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chuluoyi · 6 days

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✎ the babysitters' club

- gojo satoru x reader

in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

genre: total crack, first years are trying their best to babysit your son to save their grades, an attempt at humor, gojo is irritating as always, fluff, fluff, fluff

note: this is sooo incredibly silly :') some inspiration are taken from the baby starfish onesie, this ask, and this illustration -> if you're wondering how gojo dressed his baby, he's looks just like that :)) tagging @3zae-zae3 <3

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Gojo-sensei... what is that wiggling starfish!?"

On one sunny day in jujutsu school... trouble is once again brewing in the form of Gojo Satoru bringing his baby son to the class.

"Starfish? No, no," Gojo retorted with a displeased expression, directing his gaze towards Yuji and clicking his tongue as he patted his squirming baby, which was still hidden from their view. "He's my pride and joy! Don't refer to him as starfish!"

"But you've got him dressed up as one..." Nobara pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed.

"That's his kid," Megumi provided, wearily sighing. God, he knew already today was going to be a long day.

No one from school had seen your seven-month old baby son yet, and Gojo was determined to make it an occasion to remember.

Beaming with pride, he gently removed his baby from the starfish-themed onesie, revealing him in a tiny black jujutsu outfit specially tailored for him, complete with miniature black glasses. He held him up, presenting him for everyone to see.

"Behold, everyone... my son! Isn't he just adorable?!"

. . . a momentary silence before—

"Oh my goodness, he is!" Nobara cooed, forgetting her earlier sentiment, immediately approaching the baby with shining eyes. "Sensei, how could you manage to have a baby this cute!?"

"Heh! Only the finest technique utilized to create him—"

"Complete bullshit—"

"Hush, Megumi! No cussing in front of my baby! I'll deduct your marks!"

"Seriously...?"

"Now, class, today I have a very, very important task for you..." Gojo said, his voice dripping with mischief as he sported a broad grin. "If you succeed, I'll personally draft a recommendation letter for each of you to Yaga. But if you don't..." he paused for the suspense, scanning his three students' curious faces.

"Then I'm failing you in my class!" Gojo continued with a grin, prompting immediate reactions from his students.

“What! Why?!”

“That's not fair!”

“Sigh.”

“All you have to do was to watch over him until I come back. Everything you need is here— in this bag!”

Megumi rolled his eyes. Nobara raised an eyebrow. Only Yuji who seemed to be genuinely interested.

"Isn't that easy?" Gojo tilted his head playfully, looking absolutely stupid with his blindfold. "There are three of you here. If you can't even manage to look after one baby, then you should not even think about romance and dating."

"Nonsen—"

"Quiet, Megumi!"

And so began the day's mission: looking after Baby Gojo until his father's return.

“Lalala~ look you’re flying!”

“Fwa...”

“Kugisaki, don’t hold him like that! You’re making him cry!”

“No, I’m not— Itadori! Don’t smush his face—!”

“WAAA!”

“You idiot!” Megumi hissed, plucking the poor baby from his clueless friends and immediately soothed him, pulling him close and patting his back. He even gently shushed him, “There, there...”

And Yuji and Nobara could only look at him in awe as the baby's wails turned into soft sniffles, peaceful in his embrace.

"Whoa... Fushiguro, so babies like you, huh..."

"Unfair!" Nobara clicked his tongue, before fixing a wide smile and waved at the baby in Megumi's arms. "Hi baby~ don't you want to held by big sister—"

"He doesn't like you, Kugisaki."

And so, that was how the three of them spent half the day—constantly watching over Baby Gojo, with Megumi supervising both the baby and his two friends.

"Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in him..." Megumi grumbled sullenly, resigned to his fate, his gaze fixed on the crawling baby while he sat on the floor and threw his little sunglasses.

For all the sighs he exuded, Megumi undeniably had a soft spot for the baby. Prior today, he had held him several times, and he'd never admit it, but he'd protect him to the best of his ability, if anything, because you had done so much for him.

“Gojo-sensei is cool!” Yuji remarked. “Of course Y/N-sensei is happy with him.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that.”

"Hey, don't you think he wants his milk?" Yuji suddenly pointed out, as the baby became fussy. Megumi nodded and Yuji immediately reached for the bag Gojo left. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to his friend, but in the process, he accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Ahh, my bad," the boy sighed, collecting the diapers and washcloth, until he realized that there were some more—

"What's that? Photographs?" Nobara picked one of them up, and immediately gasped. "Oh my! Look at this!"

On the picture was the same baby, but much more smaller and swaddled in baby blue blanket and tiny blue beanie. Most likely taken when he was a newborn.

"Whoa, wait, there's something written behind the photo..."

When she flipped it over, both she and Yuji studied the messy handwriting, instantly recognizing it as their teacher's.

Yaaay! ♡ Baby is here! I'm sooo happy you made it! But mama went through a lot to bring you here... so don't ever forget that she loves you very, very much, okay?

"This is sweet." Nobara looked at the picture with a genuine smile, until she realized that there were some more scattered on the floor.

The other picture was of the blue-eyed baby on his arms and knees, wrapped in an orange and black bee onesie, complete with little wings, and behind it was written:

Aren't you just the cutest bee?! And what's more, you've started crawling! Aw, papa is so proud! In no time at all, you're going to be as strong as me!

"What are you two doing over there?" Megumi asked, still feeding the baby with the milk bottle. Nobara beckoned him over.

The third photo was of you smiling so prettily while holding your baby, still in his bee suit, and Gojo also in the frame, wrapping his arm around you, clearly the one holding the camera to take the selfie.

Two my most precious treasures ♡ Sweetheart, I love you. And baby too!

Yuji smiled, as he felt warmth spreading in his chest. "Gojo-sensei really treasures his family, huh?"

"He is," Megumi agreed, because he had seen it all throughout his life.

"Well, no wonder..." Nobara giggled. "Any woman showered with this much love would be happy."

And that day, the trio also uncovered another side of their teacher, that his deepest affection was reserved exclusively for his wife and child.

Well, the sentimental feeling didn't last long though...

"This is our chance!" Nobara said in a hushed whisper. "When else are we going to get an extra family discount!?"

Megumi was so ready to burst a blood vessel as he held the baby—given that he had forbidden his two friends to lay a finger on him. "We are meeting Gojo-sensei here, not to—!"

"Hush! Itadori, don't you agree with me?!"

Yuji nudged his cross friend, trying to appease him. "Lighten up, Fushiguro! We can have more meat!"

At the last minute, Gojo suddenly told the three of them to bring his baby and meet him at the shopping center as he didn't want to waste energy to go back to the school. And like broke students Nobara and Yuji were, they decided to use Baby Gojo to snag an extra plate in a yakiniku place.

Megumi's eyes twitched. "This is not making sense at all, they won't believe—!"

"Shut up, you! Waiter~ here! We have a baby! So we're eligible for the family package!"

The judging stare of the waiter was enough to make Megumi combust on the spot, and yet somehow he passed the four of them as family eligible for the extra plate.

It was later, after they had their lunch that Megumi suddenly had an upset stomach and left the baby momentarily in his two friends' care.

And under less-than-watchful eyes...

"Hey, Kugisaki, meat on this side is the juiciest! Try it!"

"Ooh, you're right!"

The baby only blinked at them in wonder as he stayed in his spot. Not for long though... and it didn't help that they forgot his existence after they went to the cashier and headed out.

"Oi, Itadori! Don't forget to split the bill!"

"Oh yeah! Anyway, why is Fushiguro taking so long?"

Megumi got back right afterwards, and he frowned. "You done already? I haven't even gotten my ocha refill—" and it dawned to him when he saw both Yuji and Nobara with empty hands.

"Wait... where's the baby?"

"—! Oh my god!"

And when the three of them rushed back to the yakiniku place and approached their table earlier, Nobara almost screamed at the empty chairs, "He is gone!"

"You left the baby with the kids and told them to come here?!"

You were positively fuming as you scolded your stupid husband in the bustling mall.

"Well, we haven't gotten much time to spend together, just the two of us!" Satoru retorted, his tone sulky as he pouted. "And besides, Megumi is there. I'm sure they'll do just fine~"

You let out a sigh. True enough, being parents is no joke. Aside from stay-at-home dates, the frequency of the two of you going out had dwindled exponentially since having your baby.

"Technically, you are still on the clock though." You threw him a glare. "You're being a very irresponsible teacher."

Satoru smirked. "Heh, spare me. But I'm being a very good teacher to you in our—"

"One more word and I'm locking you out—!"

Just as you were about to give him your (empty) threat, the building suddenly boomed with an announcement from the mall's broadcast speaker.

"Attention, shoppers. We've received a report from three teenagers that they've lost a baby. He is seven-month old, wears black shirt, has white hair and blue eyes. He is last seen at Yakiniku Q—"

"Satoru..." your voice trembled, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The baby described by the speaker was unmistakably your son, and the realization of him being missing sent you spiraling into panic.

"Hey, calm down." Satoru gripped your hand tightly, his voice steady as he faced you. "We're going to find him, alright? I'm here. Don't worry."

And after taking off his glasses, in a matter of seconds, Satoru figured out where he was.

Nobara's eyes welled up with tears, frustrated. "What do I do, Gojo-sensei will fail us now..." she muttered, biting her lip.

"That's what you're worried about?" Megumi replied, turning to her with a clear glare.

"He's going to be fine! He is!" Yuji interjected, trying to reassure his two friends despite his own rising anxiety. "He’s not just any random baby—who knows, maybe he can shoot cursed energy to protect himself!"

Megumi and Nobara leveled their annoyed stares on him and Yuji immediately regretted his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I still think he can't get far from the yakiniku place." Megumi was too panicked to check with the staff earlier and just went with Yuji's suggestion to report it to be announced, but now that he thought about it— "I think we should go back."

And thank goodness the three of them returned for the second time because, this time, they finally saw the baby safely cradled in your arms, with Gojo speaking to the waitresses nearby.

"Oh?! Gojo-sensei is here!"

But as soon as the three of them came into view, Gojo immediately fixed them with his unamused gaze.

"You three..." his voice was lower and it made the three kids shudder. "What did I tell you about failing this mission, huh?"

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi were visibly spooked, immediately bowing their heads in unison as they chorused—

"Gojo-sensei, we're so sorry!"

Nobara then pointed an accusing finger at Yuji. "But it was his fault! He kept eating away and didn't even oversee the baby anymore!"

"Wha!?" Yuji glared back at her. "No! You too! You kept eating my meat too!"

"Whatever it is, I'm not a part of this—" Megumi cut in boldly. "My stomach hurt so I had to go for a bit, and they couldn't even keep an eye on him—"

You soothed your squirming son as the first years were throwing blame at each other. Gaping in confusion, you couldn't help but wonder how such a simple task had turned into this incident.

"Tsk." Gojo crossed his arms dramatically, and you knew he was just messing with them, as he suddenly turned to you with a grin.

"Nah, as both a teacher and the victim's mother— Sensei~ who do you think is responsible for this? Or should I punish all three of them?"

The three kids before you were quaking in their boots, and you really didn't have time for this right now. Honestly, if if you had to quickly pinpoint the source of this chaos...

You directed your most irked glare at your husband. "You."

“Huh?!”

“You’re the one staging this by threatening their grades, and it results in our baby being missing!”

Now you were bickering with your husband and putting him in his rightful place. Nobara and Yuji gaped, while Megumi heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does this mean... our grades are saved?"

Epilogue

"They said he fell..." You pat your baby's head worriedly as he babbled happily in his crib, your expression darkening into a frown.

You didn't really blame the first years for their lack of experience, but as his mother, the news from the restaurant staff that they had found your son falling from the chair made you extremely uneasy.

Seeing your distress, Satoru’s natural response was to comfort you until you were back to smiles again. He gently tickled his boy's tummy, prompting him to squeal in absolute joy. "Look, he's perfectly fine. You don't need to worry so much, yeah?"

"But it's strange... I'm happy he's fine, but how? Most babies will get hurt or at least be inconsolable after falling. But he was totally okay..."

Satoru shifted his gaze to his son, as now his round, crystal blue eyes that mirrored his blinked back at him with such innocence and trust that even melted his heart.

"Ah, I see." Suddenly he smiled as if he had figured something out. "This is just my guess, but you know my guesses have like... 90% of probability of being correct—"

"Hmm...?"

"He might have activated Infinity by instinct. Heh."

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sttoru · 2 months

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Helloo, could you do a scenario where baby gumi can’t sleep because he forgot his favorite blanky at daycare. What would y/n and toji do?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. not beta read reader gets called ‘mama’. wc: around 600

“the little brat won’t sleep,” is what your husband says as he steps into your shared bedroom—the child in question right in his arms. toji sighs in defeat whilst megumi continues on wailing.

it’s been an hour since he’s tried to get your son to sleep. though, megumi’s stubbornness remains victorious; not without his beloved blanket.

“the hell do we do? kid just refuses to sleep,” toji continues. he walks over to the edge of the bed and sits down next to you. your husband clicks his tongue like he’s offended, “tsk. he even scratched me when i tried to pick ‘m up.”

your eyes travel down the length of toji’s arms before finding the little fresh scars. they aren’t anything serious, but they look like they hurt at impact. you know since you’ve been a victim to a toddler’s scratches before.

their strong grip needs to be studied.

“aww, that’s not good, ‘gumi,” you shake your head and jokingly frown at your son. megumi’s cries quiet down once he hears your soothing voice. he whimpers and blinks his tears away.

toji raises an eyebrow at his son who’s suddenly gone silent. he knows that your voice has a calming effect—it even works on the older man himself—but it’s still fascinating to see how easily you can take control of the situation.

“c’mere,” you coo at megumi. you take the little child from toji’s arms and pat his back softly. you kiss the top of his head repeatedly and hum the tune of his favourite song, ‘twinkle twinkle little star’.

toji balances his body back on his arms with his hands flat on the mattress behind him. he’s still impressed by how fast you managed to soothe your son, “hmph, how come he’s quiet with you?”

you glance at toji and catch him frowning—pouting almost. it seems your husband’s quite jealous of your parenting skills. or.. of the favouritism your child has, “heh, gumi’s clearly a mama’s boy.”

you decide to tease toji and he reacts like expected. the dark-haired man scoffs and rolls his eyes at your remark before scooting closer to you—leaning his head down to megumi.

the little boy sniffles as he rests against your shoulder. his big, teary eyes open and land on his father’s face that’s only inches away.

toji ruffles megumi’s hair, to which the little boy whines and huffs. the older man gently grabs megumi’s cheeks with one hand and squeezes them together, “ye gotta watch out, buddy.”

megumi squirms in your embrace. he tries to shake his dad’s hand away, threatening to bite it if toji won’t let go.

toji grins at his son’s sounds of protest. he can’t take megumi seriously when he’s all whiny like this. it makes the boy look adorable in his eyes—makes him want to tease him.

your husband clears his throat after catching himself smiling at the adorable sight. he continues his little teasing act by lightly nibbling on megumi’s cheeks, “‘m still y’r mama’s favorite, ya hear?”

you roll your eyes and giggle at toji’s words. it’s not the first time toji’s ‘fought’ with megumi over your attention. or over who’s considered your ‘favorite’. you know it’s all jokes in the end—but it’s entertaining each time.

“honey, he’s a kid,” you laugh softly as toji continues to tickle and nibble on megumi’s skin, making the little boy giggle but also squirm in attempt to make his dad stop.

toji stops for a second to reply. he’s got a cocky smirk on his face as he responds, “and i’ll fight a kid.”

. . . at least megumi’s forgotten all about his favorite blanket.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk x y/n #toji x y/n

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voyeurmunson · 4 months

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Drunk Dial: Eddie Munson blurb

18+ Minors DNI

"I just wanted to tell you something, as a friend." Eddie goes on. You've been on the phone for 15 minutes now. You can tell he's had one too many beers. His words running together a bit, his voice a little louder than usual.

"Of course." you tease, a giggle falling from your lips. You had just finished a joint when your phone rang, Eddie insisting he had something important to tell you.

"Your body is bangin.”

"Bangin' huh?" you giggle, your cheeks reddening immediately, grateful that he wasn't standing in front of you.

"Listen.. even friends can appreciate their friends uh-parts." he slurs, a little giggle slipping his lips.

"That skirt the other day, baby. Fuuuck." He groans dramatically. "Your ass.. your fucking curves."

"Eddie." you whisper, barely able to speak as compliments continue pouring from his lips. This wasn't the first time Eddie had said something like this but he wasn't usually so blunt.

"Shhh! I'm just trying to tell you." he chuckles again, "I would have bent you over right then and there if you woulda let me." his playful tone darkens in an instant.

"I-" Suddenly you wished he was standing in front of you.

"Mmm.. I can picture it now." he hums. "Pushing your skirt above your hips. Teasing you first. Do you like to be teased, sweetheart?"

"Fuck, Eds." you breathe out, your heart pounding in your chest, your pussy beginning to throb from his words.

"Shit, sorry baby.. I'm a little," he pauses to hiccup loudly, "a little drunk."

"It's okay.. I-I do like to be teased, by the way." you whisper into the phone, not wanting the conversation to end. Your high giving you a little boost of confidence.

"Yeah? Can I tell you what I'd do first?Hypothetically.” he rasps.

"Please." you whimper.

"Shit.. yeah, okay. First I'd bend you over.. like we talked about." he says giddily.

"Mhmm."

"Then I'd run my fingers up your thigh slowly until I reach your panties. I bet they'd be wet. Would they be wet, sweetheart?"

"So wet." you purr, escalating the situation further, resulting in a deep moan from Eddie.

Fuck, he's hot.

"I would bring my fingertips to your clit, starting slow. Teasing you just a bit. Then I'd move lower, feeling your soaked panties."

"Soaked?" you egg him on.

"Fucking drenched." he groans.

"What next?"

He chuckles lustfully at your eager tone. "I'd slip them to the side.. what color are they, baby?"

"Red. Lacy."

"Fuck me. Mmm.. okay. I'd slip the lace to the side, finally feeling you on my fingers.."

"Fast or slow?"

"Slow, in and out, I bet you feel so fucking good.”

“How many fingers?" he moans growing hard at the thought.

"Two?"

"Two.. yeah.. two sounds good. I'd start slow, gliding them in and out, speeding up, listening to your sounds.. finger fucking you real good, sweetheart. Make you cum all over my hand. God, know you'd be so wet."

"So wet for you, Eddie. My pussy would be so wet for you." you purr, surprising yourself with your words.

"Sweetheart... you're gonna make me cum." he blurts out at the same time that you blurt out your own sentence. "Do you wanna come over?"

"Yes. God, yes." he answers hastily.

"Wait, Eddie.. I don't think you should drive right now."

"No, no, no. I'm not driving. Stevie here is gonna drive me. Aren't ya buddy? Oh, here. You wanna say hi?" You hear a rustling on the other end of the phone. Oh god.

"Uh.. hi." Steve mutters awkwardly through the phone.

"Heh.. hi Steve." your face blushes profusely as you realize Steve must have been there the whole time.

"So. uh- need me to bring him?"

"Mhmm.. yeah. Please."

"I'm about to fuck your brains out." Eddie's voice comes through the phone again. CLICK.

#Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb

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tootiecakes234 · 4 months

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Katsuki “asking” you to move in with him

You were almost back home when you got a call from your boyfriend. He didn’t even greet you when you answered.

“Where are you?”, he grunted into his phone.

“Well hello to you too handsome.”

“Yea, yea… where are you? I’m at your place to pick you up and ya ain’t here.”

“Heh… maybe if I knew you were coming over I would’ve been home. Why didn’t you text me and let me know. I don’t have any clothes packed or anything.”you informed him.

He does this all the time. Just comes over to your house and tells you that you’re coming back to his place with him. So very demanding.

“You have a dresser full of clothes in my room, your toothbrush and all your toiletries… what do ya need to pack?”

“Ya got me there. I’m almost there. I got stuff to drop off then we can leave.”

When you get through the door Katsuki is digging through your fridge.

“Why do you never have groceries in your house?” He questions you.

“Because I’m never here sir. They always go bad because I have a needy boyfriend that wants me at his house 25/8.”, the sarcasm drips out of your voice as you head to drop off the things you had bought.

“ Tch…. Needy. Please. You’re the one always complaining that we don’t spend enough time together.” He states.

“This is true.” You shrug your shoulders. “Anyways I’m ready. Let’s hit it.

“It’d be easier to spend time together if you just moved in with me” he mentions all causally as you guys head out to his car. You pause a little and look at him a little baffled.

You and Katsuki had been dating for about 8 months but you didn’t know he felt that seriously. Maybe he was just joking, so you shake it off and continue on like he didn’t say it.

The next thing you know you’re at his house getting ready for bed.

Kats comes to the bathroom and leans against the counter while you’re in the middle of doing your skincare.

“Do you wanna say something?” You ask because he’s just sitting there staring at you.

“Do you not wanna live with me cuz you could’ve just said that when I mentioned it earlier instead of fucking ignoring me.” He asked it harshly but you could hear the vulnerability in his voice. Like he didn’t want to bring it up but it was bugging him bad enough that he had to say something.

“I- uh…”

Apparently you were taking too long.

“Just forget it.” His eyes fell from yours and he started moving away towards his room. “Are we watching the next episode of that stupid show of yours? If not-“

“I didn’t think you were serious Kat.” And you reach your hand out to catch his arm before he can leave.

“I thought you were joking or something. Also it wasn’t a question so I didn’t know you were waiting on an answer babe.” There’s a small grin pulling at your lips when he looks at you again.

“Why the hell would I joke about that? And it was obviously a question…. So answer it dammit.”, his brows were furrowed and he was scowling a little.

Poor nervous boy.

You reach both of your arms up and wrap them around his neck. Then you lean in and press a kiss to his pouting lips.

“Katsuki Bakugo *kiss* I would absolutely *kiss* love *kiss* to move in with you *kiss*”

His arms have wrapped around you waist pulling you tighter to him.

“About damn time. I’ll have people come over to pack your shit tomorrow.” And this time he leans in to give his a deep kiss. His tongue reaching out to invade your mouth.

When he pulls back you’re all twinkle eyed and dopey in love. It takes a second for reality to catch up to you.

“Tomorrow?? Kats I have a lease and I don’t want movers breaking and throwing my things around. I’m gonna need at least a week or two. And I’m gonna have to pay-“

“I’ll pay for the lease break and you have til this weekend. If ya don’t want movers I’ll get our shitty friends to come over and help. Ain’t waiting no two weeks.”

“This weekend? It’s Wednesday. That only gives me 2 days!” You reason.

“Yea and I don’t wanna give you that so count your blessings princess. And I’m done arguing about this.” He sweeps you up bridal style and carries you to bed. Then He dumps you down onto it.

“Now how about we start christening your new place,” he says while hovering over you with a sexy smirk playing at his lips.

Hmmmm….. and just like that you forgot why it was you weren’t moving in tomorrow. He could be so very convincing when he wanted to be.

Katsuki Masterlist

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messylustt · 1 year

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can i pleaseee request a dark!ghostface!ethan landry x reader where the reader doesn’t know ethan is ghostface and she looses him at a party so she stumbles around tipsy trying to find him calling out his name when suddenly someone dressed as ghost face approaches and starts walking beside her making very sketchy and personal questions (its ethan but obviously reader doesn’t know 🙄) ultimately leading to a chase and she gets home thinking shes safe and suddenly he ambushes reader and ‘spice occurs’ (idk) and then shes like “no! i need ethan!” and he gets …turned on… and asks about himself iykwim . pls base it off of that 😭

holy shit i love this … ethan’s gonna feel so fucking smug about reader needing him heh

tell me more — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : being attacked by ghostface leads to strange questions about ethan. ethan being behind the mask grows more and more turned on the more you say.

contents : just filthy, slight dub con, unprotected sex. wc 2.9k

You down another red solo cup. But as no more liquid falls down your throat, your brows begin to furrow. You pull the cup away to see no more alcohol sloshing inside.

“Ethan,” you turn. “Can you get me another—”

You stop, not seeing the curly haired boy behind you. You spin. Or beside you. “Ethan?” You call, your tone tipsy, over the rowdy students, all enjoying the party.

You step, but sway as you grab the wall. A giggle escapes you as you nearly knock shoulders with a passing couple. “Sorry.”

You go back to looking for Ethan, who had been by your side the entire party up till now. “Ethan?” You drag out the syllables as you squint your eyes. “Where are you?” You mutter under your breath.

“Y/n?”

You spin, seeing Chad. “Chad!” You exclaim. “Have you seen Ethan?”

Chad chuckles at your slightly slurring words. You put your hands on your hips, as you wait for his response.

Chad shakes his head. “Last I saw, he was with you.”

You sigh, turning back to stare through the house party.

“You alright?” Chad asks. You nod in response.

“I’m fine, you go…go back to…whatever you were doing.” You walk away, gazing around.

“Ethan—oh.” You bump into someone, and as you glance up to apologise you pause, seeing the white face of Ghostface.

You narrow your eyes, stepping back, swaying a fraction. “Excuse me.” You say, walking past them.

As you try to continue your search, you feel a presence beside you. Glancing to your left, you see Ghostface, black cloak and all, walking alongside you. “What— who are you? You know, its not a great costume.” You continue slowly walking through the crowd.

“Is it not?” The baritone voice of Ghostface asks.

“Hey!” You slightly slur. “Where did you find one of those modulators? I’ve been trying to find one.” You pause. “To try it out, not because…I uh, kill people. I don’t kill people.”

Your blurting out anything on your mind, and Ghostface just tilts he head as he observe you.

“You know, you could have been more original. Everyone dresses up…as Ghostface.” You say, slightly poking his chest.

“And how do you know I’m dressing up?”

You pause. “Well…” you blink, trying to screw your head on straighter.

“How do you know I’m not the real Ghostface.” He whispers, the low voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Uh…your at a house party?” As if that would prove your point.

“You don’t think Ghostface goes to house parties?”

“I mean not to party,” you say, slightly growing wearier. “…obviously.”

“Is that what you do—party?” Ghostface asks.

“Of course!” You say, stumbling a bit. “I always go to parties. Usually with—oh!” You exclaim, glancing around.

“Have you seen a boy with curly brown hair, and a cute smile?” You ask Ghostface.

“What’s his name?”

“Ethan.” You nod, squinting your gaze on the crowd again. “He disappeared.”

“A cute smile?” Ghostface inquires.

“Yes.” You wave your hand dismissively. “Now get looking.”

You walk farther into the hallway, where it appears quieter and darker, away from the fluorescent lights. “Ethan?”

Then you feel a breath by your ear. “You seem desperate.”

You spin, seeing Ghostface. “Don’t do that, your making me think your actually a creepy killer.” You whisper. Alcohol still buzzed in your system, but you could feel it begin to ebb away as you stared at the silent, eerie figure.

“Mr. Ghostface?” You ask, since they hadn’t answered you. “Or Mrs.”

You then see something glint against the hanging hallway light. Something metal, in Ghostfaces grip.

“What—” you cut yourself off, staring at it. The threat suddenly clicks in your brain, as you whip your gaze back up to Ghostface’s mask. He begins to step closer, and you stumble slightly back.

You look around and realise how alone you are. Ghostface is blocking the way back to the party. You glance behind you and see the front door. Without thinking, you run to it, turning the handle and rushing outside.

This house was thankfully not a far walk from your apartment. And as you glance back to see Ghostface following you, you hurry your steps.

Your growing soberer by the second, as the cold air hits your face, and the looming danger of getting stabbed makes your pulse quicken. You can hear steps pick up behind you, making you hurry yours in turn.

You’re soon nearing your apartment, and wondering why Ghostface hasn’t caught you yet, you weren’t that much of a fast runner. Was it genuinely some joke?

You spare a glance behind you to see no one. You don’t slow though. Carrying up to your door, whipping it open and locking it.

You breathe heavy as you back up into your apartment, switching the lights on. “Fuck, that better have been a joke.” You mutter, feeling almost stupid for freaking out.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t.” The low voice makes you spin. There stands Ghostface in your kitchen, the signature tilt to his head.

You should have grabbed a knife. You rush farther into your apartment as you try to reach for a room, but Ghostface is quick to intercept, grabbing you and yanking you towards him.

You scream, trying to get out of his grip. “Shh.” He whispers against your ear, as your back presses against his front.

“No, get the fuck off me!” You exclaim harshly.

“Did you end up finding your friend?”

“You know that I didn’t.” You hiss back, as you continue to struggle.

Ghostface chuckles, right by your ear. His grip wraps around you, one of his hands on your stomach, as he stands flush against you.

You gulp. Ethan, god, you hope he was okay. “You didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

“Hurt my friend.”

Behind the mask Ethan’s grin is growing. He had wanted a little fun, and seeing you scared and running gave him a rush, one that went straight to his dick. You seemed so concerned for you “friend”. Your cute little question on if he hurt…well…himself, made this all the more enjoyable.

“You seem, so concerned.” He probes. The feeling of you against him, has his voice dropping, even deeper than the modulator originally is, as his sentence husks out.

“Of course I’m concerned.” You say, trying to keep your fear from being prominent in your voice. “I wouldn’t want him hurt, or worse killed.”

Ethan’s gloved hand spreads wider across your stomach, keeping you from running away. He rests his chin on your shoulder, making you stiffen. “Ethan, right?”

You gulp. “Yes. Please don’t hurt my friends, don’t hurt him.”

Ethan is growing more turned on, by your tone of worry. You cared so much for him, and Ethan could tell. Fuck, he liked you like this. He wanted to know more.

“You care about him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You say, very aware of the knife still in his grasp.

“How much?” Ethan hisses.

“A-a lot.”

“Oh? Why do you care about him—a lot?”

“He’s always been a good friend.” You say, your breathing mismatched.

“Is that all?”

“No. He’s also quite cute.” Your spewing answers in hopes that Ghostface won’t kill you. But you know how foolish that notion is.

“Is he? What’s cute about him?” Ethan asks, licking his lips.

“His uh, face.”

“That’s a bit generic.”

“Also his hands, I like his hands.” In response Ethan, drags his hand lower down your stomach making you slightly arch into him. Your wearing a pretty little skirt, that him as Ethan couldn’t look at for too long. But him as Ghostface could do whatever he wants.

“Why?” God, Ethan was getting hard. Being this close to you, and hearing your praising words is sending heat through him.

“Um, their big and…I like how they feel.”

Fuck, Ethan is breathing hard. He pulls you closer to him, making you gasp. “What else?”

“H-he um.” You gulp. “His hair. I like his hair. I always want to run my fingers through it.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because that would be weird.” You two were friends, you felt it would cross that line. Though as you begin think about all these things about him, your starting to feel butterflies slowly swarm your stomach. Did you “like like” Ethan?

“I don’t think so. It’s a friendly thing to do.”

You hold back a scoff. “I’m not taking any sort of advice from you.”

Ghostface—Ethan—chuckles. “But I’m being honest. I’m sure he’d love if you ran your pretty fingers through his hair. Maybe he might slide his hand to rest on your thigh.” Ethan slowly brings his hand further down your body, to stop on your thigh, your skirt slightly scrunching up.

You shudder at the shift. Fear and adrenaline coursing through you. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

“You sound so sure.” Wouldn’t do that?—Ethan thinks to himself. No. He’d do a lot more. He has the urge to track back up your thigh, this time under your skirt. But he wants to drag this out a little longer.

“Let’s say he did do that. How would you react?”

“Why are you asking me this—”

His grip hardens on your thigh making you shut up.

You gulp. “I would probably move closer. To reach his hair better.”

“And how would you feel?”

“I would feel…hot.”

“Where?”

“What?” Your mind is running wild as thoughts of Ethan swarm your brain.

“Where would you feel hot?” Fuck, Ethan was growing agitated. He could feel his cock throb. The pressure of his pants made sure you didn’t feel him through the long cloak.

“Um.” Your voice shakes a fraction. “In my…stomach.”

“Here?” Ethan wanders back to your stomach and taps his fingers against the material if your top.

“Y-yes.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan’s gloved hand goes lower, making your breath hitch. “Not here?” It’s a ghost of a touch. But you feel it, his finger brushing across your clothed pussy. You shudder against him. You were hot. Exactly where he said.

“Do you know how Ethan would feel?” Ghostface—Ethan—asks.

“No.”

“He would feel desperate.” Ethan’s voice comes off breathy through the modulator. “So, desperate.”

You shudder at the thought, even more so as Ghostface brings his hand under your shirt, still staying by your stomach.

“Do you like Ethan?” Ethan could tell you felt something for him, but if you were in denial than you wouldn’t make a move. But now with this information he doesn’t mind stepping up. Cause he really did want to feel your hands running through his hair.

“I—” you breath.

“Yes?” Ethan eagerly asks.

“A…little bit. Yeah. Yeah, I kind of do.”

Ethan grins behind the mask, as his grip tightens around you. You fit against him so nicely.

“Well, what a lucky guy.” He almost chuckles to himself.

“Are you going to stab me?” You finally ask. What was with all this talking? You should be dead.

“Do you think I will?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“But I want to hear more about your crush.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“…yes.”

Ethan holds back a groan of slight annoyance. “I want to know what you’d let him to do you.”

You blanch. “W-what?”

“I want to know where you’d let him touch you.”

Your suffocating on air. “Would you let him touch here?” He brushes away your hair with his knife to reach your neck, making you shiver. “Would you?”

“I’d…like that.”

Ethan holds back a moan at you letting him—wanting him to touch you.

“Where else?” Ethan continues. “Here?” He grazes down your chest, just above your breasts.

“P-probably.”

“Mmm.” Ethan lowly hums as his gloved hand travels down the top covered valley between your breasts, skirting over your bra.

Your immobile, because there’s a tension growing between your legs, that is making you concerned for your mental health. Ghostface was touching you—almost touching you and you were feeling hot.

Ethan glides his hand all the way until he reached the edge of your skirt, pausing. You gulp, holding down a whine as you press your thighs together. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Would you let him touch here?” He harshly breathes out, as grabs your pussy, making you jolt. He’s touching your panties, hand under your skirt, as he begins to rub. “Yeah? You’d want him to touch you here?”

Your breathing is choppy as he continues to rub up and down, going harder over your clit, making you shudder.

Ethan then wraps his other arm across your chest, bringing you impossibly closer, as he listens to you trying to hide your whimpers. Fuck, you sounded so pretty. Slowly falling apart in his arms.

He was rock hard, and growing desperate. Feeling your pussy over your panties was quickly not enough, as he slips past them, his gloved fingers reaching your wetness. Ethan grins. You were soaked. All for him and his game.

“Are you wet for Ethan or me?” Ethan holds back chuckling at the fact that there’s not a wrong answer.

“E-Ethan.”

But he certainly liked that answer a little better. “You just want to feel his big hands fingering you, don’t you?”

“Oh— fuck.” You choke as he pushes a single finger inside you.

Ethan keeps his other arm across you, his knife loosely in his grip. He keeps wanting to pull you closer, so that your ass completely pressed against his throbbing cock. He had to feel more of you.

He adds another finger as a whimper escapes your lips, making Ethan smile. “That’s right.” He whisper-hisses. “I bet you’ve dreamt of him.”

“Uh huh.” You manage as he thrusts his fingers repeatedly into you.

“Your so cute having little dreams about Ethan. I’m sure you touched yourself. Having woken up horny,and needy.”

“S-shit.” You stutter as his fingers pick up pace, thrusting in and out, in and out. The glove material inside you feels foreign but oh so, good.

“You need him, don’t you.” Ghostface says to your ear. “Don’t you?” Ethan has grown incredibly desperate, as the thought of you wanting him—needing him feels like an orgasm in itself.

“I do.” Your head falls slightly back as pleasure rocks through you. “Ethan…” You moan out.

Ethan finally cracks, pushing you against the wall, as he discarded his knife. He presses himself into you as he finally feels his clothed dick press against your sensitive pussy. You jolt as you feel him, his hands wandering your body, cupping your breasts under you shirt.

“Holy shit.” Ethan breathes as his mask grows hot. He wanted to kiss you. Is it worth taking off the mask?

In response to his silent question to himself, he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside as he stays pressed to you.

You watch as Ethan’s signature curls come into view. Your mouth hangs open in shock. Both at him as Ghostface and at what you had revealed. You had said so much about him, about how wet you were for him.

Your eyes are blown wide and Ethan can’t hold back anymore, smashing his lips against yours. You gasp through the kiss as Ethan plays with your tongue, lapping at your mouth as he moans.

“Ethan…” you manage to say as he unclips your bra, yanking it away. “I didn’t know it was you.” He’s kissing your neck, biting at the sensitive skin, as he begins to grind into you.

He licks your neck making a shiver run down your spine. “I didn’t know you thought of me like that.” Ethan kisses you again, as your head hits back against the wall. He licks your top lip. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t— I wasn’t sure…if—”

“I felt the same?” Ethan guesses as he brings his hand around your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around him. He rips your panties clean off as you gasp. Your skirt is bunched up by your hips. “Well, now you know I really fucking do.”

Ethan reaches for his belt with his other hand, under his cloak. Pushing the dark material aside he brings out his cock, extremely hard and ready.

He pushes the tip into you as your fingers reach for his hair.

“I told you.” Ethan breathes against your open mouth. He pushes further into you as you choke a moan. “I’d love it if your fingers were through my hair. And look,” Ethan pauses to grip your thigh tighter, pulling you closer, as he sinks completely into you. “My hand is on your thigh.”

He thrusts into you, his mouth beginning to open over your own, you both panting as your bodies clash.

“Oh—f-fuck. You feel so…” he can’t even finish his sentence as he continues to thrust, his dick filling you up, as you grow more and more dazed.

��You looked so fucking cute wandering around looking for me.” Ethan says between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Cute.” He moans before kissing you. Both your tongues meet each other sloppily, as the thrusting becomes the same.

Pleasure is through your entire body, as ethan grabs at your waist, fingers digging into your skin. You felt and smelt so nice. “Christ, y/n.”

He bites your jaw as your highs draw close. “Your always gonna need me.” He now grabs your jaw between his fingers. “You hear me? You won’t need anyone else.” He kisses you hard, before whispering against your lips. “Nobody else. Only me.”

#. ( archived )#the ethan effect #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #jack champion x reader #jack champion smut #jack champion #jack champion x y/n #scream smut #scream #scream 6

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entishramblings · 6 months

Text

Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.

Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.

Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.

Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.

But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.

She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.

Still, she wandered more.

As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.

Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.

Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.

So, she followed them.

One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.

Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.

Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.

From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant

Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.

See that was the thing.

Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.

The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.

The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..

She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?

…..

The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.

There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.

Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.

(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.

Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…

A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”

(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.

Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.

“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.

He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.

…..

The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.

Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.

However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.

She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.

Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.

His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.

Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.

“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”

The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.

Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."

Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.

Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”

Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”

The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."

Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”

Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."

“Cursed? But why?”

The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”

At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.

Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.

"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.

….

As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.

It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.

It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.

When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.

When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.

When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.

When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.

This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.

When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.

When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.

When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.

Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.

Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.

Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.

Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.

In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.

He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.

Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.

He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.

The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….

In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.

…..

Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.

Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.

The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.

Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).

As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.

Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.

Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.

He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.

With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.

In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.

However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.

Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.

A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.

Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.

Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.

"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"

She remained unresponsive.

Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.

Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"

Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.

“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”

Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”

Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”

The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”

The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.

Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”

It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”

Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.

“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"

Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”

Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.

The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."

Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.

Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.

The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.

……

Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.

He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.

"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"

Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.

The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.

“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”

“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”

Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”

He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.

Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.

Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.

"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."

A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."

The elf smiled gently in response.

A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.

Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”

She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”

The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?

(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."

…..

The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.

However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.

“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”

She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."

Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”

Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.

(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”

The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”

“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.

He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”

“Say it,” he commanded.

“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”

Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.

…..

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gojoux · 3 months

Text

『 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo is absolutely enamoured by you, even from the smallest thing you do, he’s always there to compliment you.

· CW: 5.2k // Fluff. Slight hurt/comfort. A bit suggestive. Being Gojo’s girlfriend means having a whipped boyfriend.

When you’re training by yourself.

You took a deep breath as you adopted your fighting stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised and ready. Focusing your cursed energy to enhance your physical prowess, you began your training regimen, flowing through the intricate movements you had practiced countless times before. Your body twisted and turned gracefully as you performed each strike and kick with perfect form, having honed your skills through years of diligent work.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you moved through the rigorous routine, not allowing yourself to slow down. With each punch, you visualize an enemy being struck down. With each kick, you imagined yourself growing stronger and more agile. The exertion left your muscles burning, but you pushed through, determined to improve.

After finishing the last set, you finally allowed yourself a moment of rest, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A sense of satisfaction washed over you at having completed such an intense workout. You knew all that effort was making you a better sorcerer.

“Look at you go,” a whistle was heard behind you.

You turned to see Gojo walking up, an admiring grin on his face. Even with his eyes obscured, you could tell he was looking you over appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Just trying to stay in shape.”

“You kidding? You’re in incredible shape!” he said. “The way you moved was like watching poetry in motion.”

You smiled, flattered by his high praise, and happy to have your efforts recognized. As one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers alive, compliments from Gojo meant a lot.

“I still have a long way to go before I’m anywhere near your level.”

“Of course,” he grins cheekily.

“But your dedication to training is really paying off, you know? Just look at how toned your arms are now,” he emphasized his point by gently grasping your arm, squeezing your bicep.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away.

He laughed playfully. “What? I can’t help but admire my girlfriend’s incredible physique.”

You shook your head in amusement. Only Gojo would be shameless enough to fawn so openly over your body. But his compliments, as ridiculous as they were, filled you with motivation. Knowing he was watching and supporting your efforts spurred you to work even harder.

“Alright, lover boy, as much as I’d love to hear more about how attractive you find my sweaty post-workout look, I need to get cleaned up.”

“Need someone to wash your back?” he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a pointed look.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said, raising his hands.

You gathered your things and started heading towards the showers. As expected, Gojo fell into step beside you, seemingly not done singing your praises yet.

“In all seriousness, you’re really good. I mean it,” he continued earnestly.

Warmth rushed through you with his heartfelt words. “Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “But honestly, it’s not anything extraordinary, stop complimenting me too much over that.”

“Heh, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied. “My girlfriend’s a total badass who’s only getting more incredible every day. What can I say, I’ve got an eye for talent,” he added with a cocky wink.

You laughed, giving him a light shove. “You’re too much.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, smiling up at his handsome face. “Yeah, I really do.”

When you’re on your mission.

The dark alley was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cramped passageway. Your footsteps were light and cautious as you scanned the area, senses on high alert. You were tracking a cursed spirit that had been terrorizing this neighborhood, attacking innocent civilians.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, it was your duty to stop threats like this.

Up ahead, you spotted your target—a grotesque, hulking creature with twisted features and elongated claws. It had a young woman pinned against the alley wall, ready to strike. With no time to lose, you leaped into action.

“Hey! Over here, ugly!” you shouted, firing off a blast of cursed energy to get its attention. The creature turned with an angry roar as you placed yourself between it and the cowering woman. Adopting a fighting stance, you are prepared to take it head-on.

The cursed spirit charged, swiping at you with ruthless force. But you were ready. With agile movements, you dodged and weaved, avoiding its attacks while looking for an opening. When you saw your chance, you struck—aiming your cursed technique at its chest sending it stumbling back.

Not letting up, you pressed your assault, pummeling the creature with your attacks. It tried to fight back but was no match for your superior speed and skill. With a final, devastating blow, you landed the finishing move, obliterating the cursed spirit in an explosion of energy.

Panting, you turned to check on the woman you had rescued. “Are you alright?” you asked gently to calm her down.

She stared at you with gratitude. “Th-thank you! You saved me!”

You smiled warmly, helping her to her feet. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

After escorting her from the alley, you headed off to report your completed mission, satisfied at having eliminated the threat and protected an innocent life.

As you walked, a familiar voice suddenly spoke up behind you.

“Great moves back there,” he grins, walking towards you with his hand in his pocket. Looks like he got it easy on his task.

You turned to see Gojo beaming at you proudly. “When I felt that burst of energy, I knew it had to be you kicking some cursed spirit booty. And I was right.”

You laughed at his dramatic phrasing. “All in a day’s work. I’m just glad I got there in time.”

“Let me guess, you finished earlier and spied on me ‘kicking cursed spirit’s booty’,” you crossed your arms playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“Yeah, it was a good show.”

Gojo stepped closer, gazing down at you admiringly. “It’s also that compassion that makes you such an amazing sorcerer,” he said. “You’re always focused on protecting people, even at great risk to yourself.”

His tone turned a bit calmer. “Watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like that… it scares me sometimes.” He gently caressed your cheek. “But it’s also one of the things I love most about you. Your drive to help others.”

You placed your hand over his, touched by his heartfelt words. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep people safe. I just have to.”

He smiled. “I know. And you do it with such skill too. The way you took down that cursed spirit was awesome. Your technique control has gotten better.”

“High praise coming from the strongest sorcerer around.”

“I’m just being honest here. You would’ve given me a run for my money, I bet."

You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is and take me on sometime?” you challenged playfully.

A devious grin crossed his face. “Is that a date? You know I love any excuse to get handsy with you.”

You laughed, giving him a light shove. Even after a tiring day, he could always lift your spirits.

“Maybe later,” you said, taking his hand. “For now, how about lunch? Fighting cursed spirits really works up an appetite.”

“It’s a date then!” he instantly entwined his fingers with yours. As you walked off together, he added, “You take my breath away, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Aww, aren’t you my own personal hype man?” you teased.

“Always!” he declared with his usual wide grin.

When you’re dressed up for a date.

“Satoru, can you come here for a second?” you called out from your bedroom.

“Be right there!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Gojo stepped into the doorway, a signature grin on his face. “What’s up?”

You turned to him with a shy smile. “I just finished getting ready for our date tonight. Wanted to get your opinion on the outfit before we head out.”

It was your anniversary, and Gojo was taking you somewhere nice. You had agonized over what to wear, trying on ten different dresses before finally settling on the dress you’re wearing right now with delicate jewelry and heels to complete the elegant look.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses as he took in your appearance. “Wow…” he breathed, staring openly. “You look… beautiful.”

Your face heats up at his praise. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely stunning,” he affirmed, moving closer. His hands came to rest on your waist, head tilting as if to see you better from all angles. “This dress is perfect on you. It hugs your body just right.”

One hand slid sensuously down your side to emphasize his point. You hold his hand still with flushed laughter. “Down. boy. Keep it PG for now,” you chided playfully.

He held up his hands in acquiescence, though the desire in his gaze was palpable. “PG. Got it. I’m just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend’s breathtaking beauty.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but his compliments made your heart flutter.

“The way the fabric drapes over your body…” he continued to admire you, “It’s like each detail was designed to accentuate your natural assets.” His voice dropped an octave. “Truly mouthwatering.”

“Satoru!” You swat his chest this time from embarrassment.

He grinned unrepentantly. “What? Can you blame me for being so captivated by you? You’re a vision right now. I’ve got the hottest date in town tonight, that’s for sure.”

You smiled, mollified by his sincerity beneath the teasing remarks. No one could make you feel as special and desired as Gojo.

“Think you can control yourself through dinner at least?” You asked archly.

He laughed. “I make no promises. But I’ll do my best to keep public groping to a minimum,” he replied with a wink.

Taking your hand, he led you downstairs and out the door, ever the gentleman. As you slid into the car though, his composure momentarily slipped.

“You look unbelievable in that dress,” he blurted, eyeing you up and down. “The things I want to do…”

He trailed off with an exaggerated groan. You dissolved into laughter, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. Only Gojo could be so simultaneously sweet and shameless.

Dinner was an intimate, romantic affair. Gojo was on his best behavior, focused entirely on you. His compliments came often, praising everything from your smile to your witty banter. By dessert, you were practically glowing under his constant stream of adoration.

“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” He murmured, grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “Because you are dazzling, baby. I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You bite your lip, smile stretching wide. No matter how many times he said it, those words never got old.

The ride home was charged with anticipation. Gojo’s hands, so well behaved earlier, now roamed your body eagerly. Your pulse quickened as desire ignited.

Once inside, his control broke entirely. You found yourself pressed against the foyer wall, his mouth hot on your throat.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night,” he rasped into your skin. “This dress should be illegal… even the way you walk in it got me feeling hazy.”

You sighed blissfully as his lips and hands explored. When Gojo wanted you, he made sure you felt cherished, beautiful, and desired. It was intoxicating.

Later, lying enveloped in his arms, he nuzzled into your hair. “Have I mentioned you look sexy as hell in that dress?”

“Only about a hundred times tonight.”

“Well let’s make it a hundred and one,” he replied, rolling you beneath him to properly worship every tantalizing detail.

No matter the occasion, Gojo never failed to make you feel like a goddess. His passion and praise knew no bounds.

When you failed your mission.

The cursed spirit’s claws tore through flesh and bone before you could react. The young boy’s scream pierced the air, then suddenly went silent as his broken body hit the ground. Shock rooted you in place for a critical moment before rage took over. With a cry, you unleashed the full force of your power, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant.

But it was too late. The child was gone, his sightless eyes accusing you of failure. Sinking to your knees, anguish crashed through you in waves. You were supposed to protect him. Instead, your hesitation had cost an innocent life.

By the time Gojo arrived, you were numb with grief. He assessed the situation swiftly before kneeling and enveloping you in his arms. You collapsed against his chest, finally releasing the tears you had been holding back.

He didn’t speak, just held you close and let you cry. There was no judgment in his embrace, only compassion. So you wept bitterly for the life lost, for your mistake, for the cruelty of this world.

When the torrent finally passed, Gojo gently wiped the moisture from your cheeks. “Talk to me,” he said simply.

Haltingly, you explained what happened. The guilt was a crushing weight on your heart.

“I should have been faster. I could have saved him,” you choked out.

Gojo gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me. This was not your fault.” His voice brooked no argument. “You didn’t hesitate from incompetence or cowardice. It was empathy. You saw a scared child and your first instinct was to protect, not attack. That compassion is what makes you an amazing sorcerer.”

You shook your head bitterly. “A lot of good it did him.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Gojo said sadly. “As much as we try, we can’t prevent every tragedy. What matters is that you care so deeply, that you refuse to harden your heart, even when it hurts this much.”

You wanted to believe him, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, a constant reminder of your failure.

Sensing your doubt, Gojo took your hands in his. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Don’t let this make you afraid to keep caring. There are so many people out there who need that compassion.”

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “This pain… means your humanity is still intact. That’s something to be proud of.”

A sob caught in your throat as you clutched his uniform jacket, anchoring yourself in his steadfast strength. The grief was still raw and raging, but his words lit a faint glow in the dark. Not of absolution, but of hope. That you could keep fighting and caring, without losing yourself.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”

The next few days were filled with more tears, self-doubt and sleepless nights. But Gojo remained your constant companion, providing reassurance when the shadows loomed.

His praise never wavered. Each time you began slipping back into despair, he was there with an uplifting word.

Slowly, the light began to return to your eyes. Gojo’s unrelenting positivity and belief in you provided a lifeline to cling to. He reminded you of your own strength, even when you doubted it.

Not long after that day, Gojo took you out to dinner. Upon returning home, he presented you with a single white lily.

“This is to honor that boy’s memory,” he explained. “But also to show you that beautiful things can still grow, even from tragic circumstances.”

You accepted the flower, eyes stinging with bittersweet tears. Looking up at Gojo, you found no trace of pity there, only love.

“Thank you,” you whispered, for this gesture, and for everything he had done to see you through the darkness.

He kissed your forehead tenderly. “You never have to go through anything alone. I’m always here.”

Clutching the lily close, you rested your head against Gojo’s heart.

When you’re happy.

You stared down at the official letter, reading the words over and over. You have been chosen by a revered sorcerer in Hokkaido for a mission that requires your skill. Better yet, you have always admired this sorcerer.

One in a million opportunity. It makes you feel special to have someone notice you to the point they requested for you because they need your skill. Just maybe, you’d have the opportunity to be trained by that sorcerer to improve yourself.

Hands shaking, you looked up at Gojo, seeing his face lit up with a brilliant smile. In an instant, you were swept off your feet as he spun you joyfully around the room. You clung to him, dizzy with euphoria.

When he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m such a proud boyfriend,” he said. “All that hard training paid off, huh?”

Happy tears pricked your eyes. Having Gojo’s wholehearted support and belief in your abilities meant everything.

You can’t help but pull him down into a fierce, grateful kiss. His arms immediately enveloped you, lips curving into a smile against your mouth. When you finally broke for air, foreheads touching, the depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away.

In the weeks that followed, Gojo went out of his way to celebrate your accomplishment at every opportunity.

There were bouquet deliveries to your door, with notes reading:

“To the future best jujutsu sorcerer!”

Gifts would arrive filled with your favorite treats:

“For my hardworking girlfriend who deserves something sweet!”

Even when you were curled up on the sofa, just spending a quiet night, he would randomly take your hand and announce:

“I’m the luckiest guy alive to be with you.”

His little displays of pride and support never failed to make you smile. Gojo genuinely reveled in your success as if it were his own. Your joy brought him joy, a sentiment you fully reciprocated.

On the morning you were to start the intensive program, Gojo made you a lavish breakfast in bed. As you ate, he detailed an elaborate training regimen to prepare you for the challenges ahead.

“And I’ll be your personal sparring partner of course. Have to keep those combat skills razor sharp!” He grinned. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You laughed. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

His expression turned serious then. Taking your hand, he met your eyes earnestly. “You’re going to do amazing things, I just know it. And I can’t wait to stand back and watch you shine.”

Emotion clogged your throat. No matter how far you go in this field, Gojo will always be your biggest supporter.

“As cheesy as it sounds... as long as you’re by my side, I know I can handle anything,” you told him with a rather bashful smile.

He smiled softly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

Leaning in, he kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, his usual cocky smirk was firmly back in place.

“Now finish up. Time to go show off why you’re the badass jujutsu sorcerer they’re lucky to have!”

When you’re sick.

A violent cough wracked your body as you huddled under the blankets, trying in vain to get warm. Your head was pounding, your throat raw, and your limbs heavy with fatigue. The flu had hit you hard and fast, leaving you miserable and bedridden.

A light knock at the door heralded Gojo’s arrival. He poked his head in, his usual playful grin replaced by a look of concern.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You offered a weak smile. “Been better,” you croaked out before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Gojo rubbed your back soothingly until the spasms passed. “Sounds nasty. Let me get you some water.”

He returned swiftly, helping prop you up to take small sips. The liquid soothed your inflamed throat but did little for the chills wracking your body.

Noticing your shivers, Gojo piled on more blankets and slid in behind you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body enveloped you, finally easing some of the shudders. You sank gratefully into his embrace.

“There we go, just rest,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking your hair. You sighed, comforted by his presence.

Gojo wasn't usually one for tender quiet moments. His boundless energy and shameless mouth tended to dominate any interaction. But now, he was the picture of care and concern—keeping his touch light, his voice quiet and soothing.

You were moved by this rare glimpse of his gentle side. Having someone see you like this—sweaty, sick and pathetic—would normally make you self-conscious. But with Gojo, you felt safe letting your guard down completely.

“Sorry you have to see me like this,” you mumbled.

He tilted your chin up. “Nonsense. You’re beautiful no matter what.” His thumb lightly caressed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to be vulnerable.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and not from the fever. Even wrecked by illness, he could still make you feel cherished.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whispered.

He grinned. “I ask myself that every day.” Dipping his head, he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “Now, hush. No more talking, just rest.”

You settled against him once more, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart. Time passed in a haze of fitful sleep and coughing fits, but Gojo stayed dutifully by your side.

When the chills returned, he bundled you uptight, acting as your own personal furnace. He patiently fed you soup and medicine, made sure you were hydrated, and kept the tissues handy.

True to form, he also kept up a constant stream of praise and encouragement.

“There’s my tough girl, fighting this nasty bug off.”

“Even under all those blankets, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Look at you powering through these coughs like a champ!”

His little comments never failed to make you smile. Only Gojo could find something positive even in your current state.

After two days of attentive care, your fever finally broke. The aches and fatigue gradually receded until you were able to sit up without assistance.

Gojo beamed at you. “There she is! Knew you could kick this flu’s butt.”

Taking your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and his eyes shone with affection. “I’m so proud of you for pushing through this. You’re strong.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

He waved it off. “I just gave you a nudge. You did all the hard work.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed at you earnestly. “Never doubt your strength, or hide your struggles from me, okay? Ask me anything, I’ll give them all to you.”

You nodded, heart brimming with love for this man.

When you’re annoyed at him.

“Satoru, I swear if you don’t stop messing around I’m going to—argh!” you yelled in exasperation.

The infuriating man just laughed, dancing easily out of your reach as you swiped at him. He had been pestering you all morning with juvenile pranks and teasing remarks, fraying your last nerve.

“Aww, is someone a wittle gwumpy today?” he taunted in a baby voice.

You saw red. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground. Caught off guard for once, he landed hard on his back with a grunt. You pinned him in place with your body weight, glaring down at him.

“Call me grumpy one more time and I’ll show you just how nasty my mood is,” you growled.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

“Well, damn, baby. I love it when you get feisty with me,” he purred. His hands came up to grip your hips suggestively.

You swatted them away in irritation. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still mad at you.”

Rolling off him, you crossed your arms with a huff. Gojo sat up, smile fading.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for riling you up too much,” he grins. “Didn’t realize you were actually that annoyed with me.”

Your anger deflated at the apology. He may act like a brat sometimes, but Gojo is always quick to make amends when he crosses a line—well, only for you, at least. (Don’t tell Geto and Utahime about this!)

With a sigh, you uncrossed your arms. “It’s fine. I overreacted too.” Glancing over at him sheepishly, you added, “And I know I’ve been… prickly lately. The stress has just put me in a bad mood.”

Between juggling studying, missions, and training, you had been spread thin. Gojo’s antics had been the last straw.

He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve realized you needed me to dial it down and help you decompress.”

Leaning into him, you gave a tired smile. “Well, tackling you did feel pretty therapeutic, actually.”

Gojo’s laughter rumbled against you. “See? Violence solves everything!” he joked, squeezing you playfully.

You push his chest slightly, but couldn’t help chuckling too. Only Gojo could vex you one minute and make you laugh the next.

He pressed a conciliatory kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, why don’t you go take a nice long bath to relax while I make us dinner?”

The offer was extremely tempting after the high-stress week you’d had.

“That does sound really nice,” you admitted. “But you don’t have to cook, I’m sure I could throw something—”

He held up a hand. “Nope, you just focus on unwinding. Doctor Gojo’s orders.”

The mental image of him in a doctor’s coat and nothing else briefly distracted you. At your silence, he grinned knowingly. “I’ll take that as an agreement to my plan.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and stretched. “Fine, you win this round.”

“I always do,” he retorted cockily.

True to his word, Gojo prepared a delicious meal while you soaked in the tub. The aromas wafting in from the kitchen made your stomach rumble eagerly.

By the time you made it downstairs, the table was set with your favorites. Gojo greeted you with a flourishing bow.

“For the lovely lady, a feast fit for a queen.”

You laughed at his antics, touched by the effort. Over dinner he kept the conversation light, making you laugh recounting silly stories. For the first time all week, you felt your tension finally easing.

Later, as you lounged together on the couch, Gojo spoke up softly. “Feeling more relaxed now?”

You nodded, snuggling closer. “Definitely. Thank you for all this, it was just what I needed.”

Strong arms wrapped securely around you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even when you get grumpy and violent with me,” he added teasingly.

You groaned. “Ugh, I’m sorry for tackling you like that.”

“What do you mean? I loved it,” he said, weirdly eager about it. “Seeing you all fired up and feisty was incredibly hot.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You know you love me,” he shot back smugly.

Rolling your eyes, you stretched up to kiss him. “Hmm, you’re right.”

He just loves everything about you.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Gojo’s voice boomed across the crowded hall, quieting the others in this luxurious restaurant he took you on a date with after high school graduation.

“Thank you. Now I know speeches aren’t usually allowed during meals, but I convinced the manager here to let me have the floor for a few minutes.” He flashed his most charming grin. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets to proudly proclaim the love of his life to a crowd.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled you up to stand up with him. Taking both your hands, he continued earnestly.

“This person right here is the most incredible human being I’ve ever met. Smart, strong, kind-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful.”

Murmurs spread through the hall listening raptly. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the public praise. Trust Gojo to be so shamelessly romantic.

He went on, tone utterly sincere beneath the dramatics. “Her passion for helping others inspires me daily. The way she fights with skill and compassion in equal measure is a marvel to watch.”

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I could spend hours listing all the reasons she amazes me, which is why I wrote it down.” Winking, he unfurled the lengthy scroll with a flourish, clearing his throat.

“Ahem… ‘The top 100 things I love about my girlfriend, revised edition’. Reason one…”

Your jaw dropped as he proceeded to read the entire list out loud to the captive audience.

It was mortifying. It was ridiculous.

It was so utterly Gojo.

As he extolled your praises, you buried your flaming face in his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” you mumbled against his suit.

He just chuckled and kept reading. “Reason 37, The way she scrunches her nose at me when I tell a bad joke…”

Despite your embarrassment, warmth blossomed in your chest. Trust Gojo to turn a simple dinner into a grand spectacle of devotion.

When he finally finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and grinned down at you. “Of course, the list could go on forever. But I think I’ve sufficiently made my point.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he said loud enough for all to hear, “You are the love of my life. My soulmate. My one and only.” Then he brought his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate kiss.

Catcalls and applause erupted from the watching audience you (and him) don’t even know. But you were deaf to it all, lost in Gojo’s embrace.

When you broke for air, faces still inches apart, he murmured, “I’ll spend every day finding new reasons to love you.”

Emotion clogged your throat. You had gotten used to his easy affection and endless praise over the time. But this loud, public proclamation was on another level entirely.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your feelings laid as bare as his.

Ignoring the continued hoots and chatter around you, Gojo lifted you effortlessly in his arms.

“Now then, I believe we have some private celebrating to do,” he purred suggestively in your ear.

“You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” You laugh in happiness.

“I can think of a few ideas,” he replied with a sly wink.

As he carried you out of the hall, you shook your head in amusement. Life with Gojo was never boring, that was for sure.

In between chaotic battles and daily life responsibilities, your relationship has grown into something truly profound. A partnership built on unwavering trust, passion, and laughter.

Gojo adored you loudly and unapologetically, just as you loved him.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Also writing this as a practice dump for my upcoming English creative writing competition lol

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scribblesandsherlock · 6 months

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Once Upon a Time

Mike Schmidt x babysitter!f!reader

Word Count: 1864

Summary: Like all other imagines go, ever since Mike hired you as Abby’s babysitter, you’ve made their life so much more fun. Today’s fun? Playing fairy tales with Abby. Mike thinks it’s hilarious until he’s suddenly brought into production…

• • •

There was a satisfying ‘click’ when Mike turned the key. With one little shove, the door was open and he could breathe again. Another rough shift at work, but he was so grateful to be home. Where he could relax and just unwind…

And then he heard giggling. And he had the sinking feeling this was not going to be an “unwind” kind of day. What kind of mischief was Abby getting into now? Although, he much preferred hearing her laughter over the silence he used to get. Ever since he hired that new babysitter, Abby’s brightened up a lot. So, despite the drowsy drooping over his shoulders, he smiled as he shut the door behind him.

“Hey, I’m home!” He called out.

“We’re in here!” Your voice replied, making his smile twitch just a bit wider without him meaning to. You were such a saint. After what happened with the last babysitter, he thought he wouldn’t find another half as good, but you surpassed any and all expectation. Once he got the ball rolling better with work, he’d pay you. Soon.

“What on earth…” Mike’s voice trailed off when he saw what was going on in Abby’s room.

Lights were strung about, a great big fort connected to the ceiling and strung down like a canopy. With the use of cardboard, paper, and markers, the fort was surrounded by fake towers and what he assumed was a moat. And under the strung-up blankets were two familiar faces with paper crowns.

“We’re playing fairy tales,” You quickly explained, feeling the urge to take off the crown. You hadn’t felt self-conscious when it was just you and Abby, but when a cute guy looks at you? That’s a whole different thing. The embarrassment only worsened when you saw him stifle a laugh. Crap, what could he be thinking right now?

If only you knew that he thought you both made the cutest sight he'd ever seen.

"If we're going to do Snow White, we need an apple." Abby turned to you, refusing to let Mike ruin your fun together. She was not done playing. In fact, seeing the two of you looking at each other gave her a little idea...

"I'll go get the apple." You stepped over the cardboard towers and paper moat to head to the kitchen, "I'll be in the kitchen."

"Right behind ya," Mike added as he shrugged off his jacket.

You quickly took the crown off and set it down before going to the counter. You rummaged through the bowl of fruit, going past bananas and pears to find what you wanted.

Mike pulled out a Gatorade from the fridge, "Heh, thanks again for this. You have no idea what a difference you've made to Abby."

"Oh it's nothing. She's a lot of fun." You reassured him.

"I promise I'll pay you as soon as my check comes in, this isn't going to be the usual. You know, if, uh, you still want to continue this. I get it if you don't. You're not obligated to keep coming..." He was rambling now. He hadn't gotten like this since high school. Sheesh, what was going on with him? He reached up and adjusted his shirt's collar. It was getting warm in here all of a sudden.

"Mike, stop. You're completely fine. I'm happy to be here. After all, what are neighbors for?"

He shrugged. He'd just gotten so used to you being here, so quick. You fit right in. Looking back on it, the house used to feel so empty. Abby used to go to her room and just draw by herself. Mike would go to bed early or watch a couple shows on TV. Now, there was so much light and laughter brought in. He barely recognized his life anymore. He really hoped this was a sign for better days.

"Ah! Here we are, a classic red apple. I better not keep the princess waiting." You teased and started heading back to Abby's room, with a little skip in your step. But to your surprise, upon entering in, you saw Abby wearing her darkest purple blanket over her head like a cloak.

"I don't remember Snow wearing anything that dark."

"I'm not going to be Snow, you are." Abby told you and hurried to take the apple from you, "I got to be the princess the last two times. It's your turn."

You hadn't realized you were taking turns but okay.

"Where is your crown?" Abby squinted at you and made a face, "Mikeee! (Y/n) needs her crownnn!"

"Where is it?" He hollered from the other room.

"I left it on the counter!" You rose your voice, trying not to laugh. What has your life become? You felt like a Mom or something. And hey, you kind of liked it. Even though this wasn't your blood family or anything, you'd gotten real close with Mike and Abby. You just felt so comfortable with them.

Mike came back and briefly held up the crown, "Alright, where's the princess?"

Your face reddened and you sheepishly held up your hand, "Here."

He nodded and strolled over, briefly standing on his tip-toes to set it dramatically over your head, earning giggles from his sister. But just before he went to leave, Abby grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't go yet, I want you to watch!"

"Watch?" You echoed and your heart dropped to your stomach. Yeah, you were doing this for the kid, but you felt so shy playing pretend in front of Mike.

"Oh, alright, I'd be happy to watch." To your horror, Mike plopped down into the chair by Abby's desk and folded his arms. A big smile on his face.

Your eye twitched at the cocky little gesture. Oh, he was loving this, wasn't he? You didn't know if that was better or worse. But you tried to put it out of your mind when Abby got into character. She came up in her makeshift cloak,

"The evil witch approaches and knocks on Snow White's door..." Abby narrated before knocking on one of the blankets, pretending there was a thudding sound.

You stepped inside the fort then immediately poked your head out, forcing your gaze on Abby instead of Mike's amused face in the corner, "Hello?"

"Hello, young lady..." Abby ironically croaked, despite being many years younger than you, "I am giving out free apples. Would you like one?"

You heard muffled laughter again. Well, you weren't going to let him get to you. If he was going to pay you someday, you were going to earn every penny. He wanted a performance? Alright, here we go.

"Oh, how lovely! Of course!" You reached for it and held it to your mouth before taking a big bite.

"Muahaha! My plan is all coming together!" Abby rubbed her hands together and burst into a fit of mischievous giggles—that sounded a little too convincing for half a second.

"Oh no! I feel strange!" You held a hand to your head then spun around before making a dramatic 'fall' back onto the floor, bending your knees at the right second so the impact wouldn't be so bad. Besides, there were so many scattered pillows around, it wasn't harsh at all.

"Oh, bravo! Great job." Mike chuckled and clapped before starting to get up from his seat.

"Hey! The story isn't over!" Abby pointed a finger at him, "This part is important! I need your help!"

"Wait, what?"

"Snow White needs a handsome prince to wake her up." Abby explained and took off the cloak. She reached to the side for the crown she had made for herself, and handed it to Mike, "Your turn."

You had been pretending to be asleep but now your eyes were wide open. You started to sit up, "Oh, Abby, that's not necessary--"

Ohh it suddenly wasn’t so funny anymore. Was it, Mike? “Yeah, I'm really not an actor. You guys have fun, I'll just prepare dinner..."

But Abby wasn’t having it. She pointed to you first, “No! You! Lay back down! And you! Prince!”

Mike blinked down at his sister, but…apparently he didn’t have the strength to turn her down. He sighed and put the crown on his head. You honestly couldn’t believe it.

You slowly lowered back to the ground and closed your eyes. Not like you weren’t kind of hoping for a kiss from Mike one of these days, but you couldn’t say this is the way you expected to have your first one.

It certainly wasn’t the way Mike planned it, either. He had expected he’d finally get up the courage to ask you on a date. After he’d gotten around to paying you and proved he was in a better situation. But as soon as Abby found out of his crush on you, she had to push this to go a little quicker. He just had to hope he didn’t die of embarrassment in the process.

Abby took off her cloak and let out a gasp, “Oh no! My friend, Snow White is hurt! Help! Help! Prince Charming, come help!”

Mike sighed and walked over, “What’s wrong?”

“The princess has been poisoned! She needs true love’s kiss to wake her up!” Abby held her hands together and looked up at him with expectation.

“Abby, you really don’t expect me to—“ But the look she gave him told him she was serious. Was this really happening? Why didn’t he have the courage to tell her no?

He got down on his knees and looked over your features. He couldn’t tell but you were just as panicked about this. Your heart was pounding like crazy. What was he going to do? Maybe he’d kiss your forehead or your cheek. Something light just to say he did it. But no. When Mike lowered himself near to you, you were surprised by the touch of his lips. The soft scratch of his stubble. His breath was warm on your skin and made your heart flutter. This wasn’t the way you both had planned it, but it was a beautiful first kiss together.

Of course you both didn’t go crazy, Abby was right there, but it was a lingering kiss. Soft and sweet. Mike was surprisingly gentle. But just before you both could get used to it…

“Yay! The princess is saved!” Abby threw up her hands and giggled.

You both broke apart and nervously chuckled at the same time. You decided to speak first before it got awkward.

“Thank you so much for saving me!”

“Of course.” Mike dutifully bowed his head like a prince would, briefly licking his lips.

“Now the prince carries Snow White off into happily ever after!” Abby beamed.

“Heh, alright. Right this way, princess.” Mike gently scooped you up into his arms and rose to his feet with no issue. Wow, he was strong…

“Off to happily ever after?” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Off to the spaghetti and meatballs I’m making for dinner.” He replied.

You held a hand to your chest and laughed heartily, “Oh, my hero!”

The end.

#mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #fnaf fanfiction #mike schmidt imagine #Mike schmidt one-shot #mike and Abby Schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #Mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n

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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 | ryōmen sukuna

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem/afab! reader - mosterfucking - double penetration (he got two) - biting - spanking - light choking - mention of blood.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: a quick something I wrote for Sukuna to take a break from writing a fic + I have jack shit for him in my masterlist, lmao.

Ryōmen Sukuna is most definitely a biter. There is no need to state this since it is obvious. But imagine him plowing you from behind, watching your ass quake under his erratic thrusts, forcing out choked moans from your writhing body moving to and fro with his. Tears roll down warm cheeks onto the cold cream sheets that cover the futon. Hands grip the material for dear life with every rut to your leaky cunt. And when he smacks the cusp of your ass, a shriek cannot be restrained from your lips.

Sukuna loves your screams. They please him to no end — a gorgeous tune to his devilish ears. As a sadistic man, nothing gives him more joy during these moments than inflicting pain onto your sweet tiny body forced to accommodate both his girthy cocks. A beast like him is allowed to use you as he sees fit. His little pet. His little toy. Not like you can refuse. Judging by how your body adapts to his dicks inside your holes, it is apparent that you're also enjoying this, too.

Two hands are stationed on your hips to propel you forward to him, and the other two hold your hands behind your back. You're left with nothing to conceal the whimpers and cries that fly out your mouth. He wants to hear it all — the sound of your ass meeting his pelvis, the choked sobs when his black fingertips dent into the depth of your hips, your pants for air as he takes them away. It turns him on so fucking much.

He can’t fight the urge anymore — the sight of your sweaty body quivering under his bow gets him riled up. Your skin, so beautiful and pure, displayed none of his markings from the times before now. Blue eyes narrow to your shoulder, clear of nothing but sweat. Well, he’s just going to have to fix that.

He comes down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your flesh. A sharp cry sneaks its way out of you.

“Eyyahhhh!!! Su-Sukuna, don’t, please! I can’t have any ma— Ahhaahhnn!!”

“Who told you’re in a position to order me, brat?” He gives the mark on your shoulder a slow lick, tasting the twinge of blood to engage his taste. One of his hands snakes its way to your throat to squeeze. Your mind plunging into a deeper haze than before. “Know your place. Don’t stop screaming for me.”

More chews to your shoulders prompt more tears to escape from your strained-shut eyes. And the pacing of his cock becomes unbearably fast for your brain and senses to keep up. The pain inflicted by his demon mouth, along with the tongue from his stomach licking the sweat of your back, coinciding with the erratic tempo of his hips — it’s all too much to bear. And your release hits you hard, your cunt and ass clamping onto his lengths that continue to rut into your now sensitive parts.

“Mmmph, haahhh…Heh, now you think you can come without my permission, huh?” Sukuna whispers dangerously to your ear, and you whine when his teeth catch your lobe. “Such a pathetic pet, aren’t you.” He pistons his dicks deep inside, churning your tender areas to the point of incoherent babbles. “A damn noisy one, too…Hmmgh! Oh fuck, fuck…”

Before he experiences his climax, Sukuna gives the back of your neck one last bite. Your final shriek signals the ingress of his warm load filling your holes. He keeps you pinned to the futon, making sure you stay still for every bit of his essence to enter within you. Your mind is too far gone to try and fight it — too occupied with the feeling of him corrupting your body internally. Just letting him ride out his own crescendo until he slowly dismembers his huge members off of you. Heavy pants are used to steady his breathing, and he examines his messy work on your body. Bloody bite marks, your ass trembling from the onslaught of ruts and slaps, and silent tears trickle down a dazed face. He snickers to himself.

“Perfect.”

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blooberrries · 3 months

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『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

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