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#I feel like I finally figured out how to color shit and I could not be happier I figured it out with Ella
abbu0414 · 2 days
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A Switch (2009!Ghost X reader)
Guy this is just a shit post to let you know I'm alive (not actually bc I'm in college and finals are literally in a week) I'm sorry for being so inactive. Also please give me suggestions in my requests so I can get back into writing!
Word Count: 484
♪Song: House Song by Searows♪
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Women practically threw themselves at his feet. It was always the same way too. They would stumble up to him at the bar while he was silently celebrating with his team for their most recent successful mission, ask what he was doing tonight and if they could sneak a peek at the face behind the mask. Of course he would dismiss them and send them back off to their group of friends, returning to his team after doing so. He didn’t know why but it upset him. The first time it happened to him, he was surprised. Women wanted him? But he was so scary and brutting…to each their own I guess. But the more it happened, the more he realized the women wanted one thing. Him. Not like him as a whole person, but just a part of him. The part that didn’t have a soul, just the empty, hollow casing of it. No one asked his name, what he does for a living, why he wears the mask, not even what his favorite color was. Not that he’d even answer those questions, but no one ever tried. Which is why he would avoid the bars as much as possible. If he did go, he would stick to the walls and corners of the bar. 
One day you walk in. He notices you but instantly looks away. Not in shyness, but in hopes you wouldn’t notice his 6’4 figure, or the infamous ghost mask. He watches you stand at the bar looking around. The bar lights light up your face, illuminating your cheek bones and your cute nose. The way that your eyelashes batted in quick increments is so captivat- ‘Ghost you’re getting sidetracked, get it together.’ You quickly look at your phone and see no notifications. 20 minutes pass, then thirty minutes. He sees you hang your head and pick it back up to ask the bartender for a drink. He watches your lips and sees you mouth the words ‘double’. You get your drink and take a big gulp, letting the drink warm your throat. 
You look around and make eye contact with him. You begin hesitantly walking towards him and he starts to roll his eyes. 
Here we go again, how should I steer this one away? He thinks to himself. He watches you walk closer stick out your hand to shake and-
“Hi, I’m y/n. I just got stood up for a first date and I could really use a friend right now so I feel less shitty about it. What’s your name?” You think for a second “And your favorite color.”
Oh. Oh.
He hesitates to answer, but a switch flips in him.
“You can call me Ghost. And asking me my favorite color is too personal of a question for me, but let me buy you another drink for getting stood up.” 
He liked you already.
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starryluminary · 6 months
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I redesigned Ella for funsies!!
My motivation (if you must know) was to make her less of a gimmick-y, one note character and more of a grounded character. Pahkitew is special in the sense that half of the cast is stuck in heavy delusion, making them feel too cartoony for comfort. The worst offenders of this in my opinion are Ella (though she’s a bit more of a character than the others,) Max and Leonard. Lord knows if I’ll do this again with them but for now this is how I would ground Ella in terms of design
The redesigned png under the cut, also for funsies
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neverendingford · 1 year
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Idea first came to me after I said something like "a thousand needles sewing you to a canvas of pain" and so I decided to make it real as best I could.
#does this count as#sculpture#my art#color says shit#Ford's Art#<- figured I needed an actual art tag since I'm actually doing more stuff so that's it I guess.#now I have to go back and edit the tags on all my old art stuff#gonna tag this as#body horror#just in case. some of those threads are actually going through my skin so it's worth tagging.#anyway. I'm finally finished with it! ngl I finished and was like 'what if I don't post it I just keep it privately?'#but I'm continuing my exposure therapy by posting art publicly so here.#anyway. it's no dismembered hand stitched to a canvas but it's the best I could do without going full Hannibal and committing medical crime#I used glue at the start to sew through before giving up and just figuring out how much skin I could get the needle through#I'm gonna feel it tomorrow for sure#do you have any idea how hard this was with just one hand. I had to use my toes as extra fingers to thread the needle every time I ran out#I wanted more tension on the threads but with only one hand and anchors that threatened to rip out I couldn't really#plus the left side was easier to sew because I was using my left hand. the right side was significantly more difficult#as evidenced by the significantly worse stitching on that side#I think I should have stuck with the glue though because it makes the pull marks like I wanted#it makes the thread have more of a meat-hook feel and weight rather than just light thread pulled through stiff skin#I like the left side better than the right. and the upper right is the least convincing
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ellemj · 4 months
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Wear That Again: 12 Days of Smut #7
Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot
This fic was inspired by two things:
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Ha16Rj/ this Tiktok edit by @the.stark.internship ( @thestarkinternship on Tumblr)
@littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty drawing which can be found on her blog, I've stared at it since yesterday and I'm still not over it.
Summary: Bucky ruins your brief holiday romance with a SHIELD agent out of jealousy. You'd think storming in and yelling at the super soldier would've ended in an argument and some slamming doors, but that's not what happens at all.
Warnings: profanity, some objectifying thoughts, possessive!Bucky, jealous!Bucky, thigh riding, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: I don't know how tf it's happening but y'all have me averaging 1.2k notes per day on my blog for the last couple of days and it feels surreal. Also I just want to say, I wrote Bucky out-of-character for this one-shot and this is not how I imagine he'd be at all, but it was fun to write hehe.
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            “You little fucking shit.” You finally snap as the elevator doors are opening to let you out into the common living area of the tower. “Bucky, you are such an asshole.” You’re absolutely livid, and if your words hadn’t showed that then your actions sure would’ve. You’re slamming your hands down on the kitchen island before the elevator doors have even fully closed. Bucky sits on a barstool with a near straight face, completely unaffected by your rage and only briefly looking up at you as he chews through a bite of his Chinese takeout. “You’re the reason he stood me up, aren’t you? What the hell did you do this time?”
            “Wear that outfit again.”
            You’re silent for the longest moment yet, at least fifteen seconds, and Bucky thinks it might be a new record for you. He hasn’t paid attention to a damn thing you’ve said since you walked in, but he sure as hell paid attention to what you chose to wear tonight. You were supposed to be going on your third date with a SHIELD agent who crossed your path a number of times professionally before finally asking you out two weeks ago, and with it being just six days until Christmas, you were dressing for the occasion tonight. You’re wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater that’s tucked neatly into the tiniest holiday-themed miniskirt you could find. It's a sort of festively-colored tight plaid skirt that barely covers a thing, but you didn’t wear it for any reason other than to encourage your date to rip it off of you later. However, Bucky made sure the poor guy wouldn’t even get the chance to see the damn thing.
            “What did you just say to me?” Your voice is shaking but not with fear, no. It’s shaking with the sheer amount of anger that’s currently eating you alive. Bucky lifts his gaze to meet yours as he sets his chopsticks down and picks up his half-empty beer bottle from the countertop. Letting his eyes roam over the entirety of your figure that isn’t obscured by the kitchen island, he boldly repeats himself.
            “Wear that again.”
            “If you like it, I’m burning it.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at the man before you. Bucky lets out a low laugh now, the sound is melodious but his gaze hardens and narrows as he focuses in on your face.
            “If I like it?” All he can think about is pushing you up against a wall, lifting the back of that tiny little piece of fabric you call a skirt, and fucking you until Christmas morning. If he likes it? Hell, he fucking loves it.
            “That’s it, I’m burning it.” You’ve had enough. First, he ruins your short-lived holiday romance. Then, he has the audacity to act like your outfit is doing something for him. As you said before, he’s a little fucking shit. You shoot him one last passing glare as you move around the island and start heading toward the hallway, ready to lock yourself in your room and plot his demise for the rest of the night. But Bucky just can’t let you have the last word, and he sure as hell can’t let you walk away from him looking like something that belongs under the Christmas tree. Or more accurately, something that belongs under him.
            The two of you have done this dance so many times that you aren’t even surprised when you hear his barstool slide away from the island seconds before you feel a firm hand gripping your forearm and yanking you backward. You’re not surprised when suddenly, your front is pushed roughly against the wall of the hallway and his lips graze over the shell of your ear. Frustratingly, you’re not even a little bit surprised when you feel heat rushing through your body and settling between your legs.
            “You’ll wear that outfit again, when I tell you to.” Bucky’s tone is so much less indifferent than it was only a moment ago. It’s so full of lust that it leaves you trembling, awaiting whatever his next move may be. He knows no one else is in the tower tonight, which means if he wanted to, he could take you right here in the hallway and not feel an ounce of guilt over it. Who’s he kidding? He’s done that before even with everyone in the tower, and guilt sure wasn’t the feeling he felt afterward. But he wants you in his room tonight. You and that fucking skirt.
            Bucky takes your silence as obedience and steps away from you, letting you push yourself off of the wall and turn around to face him. If you’re being honest, you’re a little disappointed. That’s all he wants from you tonight?
            “How long has it been since the last time we had sex?” Bucky questions. He knows you remember, probably down to they very hour. He remembers, but he has to make sure you do too.
            “Two weeks.” You haven’t slept with Bucky since the SHIELD agent asked you out. Bucky mulls over the length of time in his mind. He wants to remedy that, he wants to fuck you tonight, but he won’t. You started seeing someone and threw Bucky to the side so easily that him waiting two weeks to ruin your dating life was the nicest possible thing he could’ve done in retaliation. He’s not going to give you what you need now, at least not everything you need.
            Bucky’s silent as he pushes open his bedroom door and waits for you to step inside before him. He’s still silent as he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons you to stand between his legs. He begins raking his hands up the outsides of your thighs, sliding them underneath your skirt until he feels the waistband of your sheer tights. He isn’t so silent when he begins sliding those down your legs, letting out a soft groan when his hands meet your bare skin underneath. It’s been too fucking long since he’s touched you and an unfamiliar peace settles in his soul when he feels your warmth. You’re expecting him to rip the tights off, followed by the skirt and everything else you’re wearing. However, Bucky’s plan involves keeping you nearly fully clothed, and only partially satisfied. Once he has your heels and tights on his bedroom floor, he kneads your ass underneath your skirt, letting his fingertips brush over the fabric of your thong. God, he’s really practicing his restraint tonight. His cock is already hard, threatening to rip the seam of his pants with even the slightest movement, but he isn’t planning on getting his own fix tonight.
            “Sit.” He commands, gripping your hips with both hands and pulling you down to straddle one of his thighs. As soon as your clothed core makes contact with the toned muscle of his thigh, you stiffen and try to shift your weight so you won’t be so stimulated. Bucky makes an annoyed face at you before slipping one hand back underneath your skirt and drawing your panties to the side, causing your wet clit to press against the fabric of his pants. “I’m not rewarding you for spending your time with some other guy for the last two weeks, I’m not having sex with you.”
            You’re about to protest, to tell Bucky that he’s being sensitive, that the two of you never had any rules about dating, but Bucky senses your opposition and begins dragging you back and forth over his thigh. He looks down between the two of you as a wet spot quickly begins forming where your pussy meets his clothed leg. Fuck. It feels too good for you to even consider stopping and telling him that he’s an asshole. So, you go along with his guiding movements, grinding against his leg and finding just the right amount of pressure and friction to start heading toward an orgasm.
            “You didn’t have to scare the guy off.” You mutter as you lean forward, letting your hands rest on Bucky’s shoulder as you place a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. He sighs and tilts his head to the side to give you better access, but his hands continue to guide the movement of your hips.
            “Three dates were enough. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He admits. You feel an odd sense of pride surge through you at his words, though you have no idea if he’s being honest or not. “I couldn’t let him have you like this.” You suck on the skin just beneath Bucky’s left ear and pick up the pace with which you’re grinding on his thigh.
            “Fuck, James.”
            Bucky knows this isn’t the right time for the conversation, so as you grind out an orgasm on his thigh, letting out the most heavenly moans and whimpers just for him, he tells himself to hold it together until Christmas. That’s when he’ll tell you. That’s when he’ll tell you that he wants more than the angry, hateful late-night rendezvous in his room or yours. He wants more than sitting around waiting for you to come home from a date while he nearly goes insane with jealousy. He wants more of you. Fuck, he wants all of you.
            Just as you’re coming undone on his thigh while moaning his name and squeezing his shoulders, he lets his hands snake underneath your little plaid skirt. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingertips into the supple skin there as he leans into your neck. You feel him take a deep breath in as you’re coming down from your orgasm high.
            “Why do you always smell so fucking good?” He asks, licking a small stripe up the side of your neck before pressing his lips against it in a soft kiss. You only hum lightly in response, your brain not quite ready to formulate a full sentence. Bucky presses a second kiss to your neck, and then a third as his works his way up to your lips. His hands move to smooth over the fabric of that little skirt that he can’t seem to get over. “Stay away from the fireplace this week. I can’t have you burning this skirt.”
TAG LIST: @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @thealloveru2 @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @wishingforwonderland @mrsjoequinn @nixxaswrld @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @fandomsfeminismandme @missadored
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predestinatos · 6 months
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warm enough for you | CL16 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
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chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
summary: charles has a special way of getting under your skin, especially when he insists on staying after the party is over. chapter 1 of an ongoing series.
tags: enemies to lovers, smut with a bit of plot, cocky!charles, bratty!yn
word count: 3.6k
minors dni ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! warnings & note underneath
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warnings: smut, drunk (tipsy) sex, oral (f!receiving), penetration, unprotected sex.
author's note: first time attempting at writing smut and posting anything so please keep up with me. currently working on part 2.
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Everyone was slowly leaving your apartment, the party reaching its natural end. Bottles were scattered across your living room, but apart from that, the flat was not as messy as expected. The party was more of a get together, given the small venue where you lived.
You were dizzy, the alcohol getting to your head and body, but conscious enough to decide that you could still clean things up before going to sleep. You waited for everyone to leave, and as you were getting ready to finally let out a deep breath you seemed to be holding the whole night, you notice someone standing, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Fuck you scared the shit out of me,” you start. His tall figure contrasted with the multicolored shadows of your living room, still dancing to a rhythm that was no longer there.
Then he chuckled. You knew it was him, he did not have to make a sound for you to recognize his frame, the way he always crossed his arms when he looked at you, as if in constant judgment. But if you had any doubts, that sound gave you all the certainty you needed. It was the chuckle he let out before a snarky remark. “I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t know you were so sensitive…” and there it was. The pet name used solely to annoy you, the tone that clarified his only purpose was to get under your skin.
“I would argue with you, but honestly I just want to clean up so please leave, thank you.” It was true. You enjoyed entertaining this back and forth, feeling him getting more and more irritated yet pleased with himself. But you were not in the mood for it, at least not now. Your head was softly spinning and taking your mind off of things is exactly what you need.
As you walk past him to the living room, in an attempt to showcase how you were not going to even acknowledge him, let alone join him in his games, he pushes himself off of the doorframe. “Just thought you could use some help.”
This was ridiculous, and you let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. Since when does he want to help you? Ever since the day you two met, he made it his mission to be as unhelpful as he could, rolling his eyes at everything you said, giving counter arguments to your opinions even if he agreed with them, all whilst smiling towards you with the look of pleasure over someone’s anger. You tried your best to avoid him, but it was impossible to do so, since your friend group was the same. Wherever you went, there he was, and vice versa. Eventually, obviously, you started acting the same way towards him as he did with you, and this just amused your friends even more. That was why he was here, in your apartment. He comes with the friends package, whether you like it or not.
Once again, apart from the laugh, you said nothing else. Instead, you leaned down and started picking up the empty bottles from the floor, whilst the lights kept changing colors from blue to purple to red. To your surprise, you hear him do the same, although he stumbles on himself a bit more than you. “Lightweight” you say, smirking, making your way towards the kitchen to put the bottles in a trash bag. That, and because the silence in the living room was too loud, made it too tight for both of you to fit.
As you placed the empty bottles carefully in the bag, avoiding the loud noise of glass on glass to heighten your soon to come headache, you feel a hand on your waist. His hand. His grip was tight and soft at the same time, sending shivers down your body which contrast with your annoyance. “Excuse me” he said behind you, almost whispering in your ear. His hand left your waist as fast as it got there, an indication of how he was aware you wanted more. “Was this less scary?” he asked, ironically.
You turned to look at him, almost ignoring the fact that you were trapped against the balcony as his body. You could feel his gaze on yours, and while you tried to hold it, you realized you couldn’t. The best you could do was run a hand through your hair in an attempt to disguise the tension running through your body. “You’re such an asshole” you said.
He finally looked away while smiling to himself, staring out the window. You took a second to notice the way his throat bobbed up and down, his hair was messy and careless due to the alcohol on his system which lowered his inhibitions. “You like it though.” Before you could turn away, his gaze stared at your again. His breathing was heavier than usual, the drunken smirk on his face juxtaposing with his furrowed eyebrows and darkened eyes. His face was so close, too close, for you to think straight. You looked at his lips, breaking eye contact once again, letting him win once again. “You wish” was all you could reply.
Without moving, his voice asked in defiance, “so what if I do?” You could feel his eyes exploring your body, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady, too controlled breaths. The red light in the living room shone behind him, highlighting his shape hovering above you. “That’s rich coming from you” you snickered. As much as you were feeling the tension between you both, as much as your teasing and bickering was reaching to a degree of immense repressed desire every time you two were in the same room, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.
The first time you two met, he went out of his way to drunkenly inform you, at a club, that you two “would never happen” and that he “would never fuck you.” To this day you fail to understand where the comment came from, to this day you don’t understand why he hates you so much but insists on making his presence known to you.
At first he seemed confused at your comment, his eyes searching your face for an explanation, but soon enough they widen in realization. Letting out a soft laugh, Charles ran his hands through his hair, making it even messier. “You still think about that?”
It was a ridiculous question, and he knew it. It was hard to hear something like that from someone who you basically had just met, even though he was drunk when he said it. You had not even had time to consider any sort of thing happening between you two and he had already declared it impossible. It seemed unbelievable that someone could be so full of himself to the point of declaring he was not going to bed with you, even before you showed any interest.
You pushed him away softly, and he did not stop you, despite his clear disappointment. That emotion was quickly replaced by a raising of eyebrows as he saw you open the door to the fridge and taking out two cold beers, handing him one. “You don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so help yourself.” Was all you could say.
This behavior could be explained by the alcohol running through both of your veins already, by your tiredness over the night, or the sheer need for company you had been needing for a while. You moved towards the living room again, slouching down on the sofa, and you needed not look back to know Charles was following you.
He lifted your legs, which were resting softly on the couch, only to sit down and place them on his lap carefully, with a grin splattered across his face. His side profile revealed a certain rigidness, his jaw tight and tense, but his eyes were soft and calm. “Did you mean it, though?” you asked. You seemed to have interrupted his thoughts, because his expression was lost at your sudden break of silence in the dark room.
“What do you think?” he asked back, never willing to give you the upper hand or satisfaction of a normal conversation. You tried to distract yourself from his cold hand caressing your leg, mostly because you did not know how much of it was intentional. He seemed to be doing it so nonchalantly and carelessly, you wondered if most of it was just instinct.
You tried to calm your voice before you replied, even though the first word that came out of your mouth sounded deeper and higher at the same time, uneven and nervous. “Well- I think, according to what you said that nigh-“ you started, but couldn’t finish. He did not allow you to, interrupting you and turning his face to you for the first time since you two sat down. “I know you’re not that dense, princess.”
Even in the darkly lit room, you felt his gaze burning your skin, focusing on your lips, then your neck. Meanwhile, you stared at his hand, moving slightly up your leg, sending shivers throughout your whole body, shivers you wish he did not notice, but knew, deep down, he was aware of. He knew the effect these had on you, he knew how to please, because that was his reputation. And you hated it at first, hated that he was so confident in his skills and so utterly arrogant about them, but now it only aroused you even more. You took a big sip of your beer, in an attempt to cool your now burning body.
That seemed to remind Charles he was himself holding a bottle of beer in his own hand, because upon seeing you swallow the liquid, he looked at the hand which was holding it. Moving it in order to hold it by the neck, grinning to himself in proud arrogance, he brought it close to your skin, your body hissing in pleasure at the temperature. You closed your eyes and exhaled softly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this seemingly simple action affected you, but also not wanting him to stop.
He whispered your name, the request for you to look at him implicit in his voice, and you complied. His movements did not stop, a slow game he seemed to be playing with you, in an attempt to see how far he could go. “You look so fucking hot,” he breathed.
Your body was aflame with lust, and so was his, you could tell. You could see him struggling to even speak clearly, to move clearly, trying his best to control his movements which threatened to unleash themselves. “Careful, Charles, you don’t want to break your promise,” you teased, as you slowly moved closer to him, both in defiance of his actions and tempting him to proceed with them.
He freed both of his hands as you placed yourself directly in front of him, sitting on his lap, feeling his erection through his jeans. “You’re making it very hard for me not to do it” he murmured. “Am I?” you asked again. You were feeling bold, enjoying how both of you were toying with the thin line between hate and desire, between forbidden and allowed. Charles merely nodded hungrily, his hands placed on your hips, caressing them softly.
Your pulse quickened at the touch, but also at his greedy and dark expression. You moved your hands towards his shirt, which you start unbuttoning slowly, revealing more and more of his skin slowly. Before you could move to the fourth button, he abruptly grabs a hold of your wrists and pins you to the sofa, underneath his frame. “Stop being such a fucking tease,” he demanded with an aggressive ardor in his voice. With that, he guided your hand which he was still holding towards his erection. You realized the agony he must be in, how his cock must be throbbing underneath those layers of fabric. You felt weak yourself, with an intoxicating need to undress, to ignite the fire that was visibly about to burst into crimson flames.
“You deserve it” you replied with a smirk. It didn’t seem to convince him, this attempt of yours at seeming stronger and unaffected by what was happening. You and him were playing a game but it was getting too real, too intense, too tempting. Letting go of your hand and getting closer to you, his lips mere inches away from yours, he placed a hand between your legs, feeling the pooling wetness growing. Your whole body shuddered at this, a moan escaping your lips and giving you away. “You’re just making it harder for yourself,” he whispered smugly, lips brushing against yours.
Desperately you pulled him in for a kiss. His kiss was filled with intoxicating craving, a groan escaping his lips at the sudden action, his hips grinding against you in frenzied movements. Breaking your kiss, his lips moved towards your neck, softly biting it and leaving wet marks as he kept going down. You undid the knot holding your short dress together, thanking yourself for the easy-access choice of wardrobe.
As he kissed your stomach and paused at your navel, looking up at you as if asking for confirmation. You looked at him and saw how he looked: disheveled and flushed, his cheeks red and messy hair. He looked absolutely mesmerizing, the mix of complete submission but demanding attitude affecting your body through a quickened pulse. You could only nod your permission, finding yourself at a loss of words. He did not hesitate to pull down your lacy underwear, leaving you exposed to him, feeling his warm breath against you. All at once, his lips were exploring your opening, followed by his tongue, moving with ravish.
You cried audibly in pleasure, your back arching against him in untamed pleasure. Unable to hold his own need for pleasure, Charles unzipped his jeans and began stroking himself. His ragged grunts made your body melt in jolts of bliss, and watching him touching himself as he ate you out sent you completely over the edge.
He raised his eyes at you as he kept savoring you, some of his hair sticking to his forehead, his gaze filled with contrasting innocence and total control over you. He pulled his lips away from you, placing himself above your frame, making you look so small in comparison to him. He hovered over you, shirt completely unbuttoned, hand still pleasuring his cock, visibly throbbing with need. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him, face wet from your juices and his saliva, chest rising and falling incoherently. “I knew you’d love it” he breathed out.
It was admirable, really. How he still teased you and made it his mission to get under your skin, even like this. “That’s all you’ve got?” you replied, eyebrows raised, eyes half closed in unspoken defiance. “You’re jerking yourself off like a desperate teenager and I’m the one ‘loving it’?” you were testing him. Trying to see how much you could push him over the edge, annoy him, how he would take it out on you – or not.
“God you’re such a fucking brat” he hissed, holding your body with ease and turning you around, lying on your stomach. With his knees, he spread your legs apart and positioned himself between them. You felt him lower himself down, preparing yourself to be filled up, to quench the thirst growing at every passing second but- nothing was happening.
“What the fuck-“ you complained, annoyed. It was slightly embarrassing, your frustration over how long he was taking, and when you turned your head around slightly to see what was wrong, you saw that he had won. He was doing it on purpose, despite his own desperation to bury himself inside you. Amused, he chuckled bringing his hand to your back, caressing it as if to ease your pain in mocking comfort. “You have to tell me what you want, princess.”
“You can’t be serious” you hissed back. But he was, and you knew it. You had gotten this far already, and yet he would not let this go, and you did not know why he insisted so much. You had no idea how much it turned him on to see that only he could affect you like he did, to see how much control he had over you.
Rolling your eyes and doing your best at a monocordic voice, you complied “fuck me, Charles.” Yes, you were being bratty and petty, and yes, you would do anything just for him to fill the emptiness you were feeling inside you.
“You’re such a brat,” he growls as he thrusts himself into you. Your instantly arch your back in pain ad pleasure, feeling his whole body vibrating into you with untamed hunger. His hands grip your waist and force you to switch from a lying position to all fours, allowing him to access you easier. He continued his thrusts as he left bites on the back of your neck, and you filled the room with your cries.
He was not being soft or sweet about it. Charles was completely immersed in his need to have you, so much so that he could barely see anything apart from you, back arched in pleasure for him, the switching lights illuminating every curve of your body in sensuous effect. He dreamt about possessing you like this so often, thought about how good you’d feel so many times, that what was happening seemed to him unreal. He felt himself close to coming as you clenched around him, but before he could so, he pulled himself out of you.
 “Not yet,” he started. His voice was husked and lazy, a reflection of how much restraint it was taking him not to fill you up already. You were about to protest, being so close yourself, but as you turned around you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of him. His green eyes were glossy, his face completely flushed and sweaty from withhold pleasure. As you stared at him, he raised an eyebrow and gave you a half-smile. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, doing nothing to fix it, but it didn’t matter. He seemed almost shy about how you were looing at him, which was insane and ridiculous, given what you were doing, what you were.
 “I want to look at you” you said. This caused Charles’ eyes to widen in surprise, not expecting your bluntness. Even you were shocked at what you said and how demanding you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself.
Holding one of your ankles and placing it on his shoulder, Charles entered you with unleashed violence, his gazed interlocked with yours. You thought about how pornographic the view must be for him as well, your swollen lips, some tears of pleasure running through your cheeks, and a sloppy smile plastered across your face. You feel absolutely lightheaded, almost drunk with ecstasy. “Putain, j'aime quand tu me regardes comme ça” he said, French escaping his lips as he loses all capacity to form coherent thoughts. This just made your pulse quicken, your skin bursting with fulfillment.
 His pace fastened even more, as he grunted and throbbed with how good he felt inside you. “Your cunt feels so fucking good” he kept repeating, his eyebrows furrowed as if attempting to delay his orgasm. “Charles, I- I’m gonna cum” you try telling him, between breaths and moans. “Fuck, fuck, look at me” he demanded, holding your face so it wouldn’t move away from his gaze. With that, you erupted in pleasure, completely undone beneath him, body trembling.
The view was so overwhelming, Charles couldn’t help but come as well, filling you up with fervent ardor, his body falling limply on top of yours. He remained there, his breathing uneven and erratic, just like yours.
You both lost track of time as you lay there, together. You could have fallen asleep like that, maybe you had, there was no way to tell. He felt warm and comfortable against you, and you felt so close and secure to him that neither of you dared to move.
After a while, his fingers starting drawing small, invisible designs on your still sensitive skin, causing you to giggle. For some time, you two just existed together with nothing else retraining your behavior, your own hands playing with his soft hair, a tired smile on his face.
You wake up with light filling your living room, giving you momentary blindness. The headache was done with its threat to show up, now attacking you with full force, limiting your movements and thoughts. Despite everything, you remembered the night before. Even if you did not, there was evidence that something had happened – or, better, there wasn’t any, and that’s what caught your attention.
The living room was pristine and looked untouched. You were fully dressed in some comfortable clothes, and the TV was on despite the fact that its volume was almost fully off. It seemed as if this was an ordinary day, but you knew it wasn’t.
You grabbed your phone and stared at its screen empty of any sort of texts, notifications or messages. Nothing to prove the night before. You knew it was a mistake to do so, but you couldn’t help typing out the text:
To: Charles (Asshole) Hey, got home safe? (11:33am)
All you got back was a small text underneath yours, which said “Read (11:47)”
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slttygeto · 7 months
Text
"IT'S A BLUE WORLD WITHOUT YOU" -- GOJO. S
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c.w: heavy manga spoilers, heavy content mentioned towards the end (su!cide), wrote this with fem! reader on mind.
word count: 2k.
note: this is how I cope.
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You are fifteen and you think Satoru is annoying.
You like rainy days. You like the feeling of comfort that comes with hearing the sound of rain hit the ground, the smell of soil and winter approaching and everyone pulling out their colored umbrellas to shield themselves from getting what. You love the rain, but you learn that someone doesn’t.
The door to the classroom slides open and you see a new figure standing by the door, looking extremely pissed. You share a look with your classmate, Shoko before Yaga steps from behind the new student and clears his throat.
“Girls, we have a new student-“
“I hate the rain.” The white haired boy interrupts your teacher and you furrow your eyebrows. Did he not know anything about respecting his elders? But before you could even think of possibly pointing it out to Shoko, Yaga’s hand collides with the back of the boy’s head and a loud smack echoes in the classroom. You watch the scene unfold with wide eyes.
“I was talking,” Yaga presses and the white haired male rubs the back of his head with a whine.
“That hurt!”
“Good. Anyway, this piece of shit is Gojo Satoru. He will be a student here with you. That’s Shoko,” Yaga points at the girl before moving his pointer towards you.
“And that’s (Name). Sit between them or next to one of them, it’s up to you.”
Gojo’s eyes flicker between you and Shoko for a good second before deciding to put his desk next to you and you raise your eyebrow.
“What?” He asks and you finally notice that he has sunglasses on during cold weather.
“I like to sit next to the window.”
“Well, he told me to choose.” He says before looking outside of the window, turning his back towards you.
“You don’t like the rain,” you add. “But I do, and I wanna sit next to the window when it rains.”
“You like the rain?” He sounds offended but you don’t falter and simply nod.
“Very much.” You hear him sigh before moving his seat back a little, swaying back and forth.
“Okay, let’s change seats.”
“That easily?” You raise an eyebrow and you can tell that he’s glaring at you behind his glasses.
“Just take the seat.”
Shoko watches the interaction with careful eyes but doesn’t say anything. When she turns to face the board, she notices Yaga staring at the two of you with something she couldn’t quite understand at the time, but she remains quiet nonetheless.
But then you turn seventeen, and you still think Gojo is just as annoying—idiotic, even.
You know you shouldn’t make him feel worse than he already feels, but Suguru was a dear friend of yours and the fact that Satoru couldn’t make him stay—despite it not being his responsibility made you feel like shit. So you storm to his room, you bang at the door and open it before he can even get out of his bed.
“You’re an idiot.” Satoru’s never seen you this heartbroken, but his eyes are puffy too and you should’ve stopped—you should’ve just left his room, but you didn’t. “You’re an idiot, you’re a horrible person!” And the louder you got, the closer Gojo stepped towards you.
“You think I don’t know that?!” Your heart stills at the loudness of his voice. “You think I am not aware of how badly I fucked up? You think I don’t know what was expected of me? I do! But I fucked up, and there’s nothing me-the strongest can do about it!”
And by the time tears are falling down his cheeks, you are holding his face and bringing him closer to you—hugging him the same way he’s been craving for years. You hold Gojo Satoru like the most fragile worn out cup in your pantry, you stroke his hair and let him cry on your shoulder as you wet his shirt too. For the first time in a while, you both feel like kids and you don’t realize the weight of what you both went through with Suguru leaving the school.
By the time you turn 26, Megumi has gotten used to your presence around the house. He doesn’t know whether or not you and Satoru are a thing, you never call each other ‘babe’ or endearing terms, and he knows just how shameless the white haired male can be, so embarrassment wasn’t something that could ever hold him back from referring to you as his partner. But he doesn’t, and neither do you.
You sleep in the same room, on the same bed. There have been nights where you and Satoru would simply cuddle on the couch and not exchange a single word, the comfortable silence engulfing the both of you when Megumi walks downstairs to the scene makes him raise an eyebrow before blurting out a single sentence.
“What are you two?” You look up from your book and Satoru groans a little because he was far behind in the page you were reading compared to you, but he looks at the boy you both took in after the tragedy that happened with Megumi’s father and gives him a look.
“And how does it matter to you?”
“It’s just… weird.” Megumi confesses and you give him an apologetic smile.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” The softness of your voice with him has always been the boy’s favorite thing, a reminder that a motherly figure that cares deeply for him does exist.
“No, but I just wish you made it official.”
His words hit you hard, and you try to pretend like it didn’t distract you from the book you were reading. Megumi goes back to his room and you are left with Satoru who seems to be adamant on getting you to notice him, or tell him off as he breathed hard against the back of your neck.
“Anything on your mind, Satoru?” you finally broke the silence and you shudder when you feel him press his lips against your nape.
“Don’t you wanna think about what he just said?”
And as honest as you can get, you simply reply. “No. I like it this way. Don’t you?”
Satoru is quiet. He presses a kiss to your skin and whispers against it. “Would love to call you mine one day.”
“I’m already yours.”
“Then let me say it,” Satoru makes you sit up and leave the warmth of his embrace. He turns your face around to look at him and speaks more firmly. “Let me call you mine.”
You’ve known Satoru for so long, but never has he made you feel so small and so intimidated. You are barely able to look him in the eye, flushed cheeks and trembling lips giving away the swirl of emotions inside you.
“Satoru…”
“Are you mine?” He whispers and his hand grabs your face in a way that has your breath catching in your throat.
“I am yours.” You whisper back, voice so small and body leaning towards his.
“Yeah,” he breathes out and his eyes trail down to your wet lips. “You’re mine.”
The night is long after that and you remember having to skip work the next day, with Gojo giving the kids a lame excuse as to why you didn’t wake up early to make them breakfast like you usually do.
“She caught a cold,” Satoru makes his way out of the house when he makes sure both Tsumiki and Megumi are in the car and the latter gives him a look.
“She was fine yesterday.”
“Yeah, I was surprised too.” The grin that Gojo flashes his spiky haired son is too cocky for the boy’s liking. You wake up an hour later with pain killers, breakfast and a note on your nightstand.
--I’ll be back after I drop the kids. I miss you already. I really enjoy calling you mine<3
You both are twenty seven when Satoru has to fight Suguru one last time. You hold your breath as your approach the duo having what you supposed was their last conversation, and with teary eyes, you step from behind the strongest to glance at the almost lifeless body of your once very close friend.
“Suguru,” you try not to let it show on your face, but you are broken. You don’t feel betrayed by him, you never did and it was something that Satoru chose to ignore since he felt all sorts of emotions when it came to his best friend’s abrupt decision a decade ago.
“Oh, you’re here,” the relief in Suguru’s voice makes your shoulders shake and your lip trembles in a sad attempt not to cry.
“When I asked to meet up all those years ago,” Suguru continues with half a smile. “You didn’t show up.”
“I refused to believe anything being said about you.” You confess. “Which is a bit insulting to you because you took it so seriously but…” You trail off, eyes lingering on the bruised body of your friend. “It just hurt. Knowing that I was there, but didn’t do anything about it.”
Suguru tells you that he doesn’t regret anything, how he simply couldn’t be happy in such a cruel world. Satoru tells you not to take a step closer, but you see his teary eyes and you hold the cold body of Suguru as tight as you can. The empty and quiet alleyway is filled with pathetic sobs and hushed comforting words.
You never heal from the incident that happened on December 24th, 2017.
You are now twenty eight and being brought up to the room where Gojo was. After being let out of Kenjaku’s prisom realm, you rush to your boyfriend’s side and slam the door open. There he was, sitting on the bed looking a bit too relaxed.
“Satoru,” you breathe out, tears brimming the corner of your eyes and said man opens his arms in an attempt to catch you when you throw yourself at him.
“Easy there,” he whispers against your hair but you tighten your hold around him and cry on his shoulder. “You really had no faith in me?” He tries to lighten up the mood, but when you pull away and have such a serious look on your face, he almost deflates and lets himself be vulnerable with you.
Almost.
“You were distracted,” you say and grip his shoulders.
“Won’t happen again.” He reassures you and leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Nothing can happen to me,” he continues. “I am the strongest after all.”
The sentence has a bitter taste to it now as you sit front row, watching the last few moments of his fight with Sukuna unfold.
Your seat is pushed back as you stand up abruptly. You wanna cheer when it is announced that Gojo has won, finally won—but you can’t. Your voice is lost, you’re not sure how, but your tongue feels numb and your heartbeat is loud. You feel your stomach churning at the sight.
Satoru spits out blood, and Sukuna has a smug look on his face as he watches the upper half of his opponent’s body detach and fall to the ground with a loud thud. And then it’s quiet.
No one dares to say a word, no one dares to move.
It was over, and Gojo broke the one promise he kept to both you and the students.
“I’ll win.” His lifeless body said otherwise. You can’t find it in you to think of anything—anyone but Shoko.
“Do something!” You scream out to her and the woman flinches at the loudness of your voice. Never has she seen you in so much distress. “Do something, make yourself useful—save him, he’s right there!”
“(Name)-“
“I don’t want to hear it… I don’t-“ you glance towards his body once again and your hands are tangled in your own hair.
“You can’t leave me Satoru,” you wish no one could hear you, but you see Yuuji’s body flinch from the corner of your eyes. “You know I won’t stay if you leave.”
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2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
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worldlxvlys · 23 days
Note
Hi honey can you do a text with Matt like he likes the reader and the reader likes him but they are to scared to confess and they make really sexual and suggestive comments and jokes to each other ✌🏼 I love you 💋 Matt is kinda subby and like touches himself to her messages imagining it’s real
Love you,🥰
I have a lot of ideas so just let me know if you need any 💋
texts w/ bsf! matt (part 2)
matt sturniolo x reader
warnings: smuttttt, hand job, masturbation, fantasizing
a/n: pls don’t ever stop giving me ideas this ate
previous part !
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want me to help ?
any sense of self-control that i had completely left my body when i saw the sentence.
i read it over again and again, trying to figure out whether she was joking or not.
as i let my mind wander, i began to palm myself through my boxers lightly.
i thought about her face, how pretty it would look scrunched up in pleasure, while she chased her orgasm.
suddenly, i felt my phone vibrate in my hand, bringing me back to reality while i began to read the text messages.
i’d spit on the tip and watch you squirm while it dripped down.
“fuck” i sighed out, rubbing myself through the thin material as i imagined her staring up at me, her hands massaging my thighs.
my hips jerked up into the air at the thought, almost as if i could feel her teasing touches.
part of me felt guilty, imagining my best friend’s face inches away from my dick.
but if she didn’t want me to, why would she send a text like that? when we’ve flirted in the past, it was usually all jokes.
but this felt different. maybe it was the morning wood and horny state that i woke up in causing me to misjudge her intentions, or maybe she was teasing me on purpose.
either way, i had no plans of stopping myself from basking in the moment.
besides, if i have my boxers on i’m not technically touching myself to the thought of her…..right ?
i’d give you a few good pumps, squeezing the base and twisting my hand around you.
god, what was she doing ?
i began to apply more pressure to my crotch, pushing and rubbing more and more aggressively.
she was driving me crazy, it’s almost as though she wanted me to drive over to her and fuck the living shit out of her.
and with that thought, i found my mind wandering off again.
i imagined the way she’d scream my name, the way her ass would jiggle while i fucked her from behind while her legs trembled.
then i’d swirl my tongue around the tip teasingly before taking you into my mouth.
she just loved to tease me. i wonder how she’d feel if the roles were reversed.
what would she do if i rubbed my dick against her thighs ? or her stomach ? each time, managing to just miss her pussy ?
would she be a moaning mess under me, whining and crying for me to do something ?
maybe she’d grab my hand, forcing me to pump myself a few times before finally pushing into her.
i’d take every inch of you, deep throating your cock.
i was so lost in my own world, i hadn’t even realized how close i was until i was bucking my hips up into my hand, with quick gasps and curse words flying out of my mouth.
“fuck, fuck, fuck” i whispered out as my hands flew around the sheets, desperately trying to find something to hold onto.
i let out a cry of her name as i came inside of my boxers, forming a wet spot on the light-colored material.
i took in a deep breath, attempting to calm myself when i got another message.
wouldn’t stop until you begged me to.
i’d let you cum all over my face while your legs shook and your body twitched.
i quickly pulled my boxers down, throwing them haphazardly across the room.
my hand immediately flew to my dick, spreading the remains of my orgasm around, making me let out a small whine.
i began to pump myself quickly, imagining how pretty she’d look while thick spurts of my seed flew onto her face.
my eyes were scrunched up, toes curling inward while i pushed through the overwhelming amount of pleasure building inside of me.
soft whimpers fell from my mouth, as the wet sounds of my hand sliding around my dick filled the room.
my head flew back as my phone fell from my hand and onto the bed.
i imagined her on top of me, bracing herself with her hands on my knees as she rode me.
“you wanted me so bad? getting off on my text messages like a little slut? sit there and take it”
“i can’t, it’s too much” i cried out, fisting the sheets as tears pricked at the corner of my eyes.
“you can and you will. take it”
i shook my head vigorously, taking my bottom lip between my teeth. “i can’t-” i started.
she’d loop her fingers into my hair, yanking my head towards her chest.
taking the hint, i’d bring my mouth to one of her tits swirling my tongue around her nipple.
i was ripped out of my fantasy quickly, as my hips began to stutter.
i let out an embarrassingly loud whine as my load spilled out of me, covering my abs and thighs.
my body trembled, muscles contracting and relaxing as the aftershocks ran through me.
“holy shit” i whispered as the reality of the situation hit me.
i just jerked off to my best friend’s text messages.
and that was the hardest i’d ever came before.
i fucked up.
🦋🦋🦋🦋
yayyy double update bc i love you <333
masterlist
tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris
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moonlightsolo · 1 year
Text
i see you.
summary: being the product of a secret relationship between a human scientist and a na’vi comes with its perks. one of them being neteyam sully.
pairing: neteyam x fem!na’vi/human reader
warnings: heavvyyyyyyy smooching, angry jake, mention of parent dying/leaving, also things get a lil spicy, one use of y/n.
note: tell a friend to tell a friend she’s baaaaaack !!!!! i haven’t written something in so long so my grammar is kinda shit, so if you see something that doesn’t make sense ignore it! anyway- reader & neteyam are aged up to twenty years old. also reader is 6ft since she’s na’vi/human, but she’s still small compared to him since he’s like 8’2. 
part two | part three | part four | part five
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no one knew how it happened- how you happened. how a human scientist and na’vi mated; it should have been impossible, but somehow they made it possible. 
your mother travelled from earth to pandora to study the native species of the omaticaya clan. during her studies, one particular na’vi caught her eye, and sooner than later they developed a secret relationship and fell deeply in love. 
they were inseparable- he taught her the ways of the forest and showed her how the na’vi live day to day. while your mother brought him along to collect samples of the environment around her, and he kept her safe as they explored.
the battle between the sky people and the na’vi, unfortunately ended with your father dying at the hands of your mothers colleagues. the omaticaya finally won, but when the rest of the human soldiers were sent back to earth, your mother was stuck. 
she was unable to travel in cryosleep while carrying you, so she was forced to stay on pandora and live out the rest of her pregnancy on the foreign planet. 
the only person who knew the identity of your father, was your mother and grace. everyone else assumed some soldier knocked up your mom, but boy, were they wrong. 
when you were born, your eye shape and color of your skin resembled your mothers, but the color of your irises were a deep amber, almost glowing yellow. darkened skin-colored stripes decorate your body head to toe, and white freckles adorn your facial features. 
the secret was out- you’re half na’vi, and half human. 
once the clan found out the scientists child is part na’vi, they took you under their wing to teach you their ways. your mother became extremely jealous, knowing that she could never be accepted by them like you have.
at the mere age of four, your mother left the base to travel back to earth without you. leaving you under the care of norm, max, jake and the rest of the clan.
thankfully being part na’vi and human, you’re able to breathe both types of air. mo’at became your motherly figure once your mom disappeared, quickly helping you adapt to their lifestyle in the forest.
over the years, you started to realize that you were different from the other na’vi children. you’re shorter in height, aren’t as fast, and you didn’t have their azure-colored skin. but somehow, you still felt as if you were a part of them. 
you became close to neytiri and jake’s kids, mostly kiri. you grew up with her and neteyam, but as you blossomed into a woman you wouldn’t dare to look him in the eyes. 
fearing that he’d realize your true feelings for him if he stared into them too long. 
throughout your teen years, you casually dated a few na’vi boys, but none of them were neteyam sully. nobody could compare, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 
even now as a young adult, those old feelings can’t be choked down anymore. the same feelings you had about the eldest sully boy when you were younger. 
“stop drooling.” kiri teases you under her breath as her hands work to weave a basket. 
you’re knocked out of your trance, head whipping to face her. “no! i am not drooling.” you scoff and shake your head as you continue tucking leaves into the correct shape. you can feel your cheeks burning hot from her catching you staring at her older brother. 
you glance up from your working hands, admiring how neteyam effortlessly spears a fish in the water that he’s standing ankle-deep in. he lets out a triumphant laugh as lo’ak hollers proudly at him from the grass. 
“yeah, bro! get that fiiiiiish!” the younger boy whoops happily with his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound.
the older brother turns his head to see who else could have noticed the catch, barely making eye contact with you before your eyes drop back down to your hands. 
swiftly, you busy yourself with tucking the leaves into each other. your pointed ears twitch slightly when you notice the sound of rustling water growing closer. 
kiri nudges your arm with her shoulder which confirms your suspicions.
he’s walking up to you. why is he walking up to you? you didn’t say anything to him. you didn’t even get a good look at him. there’s no reason for him to come over here.
from your peripheral vision, you can see his feet stop right in front of you in the glittering water. “hey guys.” he speaks softly, almost out of breath.
“hey, neteyam!” kiri quips at him, eyeing you from the corner of her eye with an evil grin.
the sound of his panting voice makes your heart  skip a beat and your abdomen constrict your breathing. you push the basket away from your nervous hands to rest them on your knees. your eyes carefully drag up the lanky expanse of his body, meeting his eyes with your own.
“oh hey, neteyam. how’s… um- the fishing going?” you hum nervously, chewing on your bottom lip out of a nervous habit. 
you can’t help but notice his hands are resting on his slender hips with his infamous bright smile on his face. 
“it was good. caught a few big ones…” he huffs out another strained breath. the sound makes you want to fall over, “what are you guys doing?” his eyes dart over to the trees for a split second before squatting down in front of you and kiri. 
his big round eyes look over your unfinished baskets, reaching out to touch yours gently. 
“hey! don’t touch. you’ll ruin it.” kiri swats at his grabby hands, making him raise his arms in surrender. “okay, okay!” he laughs. 
the sound of rustling leaves distracts you from the boy in front of you, making you and kiri turn to look behind your backs. before you could even make it halfway, his hands wrap around your wrists to yank you forward. 
“shit!!” you yelp before you face-plant into the chilly water, gurgling under the surface before lifting your head up, taking a sharp breath.
muffled laughter fills your ears as you sit up in the pond, pushing your soaked hair out of your face and off of your ears so you could hear. 
neteyam is sitting in the pond directly in front of you, hand laying across his abdomen as he belly laughs along with lo’ak. 
kiri is already climbing out of the water, grumbling under her breath and wringing out her hair. “screw you guys.” she calls back, flipping her middle finger before disappearing into the thick forest towards home. 
you look back at neteyam and lo’ak who are slightly calming down between their fits of laughter. “you… should… see… your… face… right… now!” neteyam cackles, throwing his head back in the air. 
“best idea, bro.” lo’ak reaches over to high five his brothers shoulder and to use him to pull himself out of the water. he grabs neteyam’s hand to help him up next, both of them still giggling.
“this was your idea?” you stare up at neteyam with squinted eyes and a scowl on your face. 
the boy audibly gulps when he notices your changed demeanor, his hand going to scratch the back of his neck. “uuhh, yeah… maybe?” he clears his throat, darting his eyes away from you. 
for a moment, you keep the angry facade before your arm winds back and you send your hand through the water to splash the older boy. 
“woah!” neteyam blocks the water with one of his hands, a surprised smile instantly forming on his perfect lips.
he swoops down towards the water, sending a wave directly into your face. “hey!” your eyebrows furrow, quickly getting onto your knees to send another burst of water towards him. 
lo’ak watches the scene unfolding in front of him, noticing that the rest of the fish swam away from the commotion. “guess we’re done fishing today.” he sighs in defeat and climbs out of the pond without either of you noticing. he follows kiri’s footsteps into the forest with the basket of fish over his shoulder.
you and neteyam continue battling it out, which ends in both of you completely soaked head to toe. “truce! truce!” you yell out in exasperation, falling back into the water. 
“my stomach hurts from laughing. i can’t anymore.” you continue to giggle as neteyam helps you up from your position in the water. he slowly trails behind you as you trudge back towards land, his tall stature towers over you from behind. he reaches out to grip your hips to lift you onto the plush grass. 
the feeling of his hands resting on your body makes your blood run hot, cheeks flaring with heat. 
“we’re drenched. what are we going to tell everyone?” he breathes out heavily with a soft chuckle. 
“we slipped and fell into the water?” you suggest and look up at him.
“we just happened to both slip and fall into the water together?” his eyebrows raise, and his cheeks puff out air in attempt to not laugh.
unfortunately, neteyam decides to look down at you which makes both of you burst into laughter again, “that idea is so stupid.” he choked out, pressing his fist to his mouth to stifle his little laughs. 
“let’s go back. we can figure it out on the way.” you sputter out, hunching over slightly as you walk forward in attempt to stop your giggles.
“hey, wait!” neteyam’s voice is suddenly serious, and you can’t feel his height looming behind you anymore.
you turn around at the sound of his voice, seeing he’s still in the same spot he was standing in. “i don’t want to go back yet.” he admits, his big round eyes darting down to his feet. 
you can feel your heartbeat grow faster, pattering against your chest like a jackhammer. “why not? you okay?” you take a hesitant step forward to stand underneath him, looking up in attempt to read his facial features.
by now, the sun is starting to set. the foliage around you both is slowly changing over, the white freckles in each others skin sparkling under the moonlight. 
his yellow eyes shyly look into yours, a timid smile twitching up onto the corner of his lips. 
“m’fine, i promise. i just want to stay here for a little longer. i don’t want to go back just yet.” he mumbles softly, a puff of his breath fans over your face from your close proximity. 
you can’t help but feel giddy from his words, unable to stop yourself from reaching your hand out to rest on his waist. your thumb absentmindedly rubs circles against his soft skin, “do you mind if i stay with you?” 
“do i mind?” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes, throwing his head back with an over-exaggerated sigh. 
embarrassment floods your body, making your ears ring from the blood rushing through your head. out of fear he’s angry with you, your hand pulls away from him, “oh i’m sorry. i’ll go then.” you start to turn the opposite way but he grabs your hips to keep you in place. 
“are you serious? you really don’t get it do you?” he almost laughs out of amusement, but you can’t help but feel even more confused. 
“i want you to stay here with me. i want you.” one of his hands come up from his side, bending down slightly to carefully tuck your hair behind one of your ears. 
your face stays emotionless as your eyes dart from his eyes to lips and back. “say something. anything?” he begs and shakes his head at you with an amused smile. 
“‘teyam…” you breathe out, a big smile beaming across your face, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks; something you could’ve only dreamed of doing. “i can’t tell if you’re being serious.” you whisper softly in the small amount of space between your faces.
“i’m gonna kiss you now to show you how serious i am.” he looks directly into your eyes before they flutter shut and he leans forward. 
the feeling of his lips on yours makes your knees go weak. neteyam sully is really kissing you right now. your arms wrap around his waist tightly to hold yourself up, which he quickly notices. 
his large hands drag down your sides and over your butt to grip the back of your thighs to hoist you up to his height. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, ankles locking against his lower back. 
the new position allows him to deepen the kiss even more by gently wiggling his tongue against yours. he stumbles forward to a nearby tree, pressing your back against the trunk of it. 
it’s not like he’s having trouble carrying you, you’re equivalent to a feather for him. he just wants you closer. 
one of his braids falls in your face, swinging and tapping your cheek whenever your lips would connect.
“your hair…” you giggle against his lips, bringing your hand up to his face to tuck it back behind his ear. 
“sorry, they have a mind of their own, ya know.” his husky voice mumbles deeply into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your skin. 
your eyes flutter open to be met with the glowing forest, neon colors lighting up the vegetation around you both. you’ve been on this planet for twenty years and it still surprises you every day. 
neteyam pulls back to look you in the eyes, letting you admire his face for a moment. his blue skin seems brighter under the bioluminescent foliage. especially with the gleaming freckles that paint his skin. 
“ma neteyam, you’re so pretty.” your hand cups his soft cheek which he nuzzles into your palm almost instantaneously.
“no, you’re the pretty one, my girl.” he leans forward to peck your lips once more. the little nickname makes your stomach do somersaults in your belly. his tail flicks up happily against your ankle, tickling your lower leg.
neteyam takes the time to gently kiss down your neck and over your collarbone, “i want you to be mine.” he almost whimpers. his nose nuzzles against your pulse point as his lips continue litter your neck with kisses. 
“will your parents approve?” your voice slightly quivers, “you’re next in line to become eytukan. i’m not a full-blood. i don’t think-.” your rambling is paused by his lips pressing against the tip of your nose. 
“i don’t care what they think. plus, you know my dad likes you.” he gives you a reassuring smile, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. you can’t help but take note that his palm and fingers cover the entire side of your head. 
“yeah, but your mom…” you trail off, not wanting to seem rude by talking about his mother, but you know that she has a problem with humans. you’ve seen the way she looks at spider. 
“look, i’m half-blood too. i don’t think my mom is going to care, plus you’ve been around our family for years. she likes you, i promise.” 
“i’m not one of you. i’m different, neteyam.” you let out shakily, “i’m small and not as fast, i can’t keep up with you.” your eyes dart to the side as you chew on the skin of your lip. 
“look, i know she can be tough, but i promise you, i don’t care what she thinks. since i was a teenager, i realized that i wanted you. i wasn’t brave enough to tell you that until now, but i don’t give a shit about our differences.” his hand grips your jaw with his hand, turning your face towards him so he can look into your watery eyes. 
“i see you, y/n.” his doe-like eyes flicker over your face, trying to read your expression. his eyes are full of adoration and love for the girl in his arms. 
your breath gets caught in your throat, “and i see you.” both of your hands slide up from his chest to rest on either side of his face, pulling him in for another kiss. 
on the way up, you accidentally brush against the voice comm device on his necklace. not knowing it would activate and relay sound through his father’s, mothers, and lo’ak’s ear piece. 
you both gasp into each others mouth when he ruts his hips against your center, the pressure pins your hips to the tree behind you. 
“what is that sound? who has their comm on?”you hear a low muffled voice coming from somewhere. 
neteyam instantly pulls away from the heated kiss, eyes wide with terror and embarrassment. your lips parting lets off a loud suction noise when he pulls away, now making it obvious what the sounds were coming from.
neteyam holds you up with one arm while he uses the other to click on a button on his necklace to turn it off, “it’s my dad.” 
“it’s just neteyam sucking face.” you hear lo’aks voice come through clearly in his ear piece. 
the boys head falls forward to rest on your chest, letting out the loudest over-exaggerated groan of annoyance. the puff of his hot breath against your damp skin makes a shiver shoot down your spine.
you can’t help but giggle and gently pet the top of his head in attempt to console him, “i’m never going to live this down.” he speaks against your skin, grumbling obscenities under his breath. 
“neteyam! where are you, boy?” jake shouts into his ear. 
he taps your thigh to signal you to release your grip from around his waist. he gently lowers you back down to the ground before answering him, “i’m here, dad. i’m here.” 
you can’t help but lean your head on his elbow since that’s the only place you can reach. you grab one of his hands, bringing it to your face to examine it. 
you thread your fingers through his much larger ones, squeezing his hand with your own. you almost laugh at how his hand engulfs yours. 
“yeah, mmmhmm. yeah, okay. i hear you. lo’ak shut up. i got it. we’ll be there soon.” neteyam responds to whoever is talking in his ear. 
“is everything okay?” you mumble quietly, peering up at him through your eyelashes. 
“they want us to come back, but i think everything is okay.” he smiles down at you, pulling you into his side while still holding your hand. 
neteyam leads you through the thick brush of the forest to his ikran. the banshee chirps at the sight of it’s owner, fluttering it’s wings in excitement. “hey, buddy.” neteyam hums and rubs it’s head. 
he reaches around his back for his braid, bringing it forward to make bond with the animal. neteyam effortlessly mounts onto the bird, reaching a hand out for you to take.
you step forward to slide your hand into his so he could help you on and get situated. “hold on tight.” he peers down at you from behind his shoulder with a smirk before the ikran nosedives off of the tree branch. 
“oooohhhhh my god!” you screech as your arms desperately flail around his waist, holding onto him as tightly as you can. 
he can’t help but laugh at your scream once he levels out, now coasting through the sky through the floating mountains. one of his hands reaches back to grip your thigh to pull you even closer to him. 
you hesitantly open your eyes, looking down into the glowing scenery beneath you. “beautiful, right?” his voice raises over the loud whooshing of the wind. 
“i love it.” you squeeze his torso tight, snuggling your temple into the crook of his back as you coast through the air. 
the ikran dips down slightly, making you gasp and tighten around his body. neteyam chuckles, his hand rests on your leg to slowly rub gentle circles into your skin to calm you. 
“hold on, we’re gonna descend.” he leans forward with the ikran, plunging downwards toward the ground once again. you squeal loudly, wriggling behind him in attempt to get closer to him. 
neteyam chuckles, shaking his head as he weaves and bobs between trees to make it back home. the ikran vertically swoops up into the large crevasse in the cave floor, landing on the rocky floor. 
neteyam hops easily off the ikran, disconnecting tsaheylu before his hands grip your waist to lift your body up to place you on the ground next to him.
“what were you guys thinking staying out past curfew?” jake storms up to you both, obviously angry. 
“i know, but i can handle myself. i know how to fight.” neteyam grumbles back, making jake even angrier with his son. if steam could shoot out of his ears at this moment, it would. 
“i know that you know how to fight, son. but the rda, they could be roaming anywhere. it’s dangerous, especially putting her in that situation.” he looks down at you, then turns his attention back to his son.
before jake could lecture him even more, you decide to intervene, “i’m sorry, sir. it’s all my fault we stayed out. i persuaded him to stay… to uh- fly around,” you glance up at neteyam through the corner of your eye, “i take full responsibility.” you nod at jake, gulping down your nervousness. 
jake sighs as he rubs his temples with one of his hands, “so then what’s the reason why both of you are soaked?” he points out, making you instantly freeze from not knowing what to say. 
neteyam’s hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, “to be honest, we were wrestling in the water.” 
your eyes blow wide from his words, turning to him to stare daggers into the side of his face. 
“wrestling… in the water?” jake almost laughs, “look i didn’t need to know that much. you couldn’t come up with a better excuse than that?” 
“oh shit.” neteyam whispers under his breath, “no, dad, it’s not like that at all. i meant… we were just splashing each other after fishing. it wasn’t anything like that.” 
“look, you two just be safe and keep it on the down-low. and next time, please take off your comm, ‘kay?” jake lowers his voice before shaking his head in disbelief and turning on his heel to head back. 
“so he thinks we had sex then, huh?” you breathe out defeat, looking up at neteyam. the boy lets out a huff of air as he watches his father walk away, “yeah i guess so.” his voice has a slight tinge of humor to it. 
the hand resting on your shoulder pulls you into his side with a little chuckle. he starts walking with you toward the pod where the scientists sleep. 
he follows you up the steps to the door, pausing a few steps down before you could open it. his face now parallel to yours since you’re higher on the stairs. 
you smile down at him, reaching out to gently pinch his chin to pull his face forward. you press your lips against his softly, as if he was a delicate flower petal. “i had fun tonight.” you mumble with a smile against his lips before pulling back. 
neteyam presses forward to chase your lips with his, trying to breathe in as much of you as he could. “don’t wanna let you go yet… wanna kiss you more.” he desperately pulls you forward to kiss you again, sucking in a sharp breath. 
your arms lazily drape over his shoulders to kiss him slowly, and tantalizingly. he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, gently nibbling the skin before making his way down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. 
“gotta go to bed before my mother has me by my throat.” his words make you laugh as you twirl one of his braids between your fingers. 
“tomorrow i wanna take you somewhere. will you let me?” he pulls back with a smile, thumb rubbing the skin of your outer thigh. 
“of course, i would love to. but where though?” you question with your fingers still busy messing with his hair. 
“it’s a surprise.” he hums playfully making your eyebrows furrow from curiosity of where it could be. 
“i love surprises.” you grin, leaning forward to peck his lips once more before attempting to completely pull away. neteyam groans from the warmth of your body leaving him, his arms wrap around your legs to keep you in place. 
“don’t leaaaaave.” he whines, resting his chin on your chest to look up at you. 
“i need to shower and clean up before bed. plus your mother is going to have your throat, ya know.” you poke his little pink nose, making his face scrunch up cutely.
“you’re right, you’re right.” he grumbles sadly, patting your outer thigh before he completely pulls back and stands up straight. he leans forward to swiftly peck your lips, “just needed one more, m’sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow.” he turns around to climb down the rest of the steps. 
“goodnight, neteyam!” you shout at him as you unlatch the metal door. 
he turns around at the sound of your voice, “goodnight.” he whisper-yells back at you as he slowly walks backwards to watch you slip inside. 
neteyam’s smile on his face doesn’t falter, not even for one second. the only thing on his mind is you. he never would have imagined that his day would have ended like this. confessing his feelings to you, and kissing you goodnight. it’s almost as if he’s living through a fantasy his younger self dreamed of. 
the excitement of you makes him toss and turn throughout the night; it makes him nervous, knowing that he is already head over heels for you and in too deep- but all he can worry about now, is seeing you tomorrow. 
-
tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah
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chronicdisasterwrites · 9 months
Text
death is pretty but his eyes are prettier
pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)
genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.
a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!
word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)
authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.
also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')
enjoy this chaos lol <3
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I’m an idiot. 
The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead. 
As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both. 
Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut. 
Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.
Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me. 
Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot. 
Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.
So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high. 
Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.
Fuck it. Shoko it is.
Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.
---
You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.
Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes. 
It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.
Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option. 
Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day. 
All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.
---
Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.
When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.
The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor. 
“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.
Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”
You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.
With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”
Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”
Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”
“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.
Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”
It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.
“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.
“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”
You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”
Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”
Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door. 
Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.” 
You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.
Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.
---
Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.
“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”
Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you. 
"Drop the crap."
Oh shit.
Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.
You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction. 
“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”
You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point, 
“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?” 
“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.
He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,
“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“
You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.
“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”
He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.
He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru. 
Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.
You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”
You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well. 
“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you. 
He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power. 
His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.
His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had. 
It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms. 
You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too. 
But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps. 
Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door. 
You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back. 
By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream. 
He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod. 
As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”
You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”
He walks away and you go in the other direction.
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part 2
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bakugoushotwife · 7 months
Text
kinktober day five: size kink
>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D
>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist
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toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 
in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 
“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 
“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 
your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?
at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 
you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 
he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 
unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 
so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 
and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—
maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 
to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 
you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  
“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 
“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 
“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 
you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 
you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 
and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 
“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 
he notes your impatience, amused. 
“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 
“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 
before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 
your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.
“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 
“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 
“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 
finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 
“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 
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90ekz · 2 months
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ive head this nagging thought in the back of my head that satoru has some kinda random spot on his body that’ll make him instantly pop a bone. I DONT KNOW JUST WORK WITH ME HERE PLS 🙏 i love your works btw 😘
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✧ sweet spot, ft. satoru gojo
✧ tags: mostly fluff, whiny satoru, ‘baby’ as a nickname, did i say mostly fluff already??, dry humping, overstim, loser satoru cs he’s mushy and in love
✧ an: this idea is now living in my head and not paying rent, thanks a lot anon :/
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satoru usually just does his own hair care, and he’s very meticulous about it. he wants everything to be clean and pristine—not that you weren’t capable of doing that for him, he’s just very, very dramatic. he didn’t even know this spot was sensitive until… literally now.
he’s standing in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his growing undercut. he figured it was time for him to cut it anyway, but his arms were very sore from some training he’d done with the kids yesterday.
“babe.”
“y’esh?” he chuckled at your mouthful of the minty paste, and just waited for you to finish brushing. when you finally did, you turned to face him as he brushed his thumb over the white pooling on the corner of your mouth.
“can you cut my hair today? ‘arms are so sore.” satoru whined, his finger still tracing your lip lazily.
“have you washed it? i don’t need your lice transferring to me—ouch! okay, okay, plug in the clippers!” you giggled as he pinched your lip. the clippers rested on his side of the sink, and he plugged them in wordlessly. you stood behind him, lightly brushing the area with the small brush you know is the most comfortable for him. satoru sighs lightly as you do this, and his shoulders relax.
he didn’t know exactly what it was, but your hands felt different than his. you made him so sensitive usually anyway, but this was weird. his cheeks were heating, and everything was tingling, not just his neck.
and then you did it.
the clippers worked in upward strokes as you trimmed the hair down, and suddenly your thumb brushed over some magical pressure point of his. satoru felt pleasure shoot down his spine like he never had before, and a almost girly squeak slipped out before he could stop it. your eyes go wide and you remove the clippers from his neck. satoru is deathly still, and you watched color bloom over his cheeks in the mirror.
“…you okay sato’?” the nickname drips off your tongue like honey—so effortless, so intimate, and he hates that you decided to use it right now. he can’t take it. you’ve never called him that, and he can hear the amused tilt in your voice.
satoru gulps, because he doesn’t know what to say. how does he say that he wants you to keep going, to keep brushing over that exact spot so he can pinpoint exactly what that feeling was just now? he’s never felt anything like that when he cut his own hair…
he settles on a weak little “i’m fine, baby,” because frankly? he doesn’t trust himself to say any other words right now.
you give him a little smile in the mirror before your hands start working again, and you finally start getting somewhere with actually cutting his damn hair. he doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary happen anymore, and now he’s finally cleanly shaven again like he likes. you did an exceptional job, and satoru peppers you with kisses as a reward.
he mostly stops thinking about it after this.
yeah, maybe the thought lingers in the back of his head for a few hours after, and maybe he stands in the bathroom rubbing his thumb over the back of his neck for a little longer than considered normal, but it was fine.
except for when you call him down to finish watching the movie you’d started earlier, and he’s laying on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair. satoru isn’t even paying attention to what your hand is doing as he yaps about the plot of the film, and you listen.
“he’s a piece of shit! i mean, he stayed with his side piece on the plane, and made his wife drive in the snow? fuck mike ‘till it’s backwards.” satoru spits, his attention fully focused on the movie’s plot.
unlike you, who’s mind was still in the bathroom, cutting satoru’s hair.
you haven’t stopped thinking about the little noise he’d made as you’d accidentally pressed your finger over the nape of his neck, right where the hair started. he sounded so weak—so vulnerable, and you decided right then that you needed to hear much more of that.
your mind was now solely focused on one thing, and your hand was moving just as it was in the bathroom. you twirled your fingers around strands, until finally threading your fingers through his hair and giving a small tug. this tore a stuttered breath out of satoru, and you smiled. he’d gone a little more rigid against you, and his commentary had stopped as you payed so much attention to him. he was losing focus of the movie, too.
“b-babe,”
“hmm?” you hummed back, fingers now traveling from his hair to his lower neck, tracing small circles there. you knew what you were looking for, but why not tease a little first?
satoru couldn’t answer you if he tried—every word in his throat dies as you press down onto that spot once more, and he’s slamming his hand on-top of yours to make sure you don’t move it. he isn’t sure why he does that exactly, but why does it matter? why does anything matter when you’re touching him like this?
he can’t do this, just one press on his spot has his dick rising and stiff against your thigh, and even you can hardly believe it.
“sato.” you grip his hair to pull him off your chest, just enough to look at you. he whines from the mixture of the nickname and the sting of his scalp.
“b-baby, please.” satoru breathes. you know what he’s asking for, and you figured you’d done enough teasing for a while. you grin, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the pressure point back and forth, up and down, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he came just from this based on the sounds he was making. he hovers you, his arms barely holding his body up, and he’s heaving into your neck.
“breathe, satoru.”
“mmph—i will! i will, just please don’t stop,” satoru whines, his hips grinding down against your thigh. sure, this whole thing is embarrassing as hell, but he couldn’t help the cheeky grin that stretched across his face as you indulged him. as you ran your acrylics over the sensitive part of him, he dropped his head back into your shoulders, and his own started to shake violently.
he was laughing.
you were shocked by this, but you didn’t dare stop. at some point, you couldn’t help but snort a little as he grasped onto you. it was cute—the way his giggles melted into moans, the way he couldn’t control himself or his emotions in the moment. there were no coherent thoughts forming in his head except for fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
and you loved it that way.
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blushweddinggowns · 5 months
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 “So let me get this straight. You met a hot guy, conned him into a date with you, lied about who you were to get into his pants and still failed. Then kept going, bought a new phone and rented a fake apartment, fell in love him, continued this elaborate ruse for four months, and now you want me to figure out a way for you to get out of it?”
“...yes?”
“Oh my fucking god,” Chrissy nearly screeched into his ear, “That is what you have been doing? Have you lost your damn mind?!”
“Obviously, yes!” Eddie yelled right back, feeling fraught as hell. He was pacing back and forth, a cigarette in hand as he spoke, “I never planned on ending up here!”
“Really? Because this whole shit show seemed to need a lot of planning. Is this really what happens when I leave you unsupervised? I am never letting you out of the house again.”
Eddie was well aware he deserved the ribbing. He deserved much worse, but that didn’t change the fact that he was desperate, “Chris, I’m serious. I need help.”
“Eddie, I love you but come on. You need a plane ticket and an apology muffin basket and to move on. This guy doesn’t even know you.”
“It’s not like that,” Eddie said as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “It’s-okay. I’m still me with him. It’s like…I’m acting like who I would have been if I was never famous. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Have you tried delusional? Also, can I get a picture of this guy? How hot can one dude be to drive you-”
“I’m serious,” Eddie interupted, irritation coloring his voice, “I told him everything. The shit about my parents, Wayne, the drugs, you, everything.”
“You realize that everything would include your real name right? And again, a picture for the love of god would really help put this in perspective-”
“You know what I mean,” Eddie sighed. She still wasn’t getting it, “I’m in love with him. Like Chris, he was made for me. And if I had just stuck to tattooing instead of doing the music shit then I’m pretty sure he’d think the same of me.”
He could hear a small intake of breath on her end, her voice coming out a bit more concerned than before, “Eds, are you serious?”
“Dead. I… I think he’s the one,” No, that was another lie. Eddie took a deep breathe before admitting the truth, “He is the one. And… I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.”
“Honey, it’s an infatuation. A really, really strong one, but still-”
“Chrissy. Listen to me. I want to marry him. Do you understand me now?”
If that didn’t get through to her nothing else would. Because Chrissy Cunningham had spent hours upon hours of listening to Eddie complain about the institution of marriage since fucking highschool. How it was all a farce, just some bullshit people pulled for tax reasons and patriarchal idealism. And now here he was, fucking day dreaming about the perfect happily ever after with the love of his life. 
“Oh Jesus,” Chrissy groaned, the sineritcy Eddie was looking for finally creeping into her voice, “Sweetie, I’m so sorry… but I think you might have fucked yourself too big on this one.”
“Isn’t there something I can do?” Eddie pleaded into the phone, like Chrissy actually had all the power in the world to fix this, “What if I just lead a double life? Couldn’t that work?” 
He had seen a movie about that once or twice. It was a thing. Or if it wasn’t then he could make it one.
But Chrissy didn’t seem too convinced, “Eddie, honey, you’re describing the plot of Hannah Montana like it can actually be a solution. Do you realize how insane that is? Do you not get how far you’ve fallen?”
from the next chapter of this fic
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rose-pearls · 3 months
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If you're still doing requests can you do one where clarisse has a really big crush on the reader who is the daughter of Aphrodite. Clarisse tries to talk to her and get to know her more but every interaction clarisse ends up hurting the reader somehow. Nothing super bad just like accidentally hits her or accidentally pushes her or something and she feels so bad everytime. Then capture the flag happens you and clarisse are on separate teams and clarisse was throwing her spear at someone but then it accidentally hits you, nothing life threatening just a bad cut on your arm of leg. She carries you to the infirmary and waits until she knows you're okay. When's she sees you she can't hold it in anymore and just starts saying how she's so sorry and that she just wanted to talk to you and that she really like you. And then it ends with fluff
The request is kind of long I'm sorry 😞
Hi! Thank you for your request, sorry it took so long! I hope you like it! Requests are open for every character I write for!
Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain (open)
Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303
Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads
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Clarisse knew that she was being stupid but she just couldn’t help it or stop it when she came near you. Every positive thing she wanted to say to you turned into something less positive, which always made you frown, and she hated it. It was like you made her brain short-circuit and she couldn’t get the right words to get out of her mouth. 
It was also starting to become a problem at training, every single time she wanted to impress you she accidentally managed to nearly hit you or one of your friends. And yes, it was by mistake, she didn’t want to hurt you.
Her siblings had been making fun of her for it, she usually had the perfect aim but every time you came by, she was a mess, and she hated it. She was a daughter of Ares; she shouldn’t be so affected by you and yet here she was hating herself for telling you the color of your shirt didn’t look good on you. 
Capture the Flag could’ve maybe been her way to talk with you and maybe tell you that she didn’t mean any of it but of course Chiron decided that the Aphrodite cabin should be with the Athena cabin. So now she could only look at you from afar, trying to memorize every single thing about you as if she hadn’t done that already a million times. 
The conch was blown, and everyone started to get into places, she was trying to get her mind back into the game, but it was difficult to make it focus on something else then you. She didn’t have any time to think about you any longer before one of the Hermes kids started attacking one of her siblings and she knew that if there was one of them others would follow.
She had to admit, secretly, that Annabeth always managed to find a creative way to beat the red team, even at twelve the girl could figure out a better battle strategy then Ares himself. But as she fights one of the Hephaestus kids, she sees little Lucy, a new addition to the Demeter cabin, trying to get close to the flag. She doesn’t think about it and throws her spear towards the girl, making sure that it doesn’t hurt her but scares her. The problem was that Clarisse hadn’t been able to watch who was surrounding Lucy and before she knows it, she heard a grown that she knew all too well. 
“Oh, shit,” she says before taking one of her daggers and finishing off the Hephaestus kid that ended on his ass as she pushed him aside to get to you. 
Another Demeter daughter tried to get to her, but she quickly disarmed her, her eyes still focused on you and getting to you.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she says as she finally gets to you, her knees hitting the ground as she looks over the cut on your leg. It didn’t seem too serious, but she just wasn’t sure, maybe an Apollo kid should look at it.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” your words come out a little sarcastic and Clarisse can’t help but blush at them. She knew that she wasn’t the best person in your eyes, after everything she had said and done.
“I really didn’t but we should get this checked out, we never know,” you seem to try and say something but before you can she throws your arm over her shoulder and starts helping you walking towards the med bay.
“Follow the plan!”, she yells at one of her siblings but the only thing she gets in return is a smirk and a wink, making her blush.
“You know it is only a cut, right? I will be fine,” you say after a moment, but she shakes her head in response.
“Better safe than sorry,” she tells you and the both of you don’t speak until she gets you on one of the beds inside. 
An Apollo kid arrives and starts looking over the cut, it does seem small, but Clarisse can’t help but hate herself for hurting you.
“There you go, normally you shouldn’t feel any pain, any longer,” the boy says, and Clarisse can’t help in relief, the boy looks confused at her worries but as she glares at him, he quickly leaves, leaving the both of you alone. She doesn’t know what to say, after all everything she has ever said to you wasn’t really kind and she had just hurt you with her spear.
“You know, I’m starting to think you have it out for me,” your teasing tone falls flat as you seem to see the distress in her eyes. 
“I’m sorry, for everything,” she whispers, and you seem worried as you look at her.
“I’m a bit of an idiot when it comes to feelings, and I seem to put my feet in my mouth whenever I’m talking to you. Probably because you make me so nervous,” she says, unable not to hide it any longer. Deep down she thinks that it’s better that you reject her then that you think she hates you.
“Wait, are you saying-”, she doesn’t let you finish, before blurting out the words herself.
“I like you, like a lot and I know I haven’t handled this in the right way but could you just give me a chance to prove to you that I’m much more than what I’ve said to you and done to you?”, she feels scared, maybe for the first time in her life, because she has never laid out her emotions and let anyone be able to hurt her. You look in shock, before a short laugh leaves your lips.
“I can’t believe Silena was right,” you whisper, and Clarisse feels confused for a moment.
“Wait, Silena?”, she says, trying to figure out what your half-sibling had to do with any of this.
“She told me that what you were doing these past few weeks, weren’t because you hated me but because you liked me. I didn’t believe her at first, I mean you’re a gorgeous girl, why would you go for me?”, you seem shy at the revelation and Clarisse thinks to herself that she should thank Silena but first she had to focus on you.
“You’re kidding me, right? You are the kindest girl in this camp and the way you handle a dagger is seriously impressive and downright attractive. It also doesn’t help that you are the most beautiful girl here, not only on the outside but also on the inside,” the words spill out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she feels breathless for a moment as she looks into your glassy eyes.
“Gods Clarisse, you couldn’t have told me that a few weeks ago? We wouldn’t have wasted so much time,” Clarisse feels unsure for a moment, like she doesn’t believe you are actually saying what she thinks you are saying.
“Wait, so?”
“I like you too Clarisse, I have for a long time now,” you tell her, and she can’t help but let out a sigh of relief at the words. 
“Thank the gods,” she whispers, and you laugh softly at her whisper, making her blush.
“Are you going to kiss me now? Or do I have to wait a few weeks before that?”, the smirk on your lips makes her blush but the teasing edge to it makes her smile turn into a smirk. She doesn’t give you any time to say anything more before cupping your cheek and bringing you into a soft kiss. 
It starts soft and sweet but as you brush your hands into her curls and grip her hair, she starts to deepen the kiss, enjoying the soft sounds you make. You bring her closer to you, the both of you nearly falling down on the bed and she lets her hand wander to your hips, gripping them tightly.
“If you want to make out, please do it in one of your cabins!”, the boy from earlier screams and the both of you jump apart, cheeks red and out of breath but you can’t stop giggling as you leave the med back, leaving the poor boy behind. 
“Where do you want to go?”, you ask, and Clarisse takes your hand and starts bringing you to the familiar path towards the cabins.
“What do you say of visiting the Ares cabin?”, she asks, and you quickly nod in agreement.
“Lead the way,” you tell her with a bright smile.
She had maybe acted like a bit of an idiot but in the end, she had gotten the girl, and she couldn’t be happier, having you in her arms and smiling at her with sparkling eyes. Later on, she would see that she wasn’t the worst one, Percy Jackson was even worse with his obliviousness.  
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twogyuu · 7 months
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i do (i think so)
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pairing: mingyu x fem!reader
synopsis: inspired by lauv's 'steal the show.'
You'll be one and baby I'll be two Would you mind it if I said I'm into you? (I'm into you)
genre: fluff, crack, slice of life, mutual pining (for context, mingyu is the best man at eunwoo's wedding, oc is the bride's younger sister. this is post-wedding)
warnings: mentions of alcohol intoxication/hangovers, probably profanity, mildly suggestive
wc: ~2k
a/n: ive come to cleanse your timeline and give you mingyu fluff bc there doesn't seem to be enough of it these days 😭 !
. . . .
There's a distant hum that invades your dream - something about seeing Seungcheol huddled in the corner of an old building failing to start a fire during an apocalypse.
Weird.
Slowly, you wake up, immediately greeted by a a pounding headache concentrated at your forehead. Your limbs feel heavy, causing you to be moving so sluggishly. You wince in discomfort, though still blindly searching for your phone on your nightstand as the hum grew erratic and it was now accompanied the irritating trill of your ringtone - why did you chose that one again?
After nearly pushing it off your nightstand and fumbling a few times, you finally get to the call. You're surprised whoever's calling hasn't hung up yet.
"Hello?" you croak into the receiver.
"Hi," the voice on the other end chirps. You can't put a finger on who it belonged to. There's a small pause of hesitation before they continue. "How are you feeling this morning?"
You groan, your thinking still too foggy to try and figure out who was calling and merely reply, "Like shit."
"You did drink a lot last night," they remark.
"Last time I'm making any sort of bet with Kwon fucking Soonyoung," you mumble.
The high-pitched, breathy giggle tips you off.
It's Mingyu.
"Mingyu?" you sit up right away, but instantly regret when the headache shoots to the back of your head.
"Morning, sunshine," he replies, "Wanna go on a date?"
"Shut up," you cut him off immediately, though you find your cheeks growing warm and you could hear blood rushing through your ears.
"I'll treat you to hangover soup," Mingyu states more than he offers.
"You don't-"
"Be there in ten."
"Mingyu."
There's a click and then silence.
A sigh heavy on your breath, you flop back into your pillow and squeeze your eye shut. You're feeling something between embarrassed and confused. The events of last night were blurry and you have a feeling Mingyu knew what happened. You recall making a bet with Soonyoung, a couple drinks, and the rest was was muddy. There were flecks of memories here there: Jeonghan lugging a swinging Soonyoung away from you, stumbling to your hotel room, gentle swipes of a makeup wipe across your lips, and then -
Oh.
Oh.
Your text notification goes off.
Mingyu: You won the bet yesterday btw. Mingyu: Soonyoung just doesn't know yet ;)
. . . .
This is not the date you were envisioning.
After ordering your bowls of soup, you chose a table in the back corner of the restaurant. Mingyu settled into the wooden stool that seemed all too small for him across from you. Only silence ensued. You did your best to keep busy, pretending to admire the walls were all marked up with colorful ink. Your eyes skimmed across the doodles and the notes.
Yuna was here!
LSH x KSY besties forever &lt;3
Moon Junhui is a cat!
Mingyu was just . . . way too comfortable in this situation for this to be normal.
He was Mingyu for fucks sake! Handsome, tall, and handsome, but clumsy with his words as he was with the way he walked. As confident as he was, he was also easily humbled by playful teases that sent him into a pouting fit.
Yet, here he was, smiling to himself, then at you, his smile growing into something more saccharine every time he caught your eye in between quiet breaths trying to cool off his broth.
When you're finally on your last sip, Mingyu reaches over and tucks a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind your ear. Simultaneously, he asks casually, "Feeling better?"
You don't get a chance finish your soup, flinching at his touch and your spoon clattering into your bowl.
Mingyu frowns.
"W-what?" you stammer, your nails clawing into the aged wood of your chair.
He pauses for a moment, blinking once at you blankly, then twice. His expression is stoic, but you could tell from his eyes, he was thinking and calculating - perhaps even mustering up courage, something you didn't think he lacked unless it came to his friends (and even you) teasing him. His Adam's apple bobs up and down. Within a blink of an eye, he holds onto his seat and moves his chair along the edges and sits kitty corner to you.
Immediately, you shrink back, but Mingyu leans in closer. He rests the side of head on his first and gives you a small smile. It's tender and his eyes are shining and hopeful.
"You're acting funny," he explains calmly.
You only press your lips into a tight line and let your eyes fall into your lap. Your blinking rapidly, wondering if he can hear how loudly your hearts beating against your chest - wondering how he can stay so collected in a moment like this. Did his stomach hurt as much as yours right now or was it just the hangover?
"You remember, don't you?" he asks softly.
Yes, you did - perhaps all too vividly now.
If it was Jeonghan that took Soonyoung back to his room, then it was Mingyu who took you back to yours.
If it was Jeonghan who tucked Soonyoung to bed, then it was Mingyu who tucked you into yours.
Wet makeup wipe pulled taut against his fingers, your chin held between his thumb and index finger of his other hand, it was Mingyu who had swiped away the layers of foundation and mascara from your face - and of course, last of all, your lips that were tinted a flattering shade of pink.
Unconsciously, your hands flew to your mouth. You run your thumb slowly across the bottom part, remembering how his fingers once lingered across it similarly. His gaze following along the transparent lines of your bare lips.
Eyes heavy, drunk, and clearly not thinking straight, you had merely tipped your chin up and your lips touched his.
You see, drunk you was not you.
You at baseline was introverted and you liked to keep to yourself. At parties, sober, you were notorious for people watching.
However, you drunk was on the other end of the spectrum. You were bold and overtly friendly.
It was drunk you kissing Mingyu, so inevitably, an innocent touch of lips grew, well, steamy.
You deepened the kiss, your hands coming up to fist the fabric of his dress shirt and pull him closer. Mingyu reciprocated - the soiled makeup wipe forgotten on the floor, his hands reaching up to cup your cheek and gently adjusting your head to gain better access to your mouth. His lips molded against yours, the faint taste of strawberry soju lingering on your lips. You could feel his hot breaths as he sighed into the kiss, yet Mingyu grew breathless by the minute. You took all the air from his lungs with every shift of lips, but he also somehow felt like needed you to breathe.
Nonetheless, just as you were about to part your lips to welcome him in, Mingyu had pulled away.
He rested his forehead against yours, breathless.
"Let's stop here," he whispered into your lips. "Before we do something we regret - I-I don't want to do this while you're drunk."
Tired, you had complied, nodding and slowly slipping away.
But the point is, you didn't need Mingyu to know that you did.
"Sorry," you mutter and quickly add after a brief pause, "If I did something stupid last night. Um, drunk things - don't remember much."
Mingyu sighs. "Why are you so difficult?"
"Hm?" you furrow your brows together.
He cocks his head to the side and asks with a hint of frustration in his voice, "Is it so bad if you like me? If I like you?"
You malfunction, staring at him owlishly and your mouth spews words on its own. "Um, I l-like you?"
"I'm wondering the same thing," he replies. His eyes flicker at your almost finished bowl of soup then back up at you. They lock on your own and they're dark and hard, but not in a harsh kind of way. It's a look in which that tells you that he's serious and he means what he's trying to say. "Because I like you - quite a lot, Y/N."
"Oh," you say softly.
"That's all you have to say?" Mingyu asks.
"N-no, no," you shake your head and unfold yourself from your chair. Your hand flies up urgently to hold onto his military green jacket at the forearm. Mingyu looks down at it then returns to you and you retreat again.
"Uh, I mean," you scratch your head, "A-are you sure about that?" you shrug and continue, "It's, uh . . . I was drunk and drunk me is very different from sober me."
It's now Mingyu's turn to stare at you owlishly. For once, his expression relaxes into something unreadable.
And for some reason, that makes your heartache a little. As the seconds tick on, you find it difficult to keep holding his gaze.
To have him confess, but still be able to reciprocate the same.
To have him this close, but you aren't even comfortable hugging him.
Is it him or is it you?
"I love them both," Mingyu finally says. "Drunk you, sober you, crazy you, calm you, dumb you, smart you - I like them all." He chortles somewhat bittersweetly, like he's starting to lose hope. "How much clearer do I have to be?"
They say action speak louder than words, and for Mingyu, that was very true. You recall the improptu dinner with him a week ago where he had told you, his love language was acts of services - it's why he had his hands so deep into this wedding. Eunwoo was one of his best friends, so of course, he'd put that much more effort in making his big day even better.
For that same reason, it's why you did what you did now.
You lean forward and repeat the same events of the evening before, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away just as fast.
Mingyu's eyes widen and his jaw grows slack.
Though it's you who made the move, it's also you who freezes. Your expression mirrors his, but there's a growing urge to push him out of the way and run for it because what the fuck did you just do?!
"Uh," Mingyu clears his throat, "Does this mean you like me too?"
"I . . . think so?" you stammer. You inhale deeply and nodded, examining the thought in your head like turning a coin in your palm. All things considered, you couldn't deny that over the course of these few weeks, you felt something for him.
And if you weren't to see him again after this trip is over?
It definitely made you sad.
They always say to marry someone you can't live without, right?
"I think so," you look up at him, stating more firmly this time.
You inch closer to him, chewing the inside of your cheek as you reach for his hand. He willingly lets you take it, wrapping his fingers around yours and giving you a firm, reassuring squeeze. He tries to suppress his growing grin, but it manages to peeks through in a sheepish, giddy chortle. He raises your intertwined hands up to his lips and plants a tender kiss on your knuckles, making a point to let it linger longer than what was normal.
Because actions speak louder than words, this was enough.
He liked you.
And you guess, you liked him too.
P.S. ?
Kwon Soonyoung lost the bet before it even started. Bold of him to think he could rizz up Lee Jihoon.
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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months
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DAY NINE: Hate Sex w/ Ex!Fratboy!Bucky Barnes (ft. sorority sister!reader
a/n: I cannot begin to tell yoy how fucking aware I am that this is late and I'm almost falling behind but ohmygoodness I've been literally exhausted for the past two days. I'm lowkey pissed about it because I was super excited to write for this day and actually writing for it felt like I was dragging my feet behind me.
masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3
TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl
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Fuck James Buchanan Barnes.
He’s a piece of shit, an asshole, a womanizer, a player, a liar and a dirty fucking cheat, but goddamn it, why do you always find yourself here? 
You hated him – no – you do hate him! 
Even people that hate their exes like the fact that they catch their eye, that they can’t find it within themselves to look away from them, that in some way, some capacity, they will always want them, that they will always be theirs regardless of whoever they get with in the future. 
Bucky knew you’d come to the party at his frat, and you knew that you would go with every intention of fucking with him. To everyone else, you were just bitter exes - that needed to fuck out whatever was going on between the two of you - so when you showed up in a dress that fell just below your ass, your friends figured you were just trying to get laid; but no one knew that this was his favorite color on you, let alone his favorite dress.
You just so happened to pick it out, that’s all! Couldn’t a girl want to pamper herself nowadays?
You fake laughed at whatever the dude that had fallen right into your trap said, a manicured hand lifting up to slap him on his arm gently, making extra sure to graze the naked skin of his arm that was exposed by his muscle tee with your acrylics. You fluttered your eyelashes at him innocently, a faux sweet smile on your face. 
Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted Bucky to take you home, or to his room, or to wherever the fuck he wanted too – but you’d never admit that to yourself. You couldn’t. He couldn’t win this game of cat and mouse, not without a fight, and you just so happened to love playing dirty.
You could feel Bucky’s stare burning into your back. Your bodycon dress was completely strapless, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as your breasts threatened to spill out over the top. You weren’t a sorority slut by any means, one of your sister’s had that covered, but still, you were going to go home with somebody tonight.
Even if he was an idiot.
“That’s so funny, Aaron.” Aaron laughed nervously, cheeks blooming a deep red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh- actually Eric.” Right. “Sorry.” You giggled, raising the neck of your beer as if it was some sort of explanation for the fact that you don’t really give a shit about what his name is and more about what’s in his pants.
Before you could speak, your eyes raised up to meet Bucky’s, who was standing across the pull, two ladies vying for his attention as he puffed on what looked like a blunt. It looked like he was in the same boat that you were; that he didn’t care about what they were saying, only you.
Biting your lip, you turned your gaze back to Aaron – Eric. 
You knew you’d have to up the ante in order to get him to move, because right now you know he thinks that you’re all bark no bite. You’ll show him.
“You know…” You made a finger walking motion up his arm, the tips of your nails now slightly digging into his skin. “How about we get out of here?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him. “It’s too crowded… and loud.” Your hand finally rested on his upper bicep, giving it a soft squeeze. The poor man’s jaw was slightly dropped, as if he was a fish out of water. 
“Yeah, yeah, I-” He attempted to say, but when you raised your gaze again, Bucky was gone, and you had forced yourself to bite back a wolfish smile because you knew he was on the move somewhere.
“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bucky’s voice sounded as he approached the both of you from behind. Eric looked as if he had seen a ghost, but the poor boy had no idea that he was just a pawn in your game. 
“Oh- uh- nothin’ man, just talking.” You raised a brow at Eric’s shaky excuse. Internally, you rolled your eyes. What a pussy. 
“Really?” Bucky asked in amusement, not even bothering to hide the face splitting smirk that contorted his face. “Yep.” You responded, popping the ‘p’ as you took the blunt from him. You wrapped your mouth around it, your gaze almost challenging him as you sucked, pulling the smoke into your lungs. It burned but it was worth it to see the tick in his jaw and the slight twitch in his eye at the sight of your pursed lips.
“I think that I um- I’m just gonna go.” Eric squeaked awkwardly. All lustful intention slipped away from him as he grasped his hand and shook it. From the poor man’s wince you can tell that Bucky put a little bit too much force in his shake.
When the random guy slipped away you couldn’t help but laugh. 
“Real smooth.” You commented. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” 
“I’m talking about you trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of him.” The way you said it was as if it was the most casual thing on earth. “I almost forgot how possessive you get when you know someone else wants me.” You tilted your chin up to finally face him, and you caught yourself from almost stumbling over your words at the primal look on his face. 
You did it. You won this game fair - enough - and square.
“Too bad my pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, isn’t it, James?”
“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. But you weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. 
“Don’t get mad at me because I’m right, even though anger does look good on you.” 
You went to step away, but he was quick to snatch your wrist, “Were not done talkin’.” You made a noncommittal attempt to tug yourself free. “I am.” 
The tension between the two of you sizzled like oil on a pan, beckoning, calling for someone to do something, anything, to appease the burning desire that was coiling in Bucky and yours’ guts.
“If you’re not done then I guess we should find somewhere quiet to talk then.” 
He didn’t give you the chance to offer a rebuttal because he was already dragging you away from the prying eyes of party goers, his frat brothers and your sorority sisters. You already had an idea of where he was taking you, pushing the both of you through the sea of people that flooded the house, most of them drunk or high or a hammered off of a little bit of everything that was rotating throughout the home.
When he’d found his room, he was grateful that no one had decided to fuck in it, because that was what he was supposed to be doing.
He let your body be the thing that slammed the door shut with a loud bang!
He kissed you harshly, his left hand grasped your chin while the other hiked a full leg over his hip, grinding his erection onto your needy core.
“Fuck!” You gasped, your back arching off the wood as you broke the kiss. The friction of his jeans against your pulsing clit sent you staggering for balance, your inhibitions clouding your mind when you allowed your self-control to completely flee from within you.
“Bucky baby.” You whined. The man practically preened at the sound of his old nickname, his humping turning harder and calculated. He clearly had an end goal in mind. 
“What were you sayin’ about this pussy not bein’ mine no more?” He quipped. “I still mean it.” You gasped. He growled, but nonetheless, that didn’t deter him from shoving his face in the corner of your neck and biting down on the skin. Hard.
You yelped at the pain, but it shot down straight to your stimulated core. The bite only drew you closer to your embarrassingly fast approaching orgasm. It had been so long since you’d been touched by him, and God, you missed his hands, his voice, his touch, his smell, his cock.
“‘M close, Buck, ‘m so close.” You murmured, waving your fingers through his brunette hair and tugging on the strands. You felt a burning bitterness well-up in your gut when the tips of your fingers brushed against the hard plastic of the silver crown on top of his head. You sneakily took it off before throwing it somewhere in his room.
“No need to be jealous, honey.” He teased with a smirk on his face. “Shut— shut up!” Your rebuttal only came out as a whine. You could feel the cloth of your laced thong stick to your wet labia with every grind on his jeans – which also now sported a dark spot on his pants.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore as you came. “There you go. That’s it, good girl.” Small whimpers slipped out of you as he worked you into overstimulation. 
“God,” He groaned. “I’ve gotta fuck you.”
Guiding his face up to yours, you brushed your lips together, holding your intense eye contact with one another. “Then fuck me, Buck. I think you have a point to prove.” He leaned forward just a bit to nip at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 
“Fuckin’ naughty.” Bucky grunted, forcing your leg down from his hip for a moment to snatch your panties down your legs. Your hands shot out to his belt buckle, slipping the leather out of it and unbuttoning his jeans. It was your turn to shove his pants down and grab his hard on, his hot cock pulsing in your hand.
The air in the back of his throat caught at the feeling of your stroking, “God– turn around.” You did as he said and felt his large, calloused hands pushing up your dress.
“Gonna make sure everyone at this fuckin’ party knows you’re mine.” He says lowly, pulling down his underwear to his mid-thigh and prodding his tip at your entrance. “Even if you fuckin’ hate me.” With that, he entered you, splitting you in half on his cock.
You cried out at the feeling, false nails scratching at the surface of his door in an attempt to keep yourself steady. “Feels so good, Buck. So, so, good.” You mewled, your hips pushing out on their own accord to try and take your own pleasure. “Always so fuckin’ greedy.” He chided. His hands grabbed at the fat of your ass, pulling out of you only to slam back in, sending you up the wall.
Your bodies moved in a familiar symphony that had been sung numerous times before, as they hadn’t forgotten one another, they were just simply waiting for the both of you to press play.
His dick repeatedly prodded at your g-spot, the friction sending you into overdrive as you moaned, and cried and begged. “God, I think ‘m gonna cum, Buck!” You exclaimed, walls repeatedly clenching down on him. “That’s right, doll. ‘Fuckin squeeze me.” He bellowed, his own thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his end.
Your noises raised in pitch before your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, instead opting to cross your arms and rest your head on your forearms.
“Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusting growing sloppy and uncoordinated.
“Do it, fuck, I-” Your words died out, your body wracking with shivers as your second orgasm of the night overtook you. 
It wasn’t long before you felt his seed warm your insides, painting your womb white as your eyesight went white, and your pussy sucked him up for all he’s worth.
Your chests heaved.
“I still hate you.” You huffed.
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He said through a smile.
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bigassmoonchild · 7 months
Note
i like to think ghost have a partner that expresses love by biting { totally not me i wouldnt even think of chomping} but hes so used to it that he doesnt have a reaction when his wife is in nibble mode
but
everyone else loses their complete shit thinkin that a random person just bit ghost { i also love the idea that ghost doesnt tell soap shit jus to fuck with him }
i absolutely adore this bc i definitely do this 💀 (i've had this in my drafts for a few days now, but just finally figured out how i wanted it to go)
🫶🫶
simon would sit in the mess hall, not just to show face but also to be with the rest of his squad. price had to push him to join, but now he came of his own choice. it was something he did, not too often, but often enough.
on this particular day, you had gotten back from a mission all but a few hours ago. simon had been gone for a few weeks prior to you leaving, so you hadn't seen him in nearly a month and a half.
you walked into the mess hall, simon could see you from where he was sitting. you grabbed your tray of food and looked around to find where you were going to sit. he saw you move towards your squad before spotting him, sitting in front of soap and gaz.
so you made your way over, shuffling between people who were standing around and having to take a few different routes to get to them. dropping your tray down, you sat next to simon.
soap went to snag some food off of your tray and you smacked his hand, giving him a face as you did so. the three of you were talking, about what simon wasn't entirely sure of. he was trying to look at you while not completely giving himself away.
god, he loved you. more than you'd possibly ever know. catching his eye, you gave him a slightly confused face and you could see his eyes slightly squint with a little smile.
smiling back, you dove back into your conversation with soap and gaz. '...didn't realize that was something he did,' you said as simon came back into the conversation.
soap gave a little laugh, rolling his eyes. 'oh, gaz is a real charmer. spilled his pint o' beer on a lady once in a bar. you remember that, right ghost?' and simon nodded, giving a little grunt as he did so.
he still watched you, the light shining in your eye and the color slowly returning to your face as everything began to go back to your normal. he knew how much you missed this during missions, and even with the bags under your eyes he still thought you were as beautiful as ever.
the conversation waned, soap and gaz beginning to argue a little. your knee pressed against his, allowing your legs to touch. the only bit of pda he would allow with other soldiers around. with his mask on.
even though gaz and price knew, he kept it a secret from the loud mouthed scot. he knew, as much as he (unwillingly) cared for soap, word would spread fast if he knew it.
and the two of you spoke often about possibly bringing him in on the secret. possibly even just coming out as a couple at the nearest milball.
as much as the conversations happened, that was two milballs ago. three years you had been together, and just six months ago he had popped you the question. he knew exactly where that ring lay, on a long chain sitting just on your sternum.
some nights, he would kiss it. long and hard as he prayed to whatever being would listen that the two of you returned safe from the mission you were next on. other times, he tugged on it to pull you in for kisses.
there would even be a few nights that he would just play with it, feeling the heat of the metal from where it would rest against your skin. he loved that you kept it so close to your heart, and kenw that once the two of you married you wedding band would sit just there.
his own would sit against his heart, as soon as he got it.
a sharp pain from his bicep pulled him from his thoughts, looking down at where you bit him. clenching your teeth a little harder, you finally released him.
'what the hell was that,' soap sputtered out. looking between you, then simon and gaz. gaz gave him a little shrug, looking away as you leaned for another bite.
simon pushed your head away from his arm. 'don't bite me, you little mosquito,' he huffed at you. you gave him a cheeky little smile, winking at him before digging back into your food.
soap gestured wildly. 'no, i want to know what's going on. what the hell. why the hell?'and you gave soap a little laugh.
pulling the chain from under your shirt, you dangled the ring and chain in front of him. 'technically, we are still planning the wedding,' and you grunted as soap kicked you.
'and why wasn't i told?' he hissed at the two of you. you gave a faint shrug, playing with some of the food on your plate. you faught like hell to tell soap, but respected simons decision.
'you've got a loud mouth,'
'i do not!' soap nearly shouted. 'i absolutely do not,' he then whispered. you laughed and tapped your knee against simons.
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