#the amount of times this has happened to me and then payed off in this exact way is too many | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 7 months

Text

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”

Yup, you have a headache now.

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”

Why were you considering this?

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.

He said your name, “Well?”

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”

“Gojo, this is—“

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”

“No one can see us,”

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.

And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there.

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

You glanced at the time, he’s late.

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.

It was probably the latter.

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”

“A bad rom com,”

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”

He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.

It was unspoken.

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.

Your neck hurts.

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.

Or what you thought was your bed.

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.

Gojo.

Gojo???

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?

You really should have fucking known better.

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.

Fuck. Your. Life.

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.

“What is it?”

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.

Fuck. You were so screwed.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.

Another knock.

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.

Like it always never was.

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”

“My apartment isn’t—”

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“

“But what you said—“

“I said what I had to—“

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”

“You don’t have to—“

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.

“Give you what?”

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.

No, it was. It was, right?

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”

Slap. It’s definitely a slap.

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-

And he realized it was you.

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.

Fuck, it was real.

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.

“How about we make breakfast together?”

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?

There’s only one person who’d text like that.

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”

“I was expecting to meet

I suppose we’re on the same page,”

He tilts his head, “Really?”

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.

You needed to talk to him in person.

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”

And he’s blinking, “Why?”

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”

“But you didn’t—”

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”

“No I don’t—”

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“

“But—“

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”

And this time he doesn’t stop you.

It’s for the best.

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.

It was for the best.

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.

Fuck. You were home.

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.

Gojo?

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.

Satoru was…getting married?

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.

Even if it wasn’t with you.

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.

So you wait.

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.

That wasn’t Satoru.

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.”

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

9K notes · View notes

livwritesstuff · 29 days

Text

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

#idk maybe this is pre-season 3. maybe it’s a no-upside down au. who knows #might expand this and post on ao3 later if i’m feeling it #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #jim hopper #steve jim father-son relationship my beloved

2K notes · View notes

puppygirlclick · 3 months

Text

Help Two Disabled Trans Women Get Back On Their Feet

My federal income tax withheld wasn't properly updated by my employer on account of their bookkeeping which means I owe $1000 to the IRS by the end of July. I also had to go through intensive surgery at the end of February to fix a hernia which had caught my left testicle up in it, with a good portion of the left side of my abdomen being covered with a hernia mesh. Despite having been supposed to be healed up after 8 weeks, I have surpassed my employers 180 day limit for a leave of absence of which I wasn't informed of. Being terminated from my job leaves me with no health insurance and no way to continue paying for my doctor's appointments and treatments, all this as I am still paying $270 a month for my car and am possibly at risk of losing because I don't have a reliable way to pay for anything. On top of this, my girlfriend (@stcecilia) has recently moved in after being kicked out by a transphobic landlord and is dealing with worsening undiagnosed pain and sickness which has left her unable to work. Unfortunately she was relying on me getting better which isn't happening right now, and she's having to take care of me instead because of the condition I was left in with severe nerve pain the past few months leaving me stuck in a chair. We are both living with my parents and I can't even begin to put into words how much this is affecting both my girlfriend and I's mental health and physical well being along with everything else, with the way the house is always dirty, my step-mother constantly starting arguments with anyone who comes near her and constantly vitriolic and everyone else arguing and fighting with each other because of this.

It's hard to set a precise goal without it being subject to change for what we need as of right now but at least $1800 would help to pay my federal taxes and keep my car for the next two months and keep us on our feet for the time being.

Any amount helps towards paying off what we owe and moving closer to getting out of this house and into a better living situation and making sure we're properly cared for.

$0/1800

C*sh*pp $StSeeSee (@stcecilia's account) P*yp*l @debtanddeerteeth (Friend's account i can't get into mine without phone# and cici has no bank account rn) Ask for V*nmo (Not listing here because of my deadname) DO NOT TAG

3K notes · View notes

orbitsaturn · 7 days

Text

"I order you to date my servant!"

─ in which a rambling lizard ("dragon") plans to use you for his self-proclaimed "world domination"

"once you get kinich to be all mushy and soft I'll be able to take over the world!"

kinich x reader

friends to lovers (idiots in love)

2.1k words

──────────────────────

k'uhul ajaw is a "mighty" and "feared" dragon, but one thing is hindering him from world domination.

it's his servant kinich!

but the fearsome ajaw has a perfect plan to make him kick the bucket. it's to utilize that one human that's been making him act up so much.

ajaw can vividly remember what's been happening the past few months. how his contractor has been staring off into space ever so often. how he seems to talk you more compared to other people. how he always lets his gaze linger on your form before you bid goodbye to him.

k'uhul ajaw has a hunch that his servant is lovesick.

and he'll use that perfect opportunity to finally make that arrogant human pay!

but the problem is, he can only come into contact with you when your near kinich since he can't stray far from his contractor.. well that's easier said than done since you guys have been "accidentally" been bumping into each other all the time. kinich is soooooo obvious about his feelings towards you ajaw finds it unbelievable that you haven't noticed yet! he almost feels bad for kinich. why can't you notice how lovestruck his servant is?! as ajaw is stuck in his thoughts a familiar voice calls out from a distance, one he can distinctly recognize.

"hi kinich! hi ajaw!" the voice, which came from you instantly made ajaw whip his head to his servant. archons, he can already see hearts in the fool's eyes.

"good morning." greeted kinich, he walked over to you and that's when k'uhul ajaw was going to put his plan into action.

"psst... psst... human..." ajaw quietly whispered to you, evoking a strange look from kinich. noticing kinich's suspicious look ajaw rushes to you. "look, i need your help. you'll be honored to help the great dragon k'uhul ajaw, yes? make kinich all mushy an-"

"GWAAK" ajaw is suddenly lunged backwards by kinich, his tail spiking up, face turning red.

"what do you think you're doing?" kinich eyes the little dragon suspiciously, "sorry if he said anything weird," he sends you an apologetic look before turning back to ajaw again. "now tell me, what did you tell them? i won't hesitate in putting you into time-out again." the yellow dragon quickly interjected, "NO! i never even said anything weird! and plus you never hesitate in putting me into time-out so i know that's a lie!" ajaw growls at kinich before quickly looking over to you.

catching ajaw's look you devised a plan to get a conversation with the small dragon without kinich getting suspicious, "yeah! ajaw didn't say anything bad. oh! are those grain fruit over there?" you point to the patch of grain fruit growing at a reasonable distance away from where you're currently at.

"oh? i'll get some for you if you want." kinich looks over to you, waiting for your approval.

"sure! we can share once you get a good amount!" you flash him a smile, "okay then," he gives you a gentle smile back before heading over to the patch of grainfruit. after the coast was clear you quickly turned to ajaw, giving him a confused look.

"so... what do you mean make kinich all mushy?"

"it's exactly what it means!" ajaw yells in annoyance, "he gets all mushy, his ears turn red, and he-" you quickly interject him, as you exclaim in surprise, "you mean i make him sick?!" you looked at the little lizard (dragon) worriedly. you figured he only talked to you out of obligation, but you didn't think he'd be sick of your presence! was he faking his kindness towards you the whole time?! then shouldn't you just start staying out of his way..?

no!

you always felt comfortable talking to him, you like (as a friend of course...) him for archons sake!!

"yes! you make him so (love) sick! how come you didn't notice yet?!" ajaw says, sighing in exasperation. geez, throughout every century humans seem to act the same, being stupidly in love. "anyways, I have a plan that'll help the both of us," ajaw looks at you with fierce determination, "I need you to be by his side as much as you can!"

huh?

"wouldn't that make him sicker of me?!" gasping, you look at the dragon in shock. if kinich already felt sick seeing you, why would you try to be near him all the time?! it's like basically saying 'im so annoying the only way to get rid of me is kicking me'

"that's the point! I need you to make him so mushy over you that when his guard is eventually down I can strike him down and initiate my plans for world domination!!" the little dragon laughs menacingly.

"err... and why do i need to comply with you?" you look at ajaw confused, "don't you like kinich? if you follow my plan it'll eventually get you two together!!" the little dragon looks at you, annoyed. "why should i trust you?! and what do you mean i like kinich??" you remark, eyeing ajaw suspiciously.

"you obviously like kinich! this'll help you both!" he starts outright screaming, turning red in frustration. you stare at him confused, you do like kinich, you wanna be with him all the time, but didn't kinich like you too? like as a friend of course!

but what does ajaw mean by making him all "mushy???" like... do you just... turn him into slime?

after much thinking of ajaw's words you feel a spark in your head.

wait, like mushy in the way you can't think of anyone but them?? like you can only focus on a person despite everything happening around you?? was that it?

a scream breaks you out of your thoughts.

"AAACCKKKK!!"

you look over your left and see kinich with a handful of grain fruit. your heart skips a beat.

huh? your heart skipped a beat?

focus!

you look at him, suddenly self-aware of everything around you. geez, why do you suddenly feel sweat forming on your hands?? why does he look extra shinier today?!

"are you okay?" he looks at you concerned. the gentle tone of his voice startling you out of your daze. you make eye contact with him, his amber-green eyes focusing on you intently. "yeah," you look away nervously, cursing yourself for acting nervous for no reason, "i'm okay," giving him a smile to reassure him.

"look, i know you're faking. are you sick?" he walks closer to you, "may i?" he hovers his hand over your forehead, and you can only hum and nod in response.

your heart kept beating quickly, did your heart always beat like this around him before? why were you suddenly so self aware of him when ajaw said that you liked him?!

as he gets your approval, his hand brushes the hair away from your face. your senses going into overdrive by the stimulation.

his face leans in closer.

you suddenly panic, closing your eyes.

wait are you even panicking?!

the sight of nothing leaves your senses heightened, you suddenly feel the humidity of natlan's weather, his hand against your cheek, the smell of his clothes permeating your senses, and the brushing of his hair against your face. you feel a sensation on your forehead, opening your eyes slowly you're instantly met with green and yellow hues, the shades of kinich's eyes leaving you mesmerized. his eyes have always been the focal point of his features, the way his eyes were akin to luscious greenery, and how his pupils were shaped like diamonds. they were beautiful. as you were staring at his eyes in a daze you were snapped out of your thoughts, as kinich mutters, you notice a look of concern painting his features, "your forehead's hot, are you sure you're okay?" his face dangerously close to yours.

"i-i am! it's just it's been hot lately!!" you exclaim, fanning your face, trying hard not to look away from kinich. yet, he doesn't buy your excuse, "eat this for now," he shoves a piece of grainfruit in your mouth.

"i'll walk you home." he sticks his hand towards you. "thank you..." you grab his hand, failing to notice the yellow dragon behind you, "i said make kinich mushy, not you." ajaw whispers menacingly behind you, while you glare at him.

what did he mean you're getting mushy?!

and since when did you ever agree to his proclamation??

turning your attention back to kinich, you notice he's still holding your hand. causing him to cough awkwardly and apologize.

"sorry." he lets go, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, "oh, it's okay!" you exclaim, quickly grabbing hold of his hand again. he gives you a small look of surprise before intertwining his fingers with you, causing ajaw to burst out laughing.

"HAHAHAHA!! you loveb-" as the small dragon gloats over his success the snap of kinich's fingers causes him to disappear.

thank goodness! wait.

did you just grab kinich's hand?! you were holding hands with kinich. do friends hold hands while feeling nervous about them?? no they don't... but what if some do?! do friends do this..?

as he walks you to your house you engage in small talk with him. but the topic of ajaw's deal that he made.

"he said he wanted me to make you all mushy, told me how your ears supposedly turn 'red' ." you recall ajaw's words to kinich, "oh, i see. don't mind him." his hand twitches, triggering you to look up at him.

what met your eyes shocked you.

his ears were red. his free hand covering his face, a tinge of pink painting his cheeks. is this what ajaw meant by mushy?

he's cute.

friends don't feel 'mushiness' around each other. people experience that when they like one another.

you like kinich, and you were burying your feelings in fear of ruining your relationship with him, but witnessing his reaction towards you firsthand gave you the push of confidence you needed to stop the denial in your heart.

you tug on his hand, "wait, kinich."

he turns to face you, the look of fondness in his eyes evident after you realize his feelings. "kinich, can we go to the mountain where we first met?" you look at him, hands slightly trembling. "are you sure? I don't want you to exert yourself too much if you're sick," his hand tightens.

you smile, "don't worry I'm not sick!"

──

you met kinich after he accepted your commission. you knew the people from the scions of canopy were adept with harsh terrain, so you were relieved when kinich accepted your commission.

your commission was simple, it was obtaining various herbs that grow in the sides of mountains, but you did offer a high mora award to anyone who accepted it!

"here you go." kinich hands over a basket full of herbs to you, "thank you so much!" you exclaim, smiling at him.

and now you're back on the same mountain again but for a different reason.

"the breeze here feels so nice!" you run around swinging your arms out, "kinich come here!" you motion him to get closer to you, which he immediately complies with.

you take in a deep breath.

this was it.

it was now or never.

"kinich i have something to tell you." you look at him, your voice trembling, "look, i've liked you for a while, i just realized recently, i don't want to make you uncomfortable so we can still be friends-"

"no." kinich interjects, grabbing your hand.

your eyes widen.

"i like you too." he says, his ears red, "so," he brings your hand to his lips, "i want to be with you," he says before pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.

without the both of you realizing, ajaw was out of timeout, the first person he spotted being you, realizing the opportunity he quickly yells, pointing at you,

"puny human! i order you to date my servant!"

but what he didn't notice was the flustered expression on you, along with kinich's glare directed towards him. realizing his mistake ajaw panics, "w-wait!! i didn't mean to-" the little dragon was cut off as he was sent to time out once again.

after the disturbance was gonekinich turns to face you, his hand still holding yours, "well," he gives you an amused smile, "i guess this was the first time i agreed with ajaw's commands." in response you smile back at him.

"i guess we should thank him when he's out of timeout!" you laugh before intertwining your fingers with his.

──────────────────────

sorry for late post anatomy is kicking my ass rn _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

#kinich x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin kinich x reader #genshin kinich #kinich x you #genshin imagines #kinich #k'uhul ajaw #ajaw

1K notes · View notes

moonyflesh · 2 months

Text

What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

2K notes · View notes

seokgyuu · 4 months

Text

When fertility clinics fail to give you what you want, you decide it’s time to take the matter into your own hands. And who’d be better for the job than Choi Seungcheol?

Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Porn with a small bit of plot.

Warnings: This work contains adult content! MDNI! This whole fic revolves around getting pregnant!! So if you’re uncomfortable, please do not read. Smut warnings under the cut!

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Omg look, she’s back with a work!! And it’s a standalone Cheol fic??? Damn. I wanna thank the lovely @idyllic-ghost for the beautiful banner!! Have fun reading and please be a bit more patient in case you are a reader of Challenge Me. I swear there is more to come!! also big thanks to @beomcoups for reading this over and telling me it doesn't suck, lol.

Tagging: @duhnova, @yoonguurt, @highvern, @smileysuh, @cheolism @the-boy-meets-evil @ourdawnishotterthanourday @gyuswhore

“I don’t really know how to start.” You finally break the silence, sitting on the couch across from Seungcheol, your legs crossed and your hands laying in your lap. He watches as you lick over your lips, nervous eyes roaming around the room and something like a chuckle wants to creep out of his throat. He suppresses it and instead smiles.

“Me neither, don’t worry. We can take it slow if you like. Or I can finish this water and we can go upstairs,” he pauses for a second, “or stay here, whatever you prefer.”

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (duh), creampie, dirty talk, blowjobs, face fucking, usage of the word daddy, squirting, multiple orgasms (f&m)

Choi Seungcheol has never done this before. He has never sat in the living room of a woman he barely knew with a glass of medium sparkling water in his hand and a pounding heart in his chest. If anything, this had only ever happened in his dreams. Not the medium sparkling water (mainly because he didn’t even like his water sparkled, medium or not) and perhaps with less clothing - even though that specific part was probably about to become reality.

“Do you want something small to eat, or something?” You ask now and Cheol flinches slightly, looking up at you with his big eyes and his mouth slightly dropped.

“Oh, no, thanks!” He smiles back and takes a sip from his glass. It tastes awful but he’s not about to say that.

Your living room is huge; two big couches the color of creme surrounded by tasteful art on the walls. A fireplace and a huge flatscreen above it, pictures of friends and family on the shelves, books from authors Cheol has never heard of. He wonders for a quick second why you would choose this route when you obviously had the funds to do it the… more professional way, but then he remembers that he is getting paid for this. In fact, he already has the insane amount in his bank account waiting to be used to pay off his student loans.

“Me neither, don’t worry. We can take it slow if you like. Or I can finish this water and we can go upstairs,” he pauses for a second, “or stay here, whatever you prefer.”

You think it’s cute, the way he blushes. In a situation like this one, definitely not surprising. You’ve been thinking about this for months now: fertility clinics in your town and even outside of it weren’t working. It wasn’t the money that was the problem, but your body apparently. Or anything else. At some point one of the doctors joked that it would probably be best if you tried getting pregnant in the old fashioned way. By sleeping with someone who had a penis with functioning sperm. And whilst he had meant it as a joke, very clearly trying to uplift an incredibly sad situation (kind of distasteful, you find) you had taken it to heart and here you are now.

A friend of yours owned a few gyms in town and Cheol was a regular turned PT in one of them. He was handsome and strong, a gentleman, healthy and in desperate need of some easy made money. Your friend had overheard him talking to one of the other PTs and even though it might not have been the most professional thing to do - she had asked him if he wanted to help out in your specific situation. You have to admit - back when she told you it felt extremely humiliating. Asking some stranger to have sex with you to, maybe (hopefully?), get you pregnant. Not to mention her being his boss - if he hadn’t reacted the way he did, he could have more than likely sued her for this.

But he said yes. And now he's here. Many dollars richer and with an embarrassed flush on his pretty face.

“Upstairs is probably more comfortable,” you finally respond and he nods, emptying his glass. After, he looks at you expectantly and you feel your insides growing hot. He’s everything you wished for and more. Better than who you had picked first in the fertility clinic for sure. It’s crazy, all of this, you know it, and yet you can’t help but feel like this is also the only right thing. You want a baby. Seungcheol wants to help you get one.

Finally, you get up and he joins you, a nervous smile on his lips as you lead him to the stairs in the foyer, your legs shaking as you walk up, the sounds of his footsteps behind you echoing in your head. You’re about to lead a stranger into your bedroom. A sexy stranger that will (hopefully) father the child you’ve been wanting for over a year. Your stomach turns in excitement as well as arousal and you clear your throat as you reach the top of the stairs.

“It’s right over here,” you say, pointing at the door to your left and Seungcheol nods, eyes only temporarily leaving your frame.

A part of him feels like he should come clean about how much he’s been looking forward to this. To sleep with you, to breed you. Ever since his boss had asked him about this, he’s been excited. It was almost as if she had known. Showing him pictures of you, telling him how much you want to have a baby. She obviously didn’t say the obvious, didn’t say that you were desperate for cum in your pussy to get you pregnant. Mainly because that would have been even more inappropriate. But Cheol knew. He still does. Knows that you’re probably dripping into your designer panties wanting nothing but his cum and his only. Fuck, he is growing harder by the second. He has to calm down, remain professional. This is supposed to be nothing but a business transaction, he is well aware. But it’s not like he chose to have an extreme breeding kink, right?

The door to your bedroom opens and Cheol takes in the furniture and decorations only for a second before his eyes land on you again. You stand in front of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself.

“I- uh, I think it’s probably best if we, uhm, get ready by ourselves?”

Cheol nods. He kind of figured there wouldn’t be much foreplay. Still, just the thought of you behind him, touching yourself… he comes to the conclusion he won’t need much handy work to be hard for you.

“Should we take our clothes off, or…?” He asks carefully and you swallow, your eyes trying to be subtle as you check him out but he can clearly see what you’re doing. You want him to take off his clothes. You just aren’t sure if you should. It would probably make the situation easier, yes, but it would also expose you to this man that is built like a god. You bite down on your lip and swallow the lump in your throat. Then, you nod.

With a sense of pride, Cheol moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head without any trouble. Your eyes are immediately glued to his toned torso - the abs, the strong shoulders, his chest.

“Maybe we should turn off the lights.” The words escape your mouth before they reach your brain. A small smirk tugs on Cheol’s lips - you’re flustered because of him. Without a word, Cheol nods and turns off the light, sitting down onto the bed with his back turned to you. This is nerve wracking. Your face is hot and your heart is beating fast as you sit down as well. You hear him behind you. Hear the sound of his pants opening, of his hands moving to shove it down. There is no stopping the wish to see him, his beautiful body. When you hear the small sigh he lets out a few seconds later, you decide to just follow your instincts. It was you who had called him here. Backing out now would be foolish. So, you bite down on your lip and lean back slightly, your hand wandering down to your clothed core, pressing against it for just a quick moment, before you move to open your jeans as well, making quick work to get them down your legs.

You begin to circle your clit over your panties, eyes closed and the image of Cheol right there in front of you. The smug smile, the lean muscles on his torso… you wonder what they’d feel like under your fingertips. Now, it is you who sighs softly and Seungcheol behind you groans quietly. The sound shoots through you, makes you crave to hear it even closer, right by your ear. You want him to hold you, want him to say your name as he slides into you.

The sounds you make drive Seungcheol crazy. His big hand is wrapped around his cock, moving up and down, precum helping to make the glide easier. His whole head is filled with you and nothing but you and he has to stop himself from shooting his load right away just thinking about feeling you tightly around him. Yes, Seungcheol seriously doesn’t know how long he can go on like this without cumming. So, he slightly turns around, tongue slipping over his lips.

“I’m ready…,” his deep voice reaches your ears just when two of your fingers slide into your pussy, already longing for more. You moan, feeling another wave of heat running through your body. Nodding, you let your fingers slip out and turn around, moving fully onto the bed. You hadn’t discussed positions earlier, but you decide to get on all fours, Seungcheol slowly getting up.

He can’t see you, only your silhouette that looks ever so perfect, ass up in the air and, fuck, he thinks he won’t last long. Swallowing hard, he moves and places his hands on your hips.

“Is that alright?” He asks and you nod.

“Y-yes.”

That’s all he needs. Moving forward, his right hand grabs his erect cock, leading it to your core. God, you’re wet. No problem at all to slide into you, into your seemingly perfect pussy that begins to squeeze him right away. Seungcheol is sure there are stars dancing in front of his head already.

His size almost takes you out. The stretch hurts deliciously and the second he is buried fully inside of you, your head drops and a moan you couldn’t suppress even if you wanted to makes Seungcheol thrust for the first time. He starts out slow but deep, trying to hold on longer by not speeding up. While the goal is obvious, he doesn’t just want to cum inside of you and leave. No, he wants to make this a good experience for both of you. So, he listens to the sounds you make to the way your pussy clenches, the way your body shoves back against him. You seem to like it deep, seem to want it harder and, fuck, if Seungcheol wasn’t so keen on still kind of keeping it professional he would push your head into your pillows and fuck you til you begged him to never stop.

All that fills the air is the moans both of you let out as well as the sound of skin on skin, of his cock sinking into your wetness over and over again. You want to scream, want to tell him to go harder, faster. All sense of professionalism is slowly but surely leaving your body and when his big hands squeeze your hips, you finally falter.

“H-harder, please!” You cry out and Seungcheol twitches inside of you, nodding to himself before doing as he’s asked. He leans forward, his hips hitting yours harder and faster than before, fingers digging into your skin as he groans in pleasure.

“Fuck!” Your hands grab the sheets, knuckles white just when your first orgasm hits. Throwing your head back, crying out in nothing but pure bliss, leaving Seungcheol speechless. He can feel your climax around him, can feel you clenching, vibrating almost. He can feel just how good you squeeze him and there is no stopping his own release following right away, spurts of hot cum painting your warm walls white. He fucks both of you through your orgasms, sweat running down his face and finally pulls out, wishing the light was on so he could see his seed spilling out of you.

You turn around, falling onto your back, your eyes closed.

“That… wow.” You can’t find words. Mainly because you can’t even remember the last time someone fucked you this good. Seungcheol licks over his lips.

“Can I turn the light on?” He asks then and something in his voice makes chills run down your back. Your eyes fly open and you bite back down onto your lip before telling him yes. Once the light is back on, you feel another wave of lust rush over you. He’s fully naked. He’s sweaty. He’s perfect. Blonde hair sticking to his forehead, brown eyes taking in every bit of your body that’s free for him to see. Different from what you had believed you don’t feel uncomfortable. More so the opposite. His gaze on your body seems to light you on fire, making you crave more.

“You’re beautiful.” He lets his hands fall down onto your bare thighs, slowly pushing them apart. His cock hardens again at the sight of your pussy, his cum slowly dripping out of you.. You allow yourself to check him out, seeing how his blood rushes down, how much he enjoys the view.

“I think… I think maybe another round… would make the probability higher that it works.” Another thing you say before it registers.

The smug smile appearing on his face now almost makes you gasp. It’s so different from the person he was downstairs, from the shy and slightly awkward man who didn’t know where to look. Now, he looks like a wild animal with its eyes set on its prey. Oh, god.

He leans forward, hands still on your thighs and your throat goes dry. His tongue licks over his bottom lip and his eyes seem to already fuck you a second time.

“We should get this back inside, don’t you think?” It takes you by surprise when you feel his fingers on your core, when you feel him gathering his release and shove it back inside you, his thick fingers splitting you open deliciously. This time you can’t stop the gasp, your hands moving to hold onto his forearms, eyes wide and mouth dropped.

“That’s right, take all of Daddy’s cum,” his lips are right by your ear and your body is hit by an enormous wave of lust, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he keeps fucking them into you. Moans escape you and your head falls back - at least you think it does until you feel his other hand on the back of your neck holding it steady.

“Look at me,” he breathes, “look at me when I fuck my first load back into you before giving you another one.”

You whimper as you nod, eyes watering from the desperation of wanting to cum again. Seungcheol is sure to give you as many orgasms as you can take. As many rounds as you let him have you.

His plump lips are opened as he watches you, your sweaty face, your blown pupils, your obvious need for more. Fuck, he’s a goner. Before knowing what he’s doing, he’s leaning in even more, crashing your lips together. Your eyes flutter shut immediately and you kiss him back, opening your lips to invite him inside. He groans against your mouth, his tongue sliding into your warmth, feeling yours a few seconds later.

The kiss is heated and desperate and every vein in your body seems to be on fire. Your heart is pounding at triple speed in your chest and when Seungcheol parts for air, you’re already craving him again. You want to touch him, want him to hold you close when he’s back inside of you, when he gives you what you need, what you want. There seem to be no coherent thoughts left in your brain as he continues to kiss you with his fingers buried inside your sweet cunt.

“Do you even know how hot you are, fuck,” he breathes against your lips now, pulling his fingers out of you to have both his hands on you the next second. He kisses you again, hungry for your touch. Hands all over you, gliding from your hips to your breasts, getting rid of the shirt you were still wearing. He wants to see all of you, lose himself in your body, wants to get high on what it feels like to know you want him just as bad as he wants you. This isn’t just about making you a mum anymore. Seungcheol wants to give you pleasure, wants to treat you the way you deserve. He saw it in your eyes earlier - saw how you want it hard and rough, heard it in your pleads for him.

“On your knees, face me.” It’s an order you’re more than happy to follow. You bite down onto your lip and get on your knees, looking up at him. God, he looks ethereal.

“Good girl, so, so good for me.” You shiver when he lets his fingers slide over your face, down to your mouth, sliding them in. You suck them in without having to be asked. They taste like you and him and your eyes roll back when he begins to fuck them down your throat, his free hand cradling your tits again.

“That’s right. Fuck.”

It’s like he is in a trance, hypnotized by the way you look with his fingers in your mouth, knowing full well his seed is still inside and will soon be joined by more. He feels like he is addicted to you already, like he just can’t get enough of you. He wants to taste you, wants to have you come on his cock over and over again.

His eyes are glued to you. You, who is sucking on his fingers so prettily, your tongue swirling around the digits and Seungcheol grows impatient. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and instead grabs his half hard cock with his slicked up fingers, jerking himself off a few times, eyes never leaving yours.

“Open up wide for me, baby girl.”

His cock slides through your lips and into your mouth and your eyes roll back, tongue already pressing against his thick length. The groan he lets out makes slick run down your thighs. You want him so bad, your pussy is throbbing and clenching and you feel like your head has never been this dizzy before. Nothing but arousal is in the air, the smell of you and him and what you’ve done just as hypnotizing as your eyes.

Working forward slowly, Cheol watches as you take more and more of him down your perfect throat, his own mouth hanging low. No one has ever looked as good with his cock in their mouth. He doubts anyone ever will. He’s big, he knows he is and while he wants to be careful with you - he also wants to ruin you. Wants to see drool dripping down your chin, wants to hear you choke on his huge cock.

“Take it all, I know you can.” He pushes further, his tip gliding down your throat and you choke, your eyes filling with tears, but there is no part of you that isn’t fully enjoying this. You want him to fuck your mouth, to be rough, harsh. Want to be used by him all while having him breed you later on. He watches you, watches the first tear and the first small pool of drool, his cock growing heavier on your tongue by the second.

“Look at you. So, so pretty. Getting Daddy’s cock hard so he can breed you again, isn’t that so nice of you?”

He does his first thrust down your throat and you choke once more, followed by a moan around his cock that makes him groan. Everything around him is a blur. There is only you and your mouth, the warmth of it, the feeling of how your throat restricts around his length, how you seem to vibrate around him.

Getting your throat fucked certainly wasn’t on your list of probable things happening tonight. But you lose yourself in the feeling of him using you to get off. Feeling him grow harder in your mouth, spit dripping from your mouth onto your bed, his taste ever so present. God, you wanna devour him until he explodes inside of you.

As much as he enjoys this, though, there is a reason he is here. With a last hard thrust down your excellent throat, he pulls out, watching you gain back your breath, your eyes fluttering open and looking at him with such desperate want it makes shivers run down his back.

There is no need for words - he leans forward, pushing you over so you’re on your back, his lips catching yours in another heated kiss. His hand is around his cock, leading it to your entrance. The tip breaches you and you moan into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer. Your legs almost automatically set around his waist, his cock sinking as deep into you as possible.

“Fuck,” he breathes, settling inside of you, giving him and you a second to adjust. God, he could already shoot his load. You feel perfect around him. Like you were made for him and only him. It suddenly bothers him - the fact he’s gonna get you pregnant and never see you again. The thought is scary, and he might have spiraled into something - but you have a different idea.

Wiggling your hips, you are whining into his mouth, trying to finally get him to move. Your pussy squeezes him, begs him and Cheol is just a man after all. He does his first thrust that is quickly followed by more. Soon, both of your moans are filling the room, his lips kissing every inch of you he can reach, your heartbeat rapidly increasing. You feel like you’re in a different dimension, a dimension that only exists for you and Seungcheol and your pleasure. You arch your back, his mouth on your tits, sucking and biting them, your moans getting louder every second.

While you don’t want it to end, you also want nothing more than for him to fill you up again. Feel him twitch and lose control because of you. Your nails dig into his muscular back just as he leans back, his dark eyes staring into yours as he fucks you harder, his hands shoving your thighs back, his movements becoming more fluid. Your eyes roll back and you sure you can feel him in your stomach, or no, you can feel him everywhere.

“Look at you, so fucking beautiful, could look at you forever.”

You wonder if he knows what those words do to you. If he knows how hot he is, how ethereal he looks. Probably. With your mouth and eyes wide, your body in his hands and your pussy crying, begging, yearning for release, you let yourself fall. Fall down into the greatest pleasure of your life, waves and waves of it hitting you, liquid shooting out of you and onto Cheol’s cock and thighs, loud and lewd moans leaving your throat as you reach the highest height you’ve ever been.

Seungcheol’s response is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard, his own eyes not able to stay open as he fucks into you faster and harder, so close to bursting. And when he does, when he lets go as well, when all he has to give is ready to be given - there is no stopping the wave of yet another orgasm hitting you. Spurts of white are met by your pussy squeezing him, by you crying out his name over and over while his hips crash against yours at rapid speed over and over again.

Then, he collapses on top of you. Your legs fall into their natural position and your hands find the back of his head, stroking through his wet strands of hair. You are both panting, his chest glued to yours. Sweat and drool and other bodily fluids give the air the smell of sex and you wonder how long it’ll linger in your bedroom. You’re not sure you ever want it to leave. Or him, for that matter.

It takes a good couple of minutes before Seungcheol is able to lift his head to look at you. His eyes sparkle and you smile, one hand wandering to cup his cheek and caress it softly.

“Hi,” you whisper. He can’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” he replies quitely.

He kisses you after. Soft and sweet. He is still buried inside of you, keeping his cum inside you, making sure it’s all right where it belongs. The thought makes him wonder. Makes him ask himself why it feels like it’s not just his seed that belongs to you. He doesn’t dare to speak what’s on his mind. Instead, he just continues to kiss you.

Unknowingly that you were just thinking the exact same thought as him.

#svthub #seungcheol x reader #kvanity #scoups smut #ksmutsociety #scoups x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #scoups imagine #seungcheol fanfiction #seventeen x reader

2K notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling.

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy.

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it.

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way.

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up.

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs.

Liam folds.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants.

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat.

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.”

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.”

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak.

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?”

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.”

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.”

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes.

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.”

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.”

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.”

“You should’ve thought of that before.”

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.”

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?”

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.”

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.”

“You can’t leave, where would you go?”

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world.

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes.

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing.

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color.

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded.

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate.

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart.

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything.

And it seemed like you were no exception.

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners.

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear.

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.”

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there.

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam.

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much.

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self.

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another.

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel.

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down.

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.”

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you.

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.”

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?”

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow.

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.”

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.”

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue.

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?”

“God, yes.”

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard.

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most.

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh.

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.”

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion.

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed.

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?”

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?”

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.”

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage.

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue.

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight.

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin.

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.”

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?”

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.”

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You sink to your knees immediately after that.

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek.

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks.

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.”

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.”

“Get on with it then.”

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock.

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth.

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.”

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass.

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—”

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses.

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.”

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.”

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.”

“Is this pussy mine?”

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.”

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning.

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?”

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!”

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking.

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger.

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?”

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust.

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words.

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously.

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?”

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.”

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.”

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him.

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.”

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.”

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!”

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you.

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!”

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself.

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.”

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful.

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone.

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—”

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out.

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips.

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls.

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.”

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss.

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss.

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?”

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you.

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm.

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides.

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together.

“I think he left, sweetheart.”

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.”

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

5K notes · View notes

sharlsworld · 6 months

Text

a digital love letter - ʟɴ4 ☆

✿ lando norris x influencer!reader

✿ a glimpse of all the post’s from when they were “just friends”, to there engagement announcement, to the announcement of there first child.

🝮

june 1st, 2020

lando.jpg

liked by alex_albon and 83,924 others

lando.jpg when i asked y/n if she wanted to quarantine with me i didn’t think it would be this long…

yn if you ask me to make one more batch of cloud bread i will lock you outside

⤷ lando.jpg well that’s awfully rude considering i offered you my home

⤷ yn you literally begged me to quarantine with you???

⤷ lando.jpg no need for the details

maxfewtrell couple goals

⤷ lando.jpg fuck off

hearts4lando “just friends” ok buddy 😭

beloved.hamilton just a COUPLE of friends!😄

charles_leclerc i think this quarantine has got your mind all mixed up cause…

lilac.leclerc there so oblivious 😭

f1wags i smell…a incoming wag 👀

🝮

august 10th, 2020

lando.jpg

liked by georgerussell63 and 984,118 others

lando.jpg took my girl to dinner and let her go shopping for her birthday…never again. she really knows how to spend money

carlossainz55 “my girl” ???

⤷ lando.jpg is she not my girl? she never leaves me alone

⤷ yn you give off this tough guy act like you don’t ask me to hangout every day

⤷ lando.jpg once again, no need for all the details jeez women

landolovesyn it’s the fact she literally makes so much money but he still wants to pay for her stuff really tugs on my heart strings 😪

sharls_lerklerk PAINFULLY OBLIVIOUS

pierregasly cmon mate

⤷ lando.jpg what?

landolovesyn Heather 🤩

🝮

january 1st, 2021

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,746,023 others

lando.jpg happy new year bitches 🥳

yn been waitin for this one

⤷ georgerussell63 We all have

⤷ alex_albon seriously everyone

⤷ carlossainz55 Seriously

danielricciardo Took you guys long enough

⤷ yn 1 year is a reasonable amount of time

maxfewtrell NO PHOTO CREDIT?

⤷ lando.jpg no

lilymhe sooo when’s the wedding?

⤷ alex_albon watch they’ll probably get engaged this year

♥︎ by author

ynissocutiepatootie IT FINALLY HAPPENED

lovely_leclerc stop he took her to see the lights 😢

daddyricciardo i wonder how long they’ve been dating before deciding to go public

🝮

april 14th, 2021

lando.jpg

liked by yukitsunoda05211 and 824,722 others

lando.jpg i was feeling a little down today, but you DEFINITELY turned me on

yn can i help loosen your belt? it looks really tight 😉

⤷ lando.jpg you’ll never catch me saying no to that baby 😏

charles_leclerc Oh come on there’s children on this app lando

carlossainz55 I just opened the app mate

maxverstappen1 Well enough instagram for the day

georgerussell63 I could’ve lived the rest of my life without seeing this

⤷ lando.jpg don’t be hating

estiebestie lando is just a horny teenage boy honestly

♥︎ by yn

landowantsrizz i feel like i’m interrupting something…

hoeforsianzzz so there definitely getting down every night

♥︎ by author & yn

⤷ lilac.leclerc HELLO??? THESE BITCHES MUST BE GETTING DOWN LIKE BUNNIES

🝮

october 22nd, 2021

lando.jpg

liked by lewishamilton and 7,824,023 others

lando.jpg i couldn’t wait any longer

yn so impatient

⤷ lando.jpg i just couldn’t wait to call you my wife

⤷ yn good thing i said yes then

carlossainz55 Congratulations mate! 🎉🥂

♥︎ by author

lewishamilton Congrats man that’s amazing ♥️

♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 Congrats bro ♥️

♥︎ by author

lilymhe the gold band 😨

⤷ yn ikr i was flabbergasted

♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc Congrats lando! ❤️

♥︎ by author

danielricciardo Let’s go boys 🥳

♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri Congratulations mate, i’m so happy for you 🧡

⤷ lando.jpg 🧡

maxfewtrell little lando norris finally grew some balls

⤷ lando.jpg i can never win 💔

mclaren To forever! 🧡

♥︎ by author

alex_albon i called it

♥︎ by author

landolovesyn the fact this has 7 million likes and he doesn’t have 7 million followers on this account 😭

lando.norizz THE GOLD BAND? LANDO NORRIS YOU’VE OUTDONE YOURSELF

sharls_lerklerk been here since the video of her accidentally dropping her hydroflask on his foot at one of the races in 2019😭

⤷ lando.jpg i still have the tiny scar on my little toe

🝮

january 1st, 2022

lando.jpg

liked by oscarpiastri and 792,614 others

lando.jpg happy new year bitches 👀

yn happy new year whore

⤷ carlossainz55 and to think you two are getting married soon…

charles_leclerc Oh thanks mate

⤷ lando.jpg i wasn’t talking to you

⤷ charles_leclerc Alrighty…

georgerussell63 This was such a elegant, mature post, until i saw the caption

⤷ lando.jpg you shouldn’t be surprised

landolovesyn literally all of his posts are about y/n

⤷ hearts4lando basically a fan page

estiebestie i’ll never get tired of seeing lando’s posts for y/n

carlando there relationship is so perfect

lilymhe don’t think just because you two are getting married that she’s yours

⤷ lando.jpg take the L 🤣

🝮

october 22nd, 2022

lando.jpg

liked by lewishamilton and 28,942,861 others

lando.jpg My greatest love, you are my one and only. From the day you dropped your hydroflask on my foot and laughed until you were crying I knew you were gonna be mine one day, I can’t think of anyone better to spend eternity with. In every universe, I will find you. When death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other, and promise to find you in every lifetime. I love you for everything you are, everything you have been, and everything you will be. You are my destiny, I love you endlessly. ♥️

yn ok…i’m literally sobbing right now i love you so much lando

⤷ lando.jpg i love you the most

danielricciardo Turned on auto caps for this one congrats man i’m so happy of you ♥️

♥︎ by author

lewishamilton I wish you two a lifetime of happiness and health ♥️

♥︎ by author

carlossainz55 To a lifetime of bullying each other! ♥️

♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc Little lando norris isn’t so little anymore? 😂 Congratulations man ♥️

♥︎ by author

mclaren Congratulations lando & y/n! 🧡

♥︎ by author & yn

landolovesyn y/n norris 🥹

lando.norizz crying in the club

lilymhe she was mine first.

⤷ lando.jpg not even

lilymhe congratulations, i guess ♥️

♥︎ by author

alex_albon Congratulations lando ♥️

♥︎ by author

georgerussell63 Can’t believe how far you’ve came mate! Congratulations ♥️

♥︎ by author

francisca.cgomes such a beautiful wedding…should’ve been me and y/n’s but still! ♥️

♥︎ by author

carmenmmundt Congratulations ♥️

♥︎ by author

🝮

february 29th, 2024

lando.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1 and 10,523,792 others

lando.jpg Mathéo Lee Norris. 2.10.23 ♥️

comments for this post have been limited

yn my boy 🤍 i love you lan

⤷ lando.jpg i love you the most baby

lilymhe cutest baby boy 💙

♥︎ by author & yn

charles_leclerc I bet he misses his favorite uncle already

⤷ carlossainz55 excuse me?

⤷ charles_leclerc your excused

⤷ maxfewtrell cmon guys, obviously i’m the favorite uncle

⤷ charles_leclerc no

alexandrasaintmleux cutie boy 💙

♥︎ by author & yn

carmenmmundt Mathéo is the cutest 🥰

♥︎ by author & yn

lewishamilton A gift from God ♥️

♥︎ by author & yn

alex_albon bro has more hair then me

♥︎ by author & yn

🝮

march 26th, 2024

lando.jpg

liked by carlossainz55 and 19,982,713 others

lando.jpg a digital love letter for you, the light of my life. my life long treasure of destiny. you are the greatest gift God has blessed me with. i love you endlessly ♥️

comments for this post have been limited

yn you sweet talker, i love you lan 🤍

⤷ lando.jpg i love you the most baby 🤍

landolovesyn guys…this might be heather

♥︎ by author

#lando norris #f1 smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine

2K notes · View notes

swordsandholly · 4 months

Text

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

1K notes · View notes

slvttyplum · 5 months

Note

random share but you know the "depressed geto who just needs you sooooo bad to feel better" fic trope? (me and my friend eat that shit up lol). i had a revelation of a related prompt: "geto who is no longer in a depressive ep and his drive is thru the roof" 🤪

suguru was wearing you the fuck out, you losing your breath and him tying his hair in a bun as you try to catch your breath, the same thing has been happening every single night and even twice a day if he felt like doing extra work.

suguru hasn't been doing the greatest the last three months, and you tried your hardest to help him, but he just needed time, and he got it, a random week he was back to him, feeling better and wanting to do different things, that including you, and he wasn't playing when it came to that.

his sex drive was through the roof and him jerking it wasn't helping shit, he needed your pussy sliding up and down on his every second, he didn't even want to slide out not to cum inside of you, he was disconnected to you and never wanted to disconnect, he didn't realize how much he missed you until you finally laid the pussy on him.

his eye twitching when he first had you slide onto him, that's when he realized he needed you every second of every day. suguru even took days off just to fuck you, he couldn't help it, it felt too good to just stop and pick it up at night, he was going to go on for hours and take advantage of the time he had with you.

“you're the one who took off, not me. i have to go to work.” a pout on your face as you stare at him moving in closer with a sly smirk on his lips as he takes his arm, wrapping it around your waist and moving in for a kiss, his other hand around your neck. he needed you so bad he could barely think, his dick pushing out his sweatpants, you could feel his bulge press against you.

“i'll pay you double what you would've made this whole week. please? i need you.” kissing you again before you toss your bag on the floor and him pushing you into the bed, wasting no time stripping off his sweatpants and getting to work. there was nothing else on his mind beside you, the only thing flashing throughout his head was your pretty smile and the nasty shit he was going to do to you.

those seven days he tore your ass up, you couldn't even form sentences in between what he was doing, your pussy still tingling even after he was thankfully out of you. his cum leaking out of you as you tried to catch your breath, his hands still rubbing over you as he laid in between your legs and played with you, your eyes going blurry from the tears that were forming in your eyes, light moans slipping out of your mouth, you could barely breathe.

your whole body covered with hickies and your knees bruised from you kneeling on the ground from suguru face fucking you, and some of his cum still in the back of your throat from before. it was like he was trying to test hard far he could get away with doing things before you finally told him to stop, but you never did, you just let him keep doing things because it felt too fucking good not too.

even though he was tearing you down and thrusting into you s hard you could barely breathe and tears were sliding down your pretty cheeks, it still felt good to have him inside of you, his dick stretching out your walls over and over again or his dick sliding on your tongue and his cum leaking in the back of your throat.

this was better than anything you've ever experienced and both you and suguru wanted to savor the moments where his sex drive was so high he didn't care he had to pay you back double the amount you would've gotten paid, he just needed you, or he was going to breakdown, you and only you.

your pussy tightening around him every time he finished inside of you, his dick still sliding in and out, the stimulation of how wet your pussy was and his cum mixing together to make lewd sounds, it drove him crazy. sweat forming on his naked body, falling onto your body with every thrust, his body still moving as he ties his hair up so that he can see your pretty expressions to everything he does to you.

pushing into you over and over with no care in the world if the neighbors hear or not, all he knew was that he wanted to be buried inside of you forever and always without a care in the world. his cheeks flushed red from staring into your beautiful eyes and your pussy squeezing around him tightly every time he said something.

his hand on your cheeks, his fingers pushing open your mouth as he slammed into you, gathering his spit and having it slip into your mouth slowing. the feeling of his warm spit sliding into your mouth made you roll your eyes and jerk with pleasure, shortly after closing your mouth with his. his tongue sliding over yours.

“ i love you so fucking much, you're mine.” his eyes piercing into yours as he slams into you once more, his cum leaking into you again, filling you whole.

1K notes · View notes

nadvs · 7 months

Text

cam girl (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You were too tired to wake up to your alarm. You snoozed for an extra hour under a mountain of blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When you finally feel ready to start your Sunday, it’s almost 10, and your mind slowly pieces together everything that happened last night.

Rafe has become your sugar daddy. There’s no doubt about it, no other word for it. At this point, you’re sure he’s given you almost ten grand.

You remain lying in bed and pick up your phone to see he texted you five minutes ago. After the $3000 transfer last night, you had quickly saved his number.

Rafe: sore?

You reply: as fuck.

Rafe: you loved it

You roll your eyes. Of course you loved it.

You think of the way he spoke to you, mumbling that you’re beautiful and praising the sounds you made. The way he thrusted into you and called your pussy so fucking perfect. The way his skin slapped against yours with his rough jolts. Remembering it makes your stomach twist with arousal.

You reply: so did you

Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: send an ass pic

You: are you always horny?

Rafe: pretty much. woke up hard

You: and i’m the needy one… lmao

Rafe: are u sending it or not

You smile to yourself at how bad he wants you. You push the blankets off your body. You had fallen asleep in a cold room, your radiator refusing to come back to life no matter how hard you tried, so you’re covered head to toe under fleece pajamas.

The way Rafe reacted to your heat being broken replays in your mind. He seemed so dumbfounded by the idea that you couldn’t just fix something without worrying about the cost.

Then he sent you the exact amount you need to fix it. The fact that you can ask for however much you want and he’ll probably send it without hesitation still throws you for a loop. It’s an odd feeling not having to worry about money.

Thankfully, the morning sun has warmed up your bedroom. You pull your pants and underwear down in one smooth movement, turn onto your front and angle your phone camera.

You can smell Rafe on your pillow. The aroma of his cologne is so unbelievably nice, memories already connected to it.

You lie on your back again, pulling the blanket over you, and send him the photo, a low angle image of your naked asscheeks. You gaze at your screen, anticipating what he’ll say.

But he doesn’t send any words. Just a picture. Your eyes travel over the bulge making a tent in his black boxer briefs. You can see the trail of soft, light hair that leads down to his cock.

Your body tightens at the image. He felt so damn good last night. You can’t wait until the next time he’s inside you.

You text: wish u were here?

Rafe: i’d fuck u even harder than i did last night

You: you wouldn’t make me wait hours for it? wow…

Rafe: you’re so wet right now aren’t you

You can imagine the way he’d say that. He’s so smug. And so right. You dip a hand below the blanket between your legs, your soft folds drenched.

maybe, you reply.

Rafe: you took my cock so good

You bite your lip reading his words. The photo of his covered erection isn’t enough. You need more.

You: show me it

Rafe: you’d like that huh

You: i can just find some porn if you won’t do it

Rafe: don’t even fucking joke about getting off to some other guy’s dick

You smirk. You got to him like you hoped you would.

You: what? i can’t tease you too?

Rafe: no

You: send me a pic then. u know i deserve it

Rafe: only good girls deserve it

You: idk if good girls play with their pussies on camera… maybe i should stop doing that

Rafe: shut up. ur doing it for me every night

He’s so damn worked up that it’s funny. You shrug to yourself, opening another app, letting him sweat.

Your phone buzzes moments later, a notification from him dropping from the top of your screen.

Rafe: ???

You reply: you told me to shut up. i’m listening

He only texts your name.

You: rafe :)

A picture finally comes in. You take in the image of his dick, glad you finally have a chance to appreciate him in brighter lighting. The other photos that he sent over the cam chat were so dark, but now you can see the veins that run down his shaft, the swell of the tip, his large hand gripping the base.

You don’t think you could ever get tired of it.

You: am i allowed to touch myself?

Even through the power struggle between you two, you love giving him the control of when you can orgasm.

Rafe: if you promise me something

You: what?

Rafe: i can watch you play with your asshole tonight

Jesus. He’s unhinged. When he sent that message telling you that you’ll be doing a lot of new things with him, he wasn’t kidding.

The thought of doing this for him is stirring. None of the other guys on cam ever asked for anything like that.

You: i can do that

Rafe: get the toy i bought you. text when ur ready

You drop your phone and rush to find the vibrator, feeling like you’re throbbing now. When you’re all adjusted, you text him: ready.

Your breath hitches as the toy starts to buzz at a brutalizing intensity. You cross your legs, squeeze your chest, and groan as you think about him.

You orgasm within a minute. It feels good, but not as good as when Rafe is actually with you. With him, it’s a new level of ecstasy. Fuck. He may have ruined masturbation for you.

You pick up your phone.

You: might have to go back to sleep after that…

Your phone flashes a notification of $100 being transferred into your digital wallet.

Rafe: order breakfast for yourself

The amount he sent is ridiculous. What kind of place does he get breakfast from?

You doze off again, waking up half an hour later. After ordering food, you send Rafe a screenshot of the confirmation receipt and text: thanks baby <3

Rafe: did u call about the heat yet

You reply: i will

Rafe: do it now

You: bossy

Rafe: now

God, does he love to be in control. You follow his instructions and find the repair place you called last time and make an appointment to get your radiator replaced tomorrow afternoon.

It’s an unreal feeling - your problem being solved in the snap of a finger. This is a little taste of wealth.

You know not to read into it. Rafe’s not doing any of this of the kindness of his heart. Spoiling you is obviously one of the many things he gets off on. But you’re happy to go along with it. Especially considering $3000 is pocket change to this man.

When breakfast is dropped off, you notice a box addressed to you sitting in front of your door. You open it to find a new webcam. Rafe mentioned he’d buy it yesterday. He moves fast.

The day feels long and at 10 pm, you finally log on with the hope that Rafe will do what he did last night and come over instead of making you crave him throughout your session, leaving you to fuck yourself while fantasizing about him.

You’re wearing the ‘princess’ top you bought with his money, matching with pink underwear.

He joins the session and lust fires through you already.

“Hey,” you purr. “How’s the new camera look?”

figure8: much better

figure8 tipped you $100.

“What’s that for?” you giggle.

figure8: for looking so pretty

“Thanks, baby,” you say. “Is this pretty, too?”

You immediately turn onto your knees, looking back at the camera at the sight of your lace panties stretched over your ass.

figure8: goddamn

You smile.

figure8: you get me hard in a fucking second

“Yeah?” you coo. “Did you like my ass pic today?”

figure8: fuck yes. you ever done anal?

You laugh at how direct he is. You never have to wonder what Rafe’s thinking.

You hadn’t gone into that territory, but something about Rafe made you feel adventurous. “No, but maybe I’d try it with you.”

figure8: maybe?

“Depends on your mood,” you say.

figure8: the fuck does that mean

“I had to cum three times for you the other day. But yesterday, you wouldn’t let me do it for fucking hours.” You shrug. “If you make me wait that long again, you’re not getting anything.”

figure8: its honestly really fucking cute how you think you make the rules lol

“Shut up.”

figure8: im not getting anything… sure. i didnt let u cum all day but you were still begging me to fuck you last night

“I hate you,” you laugh.

figure8: you love me and this dick

figure 8: let me see you squeeze your ass

You’re so turned on already, resting your hands on your ass and kneading the flesh. You roam over your skin, fondling and grabbing, then move your fingers to the back of your thighs and bounce your asscheeks for him with your hands.

figure8: fuckkk just like that

“You like these panties?” you ask. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination.

figure8: i wanna see them ripped off

“These were expensive,” you pout.

figure8 tipped you $500.

figure8: there, you can buy more

“God, how much do you think they cost?” you laugh.

figure8: rip them off right now

You dip your fingers beneath the frilly border of the underwear and try to pull them apart. The lace digs into your skin and you finally hear a tear, the fabric giving way.

You watch your image in the screen, the pink lace pulling apart over your asscheeks.

figure8: shake ur ass

You oblige, arching your back, imagining him sitting behind you, big hands on your waist while you writhe and bounce for him.

figure8: let me see ur asshole

The request is probably the most obscene thing he’s ever asked of you. But you like that he does this, that he pushes you into new experiences.

You’re shaking with arousal as you watch yourself obey his orders, spreading open for him.

figure8: holy fucking shit

figure8: i know you’d loooove it up the ass

figure8: get close so i can see you suck on your finger

You’re puzzled at the request, but you obey anyways, turning to face the screen. You shift closer to your laptop and seductively stick your forefinger into your hot mouth, sucking it with quiet moans.

You’re reminded of how he shoved his finger in your mouth last night. Shit, last night was perfect.

figure8: is it nice and wet?

“Mhm.”

figure8: wanna put that finger in your ass for me?

You bite your lip, apprehension inching up your skin. He seems to notice your nervousness.

figure8: nice and slow, baby. you can do it

You nod, turning to spread your ass for him again, then slowly push your digit into your tight hole. You breathe through the pressure, dipping each inch of your finger in with caution, finding pleasure in the new sensation.

figure8: hows it feel?

“Good,” you breathe. You sit up to grab the lube in your nightstand that you bought when you started camming and sit in front of the camera, opening the bottle.

“You want me to try two fingers?” you ask.

figure8: fuck yes

You squeeze the slippery liquid onto your forefinger and middle finger and get onto all fours, angling your ass towards the camera.

When you slip both fingers inside, you arch your back and breathe shakily. Your eyes squeeze shut as you enter your body in a new way for him.

As hot as it is to be doing this for him, now that you’ve had a taste of what it’s like having his body melt into yours, you need him. This just isn’t satisfying enough anymore.

figure8: u like that?

“Mhm,” you moan. “Maybe it’d be better if I try with the dildo?”

You get the reaction you were hoping for.

figure8: the first dick in that ass isn’t gonna be some toy. it’ll be mine, you understand?

“Okay,” you say, brows furrowed, a tone of disappointment in your voice.

figure8: you want it tonight, don’t you?

“Yeah, baby,” you whimper, writhing in anticipation. “I want it tonight.”

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8 has left the session.

You smirk to yourself. It seems like this’ll be your and Rafe’s special version of foreplay. Maybe you’ll always begin with a cam show he pays you for, the same way you two started this wild affair, and then he’ll race over and have his way with you.

You decide to pull off your shirt so you can greet him fully naked.

When you hear his knock at the door, your skin prickles with anticipation. Rafe comes in frenzied, slamming the door behind him, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you back into your bedroom.

“Already naked for me,” he rasps, standing in the middle of your bedroom, holding you, towering over you. “My needy girl.”

“Don’t make me wait any longer, then,” you whisper.

Rafe guides you onto your bed, hovering over top of you, his lips hungrily kissing and sucking on your mouth over and over.

With your back against your sheets, you roll your body beneath his, the sensation of his jeans and t-shirt rubbing on your bare skin wildly sexy.

You swear you can feel his cock jerk under his jeans and you breathe out a contented sigh.

“What?” he asks, pulling back with his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Your cock is twitching,” you tease, slipping your hand under his shirt to feel his hot skin. You pull his shirt off and toss it onto the floor.

Rafe lifts his body slightly and dips his hand between your legs, making you sharply inhale as he spreads your lips apart.

“And you’re so fucking wet,” he replies, like he’s trying to one-up you. You shudder as his fingers run up and down your slit.

He brings his hand up to suck on the tips of his fingers, hard eyes on you, and you feel like you might lose your mind over how hot the shared moment is.

“You taste so good,” he says, voice rough. He comes back down to kiss you hard, then shifts to put his mouth on your tits.

You jerk when he grazes a nipple with his teeth, a moan spilling out of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling him pinch and grip you.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” Rafe says against your cleavage. “You want that?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“My good girl,” he praises. You hear him fumbling with his jeans, the zipper slipping down quickly, and he plunges into you with no warning, with such a rough blow that you whimper.

You feel your body swallow his thickness, stretching to adjust to his size. He curves into you so perfectly.

Rafe pulls back and rocks into you again, your body jolting with his pressure. His chest is pressed against yours and he shifts to the side to put his hand at your throat, long fingers around your neck.

He squeezes gently, still pounding into you.

“Tighter,” you whisper.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says with a breathy laugh, like he can’t believe that you exist, that you’re taking him like this.

His fingers tighten on the sides of your neck as the sound of smacking flesh fills your bedroom. You grunt with every heavenly pump he gives you, his balls swinging against your ass.

“You take it so good,” he breathes. You tilt your head back, letting his big hand grip your neck better. You’re so grateful he didn’t torment you by making you wait this time.

“Get on top,” Rafe groans into your ear, drawing out of you. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

His hands find your hips as he helps pull you over him. With your palms against his firm pecs, you sink onto him, his cock hitting a new angle.

“Fuck,” you choke out. “Oh, my God, Rafe.”

“You like that, huh, baby?” he says, dimples framing his cocky smile.

You start to bounce with your legs bent and framing his torso, leaning forward so your clit rubs around the base of his cock. The feeling of him filling you and the friction against your sensitive spot makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Your heart starts to pound harder as you massage yourself with his dick, grinding at the perfect pace. You look down at him, meeting his blue eyes, as you roll your hips so you can feel him in every possible way.

You dip your head, panting and moaning as he grips your hips. You’ve never wanted to scream from pleasure so badly.

“I know, princess,” he drawls. “I know it feels good.”

The waves of pleasure are so damn nice that you moan and cover your mouth with your hand so your neighbors don’t hear how loud you’re being.

Rafe roughly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down.

“Don’t do that,” he instructs.

“My neighbors-“

“Let ‘em hear how much you love this dick,” he says. You feel like you could cum from his words alone.

“F-fuck,” you stammer, grinding faster and harder. “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum?” he teases. A part of you is afraid he’ll push himself out of you, delay your orgasm.

“Please let me,” you whine, “please, baby.”

“I’ll let you,” Rafe says with an amused chuckle. “God, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

The pleasure spikes in you so damn high that you feel your limbs go numb. You cry out as you dissolve into pleasure in its purest form, continuing to ride him as the orgasm hits you, tightening around him in pulses.

“There you go,” he says soothingly, encouragingly.

You bend over on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, hearing his heart. Rafe’s warm hand strokes up and down your back as you spasm on top of him.

As your gasps slow down, his hands find your ass. He jiggles your cheeks in his hands and you giggle breathily.

“You gonna let me cum in that ass?” he asks you.

“You can cum anywhere you want,” you breathe, feeling cockdrunk. Rafe’s chest rumbles with his laugh.

You sit up and slowly pull yourself off of him, his hard cock bobbing once it’s out of you.

Even though you’re sure you already made his cock wet enough, you hand him the bottle of lube before getting on all fours on your bed. You look back at him to see him slathering his cock with lube.

“I’ll go slow, princess,” he promises. “I’ll stretch you out first.”

You squeeze your pillow and place it so that you can sink your face into it as he fucks you. With your head dug into the soft cotton, you feel Rafe’s big hands grope your ass.

He spreads your cheeks apart and groans.

“Every part of you is so pretty,” he huffs. “You gonna take my cock in any hole I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, muscles still weak from your orgasm.

You feel a finger slowly enter you and you arch your back, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so new but so fucking nice. The pressure is higher than when you did it on camera for him, his finger bigger than yours.

“There you go,” he coaches as he pushes deeper inside of you. “Shit, it’s so fucking tight. I’m gonna cum in a second, baby, I know it.”

“Fuck, Rafe,” you mumble. “It feels amazing.”

He adds a second finger, working in and out to stretch you out some more. You push back against his fingers to encourage him to go deeper.

“I want to fuck your ass so hard right now,” he groans on the verge of a whine.

“Do it,” you say. “I’m ready. Do it.”

His fingers pull out of you and you feel him spit on you, warm saliva dribbling over your opening. Finally, you feel the tip of his cock start to push into your ass.

The pressure stings as he buries into you and you try not to slump, you try to stay firm for him.

“Oh, my God,” he moans as he fills you. “Fucking… Oh, my fuck…”

His raw, untamed rambling gives you a sense of willpower to stay still and ignore your body’s impulse to pull away from the unfamiliar pain.

Rafe finally presses his base against your ass, filling your hole up completely.

He retreats, giving you some relief, then pounds into you again. The feeling is a good pain as he starts to thrash in and out, his fingers so tight on your hips that you know he’ll bruise you.

He pulls away a hand and you suddenly feel a hard smack on your ass that makes you gasp. He keeps fucking you hard, plunging in and out with a frenzied pace.

“You like it, princess?” he says between breaths. “You like it up the ass? I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” you groan, the feeling pleasurable now that you’re getting used to it. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“It’s not just your pussy that’s mine, is it?” he taunts. “It’s your ass. Your mouth. Your tits. All of you. Fucking all of you.”

His claim of ownership on you is so fucking intoxicating that you almost forget all this is supposed to be is hot, casual sex.

You push away the thought, refusing to let it ruin things. This is just fun. This is all this is.

“Goddamn, and you were just…” he groans as he keeps fucking you. “You were just… fuck, just always around and looking so fucking hot. I never thought I’d get to fuck you.”

You bite your lip at his words, lost in the feeling of a man wanting you this bad. Of Rafe wanting you this bad. You knew he loved to tease you, but shit, he was yearning for you this much whenever you came to clean his house?

“Oh, fuck…” Rafe’s deep voice gives out as you feel him pulse his hot cum into you, his body jerking against you.

He eventually slowly pulls out and you feel his hand slowly rub over the curve of your ass.

“Stay like this,” he says. “I wanna watch my cum drip out of you.” Just when you think he can’t get any filthier, Rafe surprises you. Every damn time.

Once he’s satisfied, you feel him plant a kiss on your ass before he shifts away to put on his underwear.

Your smile is slack as you drop onto your side, hand resting on your forehead. You feel utterly fucked out. He didn’t lie. You won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You watch his chest rise and fall when he lies down next to you.

Again, Rafe surprises you that he’s staying, even if it’s just a little while. He seems like such a fuck and chuck kind of guy. It’s what you expected. Kind of what you welcomed.

He looks at you, amused by how hard you’re gasping for breath.

“Damn, you won’t even need your heat on tonight, huh?” Rafe says. “Gave you a whole fucking workout.”

“If it’ll be like this every night, I’ll cancel,” you joke lazily.

“Cancel?”

“Mhm,” you say tiredly, eyes closing.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

He says your name stern enough that you pop open your eyes.

“I’ll cancel the appointment,” you clarify.

“They didn’t already fix it?”

“Tomorrow was the soonest they could do.” His brows furrow in what looks like anger. You can’t help but chuckle a little. “What’s the big deal?”

“So, you spend another night cold?”

“It’s not that bad,” you say. “I have lots of blankets… and…” You yawn. “A space heater… and… my pajamas…”

You realize you’re lying on top of a thin sheet completely naked but you’re too exhausted to care that you’ll wake up cold. It’s like Rafe fucked the energy out of you.

“I have to lock the door behind you,” you remember. You sit up, rubbing your eyes so you stay alert. “I don’t know if you realized but this isn’t a gated community.”

“Should I… uh, do you want a hotel room or something?” Rafe asks.

You look at him, his head on your pillow, his hair a mess, and offer him a confused smile.

“Hotel?” you repeat.

“If it’s gonna be cold in here.”

“Oh, that radiator has broken a million times,” you say. “I’ve survived a lot of cold nights. I don’t need a penthouse suite.”

Rafe gazes at you with an indistinguishable look.

You feel a bit awkward now. You know he’ll leave eventually, but if he doesn’t do it now, you’ll pass out and he’ll leave the door unlocked.

You stand to keep yourself awake, finding a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt.

“Same time tomorrow?” you try to joke.

“I can stay and…” he says. He sits up, his hair falling over his forehead, his stomach flexing. “Uh, I can… hold you. If you want. So you’re not cold.”

You stand in the middle of your small room, looking down at Rafe, and can’t help but notice how out of place he looks. His large, half-naked frame on your small double bed, his expensive clothes drawn out on your squeaky, scratched up floor, offering to cuddle you to sleep.

This is supposed to be purely sexual. You’ve been having fun and adding to your bank account, while letting him live out his fantasies to sexually and financially dominate the help. That’s all you are to him: a depraved cam girl who cleans his house. Right?

But now, he’s acting… well, nice. Like he’s not just a fuck buddy who gets turned on by giving you money and buying you things. And it’s unexpected.

You’re not sure what to do.

{ read part six here }

2K notes · View notes