's part is about 300 words short im sorry ginger lovers... </3 happy new year eve (timezones are so weird lmao) !! ill be posting a fic tomorrow for that too most likely sooooo watch out for that ig? it would be ever so cool if you followed me . p le a. se. im like 10 away from a big silly number and id actually give you eternal kisses if you do

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling

reblogs appreciated !!

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7s3ven · 4 months

Text

UR MY LOVER. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Camp Half-Blood has its very own band to entertain themselves. Most of the campers aren’t sure where they get their electricity for their instruments but one thing they are certain about is that the substitute lead singer and lead guitarist definitely have a thing for each other.

“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.”

A/N : Luke seems like he’d be in a band

Warning : sex references, some details differ from the og books, modern references

—

Y/N has been lounging in the sun on her rickety front porch when something, or rather someone, blocked the rays of warmth. She groaned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better look at who was bothering her.

“What?” She grumbled to the mischievous son of Hermes, Luke. It’s not like she hated him, quite the opposite to be honest. His presence was a breath of fresh air in her stressful days at Camp Half-Blood. But she was sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a rest. Luke merely smiled down at her, unthreatened by her hostile tone.

“Hey, little bolt.” He uttered, crouching down beside her to almost match her height. Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing her glasses back up with her middle finger. “So as you know, Chiron is letting us form a band. The only problem is I have an electric guitar and, you know, it needs electricity. And there’s not enough ‘round here. Personally, I think we’re lucky to have a daughter of Zeus.”

Y/N scoffed. “No.” She quickly retorted, already guessing what he was going to ask her. “I won’t power your stupid performances.”

“What? Why would I ask that? I was going to ask you if you wanted a quicky backstage.” Luke sarcastically joked, his lips curving into a cheeky smirk. Y/N’s lips curled into an unamused sneer as she set her sharp gaze on the boy beside her. “Help me out this one time, babe.”

“Ew,” She furrowed her eyebrows in disgust, “Don’t call me that.”

“Come on, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna stop until you agree. I won’t ever ask for this favor again, pudding.” His nicknames were becoming increasingly worse and Y/N's ears were practically bleeding. Y/N cringed and covered her ears, desperately wanting to bang her head into a wall to drown his voice out. Her last thread was Luke calling her kitty.

“Okay!” She sat up, flinging her glasses at him. Luke effortlessly caught them, looking down at the intricate rims. He traced his fingers over the gems embedded in the sides. They shined in the light and small rainbows reflected off them. “Just stop calling me those horrid names!” She exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.

He grinned, “Deal. Practice is tonight, 8 pm sharp. Don’t be late.” He tossed Y/N’s glasses back at her and quickly stood up. “See ya, princess.”

Y/N wanted to hurl a rock at him for that stupid pet name but Luke was already running away, bellowing out a laugh as he tilted his head back in amusement. “I’m going to electrocute you, Luke! I hope your guitar backfires!” She screamed, earning another chuckle from Luke.

“Yo, guys.” He burst into his cabin, grinning at Chris and Charles who were positioned on his bed, lazily lying down. “Y/N’s in. Now we just need a lead singer. Charles, how’s convincing Silena going?”

Charles pressed his lips into a thin line. “You know she has stage fright.” He uttered, referring to his girlfriend, “Maybe if I mentioned that Y/N will be there then she’ll go? I think she has a girl crush on Y/N.” Charles let out a low chortle.

Everyone liked Y/N, apart from when she was deprived of sleep and grumpy. She was like a fire ready to flare up, stalking its way through the high grass.

“So, how did you convince Y/N? I heard from Annabeth that she was in a particularly bad mood today.” Chris uttered, chuckling. "Did you promise her sex or something?" Luke shrugged as Charles chucked a can of Sprite his way.

He pulled back the tab and the can opened with a pop and fizz. “Nah. A part of me wishes, though. I might get some if I did. But, I have my ways.” He retorted, grinning. “Band practice is at eight. Charles, do your best to get Silena on board because I can’t deal with Clarisse as lead singer.” Luke sighed, taking a huge gulp from his can. Chris chuckled while Charles silently nodded in agreement.

“She is rather hard to deal with.” Charles muttered, his voice almost a whisper in fear that Clarisse would overhear him.

Luke would have asked Y/N to be the band’s lead singer but he knew she wasn’t happy with having to power up his guitar. She’d rather jump in water than agree to sing and she hated water. It probably had something to do with the fact that she could create electricity with her bare hands.

Water and lightning never went well together.

Luke was buzzing with excitement as he jogged towards an abandoned cabin Chiron had agreed to let them use for practice. He opened the creaky door, surprised to see Y/N already sitting on a dusty couch.

“I already hate it here.” She said, turning to face him. He cracked a grin.

“Not enough sleep last night, huh?”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “I barely got any. Some idiots were up all night, singing their hearts out to Olivia Rodrigo.” Luke was ashamed to admit that those idiots were him, Chris, and the Stoll brothers. “I mean, how much of a loser do you have to be to scream your heart out to jealousy?”

“I don’t know.” Luke shrugged, sitting next to her. Dust surrounded the air around him and he coughed, fanning it away with his hand. His actions made Y/N lightly chuckle. “Maybe they related to the lyrics. Unlike you, perfect girl.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not perfect. I’m far from it.” Luke quickly turned to face her, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“How come? You’re pretty and smart and you’ve got Zeus as your dad. Come on, you hit the jackpot on that one.” Luke grinned and the corners of Y/N’s lips twitched.

“You think I’m perfect?” She asked, confused. She quietly laughed, giving Luke an almost judging stare. “I don’t even have my life together. How can I be perfect?”

“Most of us don’t have our lives together. Look at me, I’m well over sixteen now and I’m starting a band at camp because there’s nothing to do ‘round here. And I’m also sitting in a dodgy looking cabin with dust everywhere. But hey, at least I have a pretty girl with me.”

Y/N stared at Luke for a second before she huffed in amusement. “You’re a no-good flirt, Luke.” She playfully shoved him.

“You seem in a better mood.” He smiled, proud of himself.

“You had nothing to do with it, I can assure you.” She rolled her eyes and turned her head, spotting Chris, Silena, and Charles walking towards the cabin. “Looks like your band mates are here.” She uttered, sitting up.

“Hey man, what’s up!” Chris joyfully greeted Luke while Charles’ approach was more quiet. Silena smiled at Luke and waved at Y/N with a bright smile.

“Alright, so everybody’s here. We got Charles on drums, Chris as back up guitar, me as lead and sub vocals, and Silena as vocals.” Luke loudly clapped his hands as away to earn everybody’s attention.

“Does that make me your back-up generator then?” Y/N butted in.

“Yeah. Hold this, darling.” Luke handed her a cord that connected to his guitar and she begrudgingly took it.

“No more names.” She warned, sending a small current to shock Luke. He yelped, taken aback, all while Y/N smirked. She stayed true to her words to electrocute Luke if he ever annoyed her.

Y/N lay on the couch, clutching onto the cord and aimlessly staring at the ceiling. The sound of Charles’ loud drums and Silena’s soft voice merged with the loud ringing in Y/N’s ears. She kept her eyes fixed on a certain spot, completely dazed until Luke pressed a cold can to her face.

“We’re taking a break.” He said, offering her a drink. She arched an eyebrow.

“Why are you giving me one?” She questioned, sitting up and taking it away.

Luke shrugged. “I mean, you are powering up my guitar. You deserve a little thanks.”

Y/N merely stared at Luke before cracking open the can, taking a small sip. “I trust you haven’t drugged this?”

Luke lightly snorted. “I have no purpose to put coke in your drink.” He held out his hand, silently asking for sip. Y/N shoved the can into his arms.

“So, when did you get the idea of forming a band?” She questioned, tapping her foot against the wooden floor. She glanced at Luke who smiled, a strange wishful look in his gaze.

“I’ve always loved music.” He admitted, “And being a demigod, you don’t exactly have a lot of chances. I did play at one festival, though… and it was amazing. But then I got attacked by a monster.” Luke chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. “It was still the best moment of my life. And I want that kind of joy back.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it back. What’s it like playing the guitar?” She quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. Luke grinned, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

“Amazing. You wanna learn?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I can hardly hold a guitar correctly, let alone play it, Luke.”

“Come on, pretty. I’ll show ya.”

“I need two hands to play. But I also need to power up the guitar. How do you suppose that’ll work?”

“You’ll figure out a way. You always do.”

That’s how Y/N ended up holding the plug with Luke sitting almost directly behind her, guiding her hands. He smiled as Y/N struggled, her fingers never quite reaching the right chords.

A twig snapped and Chris walked into the cabin, wiping away sweat with the back of his hand. “Man, it is hot outside- Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt something?” Chris paused, staring the pair.

“No.” Y/N quickly answered. They practically jumped away from each other. She handed Luke his guitar, clearing her throat.

“I should get going.” She announced to nobody in particular. She briefly smiled at the two boys before spinning around on her heels, quickly walking away.

“Hey, pretty, wait!” Luke stood up in a hurry but Y/N was already out the door and walking past the tall trees.

Y/N rubbed her tired eyes as she waltzed out of her cabin, almost screaming when she saw Luke leaned up against the wall.

He grinned and greeted her, tipping an imaginary hat. “Hey, pretty. You up for charging my guitar today? I need to practice my riffs.”

Y/N thickly gulped, looking for any sign of Chris or Charles or even Silena, who she knew was busy with teaching kids archery. “… Alone?” She questioned after a long pause.

“Yeah. Does that bother you? I can practice another time.” Luke offered.

The warm sun bore down on Y/N as she stared at Luke. “No… it’s not a problem. When do you want to practice?”

Luke stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest. He grinned down at Y/N. “Right now if you’re free, pretty. But it looks like you just woke up. Bad sleep?”

“Hardly any at all. Again.” Y/N retorted, sour and harsh. She silently followed Luke to the cabin, raising her eyes in surprise when she saw the lack of dust. “You cleaned it?” She questioned, craning her head to get a better look.

“Yup. The dust was getting to my eyes.” Luke uttered. Y/N hummed in quiet approval.

“You’d make a good house husband. You can clean, you can charm your way through everything, and you can play guitar. What’s next? Cooking?”

Luke smugly smirked, “I’m actually great with a pan, pretty. I’ll make you cinnamon toast someday. Or do you prefer pancakes?”

“Food is food.” She shrugged. “So, how’s the guitar going?” She fiddled with the cord, “I always wanted to learn piano. I tried it a few times but it never stuck.”

“I think you’d look charming playing the piano, pretty.” He flirtatiously smiled, twirling a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair around his finger. Y/N stiffened, her cheeks practically glowing red.

“Are you going to practice or stare at me until we grow eighty?” Y/N muttered, leaning away from Luke.

“I think I’m going to continue staring.” He retorted, winking at her. Y/N looked away, lightly frowning.

“So, what songs are you going to sing?”

“Silena’s gonna be doing most of the vocal work but there’s one song I’ll be singing.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to continue because as much as she tried to dislike being here with Luke, she was curious. Luke plucked at the guitar strings, humming out a quiet melody.

“Wait.” Y/N articulated, “You aren’t going to sing to me, right? I don’t want a Barbie moment.”

“Too bad.” Luke replied, already getting ready to sing. Y/N softly groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was expecting Luke’s voice to be like nails on a chalkboard, a horrible sound overall, but the lyrics slipped past his lips and Y/N found herself not entirely hating it.

“Are you seriously singing Elvis Presley?” She said over the sound of Luke’s voice and guitar. He merely grinned, nodding his head.

“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you?” Luke smiled, his gaze never faltering. He was staring straight at Y/N as he meticulously played complicated chords. She felt uncomfortable under his eyes and a part of her wanted to sink into the couch. “This is one of your favourite songs, is it not?” Luke asked as he continued strumming.

“How would you know that, Luke?”

“Trust me, pretty. I hear you singing with the Apollo kids. As grumpy as you are without sleep sometimes, you sure sound cheerful when you’re singing Elvis. Join in on the singing, won’t ya?”

“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.” Luke swayed, waiting for Y/N to join. She begrudgingly did.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help…falling in love with you.” They sang in unison. Y/N’s eyes were focused straight ahead of her while Luke’s ran over her soft features and lips that had been tinted with lipstick.

“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.”

Luke couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as Y/N’s voice drowned out his own and he stopped singing. She was far too lost in the music to notice.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.” Y/N turned back to Luke, faltering when she saw how he was staring at her. Like she was his whole world or like she had planted the beautiful stars in the sky.

“For I can't help… falling in love with you.” Luke sang the iconic last line, grinning. His face was much closer to Y/N’s than he anticipated, causing her to flinch. She didn’t shuffle away, though.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look… pretty?” Luke chuckled at how his sentence and his nickname for Y/N clashed. The apples of her cheeks turned bright pink and she didn’t sneer at him this time. She only stared at him with eyes that were vulnerable lest Luke give her another compliment.

The door to the haughty shack slammed open, Charles entering. He spluttered in surprise when he saw Y/N and Luke. “Sorry… I can leave and come back… if you want…”

Y/N stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her shirt. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” She didn’t spare Luke another glance as she hurried out, flustered.

“Were you two about to kiss?” Charles questioned. Luke frustratingly groaned, holding his face in his head.

“I liked to think we were going to.”

Y/N stood in the side lines of the stage, holding Luke’s cord while staring at a clipboard she held in her other hand. It was the list of songs Luke had given her to keep her occupied.

i, Lovesick by Laufey - sung by Silena

ii, Venus by Regina Song - sung by Silena

iii, Can’t help falling in love by Elvis - sung by Luke

The second song fit the daughter of Aphrodite. Y/N glanced at the stage, her eyes immediately finding Luke. He was helping Charles set up his drums. Luke seemed to sense her eyes on him and he lifted his head, smirking.

Y/N quickly diverted her gaze as she heard Luke jog towards her. “Hey, pretty.” He greeted her, “Silena’s vocals can only take so much singing so are you good taking over the last song?”

“No.” Y/N answered but Luke didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore her.

“Thanks, pretty. I owe you one. Love ya!” He ran off while Y/N mentally cursed at him. She angrily looked at the list, her eyes slightly softening when she saw the song.

iv, Lover (remix) by Taylor Swift + Shawn Mendes

It was one of her favourite songs. She could remember listening to it when she wasn’t aware of her demigod status, always wishing for a love as pure as Jack and Rose’s. Despite being swamped by complicated emotions, she was still a teenage girl secretly wishing for a teen romance like the books and movies and songs suggested.

The makeshift concert started with a short light show conducted by an Iris kid and that’s when the band finally stepped out. The demigod crowd cheered, clapping their hands. The Aphrodite girls were holding signs up for Silena and Luke quietly chuckled as his Hermes brothers yelled a little too loudly.

Silena’s voice was beautiful as she sang and Y/N found herself shrinking back. How could she compete with that? She didn’t even want to sing. She was fine sitting backstage with nothing but a clipboard to stare at.

At least Luke seemed to be enjoying himself and all the attention he was gaining from the girls. Y/N felt her chest tighten. It’s not like she had feelings for Luke… did she? In this moment, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be an Aphrodite kid because at least they could sense love.

Luke sang the melody to the Elvis Presley song with as much tenderness as he did in the cabin, occasionally glancing over at Y/N to see her mouthing the words.

“Pretty, you’re up.” Luke said as the band hurried back stage for a small break. He took the guitar cord from Y/N, plugging it into some sort of machine that she didn’t recognise. “Drink some water so you don’t get dehydrated. You know the words, don’t ya?”

Y/N could only nod, too confused to process everything at once. “What about your guitar?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t ya worry.” Luke ushered her up the steps onto the brightly lit stage. “Alright guys, we’re back. Did ya miss us? Of course you did. Anyway, Silena’s swamped so we’ve got Y/N singing. Don’t worry, folks, she has a great voice when she’s feeling nice.”

Luke cheekily grinned as he adjusted his headset microphone while Y/N glared at him.

“Anyway, this song will be a duet between me and Y/N. Last song for the night, hope you guys enjoy!”

The music started playing immediately, causing Y/N to stiffen. She locked eyes with Luke, who was standing a meter away from her, nodding his head to the beat.

“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January. And this is our place, we make the rules.” She hesitatingly sang, earning a few hollers from the Apollo cabin. “And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”

“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my…” The vivid image of Y/N and Luke singing together, their faces millimetres apart, haunted Y/N. She could feel her cheeks heat up as she glanced at Luke once more only to see that he was already smiling at her.

“Lover.” Luke mouthed as Y/N sang.

Luke tapped his foot, slowly playing his guitar. “We could light a bunch of candles and dance around the kitchen, baby. Pictures of when we were young would hang on the wall. We would sit on the stoop. I'll sing love songs to you when we're eighty.”

“See, I finally got you now, honey, I won't let you fall.” They lulled out in unison. “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah. Take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my lover.” Their voices blended together perfectly and the crowd found themselves swaying to the music, clearly noticing the romantic tension between Luke and Y/N.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand. I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.” Y/N nervously clasped her hands around her mic, her breath shuddering when Luke beamed at her.

“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.” Luke strummed the guitar cords as he walked towards Y/N, “I’d go down with the Titanic, it’s true. For you, lover.”

The music ended there, despite the song still having another chorus left. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at Luke. “You had enough electricity this whole time?” She whispered away from the mic.

“Yeah. I just wanted to spend time with you, pretty. I like you, Y/N. More than I should admit because my fan girls will be a little upset.” Luke chuckled as he jogged off stage, Y/N following close behind.

“So I used my electricity for nothing? You could’ve just asked me to accompany you!” Y/N slapped his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, pretty. Be realistic. You wouldn’t have come if I merely asked. Even if I confessed to you then and there.”

“And what exactly do you like about me?”

“Everything, Y/N. The way your eyes shine when you read, the way you smile when you sing Elvis songs, and the way you have freckles that line up in a square, like constellations on your face. The truth is, you could break my heart into tiny little pieces and I’d still pick them up for you to hold. You like rainbows, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“I adore you, Y/N. And it doesn’t matter that sometimes our worlds are coloured with different hues. Because when the colours bleed into each other, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Apart from your face and soul, of course.”

“What if the colour turns out to be an ugly yellow?”

“You’re ruining the mood, pretty.”

Y/N clicked her tongue as she tilted forward, gingerly pressed a soft kiss to Luke’s lips. He gently gasped.

“Your mics is on, by the way.” She whispered, “Just thought you’d like to know.”

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