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noroi1000 · 11 months

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Sex Pollen

Paring: Husband Gojo x wife reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: NSFW (rough sex, blowjob, deepthroat, cum eating, marathon sex, dirty talk, size kink, breeding)

Summary: The curse you were fighting didn't attack, it just sprinkled pink pollen on you. It was irritating. You were hot when you got home. But you felt good. Your husband checked on you right away, wanting to take care of you. He was afraid you were hurt or sick. But you wanted him to fuck you. You had to convince him to do it.

@tohsri there's full version (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

You sneezed as the curse she approached sprayed you with pollen that entered your nose.

You felt more like pollen hitting you than something dangerous.

Especially since it didn't hurt you at all.

The pink pollen that was around your face blurred and disappeared, and then you saw that the curse was standing a few meters away.

It looked a bit like a bee.

But you don't know why, it looked really friendly.

No claws or fangs.

It stood on those skinny legs like an ant. Four feet on the floor and the rest up.

It only had six legs.

But it was big. Maybe a little more than you.

Well, you know it. Your husband is almost two meters tall... So you're used to something bigger than you.

Especially when it comes to him.

Wiping your face, you looked at the curse that just stood there.

The pollen that flew into your face came out of a very lascivious-looking rose a bit under the head of the curse.

Why is everything starting to make you think of sex?

But you can't help that the rose on the curse's body looks like a clitoris...

Maybe it's a coincidence...

Or maybe your mind just got lewd...

You ran closer to attack the curse, but your attack missed as you were again hit with pink pollen in the face.

You spat as it entered your mouth.

You were getting warmer from the effort.

This curse didn't attack at all...

This is supposed to be a semi-grade 1 curse? It doesn't even attack!

It's not aggressive.

It just sprays you with that damn pollen that doesn't even smell or anything. Plus, this pollen is not poisonous! It doesn't do anything to you.

This curse just annoys you, blowing this pollen in your face every time you get close.

Either this curse is just meant to annoy people, or it really doesn't do anything.

You've been exposed so many times. And it's still there, and you get the impression that it's looking at you with shining, innocent eyes.

Perhaps this curse really is innocent. If you're still alive, yes.

A normal curse would kill you right away.

You saw a bee with a flower coming towards you, flapping its wings in a strange way.

You got into a fighting stance.

And the bee slowed down, and began to walk more slowly towards you.

When it was a meter away from you, the curse didn't move at all.

And all of a sudden that damn pollen got in your face again!

You waved your hand in front of your face to dispel it.

You looked at the bee, which seemed to be giggling softly.

You waved your hand with cursed energy at the curse, but it evaded.

Then pink pollen sprayed onto your face again. Fourth time same!

It was looking at you like a dog.

Then it came so close that you jumped back, falling on your ass to keep your distance.

But the curse jumped on you.

And lest you attack, she released the same pollen again.

Fifth time in your poor face.

you were coughing.

"What is this?!" You were about to hit the curse, but then the bee released an incredible amount of pollen at you, which made you a little confused.

You kicked it, and you made it slide away from you.

This curse is really getting on your nerves...

You'd rather it try to kill you than get pollen in your face every time!

As you got to your feet, you saw that curse was dancing!

You ran quickly to land a sure blow.

The bee turned and the regimental cloud made you miss again.

Then again and again.

You were already tired.

You didn't hide your face from the pollen just to hit it in the end and go home.

You've had enough of it.

As the curse released a pollen on you, he swung, but it dodged again.

"Stop moving..." You growled with sweat running down your face.

It came to you. You looked at it and saw a huge pink cloud coming out of the rose.

You swung, and the curse did not escape.

"Have fun."

Wait, that curse says?!

Now you hit. Instantly exorcising the curse with one blast of cursed energy.

There was still that damn pollen floating around...

You've already lost count of how many times you've been hit in the face with that annoying thing.

You felt fine and nothing happened to you.

Except for the tiredness you felt. You were hot.

As if you had a fever. But that's only because of how long you've been trying to hit that curse.

The pollen fell right after you left.

And you walked to the assistant's car with heavy breathing.

"Gojo-san, do you need a medic?" Ijichi asked you.

"Call me by my name. I don't want you to confuse me with Satoru." You said as you got in the car and sat lazily in the back seat.

"(y/n)-san, Everything's all right?"

You looked into his eyes as he looked at you.

"I'm just hot... I'm not hurt. I just want to rest..." You mumbled as you rested your head against the headrest.

"I'll take you home right now. But are you sure you don't need a examine?"

"That curse didn't even attack me! It was just such annoying pollen around that made it a bit difficult to breathe. That's all."

"Okay, however, call me if anything happens. I'll come pick you up to take you to Ieiri-san."

"Thanks... If that's the case, I'll do it..."

___

"How is my wifey~?" You heard your husband's melodious voice as he entered the house.

You knew he'd be back at this hour today.

But you felt good hearing his voice.

Like you're relieved.

You were so hot.

But knowing that he had come made you feel a little better.

Still hot, but better.

You heard his footsteps as he climbed the stairs to come to the room.

You had your head in the pillows.

Your hips were grinding side to side and shaking.

Did you feel like you were getting wet?

Sure, you wanted sex today, but not enough to hear it from downstairs and get wet just from the sound.

Or are you delusional?

Maybe you really have a fever and all you think about is sex?

That voice of his when he says all that lewd stuff...

About his long fingers crawling over your skin, arching inside of you.

About his eyes.

About his lips that kiss you. your body.

Lips that tease you between your legs.

The tongue that licks your nipples.

Tongue that enters your hole so he can taste you.

Your whole husband...

You've been thinking about your husband's entire body...

About everything he is...

"I heard you had a strange mission. Ijichi asked me to check on you right away." he said as he entered the room.

You wanted to tell him: oh yes, Satoru, come to me. Touch me... Grab my clothes and tear it apart. I'm so hot. Touch me. fuck me. Breed me.

You didn't know why those words popped into your mind.

Especially the last one...

But you'd be lying if you said you didn't want it.

Because your thighs tremble slightly when you feel this feeling.

Waiting for him to come up to you and lay his hand on you.

Your thighs tremble when you hear his voice.

You want him to fuck you so much here and now.

Or is it your imagination?

Maybe he hasn't really come home yet?

Suddenly, the bed next to you sagged slightly under another weight.

He may have been wondering why it's so dark in here, since you've covered the windows and also no lights are on. But there was a chance you wanted to sleep.

"How are you darling?" he asked placing his hand on your head.

He hoped you were awake.

You turned your head to look at him.

Your breath trembles at the sight of him next to you in that t-shirt of his that sometimes reveals his arm.

Your legs also trembled involuntarily.

You wanted him to sit between your legs now, not next to you...

"Satoru.... Are you really here?" you asked, extending your hand.

You grabbed the fabric of his pants on his thigh.

He was real...

"I'm here. Why shouldn't I be real? Are you tired?" He asked, laughing at what you said at the beginning.

He rubbed your lower back with his fingers.

It sent very pleasant shivers down your body.

You were so sensitive, weren't you?

Your body reacted even to his presence next to you.

Not to mention his touch.

"Honey, your face is red. Are you okay?" He asked, checking your temperature by placing his hand on your forehead.

"I'm fine..." you said and sat down.

Your hand gripped his thigh tighter.

But he didn't seem to care. You may have just accidentally touched it.

Sometimes he would take accidental touches as your desire to seduce him, and he would immediately drag you to bed.

And now that you were doing it on purpose, he didn't know it...

"Do you need something?"

"Mmm..."

You grunted looking at him.

Suddenly you grabbed his arm and pulled him down, causing him to lie on his back on the bed. But his feet were still on the floor.

You jumped on top of him, sitting on his stomach.

"I need relief..." you moaned as you kissed his collarbone.

"(y/n)–"

"Toru, please... Give me relief. My body is so hot... I want something inside... I want touch... Please..."

He looks at you from behind the blindfold.

You kissed his cheek before your teeth caught his blindfold, struggling to get it off him as your hands were busy stroking his broad chest.

You circled your hips against his belly.

"Please Toru... A bit of relief..." you moaned into his ear.

Suddenly his hands grabbed your shoulders.

"(y/n), You know I'm always want to, but you're sick. I can't do that when you're not feeling well..."

"I feel great! It would be even better if you fuck me now... Toru... Fuck me raw... Fuck cum in me... Just do it... Now... Please..."

"But-."

You felt very good.

But it would be even better if you had his cock now.

"Please~ Toru~ I'm so horny for your fat cock... I want to hear your balls hit my ass... Oh god... I want you to destroy my pussy with that big dick..." You moaned as you planted kisses on his chest.

You pushed the fabric aside and crawled under his shirt, kissing his abs. To put your head on his chest later.

You lowered your hips to rub against his crotch.

Your already swollen and thirsty pussy pressed against his crotch.

"Destroy me... Mark me... Toru ~fill me~. Put as much sperm inside me as you have... Fuck all the time... Now Toru... Give me that hard cock... You like our height difference. You like it when my little pussy takes your monster cock. You love to see me smaller than you. How big your hands are compared to mine. I know my lovely husband has a size kink. You can tie me up, fuck me in the kitchen or in the bathroom. Just fuck me."

When he opened his mouth to say something, you placed your fingers on his tongue, collecting saliva.

You came out from under his shirt.

You shoved your fingers in his saliva under your pants and panties, feeling your hot wetness. You ruined your panties so much.

You rubbed your clit with your fingers, feeling his saliva sticking to your skin.

You put your head on his chest. Your hips twitched.

"Please, Toru, Agree. I'll be a good wife~ I'll take your dick so good. Do what you want with my body. Pour cum on me, fuck me in the ass, gag me, strangle me, bend me. Fuck too deep. destroy me. Arrange me however you want..." You moaned.

You placed your hand, wet from your juices, on his chest for support.

Your fingers were dripping with your wetness.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, pretending he wasn't into it.

He wanted to stop.

Because either way, there's something wrong with you.

His little darling wife would never say anything so lascivious.

He wanted to fuck you, as he always did when he came home.

But circumstances were different now, and he had to take care of you first.

Although there was a chance you might have encountered a sex curse...

But that was unlikely!

But it was so...

He needed to know what was wrong with you first.

So he couldn't succumb to your lecherous words. Even though that's all you said, he wanted to do so much to you.

He couldn't succumb to your movements as you rubbed your groin against his crotch.

He saw your pants get wet.

Your eyes were shining and full of lust.

Almost tearful.

Your face even more red and charming.

Body trembling.

So eager for cock...

"Toru..." you begged.

But this time he couldn't give in, and he couldn't start undressing you right away.

"How am I supposed to convince you?" you thought looking at his face.

Kisses, touching him and you always worked.

Plus that dirty talk.

It must have affected him somehow.

You felt something hard against your clit.

You looked down to see how his slightly hardened cock stood out under his pants.

You smiled.

If he wants to cum, he'll fuck you.

"We can't. (y/n). There's something wrong with you. I need to fix this first. How are you feeling?"

"I feel good... So very good... Your dick is better... How do I convince you? Should I fuck with a toy in front of you? Shall I put your soft cock in me? It's all because of this pollen... Aah..."

"Pollen? What pollen? Is something hurting you?"

You quickly got off of him and knelt between his knees on the floor.

"My pussy hurts when you're not inside me." You put your cheek against his cock under the cloth. "How can I convince you that I'm fine? I feel fine. I'm not sick."

"You had a fever—"

"I'm horny..."

You grabbed the waistband of his pants and undid the buckle.

When you saw him move, you moved faster, tossing the buckle aside with a clatter.

Before he could grab your head, you pushed his pants and panties down, grabbing his semi-hard length with your hand and shoved it quickly into your mouth, going straight to the middle. To hear a satisfied purr from him.

"(y-y/n)..." he moaned.

You slid down on his cock, shoving it all the way down your throat. Which you never really did because he was too big. But now, because you're so horny and because he's not completely hard yet, you held him, warming him in your throat.

You started stroking his balls with your hand.

So ready to pour all over you the cum that accumulates there. Heavy and full.

You held him until he was completely hardened.

Your throat hurt from stretching. You had a gag reflex at times, but you managed to hold it back.

Your nose pressed hard against his pubic bone as you swallowed around him.

Saliva dripped from your chin as he sat in front of you on the bed, looking at the lewd image of your face in tears and saliva, as his whole dick disappeared into your little mouth.

He wanted to stop you, but it was so good...

Suddenly, he ran his fingers along your neck, feeling clearly where the end of his cock was.

He was proud of you.

But he was also terrified that his body didn't want to hold you back.

Your little hands continued to massage his balls so nicely, leaving not a single inch of skin untouched.

You go all over his cock, taking it down your throat, massaging his balls, and you're so wet that if it weren't for your pants, you'd be wetting the floor.

Isn't this the moment of his dreams?

His lovely wife is kneeling in front of him with a whole huge cock in her mouth. And comparing your bodies to each other, anyone would say that you are smaller than him.

You have a tight pussy and he has a big dick.

Or maybe you have such a small pussy because the size of his cock is too big? Maybe that's why you're so tight?

One thing is for sure, he will never let anyone check it out.

Because tonight and tonight you really want him to carve your walls into his shape.

His hands reached to his knees as he watched you pull it slowly out of your mouth.

The heat in your throat started to leave him.

As you get out the tip, you coughed a few times.

And he stood at attention in front of your face, ready for further caresses.

You put your mouth on his balls, sucking on one side, then opened your mouth hard to welcome most of the warm skin between your lips.

You put the length of it on your face, looking at him innocently. You even ignored the feeling of your saliva dripping down his shaft onto your face.

Your forehead with a drop of precum flowing out of it.

But you still continued. As you pulled his now saliva-soaked balls out of your mouth, you ran your tongue all the way to the tip, inserting it into your mouth, and you dug in further, letting it sink back into your throat.

His chest was rising and falling heavily.

Then you pulled him out again, and followed the same path with your tongue to his balls.

Then up and down again.

Until you added your hands on its base to give it more sensations.

Maybe that will convince him?

You twirled your hands on him, same with your tongue.

You sucked it and swallowed it. It was so good.

For him and for you.

He didn't protest. Perhaps because you have adopted a course of action that is very difficult for him to reject.

You were insistent in pleasing him.

He was throbbing and twitching impatiently.

So you put it down your throat one last time, gagging on his thickness as the tip slid down the walls of your throat.

But you swallowed him, again playing with his balls to make him purr with pleasure.

Until it finally exploded in your throat.

You thought you would suffocate or vomit from the very sudden filling of your throat with a thick and hot liquid.

However, you calmed down and waited patiently.

He continued to squirt as you pulled him out, and you let him cover your cheeks white.

Maybe that's why he came so much because it was the best deepthroat blowjob he'd ever had.

He lay down on the bed on his back and his cock followed suit, laying on his exposed stomach.

You sat on his chest, and showed him the inside of your mouth painted white.

"Get you a trash can or a towel to spit out?" he asked calmly.

Not always someone wanted to swallow cum.

You put your finger to his lips and suddenly swallowed.

Feeling the thick heat flowing in your esophagus more to the inside of you.

You ran your fingers over your cheeks, then licked the white liquid from your fingers.

You wanted cum so much.

You don't know why, but you wanted to lick his cum off your fingers and you wanted more.

And so it was.

You wanted more of his sperm.

In you and on you.

"T-Toru..." You groaned, grinding your hips against his chest.

His cock was already at attention as he watched you lick his cum with relish.

"Fuck it..." suddenly he grabbed your body and threw you on the bed.

Ripping off his pants and shirt and then the same with you.

He bent you in half and entered your pussy, starting a long journey of destroying you from the inside out. A journey that aims to satisfy you and shape your walls into his shape.

All evening.... Half the night....

And also one whole next day and also half the night...

You wanted so much from him...

Surely that pollen you were talking about was sex pollen...

You would never take so much sex from Him.

Even he was so tired.

He was so sore.

But because it was so great, he didn't want to stop.

The bed was wet with saliva, sweat, tears, your juices and his cum.

But he was lying there. Glad the curtains are closed.

That day and that night will be unforgettable.

Alternating blowjob and fucking your pussy. Once or twice it happened that he fucked your ass...

But then he went back to your pussy anyway.

You suck him dry that night.

Your body was dripping with his cum.

You had the most white fluids in you.

There's no way you're not pregnant.

But it's your fault. You're the one who begged him to fuck you raw and also breed you.

He opened his eyes to see his hard red dick lying on his belly from all the sex you guys had had.

He slept a few hours and his body still wants sex?

Or was it because your tired but still horny body was still stroking his balls and shaft with your fingertips?

"Toru... One more... one more time..." you muttered, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

You were as tired as he was.

How much liquid you spilled in this bed can definitely be counted as liters. If it weren't for the bottles of water, you would have died of desiccation long ago.

"The last time... I think it's really the last time..." You moaned.

He studied your face.

And suddenly he waved his hand at you.

By letting you in.

They slid their legs over his hips and you fingered his length into your stretched and cum dripping hole.

He groaned being so sensitive.

But it was nice anyway. Painfully pleasant.

As soon as he was deep inside you, your strength left you completely.

"T-Toru... Can you move? I don't have the strength..." you muttered.

Fluids about your thighs ran like water down the shower wall.

With a grunt, he flipped both of you over and, laying on top of you, began thrusting into you, only to cum with you in a few minutes moaning.

As your pussy milked out of him what his body had been able to produce in those last hours when he wasn't gushing like a fountain of cum.

You weren't as tired as he was.

So when he fell asleep, you left the house thanking him.

You cleaned yourself, but you didn't force his cum out of you.

What's left, let it stay there.

Because you don't regret wanting him to breed you.

You wanted to let him rest after all this.

Your body wasn't tired because you were in control of this powder. And now that everything you wanted to do with this powder was fulfilled, you were satisfied.

So did Satoru.

You went to his students to teach them that day because Satoru couldn't come today.

When you came home smiling, he woke up.

He greeted while standing naked in the kitchen as he ate cookies.

"There's no way I'm wearing anything. Don't even make me." He said, leaning his bare ass against the kitchen cabinet.

"Why?” You asked blushing at the sight of his naked body with scratches from last day. Marks on his neck that he got from you. Scratches on his back.

Your body was worse.

Handprints, hives all over the body, bites.

You had to wear a scarf!

"My dick is dying. You don't know how vulnerable I am because of what you've been making me do for the last day. Fuck, I can't even put my pants on without feeling like my dick is about to fall off!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you

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matchamiko · 1 month

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ Lucky Undies

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: oral sex ( f -> receiving) m.masturbation, mentions height difference (reader implied shorter than Aizawa), reader implied big belly, thighs + ass (ie. not skinny), prev. established relationship, sooooo self-indulgent don’t look at me

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Note: disgusted with myself honestly.

“What are those?”

You stop in your tracks, toothbrush lodged in your cheek and foam threatening to drip down your chin.

Aizawa stands behind you in the bathroom doorway, eyes trained dark on the tug of your sleep shirt over your ass. Spitting into the skin, bending lower and offering more of a view, you finish washing your mouth with heat all over your face,

“I didn’t have anything else clean, s’all I got,” you explain yourself, eyes connecting with his in the mirror,

“And they’re your last resort because?” Arms folded over his broad chest sprayed with dark hair, Aizawa cocks his hip against the doorway, eyes never leaving the peak of your asscheek from beneath the t-shirt. It’s his and it’s soft and he offered it to you on your first sleepover years ago, a little tighter round the middle now but still long enough to pass as a nightie.

“They don’t fit!” You resort with embarrassment, “they pinch my hips and they go up my butt ‘nd roll down my belly if I bend down or even move,” you feel as though there’s steam hissing from your ears, suddenly regretting even putting on the offending underwear. You’d miscounted your laundry days and found yourself wearing either silky lingerie or old high legged cheeky style undies that were a very adorable baby pink and sported a little red rose at the front. Usually you wore comfortable high rise with a trusty band and often times sensible colours so to not show through your chosen trousers or skirts of the day. Maybe you’d wear a thong if you felt adventurous but comfort was key in your relationship with underwear, and being with Aizawa for so long helped you not only explore that a little bit but also enabled you to stay comfortable without judgement or ridicule.

And Aizawa liked your plain underwear, didn’t care much for it really because all he often wanted was them off or not even on in the first place. Complaining about his partners choice in underwear was beneath him; he’s a man, he’s mature and he’d much rather eat your pussy than muse over what’s covering it.

But these? He’s not seen these before.

“Cute,” he says with a gravelly voice, stalking forwards slowly, “you look cute,”

Biting your lip, you shake your head,

“I’ll just put some gym shorts on and do a quick wash, s’stupid to even try to do anything in these,” you grumble dejectedly, turning and even in your limited movements, the seam tugs over your cheek and makes you cringe.

But Aizawa is as sturdy as he is stubborn, a wall preventing you from leaving and a large hand sits heavy and inviting on your hip.

“I said you look cute,” he says pointedly, “not just the underwear, but you in general, seeing your skin makes me - desperate,”

That hand smoothes under your sleep shirt, fingering the thin, stretchy band of the panties with a heavy breath in his chest. The harder he pulls the band, the higher up your hip they go and the further up your -

“They’re just panties Shouta,” you blink up at him, leaning closer to ease his fondling, “stupid uncomfable panties that is,”

“Shh,” Aizawa kisses you quiet, a peck to keep you satisfied while his other hand drifts over to your ass, fisting the fat and spreading you meanly, “just - lemme look for a sec,”

His eyes catch the flash of your asshole in the mirror, panties caught taught and high over your ass and he groans low and deep from his belly. You clear your throat and whimper when he buries his face into your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin there. Then - his hand rounds to your stomach, fiddling with the little silky rose before tickling the exposed skin of your belly from where the panties had dislodged and folded down.

He doesn’t often explore you this selfishly, having listened to your qualms and insecurities over your body, doing it to prove that no weight could distance him from desiring your body. But he touches you with a filthy selfish agenda and filthier moans.

Thick fingers tease you over the fabric, slippery with your arousal, sliding between your folds and circling your clit with loud little click. It’s shameful how turned on you are at his exploration of your underwear, but he’s no better; hard and heavy and leaking against your hip. ‘Nd when you look down, mewling at the thick forearm jammed between your cushiony thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peaking from the sagging waistband of his underwear, black and tight and baring a hole just above the seam on his thigh.

And suddenly you understand exactly how Aizawa feels with you in underwear he’s never seen before. Because those are boxers you bought him three christmases ago and are also a result of not doing laundry often enough. And when you look up at him with your hand squeezing him through the thin fabric; your shameful desperation is reflected in his eyes.

All too suddenly, Aizawa is on his knees and your lower back is cradled uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, and he’s all up between your thighs with devastating groans and grunts.

“Taste’s fuckin’ divine,” his tongue is hot and so wet against the gusset of your underwear, pulled tight over your cunt and practically frothing with how aroused you are. One hand cups your ass and spreads you, the other is crude and sharply tugging on his cock. At the taste of you. At the smell of you. Nipping your clit through the fabric and sucking hard enough to send you shuddering and shaking right down to your toes.

“Shouta ! S’too much !” You grip the top of his head, hair tangled from sleep but the tugging of the knots seem to encourage him, groaning into your cunt and huffing deep agonising breaths against your pubis. You’re on your tiptoes, one leg lifting a little even to give him space and Aizawa shuffles closer on his knees, haphazardly throwing your leg over his broad, sinewy shoulder.

It’s almost like the sensations are muted, dulled through the thin fabric of your panties. But they’re still there and you fumble with your shirt for a moment before lifting it and tucking the hem beneath your chin so you can look down, down at your boyfriend so eagerly and so messily slurping at your pussy.

He’s feral like this, eyes fluttering and nose pressed hard into your clit, tongue trying to rip through into you but failing miserably. Or not, as it seems that wasn’t his goal, simply content with tasting you through the panties that had entrapped him so suddenly. You couldn’t even feel confused and weird at his random bout of arousal over your too-small panties, too thrummed with pleasure and the shivers of an orgasm to really deep dive it.

It rears its head slowly, but with a strength you’d yet to experience before. All suction and desperate licks, moans and grunts vibrating you just enough to send you jerking into his mouth. Hips moving on their own, tits falling from the grasp of your shirt and shuddering with your movements. Your underwear slips and tugs harshly as you grind through your orgasm, pulled taught only by Aizawa’s insistent tongue and fingers. He seemed to have given up on his own pleasure, or got enough from watching and tasting you, both hands clutching your thighs around his head.

“Let up, oh my god, give me a sec Shouta,” you’re still panting hard, limbs boneless and belly throbbing with every aftershock, cunt fluttering against the sodden and stained panties, “you’re such a - now I really don’t have anything to wear today,”

Your words die from a telling off to a small sigh at the sight of him, drunk on the sight and taste of you. His eyes are heavy, mouth open and shining with your spend, cheeks flushed and chest heaving,

“Good news for me then,” he stands with a grunt, coming in close enough for you to smell the remnants of your orgasm on his lower face - but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead massaging your hips and the tangled band of your underwear, “I’m having you on my face next, ‘nd keep these on,”

He’s a pervert really, snapping the band and making you tut in disapproval. But as you follow him into the bedroom with a sheepish grin and nervous lust building in your chest; you realise you are too, for letting him indulge in this and letting him.

#I lied I wrote this sorry I got weird about my undies earlier #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader #Aizawa smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #miko.writes #this is so bad I’m so sorry

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lakesbian · 1 year

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unlocking new and improved methods of kez erasure

#u can spray the spraypaint onto the blank canvas and then hand-transfer it to the frame for more precise placement...#useful for sections that need to be textured but are too skinny to straight up spray #also thoroughly enjoying my background youtube video heehoo #finally some good fucking horror game

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queenendless · 6 months

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❤️‍🩹Tough Love (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹

A/N: This is a paid commission I wrote, requested by @anime-lover1234

Content warning: JJK AU with lots of angst, hurt/comfort, short injured teacher/sorcerer reader with lots of boo boos, overprotective!upset!SatoSugu hubbies yall.

Haibara alive in this AU, Nanako and Mimiko are first years here with Yuji Megumi and Nobara and they're your students too. Plus Gojo can heal others in this AU.

AND NEARLY 7K LONG SO THERE!

*Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like and follow instead.

You wanted to impress them.

You wanted to prove your worth in battle.

But things went far off the deep end.

It all began that one sunset evening.

As a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer, you were a perfect match for the Grade 1 curse spirit lurking in the forest near an abandoned school rumored to be haunted after closing down due to allegations of murderous cover ups.

As you pulled down the Curtain, the cool winds blew at your hair, swaying along with your black attire, as the sun was setting for you exorcized the curse at last.

You were turning, ready to return to Haibara-kun who was waiting by the car parked out front, when you felt a stir in the air.

You sensed it further deep in the thicket.

Another cursed spirit.

Small … but on the highest level.

Curiosity and cockiness came in, seeping into your being, compulsively drawn towards your next – spontaneous – assignment.

It was a tall skinny humanoid one, blood painting its skin, eating one of the few mangled teen corpses strewn about the splattered wrecked tents of the makeshift campsite.

"Forgive me. I couldn't save you all." You muttered, cursed energy pulsing through your legs. “I'll avenge you by exorcizing that curse.”

Then you chanted quietly.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

With the barrier now placed; this one designed to keep curses in, you moved in.

With its eyes slowly turning to spot you bouncing off the branches, a swift blur dashing through the air, you warped right behind it, readying a blow right to its head.

But going toe to toe with a special grade cursed spirit on your own … you know it's not the same as it was before. But you were willing to take this golden opportunity.

Your fist blazing with cursed energy, ready to strike, even as —

The spike in its cursed energy went through the roof in that split second.

The atmosphere now pricked with that rotten flesh smog coming off its figure.

One that sprouted up to 10 ft tall.

Your cursed punch missed its mark.

Its sharpened hand going right into your side.

It was all a trap.

And you fell for it.

Hook line and sinker.

Your banshee cry startled the birds as you warped out of its grip, blood spraying out from the forced movement, skidding back on shaky limbs, its toxic touch seeping into your gash wound.

Flashes of white exploded in your mind.

The screams of your two mighty husband sorcerers were blowing out your eardrums.

Your vision was spotty but you felt the shift in its cursed presence spring forward through the air, barely dodging its swipe but feeling the tips of its claws scrape your stomach.

Deciding to draw it away, you became the injured bait, running for your life, warping out of its grab, ready to slam a kick down from above —

The sight of Satoru and Suguru bleeding and crumpled before you took its place. A twinge of fear stabbed your nerves — you were socked hard from the side, paralyzing your cranium, warping in your dazed state right before slamming into a tree.

Covering your ears in futility at the intrusive fake voices invading your eardrums, you squeezed your eyes over your unwillingness to see their gutted crimson painted selves.

"Don't leave us here!"

Toru.

"How could you leave us behind!?"

Sugu.

"It's not real. They're not here. They can hold their own. Even against bastards like you." You growled under your breath, keeping your eyes shut. "Don't see. Don't hear. Just feel."

Sniffing the air as cursed energy heightened your nostrils, you followed its putrid stench and nothing else. Trusting your sense of smell by amplifying it to near max — your limit.

Yet the debilitating toxins were slowing you down. You were getting lightheaded as blood trailed down your side and leg from that open wound. The punches and kicks you managed to land on it were barely making a dent on this creep.

This curse was sapping you of your strength, your swiftness, and your stability at an alarming rate. All you could do was dodge and weave. But didn't stop the onslaught of punches, kicks and slashes littering your body.

Those normal – now dead – teens were just fodder to it.

Now that you; a sorcerer, was in its domain, you became its toy. It would kill you. But first, it would take its time and play with you, prolonging its enjoyment as long as possible, wearing you down until you broke …

Down at the nearby rural town, outside a combini, a bespectacled man just stepped out, throwing away the wrappings of his just finished sandwich, turning to where the foul energies were resonating, seeing the barrier among the thicket of trees …

Curled into the ground, gashes, bruises and blood painted your now immobile body, keeping your head to the ground when you suddenly sensed a trusting presence slipping inside the veil, looming above you, followed by the anguished roars of the special grade collapsing.

"Don't let it hit you … its toxins can make you hallucinate … and can mimic voices." You rasped out the warnings, coughing out blood in the process, when his folded work jacket was pressed into your hands then against your crimson dripping side.

"Understood. Keep pressure on that wound. You've lost enough blood already." You choked out a sob of relief at that low rumbling voice.

Kento Nanami.

A fellow Grade 1 sorcerer. A dependable comrade and a close friend. One of incredible proficiency. Extremely precise aim. Evades with clever maneuvers. Reinforced body with cursed energy.

Tying his spotted tie around his fist, he went into Overtime. With his now stained clothed blunted sword in hand, Nanami struck in as many weak spots as he could create on that titan.

The red and black sparks of Black Flash streaking right off him to chop off its enormous arm.

His words were ringing in your ears as he revealed his hand intentionally to raise his power levels.

Slashing weak points in the surrounding pine trees, he follows it off with diving in to cleave off its legs by the knee.

Bringing it face down to ground level just to cleave its head in two horizontally.

Releasing both his binding vows to enact that single blow, Nanami's extension technique Collapse activated, causing those pine trees to come tumbling down to bury it for good measure.

Scooping you up at breakneck speed, you two got clear of the fallen debris, slipped through the decaying barrier.

Neither of you sensed it any more.

Nanami's eyes bore great disappointment down upon you from on high. "And here I thought you were better than to emulate those two's recklessness."

You felt your pride crack, your ego bruise, and your shame boosted over Nanami-san's disapproval when you felt yourself blacking out and your form became limp too quick for his liking.

Nanami's exasperated, panicking face getting all up in yours, his shouting going mute in your ringing ears, occurred before it all went dark.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️��🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Hastily calling Nitta-san to send the proper authorities to handle post cleanup in those woods, Nanami kept pressure on your wound in your stead as he situated you two carefully in the backseat as Haibara stepped on it; his wary eyes peeking in the rearview mirror now and then just so he wouldn't crash the car.

Watching in dismay as the only signs of you still alive was your little shifts of discomfort paired with frail mumbling, calling out for your loves, as fear worked its way to the front of your mind.

Hurriedly calling Shoko immediately after to meet them at the foothills of Mount Mushiro where the screeching halts of the car's tires skidded to an almost collision at the first torii gate.

The backseat was tainted red as Nanami tossed his stained business jacket aside then undid the buttons of your uniform jacket then tugged up your undershirt enough to show your biggest wound, allowing Shoko to lean over and work.

“What a way to spend my night." She huffed, concentrating as pure white light emanated off her hands and over your wound.

"She's lost a lot of blood already on top of fractured broken bones. And hallucinogenic, auditory ailments are still in effect even when curse has been exorcized." Nanami added, brooding from the added severity of the situation.

"What the hell, L/n?” Shoko heaved heavily, shedding sweat. "That curse's toxins are still in her system. It's making it difficult to fully heal her.” She was able to seal up your side wound though. “That will have to do for now. We need to move her."

"I'll join you all once I park the car." Haibara informed them, quickly leaning over from the driver's seat to kiss Nanami.

Nanami's tender gaze came Haibara's way before he got out of the car, carrying you, carefully treading up the steps, Shoko shutting the car door and hurrying behind him, with Haibara driving off and Nanami's bloody business jacket left discarded on the back seat.

Shoko spent the late night hours repairing your damaged self, collapsing over the metal surgical table from the overtime stress, panting from her energy spent. Blood pumped into a vein on your arm via the cannula connected to the drip. And your shallow breathing toppled with a cold sweat only made her push herself further as she squeezed your hand to keep you as grounded as possible and you continued murmuring the guys names in raspy, pleading whispers.

A harried Nanami patted Shoko's forehead with a clean spare rag lying on a counter while Haibara gave her a water bottle to hydrate.

Coming in and out of consciousness, tugged between horrish illusions and bleak reality, your once weakened pulse grew stronger as Shoko's RCT filled you, pushing the toxins out of your system.

So when you finally awoke, faded scars and bruises dotted your skin, front and back, leaving you groaning weakly as you clutched your pounding head. You felt like a truck had run you over.

"About time you woke up. Those fear toxins should be leaving your system now. But it did make healing you quite taxing for me. We can continue your checkup in the afternoon when we've both rested. But I could really use a drink right now.” Shoko apathetically griped as she carefully pulled the IV out of your arm just to place a cotton ball sticking to a bandage over the small leaking prick.

“Sorry about that, Shoko.” Feeling her gloved hand holding your still sore one, you barely squeezed back. "I failed to exorcize that special grade … I'm sorry I made you all overwork because of my screw-up." Your guilt stricken face struck their hearts.

"Nitta-san made sure the bodies were collected … what was left of them. Just count yourself fortunate that the curse was just dragging it out when I arrived. Never underestimate them." Nanami chastised you at the end, his goggles currently off, sternness laced in his eyes.

"Please … don't tell the guys. It's bad enough I couldn't exorcize it by myself. If they find out, they'll never let me live this down. Satoru especially." You weakly pleaded, struggling to sit up but able to get up on your bum as Haibara pulled you up.

"They'll find out sooner or later. And there'll be hell to pay if you choose to omit it from them. I will not partake in that sort of nonsense." Nanami griped, dreading the world flipped on its axis once your husbands found out.

"They'll never want to leave my side after this! They're already dealing with workloads of missions as is! Adding this to their pillars of stressful shit … I just need to be right as rain ASAP."

"No such thing as stress free in our line of work." Shoko bluntly stated.

"Gojo-san and Geto-san would be heartbroken if you kept this from them." Haibara frowned, personally wounded.

"They'd be even more wrecked that this happened and they weren't there to stop it …" Anxious guilt raked your bones.

A hand plopped into your hair, brushing it gingerly. “Your foolish pride as a sorcerer better be worth it if you're prepared for what will come of this endeavor." Nanami's foreboding didn't stop you from embracing him around his waist, pressing your face in his stomach, humming as Haibara gently hugged you from behind, and Shoko smiled nonetheless at the cute scene, especially at Nanami's sternness lessening and patting your head some more.

Still too out of it to walk on your own, you were pushed out in a wheelchair by Haibara, straight back to the dorms, stating he would stay in the room beside yours in case you needed any aid for the night, needing to head out in the morning alongside Nanami.

Carrying your ruined uniform clothes in the recyclable bag Shoko kept them in, you set them aside as you limped about to change into familiar comfier PJs you kept on hand in your old dorm room closet whenever you had to crash at the school grounds.

Pulling your phone out of the zip lock bag it was kept in thanks to Shoko too, you had seen it was still on.

They had been messaging you all night. Notifications of your group chat popping up on your lock screen.

But you just … felt too ashamed and embarrassed to reply back.

So you turned it off.

Without them smushing you between them tonight, there was no comforting warmth keeping you safe and sound.

And the aftermath of those horrific illusions and their copycats speaking during and post battle still lingered in your memory. Tittering between life and death, you were trapped within your worst nightmare yet.

Their disapproving glares.

Their cold voices.

Turning their backs on you as they walked into the foggy embrace of bloodshed against your voiceless cries and your wavering hand fruitlessly reached out into nothingness.

So going back to sleep was the last thing you wanted.

But even so, being in your old single dorm bed, your quiet sobs swarmed the room, your pent up agony painting your pillow in tears, stewing internally over wanting to suffer your follies alone versus wishing more than anything to have Toru and Sugu embracing you to chase all those bad dreams and fears away like they have always done.

Your phone stayed isolated on the small wooden bedside table, plugged in and charging. In silence.

Meanwhile, in a hotel, nestled in the Saitama prefecture that lies above Tokyo…

"Well, the twins are sleeping. Their mission definitely exhausted them both." Suguru softly informed, returning to his partner's side after checking on the girls in the room across from theirs.

A pouty Satoru groaned miserably, splayed out like a moody pancake across the bed, puppy eyes trained on his phone. "Suguru~! She's not answering me~!”

Now splayed out beside him on their shared hotel bed, Suguru ruffled Satoru's poofy hair. "Perhaps she's sleeping."

"She always answers me though! She didn't even send me a cute kitty gif~! The injustice!" Satoru cried, shoving his phone screen right in his best friend's face.

Suguru pushed Satoru's phone aside, pulled out his own from his sweatpants and sent a heart your way. And yet, it was not even read on your end. His forehead creased with worry. "No response for me either … I do hope nothing bad has happened.”

Satoru slung an arm around Suguru's neck, pulling himself snug against him, frowning vividly. "I miss her."

Suguru plopped his cheek atop Satoru's noggin. "So do I. The sooner we finish here with our own cases, the sooner we can have her in our arms again. Until then," Suguru brushed aside Satoru's snowy bangs to smooch his velvety forehead, tenderly grinning. "We'll just have to keep each other company~"

Now that piqued Satoru's intrigue, cheekily giggling as he rolled them over so the raven head could straddle him. “Nothing wrong with that~”

Suguru quickly turned the side table lamp off before engaging in a long, sensual make out with his smirking mate, whisking the night away.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Your new strategy going forward?

Keep your phone off.

Give off the illusion of still being out in the field, doing assignments far off in the distance.

Stay locked up in your old room except for Shoko's treatments and bathroom breaks.

Until you were all patched up; no visually alarming marks blemishing your skin, you wouldn't let any aside from those that already knew find out.

Not your students.

NOT your men.

By the time you had awoken, Haibara had already left as informed. His sticky note he left on your bedside table with morning greetings and hopes to see you soon followed by a scribbled smiley face did turn your frown upside down.

But it meant you were the only one left in the dorm as your throbbing self painstakingly grabbed some long sleeved apparel outta the closet and changed before putting on some slippers. It was fall now, slowly transitioning to winter, so it was the perfect cover up to be snugly dressed.

You had just gotten outside when you noticed the trio heading to the torii gate exit.

Yuji sniffing the air was what alerted you; skidding to a halt as he was literally across from you on the other side of the long stone pathway, turning to eye you with an unpleasant awkwardness. Running over, his nose dove in closer to get a deep long whiff of you to your jitteriness.

He was your best student in terms of enhancing his senses to their peak with cursed energy. And one you cherished like your own pride and joy. Your pure son.

“L/n-sensei … you're injured. And you look restless. Did something happen?” His eyes became glassy saucers.

Your game plan was on the rocks now. Super human senses at work!

“Hey! The sooner we finish our mission from that blindfolded madman, the sooner I can get to shopping! So move it! No offense, sensei!” Nobara snapped out loud, waiting by the gate, curious what was occurring but impatient to wrap things up for her own reasons.

“Cone on Itadori! We're burning daylight!” Megumi coaxed.

“Alright alright, I'm coming!” Yuji's voice then softened for just you two to hear. “Sensei, whatever’s going on, just … take it easy, okay?”

Your heart swelled at his considerate caring nature like the precious boy he is, smiling thankfully. “I will. Thanks.”

“Welcome back.” That genuine smile of relief and joy of Yuji's almost made you tear up; your swelling up heart touched by his words, doing your best to smile through the soreness as you waved at the boy, saluting back to you, joining his friends, and heading off.

You started uncomfortably limping on your way the moment you students were out of eyesight. Shoko met you halfway, presenting a new wheelchair for you to make traversing more easier. “Sorry but Nanami-kun wanted me to remind you to work on your report about last night. We can head to the faculty office first. Besides, you look ready to topple over.”

You internally groaned at the stingy procedures, expected to recount your near death experience down to the last detail; literally occurring just last night, sending a grateful look her way. “What would I do without you, Shoko?”

“Let's just say I'm better off with you in my life … and I know I'm not the only one.” Apathy gave way to relieving passion in her gaze that you looked away to brush your wet eyes. And you both left it at that as she wheeled you the rest of the way.

Flash forward to some time later …

“I can't believe you going gung ho back there cost me my chance to hit up that sale at my new favorite boutique, you boneheaded idiot!” Nobara bit out.

“Okay okay, I get it! Go easy on my shoulder, Kugisaki!” Yuji yelped in pain at how much she was fussing as she and Megumi helped him walk since he took the brunt of the hits in their latest mission.

“Always ready to put yourself on the line for us … we can handle ourselves, you know, doofus.” Megumi was less harsh, making sure not to hit his shin against Yuji's stabbed one; wrapped in the torn sleeve of Yuji's uniform to stop the bleeding.

Yuji noticed the tender gaze his spiky haired friend gave him, smiling in recognition, chuckling sheepishly. “Protective instincts, I guess.”

“Serves you right, idiot.” Though Nobara and Megumi spoke such mocking words, they were softly spoken, still irked but also grateful they're all still standing.

The moment the trio splurged through the morgue door, spotting your bare back littered with bumps and wide slash marks had them faltering as their short beloved teacher and practically mother figure was in this state.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Their unified exclaims startled Shoko enough to press too hard on a red welt on your forearm, causing your excruciating shout.

You slapped your palms over your mouth, mortified at legit blowing your cover out loud.

Due to the fact that Shoko at the moment got a sudden phone call while examining you.

From THEM.

“Shoko, what was that?” Suguru demanded.

“Sounds like a wounded animal!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Takes one to know one. I have work to get back to. Bye bye~” Shoko's false perky jab reverts back to her usual demeanor after hanging up on them. “I would say stay hidden until everything settles down but I'd be lying. I know 25 mins away means those two lunatics will floor it by the end of the day. I wish you the best of luck, my dear.” Her sympathetic pat on your shoulder did not calm down those anxious belly butterflies.

“I knew you were hurt but … OKASAN WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” Yuji's own wounds were forgotten as he scrambled over to you, blubbering out waterfalls, throwing off everyone by legit calling you mom out loud but too overwhelmed to notice right away.

You pulled your shirt back down, flushed in shame. “Special grade got the upper hand on me. Nanami-san saved me. Sorry to have you three see me like this. So please … keep this between us? Please?” You literally prayed for it.

“For my favorite sensei, my lips are sealed.” Nobara assured.

“Geto-sensei may be less hysterical … Gojo-sensei not so much … but those two together … oh God.” Megumi paled up at the reality.

“The calm …” Nobara ominously started.

“Before the shit storm.” Megumi drearily ended.

“Uh, while I'm not a big fan of keeping things from Gojo-sensei, if it's what you want, then I'll do it.” Yuji, skeptical but willing to make you happy, blushed pink as you embraced him loosely due to you still not being at full strength yet.

“Thank you.” You weeped.

Megumi, Nobara and even Shoko joined in on that hug.

Meanwhile, back in Saitama, again, nestled outdoors in front of a patisserie.

“That was suss as hell.” Gojo lowly rumbled, sitting under the umbrella covered table on one end, stuffing his last – now smooshed – Maneki Usagi Manju from his hands straight to his mouth.

“We know that shout all too well …” Geto's eyes teemed with cynicism, sitting across from him, sipping Sayama tea in one hand, his phone in the other.

Their mentality synced, restlessness in their bones, their six senses flaring up with red alerts.

Something did happen to you.

Something big.

Something bad.

With their cases long since finished; not surprising, their leisure time was spent sightseeing, tasting the treats the places they visited had to offer. Meaning more sweets for Gojo to savor. However, his gut along with Geto's twisted at the thought of you in trouble.

“Girls, gather your things. We're heading back now.” Geto firmly spoke while speed dialing Ijichi-san to come pick them up.

The twins, sitting at the table beside theirs, stopped taking selfies of themselves with their cutely decorated drinks at his announcement. “Yes, Papa~!”

Throughout the ride back to the school; Ijichi-san fidgeting and sweating bullets at his seniors stewing in silence, panicked thoughts raced through the duo's minds.

The one constant that kept coming up?

Whatever was going on with you …

They were getting to the bottom of it.

The sky changed from blue and calm to orange and warm.

Getting healed by Shoko before being ushered out to continue healing you, the trio crashed in the common room slash longue when the sight of Nanako and Mimiko waving and smiling as they entered with bags of gifts and snacks to share and give had the trio beaming at the twins safe return.

However, the sight of their teachers coming round the corner into view, radiating such potent agitated auras, sent the trio's hearts racing in dread.

It spelled the first sign of doom.

Gojo zipped up right to them, a wide ass smile on his face, waving with bags of souvenirs on the other arm, cheerfully greeting them all.

“Oh my precious students~! Your esteemed adoring sensei has returned! And I come bearing gifts for you all! As thanks for a job well done! But on the condition that you answer me truthfully! Do you happen to know what our dear Y/n has been up to as of late~?”

“Nope.” Megumi kept a straight face.

“Nada.” Nobara is the same.

“We know nothing.” Yuji as well.

Their calm blunt responses had Geto narrow his eyes at their stoic behavior, the twins shuffling to him in nervousness at the tense situation, and Gojo's fake smile fell, becoming so straight faced. “Hmm … okay then. Hold these, please and thanks.”

Dropping their bagged gifts into their arms, Gojo warping away was the second sign.

Appearing again before them, with a squirming distressed you in his arms, was the final nail in the coffin.

Gojo hastily set you down, firmly grabbed your sweater sleeve covered hand, and tugged that sleeve up to your shoulder. Even with the blindfold on, you could picture his Six Eyes shrinking to dots at the colorful splotches and littering your once unblemished skin.

“What the hell?” Gojo's shaky raw voice had you gulping.

“How did … when did … Y/n explain yourself!” Geto's perturbed face turned to aggravation.

Keeping your head ducked, you could picture their eyes bearing those same cold, disappointing glazes those curse's nightmares forced you to bear. Your state of panic got triggered!

You wince in pain, trying in vain to tug your hand free of Gojo's iron hold. Warping into the morgue, literally sweeping you off your feet, greeting Shoko, then warping out of the morgue all meant your recovery got cut short.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going!?" Gojo jested, pulling your back against his front, caging you in his hold, knowing to restrain himself on the pressure, gritting his canines at seeing those same colorful marks on the back of your neck. “You better start talking.”

"You mustn't strain yourself any more, either! You can barely walk as is!" Geto irritatedly griped, wrapping his arms around your other one, leaving you wobbling, therefore needing either of them as counterbalance.

"I'll be fine! I'll get better! I'm innocent!" You babbled desperately, wiggling like a worm, to your utter dismay and their annoyance.

Geto narrowed his eyes, downtrodden. "Have you no shame, Y/n? And you three knew about this, didn't you?!” His eyes flared up with scorn as his face whipped to the trio, having all three flinch back at the irritated sight.

“And after all the trouble I went through to get you all gifts!” Gojo dramatically complained.

“Unnecessary to be honest.” Megumi dryly rebuttal.

“My tastes far exceed yours, anyway.” Nobara throwing shade.

“I'll take them all, thank you very much! I felt like telling you Gojo-sensei, I swear! But L/n-sensei was in pain and I just wanted to help her!” Yuji blabbed.

“Softie.” Mimiko and Nanako teased smugly.

“Yuji~!” Gojo weeped.

“I told them to keep quiet. Shoko and Haibara too. Nanami wanted no part in it. It was all my fault!”

Your pleas only riled them up more. Their eyes returned to you, burning intensely, straight into your soul as they cushioned you between their built bodies just like a mating press.

You gasped as Geto's hand slid under your top, his calloused touch sending anxious tingles through you, feeling that tender scar left on your side, lips trembling and eyes wavering. “Honestly believing you could pull the wool over our eyes, dearest? Ridiculous.” Geto belittled.

Gojo scoffed, suddenly frightening as he towered behind you, alarming everyone besides Geto as he pulled down his blindfold to stare down at you now with those glaring Six Eyes. "Screw that. This isn't panning out well for you, darling. Not at all.”

Your weak whines of protest made the teens cringe with pity. Your short self was literally trapped between giants. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that trying to cut it with a knife would mean getting obliterated. GoGe might as well be a bomb.

But to see tears swell up in your e/c eyes and trail down your cheeks, glistening from the guilt, embarrassment and pain, everyone in that room froze in paling realization.

You were the actual bomb.

And you just got set off.

"DON'T HATE ME!"

Your heartbroken scream had the strongest duo become the weakest. Their grips laxing, their tunnel vision eroding, their resolve dusting, as you pulled away freely, tugging your sleeve back down to cover the damage, sat down on the couch to your buckling knees relief, and cried in your tarnished hands, becoming a mess for them all to see.

"L/n-sensei no!!! Please don't cry!!!" Yuji went into a panicked frenzy, squatting down before you, frazzled as you bowed your head against his jacketed shoulder, rubbing your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you, sweating bullets at the sight of his once mighty teachers now becoming statues at this turn of events. "None of us hate you! It's okay! Everything's gonna be okay! R–Right guys?!”

"You two are the scum of the Earth, you are! Harassing an injured emotional woman!" Nobara yelled abhorrently in their stunned paled faces, pulling out tissues from her small flowered package she kept in her belt pack along with her cursed tools to offer you. “Here sensei. Take these.”

"I won't blame her if she files for divorce." Megumi gripes under his breath, sitting down beside you, timidly rubbing your back in comforting circles. "L/n-sensei, you need to calm down and rest."

“Geto-sama, do something about this! Mama is a wreck now!” Nanako was willing to put her foot down at this insolence.

“This is depressing.” Mimiko patted your head from behind the couch.

Your desperate need to melt into a puddle and just die from utter disgrace was dashed when you felt Gojo approaching.

His serious blazing eyes spoke for themselves to let him handle you himself, but those kids hesitated letting this slide when the gentle shushing of their usually obnoxious teacher threw them for a loop. Sitting down in the free space on your other side, gently brushing your hair, he leaned in to your ear to confess —

"I'm sorry." You stiffened at his words as they rumbled against your ear. While you were partly miffed and scared due to his attitude, his gentleness returning made you drawn to him all over again, recollecting how much you did miss him — miss them both actually cause OF COURSE YOU DO!!!

Weaving his hand through your hair, he carefully pulled your head to rest against his chest instead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a shaky vulnerability leaking into his voice. “I'm so sorry.” You dare set down your hands to see his eyes as glittery blue glass. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I hate seeing you cry like this.” His wandering hand had his fingertips weave through yours to squeeze your hand benignly. “Especially when you're all banged up. I just …”

“I'm deeply sorry as well.” The moment Suguru sat down in Megumi's spot, the kids had already stood back and watched with anticipation as his arms gently hugged your waist from behind, kissing your blotchy cheek, regret radiating on his face. “We both shouldn't have approached you so harshly. We were out of line. We just …”

They were both at a loss for words.

Taking a chance, a risk, a leap of faith, you decide to tell them the truth, rather preferring for them to hear it from you than read it from a document.

“The other night … a special grade curse popped up just when I finished my case … I wanted to prove myself … I thought I could take it on … but Nanami saved me in the end. I was … ashamed … anxious … afraid. It showed me … illusions … nightmares … of you both suffering and abandoning me … and I panicked when you both got upset earlier … I just – !”

“You haven't properly rested at all.” Geto delicately gripped your chin and turned your face to see the dark circles under your now red eyes. “Beloved, you of all people should know that keeping your troubles bottled up inside does no one any good! Least of all hiding your pain from us when we can help!”

“You can't always be there for me … I can't keep weighing you down … but I can't hold my own when it really counts … I'm never gonna be at your level … even as a Grade 1 … by myself … I'm not good enough.” Your eyes squeezed shut, deep seated in this emotional turmoil.

“Yes you are!” The sharp conviction Satoru had made your eyes snap back open. It got your attention attentively. “We still think of them … Kuroi … Amanai … what we could have done differently or better … had we not failed them. If anything happened to you … and if we weren't there to stop it … and it already has … then what the hell’s the point in being the strongest when we can't protect those that matter to us the most?!” You shook as his tears hit your nose, rubbing his wet nose against yours with those beautiful blue eyes now red with compassion looking into yours, for even his watery smile is breathtaking. “You've never been weak. Not to any of us. You kept us together through all the shit thrown our way since that day. I don't need Six Eyes to tell me this truth … that you are the most beautiful, genuine, strongest soul I know you are inside and out.”

“You're the very reason I gathered the courage to reach out to everyone when my resolve wavered … when I lost my way … it's difficult to wear a heartfelt smile in this world …” Sugu's voice slipped for a moment, his almond eyes twinkling as his wet cheek nuzzled yours, pressing a timid kiss to the corner of your lips, another breathtaking smile amiss the waterfalls. “But you brought back my smile. You helped me find a better way … I'm no longer alone. So you don't get to be either. Not anymore.”

Unified, their cracked voices caved.

“We can't lose you too.”

You breathed in their natural scents, submerged in their warmth, coveted in their supportive treasuring embrace, their crying faces resting against either side of your neck, just to be as close to you as possible without hurting you more so than that curse and themselves already have.

In this moment of vulnerability, the strongest duo put down their guards just to show you how immensely you've always mattered to them. Your pain, your sadness, your doubts … they're theirs too.

Your hand that was still being held by Satoru weaved down to rub against Suguru's knuckles, drawing him in to lay his hand atop both yours. “I feel the same way.”

“But damn Y/n, you scared us shitless." Gojo sighed exasperated, now chewing and suckling hungrily on your red cheek just to hear your raspy squeals for their amusement.

"Immensely." Geto hummed conspiratory like, chewing and tugging on your other cheek for good measure, your squeaking making them smirk.

“I'm sorry!” You garbled out, mewling.

Suguru popped off your cheek, pecking it several times apologetically. “We're sorry too. We're just relieved that you're alive.”

Satoru popped off your cheek as well, smooching the welt left in his wake. “Still injured though, but I'll finish healing you myself.”

Catharsis finally came as your waterworks were one of relief. “I missed you both so much~!!!”

"Yosh, yosh~” Satoru doting on you, petting your head like the cutie you will always be in their eyes. “We missed our cutie patootie too~” Now that got you to smile at last, shedding tears of joy, as your chortled laughs made them smile as well.

The kids left you three a while ago when the mushiness kicked in. The twins giggled as Megumi summoned his wolf Shinigami for them to ride on so they could stop pestering him, right before he buried his bashfully blushing face in the crook of Yuji's neck who carried him and Nobara with ease from her own pestering, heading off to do whatever.

Now drained from the mental and emotional trip you went through, all you wanted now was sleep.

And to be honest?

So did the guys.

Your old dorm bed would make do just this once. For old times sake. Warping you three there was easier on an already wiped Gojo, anyway.

Their uniforms, boots, and socks along with your slippers littered the floor.

The AC hummed in the background.

And the drawls of moonlight slipped through the curtains.

Tepid flustered gasps left your parted lips as Satoru sensually trailed his smooth sly hand across every inch of your backside under your top, healing you from that point as you relaxed.

You smothered your face in Satoru's snug black tee covered pecs as he ran his fingers through your hair, languidly brushing it to further soothe you, pecking your forehead. “It wasn't the same without you.”

Suguru carefully splayed on top of you from behind, warmth seeping through his snug white tee and into your cloth covered back, heatedly breathing down your flushed nape as his veiny giant hand caressed your bare tummy underneath your top as well as stroking your thighs with his other hand. “Having you to cuddle again, all snug in between us, truly feels like heaven.”

“No angel to sleep with … oh how did we cope without you~?" Satoru ranted quietly as he could for your sleepy sake.

Suguru gave him a sly smirk. “Satoru~”

Satoru chuckled, ruffling Suguru's loosely free hair, before resting that hand on Suguru's lower back. “Okay, it wasn't bad at all. Even so… can I please just keep us in this moment and never let each other go ever again?” Satoru gently begged.

“As long as I can get some shut eye. And new uniform garbs.” Your cheek nuzzled his chest, consenting in a yawn.

“Deal.” With Six Eyes now switched off, Satoru became heavy-eyed at the sight of his two favorite people in bed with him. Back together again.

“No more bad thoughts for us tonight.” Suguru languorously rumbled in your ear.

“Plus those nightmares will get a kick in the balls if they come back.” Satoru grumbled drowsily.

“If it's a curse, sure. Dreams, not so much.” You mumbled softly.

Satoru could feel your body start to reach the end of its recovery from his healing touch, trailing his hand from your back to cover your hand that rested on the front of his shirt where his heart lay.

Suguru's own hand traversed, resting atop Satoru's, all three splayed on his chest in the same exact spot.

You sagged as you felt the weight of all that battle damage lift right off you, for all the pain got replaced with fuzzy tingling warmth.

Shivering with delight, you felt those two curling in on you from both sides, their legs tangling with yours, as you all smushed in the middle, with Suguru's face against your shoulder and Satoru's in your hair.

“Toru … Sugu … I love you guys.”

Satoru breathed in your scent, smiling drowsily. “We love you too … so damn much.”

"Truly. We'd be lost forever if we never knew you.” Suguru mused languidly.

A tiny smile formed as you succumbed to your long awaited dreamland. “I … feel … the same.”

And the kiddies, poking their heads through the crack in the slide doorway, eyed you snug between those two in just their tees and boxers, your entangled limbed cocoon, the bed comforter halfway touching the floor, as gentle snores and breathing made up your guys personal symphony.

Taking some snapshots for potential blackmail material; basically on Nobara and Megumi's part, they left you three to rest.

Of course, knowing you three, you'll stay in bed all day tomorrow. Whether to sleep, talk, cuddle, make out, do the devil's tango — nah it's all of the above! Meaning no classes.

The weekend is free.

To unwind and reflect.

Your old room feels more homely now that they're there with you.

That night, you’re gifted with cathartic, stress relieving dreams where those two awaited you with smothering embraces and enriching laughter.

Through their tough, imposing, and fierce exteriors …

There lay the true blessings that are their empathy, passion and humanity.

Your chaotically lovestruck sorcerers.

And you, their heaven sent wife, will feel their love till the very end.

And even beyond.

For Infinity.

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lucy90712 · 3 months

Text

Wearing his clothes- headcannon

Gavi:

- You are always wearing his jerseys

- It doesn't matter if you are going to the game in person or just watching from home he always wants you wearing his jersey with his name on the back

- His absolute favourite thing is seeing you watching from the stands and knowing that you have his name written on the back of your shirt it gives him extra motivation to play well just for you and it's even better when you wear one that he's actually worn in a game not just a spare one he gave you

- This all started when you flew out to watch the supercopa final and because it was a last minute trip you didn't pack much so Gavi gave you the jersey he wore in the semi finals to wear to the game and of course it was one of his best performances so now he wants you wearing his jersey every minute of every game to give him good luck

- He likes to see you wearing his clothes in general because it shows others that you are taken and when he's with you everyone gets to see that you are his and no one else can have you

- You wearing his clothes helps with his protective and jealous nature as he feels like he's marking his territory when you are wearing his clothes you can easily shut down any advances from anyone else without question

"What are you wearing to the game?" He asked

"One of your jerseys just not sure which one" you reply

"Let me pick one" he says

"This one the first one I ever gave you we need the extra luck tonight and knowing you’re wearing that will definitely spur me on" he says

"Well if you want extra luck how about I wear one of your hoodies over the top it's going to be cold out" you say

"You sure know the way to my heart" he smiles

Pedri:

- You started wearing his clothes mostly to sleep in

- It began when he was away for a while for the World Cup and you were feeling lonely so you stole one of his shirts to wear to bed as it made you feel closer to him even though he was so far away

- You did it for a few nights until Pedri noticed while you were on FaceTime one night, to start with you get a bit shy about it but when he says he thinks it's cute you find getting caught less embarrassing

- From then on you wear one of his shirts to bed every night and when he's home he will often pick one for you to wear so when you come out the shower you are greeted with one of his shirts laying on the bed for you ready to wear

- When he knows he's going to be away for a few days he will pick a few shirts out for you and spray them with his cologne so that when you come to pick one they all smell like him as he knows you secretly love them more when they smell like him

- For a while you never wore his clothes out because there is far too many things you'd never want to be seen wearing but after some refining of his wardrobe to make his style a bit better you feel ok wearing his clothes out

"Why are you getting rid of that I like that hoodie" he moans

"Because it's ugly I can't steal this off you and leave the house or even look in a mirror so it's got to go" you reply

"So the criteria is if you can wear it out" he questions

"You've got it now help me out" you say

"But these are my clothes why can't I keep the things I like" he continues to complain

"Because you're sense of style is atrocious and that's ok because I'm here to fix it trust me your followers will be thanking me especially for getting rid of all your skinny jeans" you laugh

"Fine but I'm only letting you do this because I love you too much to stop you" he says

Jude:

- Jude loves when you wear his clothes

- He loves it so much that when he goes shopping sometimes he buys things that he knows you will like even if they aren't necessarily something he really likes because he knows you'll look cute

- There's just something about seeing you happily wear his clothes out and around the house which melts his heart the way you always have a big smile on your face when he sees you too makes it even better

- Knowing that even though you two aren't fully public with your relationship but that you still wear his hoodies out to meet friends makes him feel all warm inside

- His jackets are something you steal quite often as you like the look of wearing a nice outfit with one of his jackets which is very oversized on you and Jude has to admit it does look good on you if he could post a picture of you every time you steal one of his jackets then he would

- Jude often thinks that his clothes look better on you than they do on him maybe it's the way you style them or it's just because he thinks you look so cute in his clothes but either way there are some clothes he has surrendered to your possession as you objectively look better in them

"I'm ready to go" you say running down the stairs

"Oh wow you look amazing" Jude says

"Thank you sorry I stole your jacket it just looked good with this outfit" you explain

"Honestly you can keep it it looks so much better on you than it ever does on me" he laughs while being deadly serious

"Jude you can't keep giving me your clothes I don't need all of these" you say

"Well I can't wear them again knowing they look better on you so you keep them plus I like seeing you in my clothes" he says

Joao:

- For a while you didn't wear any of Joao's clothes because you didn't want to just steal them without asking and you were too nervous to ask him in case he thought you were weird for asking

- You only started wearing his clothes when you went out to the beach one day he forgot to bring a coverup so he gave you his shirt to wear from then on you were brave enough to ask and after a while you just started wearing his clothes when you felt like it

- The things you steal from him the most are accessories like sunglasses and hats which started because sometimes you forget to bring those things but now you don't even pretend to forget you just steal them from him

- You don't even own a hat that's why you always steal his and he doesn't mind because he has quite the collection so he always has another one he can wear, sometimes it bothers him a bit when you make them smaller to fit your head and don't change it back as then they don't fit him but you don't do that often

- His favourite part of you wearing his hats is that you often let him choose which one goes with your outfit he enjoys that because he likes getting you to try a few and see which ones look best and when you agree with his choice he feels validated as he always likes your sense of style

- One thing he always does is bring an extra hoodie whenever you go anywhere together so that he can give it to you when you inevitably get cold he learnt the hard way to bring a second one as one time he didn't and then he was the one who was freezing cold

"Here love I don't want you to get cold" he says handing you one of his hoodies

"You are always so prepared aren't you" you laugh

"Well when my girlfriend cares more about her outfit than bringing a jacket I have to be" he jokes

"I don't care more about my outfit you always tell me I'll be fine and that it won't be that cold and then it always is" you argue

"Ok maybe I do that sometimes but it makes me look like a good boyfriend if I give you one of my hoodies plus you always look good in them" he admits

"Well if I look cute I can live with you lying to me" you say

Hector:

- Whenever he can't find one of his shirts or hoodies he always knows exactly where they are and he's yet to be wrong as he'll always find them at your place

- To begin with it annoys him that you take his clothes without asking as he wants to wear them but when he realises you do it because you miss him and that you always wash and return them he doesn't mind quite so much

- Once he realised that you do it because you miss him he tries to make sure he spends more time with you and when he can't he will purposely leave you with one of his hoodies so that you can wear it when you are missing him which he has noticed makes you so much happier

- Over time his wardrobe becomes yours but it doesn't bother him like it used to as you don't steal his clothes all the time and you always return them the only time you keep his clothes is when he gives them to you

- He always thinks you look good in his clothes but he loves it the most when you wear one of his shirts or hoodies with shorts while you walk around his place and he likes it even more when you don't have any makeup on as he thinks you are just so naturally beautiful even when you aren't trying

- There is no way on earth he would ever take any of his clothes back from you even if he wanted to wear them because he knows it would break your heart and he can't have you thinking he doesn't like you stealing his stuff because secretly he loves it

"Babe have you seen my blue hoodie?" He asks before turning round to see you wearing it

"I'm sorry I should've asked before putting it on I can take it off if you want it" you say kind of embarrassed

"No it's ok you look so gorgeous in it it makes your eyes pop" he says

"Are you sure?" You ask

"Yeah I'd rather look at you in it than wear it myself anyways" he says

"Plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I take my hoodie from you especially when you look so cozy" he laughs

Marc:

- He absolutely loves when you wear his clothes to the point that he just gives them to you

- It first started when you were sick and your family were out of town so he took on the role of taking care of you, he noticed that even though you were under a blanket you were still getting cold so he got you in one of his hoodies and some of his sweatpants which helped keep you warm

- Now he always drops off some of his clothes whenever you aren't feeling your best even if you aren't sick and he just thinks you need a pick me up he will bring you some of his clothes so you can be cozy as that's always makes you feel better

- Of course his clothes are all way too big for you but that only makes him love having you wear them more and you love how oversized everything is on you as its perfect for lounging around or cold days

- For some reason he just loves how small you look wearing his clothes it just reminds him that you are a delicate being and that he wants to protect you at all costs, he's protective a lot of the time but if anyone tries to do anything to you while you are all cozy in his clothes it's over for them as it brings out a whole new level of protectiveness from him

- He also likes to match with you there are some items he has two of so he can match with you or other times he will wear something similar so you two can sort of match

"Wait babe you should wear my hoodie instead it will look good and we can be matching" he says

"What's with you and us matching" you say

"I just like being able to go places matching with my beautiful girlfriend because then people know your mine and they don't try to steal you from me" he explains

"Well in that case I'll happily wear your hoodie especially if it makes you happy" you say

"It very much makes me happy" he smiles as you put the hoodie on

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leggy-fish · 11 months

Text

MAJOR SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE SPOILERS BELOW

Can we talk about that Prowler reveal? About the return of the infamous Prowler theme as this skinny, lanky shape sits perched atop a ceiling beam (in the exact same position as the Prowler in the first film) before dropping to the ground. The close-up shot of the Jordans as he approaches Miles. The untied shoelaces. The spray-painted symbol. The theme's sudden change in pitch sounds like screams. You can tell who lies underneath the mask long before it slides off. The real shock doesn't come from learning who he is, but from seeing what he's become.

#my mouth was agape for every twist #CINNAMONTOGRAPHY #atsv spoilers #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse #marvel #miles morales #prowler

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Text

In Limbo [Prologue]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist

| mafia!Simon x fem!Reader - violence, death, gambling, gang/mafia violence |

Everyone knew not to ask the Riley brothers what they did after dark. Don’t ask Tommy why he looks so skinny, and don’t ask Simon about the bruises on his hands and face; it’s better that way. Even if you did, neither of them would tell the truth, though they lied for different reasons. Tommy lied because he didn’t want anyone to ruin his fun. It was already bad enough with his brother getting on his ass about his addictions, he didn’t need anyone else trying to play hero for him. Besides, he was perfectly content couch surfing, drinking all his friend’s booze, and shooting up in order to numb anything that the alcohol couldn’t.

Simon only lied because he was ashamed.

But it wasn’t shame that stuck him in that boxing ring. No, it was something else. Loyalty, most likely. Servitude, more accurately. Whatever word that could be used to explain Simon Riley’s undying need to take care of his family, even at the cost of his own wellbeing. Even if that meant spilling someone else’s blood and destroying himself in the process.

It was difficult to hear the sound of his own thoughts in that room. Long abandoned, the pool house bounced around the voices of all the men looking down at him and the poor bastard he would have to fight. Nothing but cracked concrete walls surrounded him and his opponent as they stared at one another from opposite sides of the empty pool, sizing one another up. An announcer using a jerry-rigged auditory system mumbled something into the microphone about last call for bets that sent a few people scrambling. Maybe it was the dull, grey concrete prison he found himself in, but the men in charge had a way of making boxing feel like being put in the colosseum.

In five minutes, one of them would leave a bloody mess. Simon had every intention of leaving in one piece.

While he waited, Simon adjusted the wraps on his knuckles and the balaclava obscuring his face. He always refused to show his face in that place because the last thing he wanted was for any of that to come back and bite him in the ass. Underground boxing wasn’t the most legal thing in the world, but being a butcher wasn’t exactly a well paying job, either. The only reason he risked his life in that hole was because the winner got to take home twenty percent of the pot, and he had family to take care of.

Once everyone began to line the edge of the pool, Simon knew his five last minutes of preparation was almost up. Pressing one thick soled boot against the concrete at his back, he pushed himself off of the wall and towards the large spray painted circle that decorated the bottom of the pool. The line was drawn long ago and was so faded he had a difficult time telling the paint and the bloodstains apart. His contender mirrored his actions as he lazily sauntered up towards the ring, oozing a confidence Simon wasn’t sure was well founded.

The referee was a bored man who looked like he was nineteen going on forty. Out of all the spectators, he was the only one brave enough to sit down with his legs hanging over the side of the pool, despite how easy it would be to snap one of his scrawny legs should he get caught in the crossfire. Like all the other men who were in charge of the fight, he wore all black which made the silver whistle hanging around his neck all the more eye-catching.

“Alright boys,” he shouted over the commotion swirling around them, “you know the rules.”

Both men nodded before turning their attention to one another where they took their last few seconds to fully size one another up. Simon was taller, but that wasn’t exactly anything new. He was always well aware that his height and size was larger than the average man, but that rarely seemed to get anyone to shy away from fighting against him in the ring. His opponent had forgone his shirt, which was something Simon himself would have done if it wasn’t for the tattoos and other identifying marks he covered with the cloth on his back. Less clothes meant less things for someone to grab onto during the fight, but the man knew how to adapt. He wouldn’t have been alive that long if he didn’t learn to do that much.

Neither of them wasted any time getting to work the moment the whistle blew. His nameless opponent didn’t bother to wrap his hands, and he flaunted his tightly wound fists as he danced around the ring. Simon, however, was not that flamboyant, and instead chose to keep his arms guarding his face as he waited for either the man to make a move, or for an opportunity to attack. He had no need to show off, to prove himself to the people who bet on him; his only objective was to survive. To win.

The man’s first punch was slow. Sloppy, even. A quick duck of his head and adjustment of his hips had Simon avoiding the blow like it was child's play, and he responded with a quick and sharp jab to the man's exposed abdomen. The move got him a sharp grunt in response, followed by a half-assed punch intended for his face, but was easily blocked by Simon’s forearms. Bit by bit the fight started to pick up momentum. A quick jab on the right. A wide swing that sent one of the men ducking. Each blow was punctuated by roaring applause mixed with slight grimaces and groans from the audience.

Two minutes had passed and Simon had managed to receive a decent hit to his cheek, but his opponent suffered from a bloody nose that bled profusely, wetting the skin of his chest. His blood mixed with the rest of the stains that coated the concrete floor of the emptied pool, but neither man paid it any mind as they were too busy sizing up opening opportunities.

The crowd began to grow restless with the match, as fights usually only lasted a minute maximum if the fighters were good enough. They wanted their results. They needed their winner so that they could claim their share of the prize, should they be so lucky. Instead of continuing the fight, of picking up pace and doubling down, Simon’s opponent placed his hands on his hips with a heavy sigh. There was a slight pull to his lips, some sort of twisted grin that Simon refused to trust.

“Look… I really need that money.”

Now that was new. Simon was no veteran in the career of illegal underground boxing, but he had never seen or heard of anyone begging to win. Refusing to let his guard down, he stayed braced as he watched the man take a step forward, his movement far too confident to be grounded in good will.

Though Simon hadn’t been expecting anything friendly from the man, he certainly didn’t expect something as insidious as him pulling a pocket knife from the pants of his jeans. Its edge glistened deadly in the dull lights of the pool house, and he couldn’t stop the way his eyes widened at the sight of it. A deafening uproar sounded from the crowd at the blatant display of rule breaking, and the referee blew his whistle in an attempt to halt the fight.

“The fuck did I say about following rules?” the man shouted after letting the whistle drop from his lips. “Give that here before you get yourself hurt.”

Despite the man’s warning, no one exactly rushed to defend Simon. Not that he could blame them. They weren’t the ones stuck in that pool with that man. They were perfectly safe and had no intention of spilling their guts just to save their entertainment.

Ignoring the referee, the man continued to stalk closer to Simon who refused to waver even in the threat of the glinting blade in the man's hand. It was a beautiful knife, obviously well loved and kept without a single hint of rust or other ailment. But Simon knew knives, and he knew them well enough to know that the grip the man used was not the telltale sign of a man who was confident in his abilities. Just as sloppy as his punches were, his grip was that of a novice, someone desperate for an easy way out.

“Just step outta the ring,” the man said as he approached close enough to Simon that he was within reaching distance. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

Simon didn’t even bother giving the man a reply, and he certainly didn’t wait around for him to make the first move with a knife in his hand. Instead, he grabbed the blade by hand, taking great care to avoid putting the edge along the fleshy part of his palm as he did so, and used his other hand to twist the man's wrist into submission. His yelp cut through the shouting of the crowd around them as Simon yanked the knife out of his feeble grip and then swung him to the side. Blood and bone crunched on the cement of the pool wall as the man’s already tender nose collided with the rough and unforgiving surface.

“Sorry mate,” Simon said as he watched the man’s face slide down the wall, “shoulda fought harder.”

Violent cheering and shouts brought a whole new deafening sound to the crowded room as those who betted on Simon reveled in their win. The man himself stood in the center of the ring as a few workers surrounded his opponent, all roughly grabbing him and yanking him out of the hole, certainly to drag him off to teach him a lesson. Boxers dying during fights wasn’t exactly good for business, and those who placed bets usually got pretty sour when their lucky contestant was too injured to play.

Folding up the pocket knife and shoving it into his pocket to keep as a souvenir, Simon turned towards the pool ladder where he quickly yanked himself up out of that bloody hole. Several people were brave enough to give him a pat on the back as he cut through the crowd, but most others stared at him with slight terror and the respect he deserved.

He had won, and that was the only thing he cared about.

Things were significantly more quiet in the cash room. What used to be a locker room had been turned into something of a makeshift bank with large, heavy duty safes that housed all the cash from that evening's bettings, as well as everything left over from previous weekends. As Simon was the victor, he got priority on the dispersal of money, which meant he found himself standing for quite some time in front of a rickety folding table while the banker, so to speak, counted out his winnings by hand.

Eight thousand was how much he would take home that night. With a minimum required bet of five hundred, and then some choosing to place even higher bets, his payout was always eye-catching, though usually took some time to count out. Not that he was in a hurry or anything, certainly not at that time of night. He didn’t have anyone waiting for him back home, anyway.

“Ghost?”

Unlike most of the other fighters, Simon refused to reveal not only his face but his name as well. In fact, he had peeved the sign up rep a little when he refused to give the man his proper name and in some sort of fit of annoyance he was given the name Ghost. It was a name that had gotten him laughed at when he had first stepped in that bloodied pool as he was seen as nothing but some stupid boy who dreamed too much of being in the WWE. After a few matches, people learned to respect both the name and the man behind the mask.

Simon turned around to face who spoke to him and wasn’t much too surprised to find a well dressed man with an easy smile. He stood only an inch or two shorter than him, which was something to notice, and he could catch a slight whiff of expensive, woody cologne mixed with tobacco. Though that abandoned pool house was meant for the grunts, it wasn’t rare to find the occasional well off business man or two feeding into their gambling addictions with something a bit more bloody than your average horse race.

“Yeah?” Simon responded as if bored.

Much to his surprise, the man held out his hand for him to shake. He was quick to notice the watch band on his wrist, though it wasn’t as expensive as Simon had anticipated it to be. Still, he courteously took his hand as he allowed the man to introduce himself.

“John Price. That was some good fighting you did down there,” he congratulated as they both returned their hands to their sides. It was obvious the man wasn’t from the area based on his accent. London, Simon guessed, which was quite a ways away from Manchester.

Simon hummed as he quickly glanced over his shoulder. The sudden quietness hadn’t been lost on him as every soul in that room eyed John Price with suspicion. Even the bank guards looked apprehensive despite how obviously armed they were. He turned his attention back to John as he gestured to the table behind him.

“Too excited to wait patiently for your winnings?” he asked.

John laughed, and it rumbled deep in his chest as he glanced down at the ground with a friendly smile. “No, my wife doesn’t like it when I gamble. I came here to offer you a job.”

It was as if the ambiance of the room itself silenced the very moment those words left John’s mouth. Anyone shuffling and counting cash ceased, as did their breathing by the sound of it. There didn’t seem to be any insidious intent or tone behind the man's voice, and yet his offer stopped the very turning of the world.

“Must be an interestin’ job if you’re scoutin’ in a place like this,” Simon noted.

“Interesting and well paying,” John agreed. “I think it would be a shame to let those talents of yours go to waste.”

Talents? Simon nearly laughed at the compliment. He wasn’t a trained fighter by any means, just obnoxiously big and brutally strong in a way that most other people never had the misfortune of being. There were very few reasons why Simon would want to turn to a life like that, a life full of nothing but violence and fighting, and simply being offered decent pay was not one of them.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m interested,” he said as he turned his attention back to the man at the table. Apparently he had finished counting his winnings quite some time ago because he held the stack of cash in his hands out for him impatiently, almost as if he begged Simon to leave.

Relieving the man of whatever awkward tension had built up in his body, Simon took the cash and quickly shuffled through it before tossing a few bills back as a tip. The man muttered a soft thanks before his gaze turned back to John Price. Whoever this man was, no one else seemed to trust him even with his kind demeanor.

“Have a good night,” he said to John with a simple nod.

Just as Simon walked to the side of the man, he put his hand up in front of his chest, forcing him to stop in his tracks. That same hand then slowly snaked into the pocket of his pants, and he half expected him to pull some sort of weapon on him for denying his offer. Wouldn’t have been the first time that night. Instead, John pulled out a small, rectangular card, which he held out for Simon.

“Take this before you go. In case you change your mind,” John insisted.

Simon stared at the card for a long moment, studying its features. It was nothing but plain white cardstock with a phone number handwritten on one side, which was oddly simple for someone with a powerful aura. It was almost like the man had scribbled it down before he even entered the building, as if he had anticipated Simon’s rejection. Seeing no harm in taking the card, and also wanting to get the man off his back as soon as possible so he could go home, he took the item and shoved it in his pocket.

“Just know that if you do decide to change your mind, I always take care of my men. Always,” John said, his eyes unwavering.

Unconvinced, Simon gave the man a curt nod. “Sure,” he responded gruffly before he turned to leave John Price and that dilapidating building far behind him.

Simon didn’t take his balaclava off until he was halfway home. Well, the house he grew up in as a child wasn’t exactly home anymore, but his mother still lived there, and that was close enough. It hadn’t changed much since he was younger; it still had the floral patterned curtains and the cement stairs with the railing that squeaked as he approached the front door. The inside had changed considerably, though. Significantly less toys than he remembered, and his mother was able to keep it more tidy since the death of his addict father.

When he reached the kitchen, he flipped the light on and did a quick glance around the room. Several hand washed dishes sat neatly in a drying rack next to the sink, and the fridge was adorned with old photographs of him and his brother Tommy from when they were younger. Annoying bastard used to be cute back then.

Digging his hands into his pocket, Simon pulled out the cash he had earned that night and began to shuffle through the bills. Six thousand would have been plenty for him to live off of for a little while in addition to what he already made at work as a butcher. His mom could use the extra two thousand, although she’d chastise him and attempt to give it back to him. No, maybe he should give her three thousand just in case his brother came around asking her for cash. Begging seemed to be a bad habit of his.

“Tommy?”

Simon stopped in his tracks when the sound of his mothers tired voice cut across the quiet kitchen. She stood in the doorway with a hand bracing against the wall while she attempted to squint into the bright light of the room. Surprisingly, her hair was kept fairly well despite her having been roused from sleep, though her pajamas had been wrinkled from her tossing and turning throughout the night.

“Oh, Simon,” she said in surprise. “Everything alright sweetie?”

He felt like a kid again getting caught red handed trying to steal snacks at some ungodly hour, except instead of stealing he attempted to give something. It was too late to shove the cash into his pocket and pretend he was there for some other reason, her eyes had clearly scanned the bundle in his hands as soon as she had made herself known. Instead of drawing more attention to it than had already been done, Simon continued to count out the cash like it was of no importance.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he spoke softly. It didn’t take him much longer to count the amount he wanted to give to her, and once he was finished he set it in a neat pile on the counter before shoving the remaining amount deep into his pocket. “Just droppin’ something off real quick. Go back to bed, mum.”

Ignoring his request, she continued further into the room as she made her way to the fridge where cold air soon brushed against Simon’s arm as she searched around in the freezer. It wasn’t long before she pulled out a bag of frozen peas and shoved it his way, all but forcing it into his hand.

“If you ice it now the swelling should go down by Monday,” she said while her eyes watched him meticulously.

Sighing, Simon turned so that his hips leaned against the counter while he pressed the cold bag of peas against his eye. The pain from the impact was hardly there, and it felt more like a dull throb than anything else, but he supposed nothing could beat a mother’s intuition. Not like it would have mattered if his eye did swell up. There were very few people he visited, and he always hid in the back of the butcher shop when he worked.

“You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself, Simon,” she sighed as she shut the freezer door. Despite her short stature, she stared up at her son with her hands on her hips to scold him as if he was still a child and not a twenty-six year old man. “Whatever money you’re making from this isn’t worth what you’re putting your body through.”

“It is if it helps get you through the month,” he retorted bluntly. Crackling plastic sounded as he adjusted the bag on his face. His fingertips already ached from holding the ice cold object.

“I know your mother is getting closer to being a helpless old lady, but I’m not there quite yet,” she chuckled. “I’m not going to be living out on the streets, sweetie.”

“You will be if you keep givin’ money to Tommy as often as you do.”

It was difficult for her to come up with a response because deep down Mrs. Riley knew her son was right, even though she didn’t want him to be. The oldest of her two sons grew skinnier and more pallid every time she saw him, and the only thing he ever seemed interested in consuming was cash. His expensive diet was insatiable, and she didn’t have the fortitude to deny him his favorite meal.

“If he comes around again, tell him to come talk to me,” Simon continued. By that point his cheek felt completely numb and he hastily pulled the frozen bag of peas off his face in order to offer his skin a little reprieve from the biting cold. “Kick him out if you have to. Unless he’s tryin’ to sit for tea, he doesn’t need to be harassing you for money.”

There wasn’t much more to be said for their late night kitchen conversation. Sleep pulled heavy at his mothers eyes, and all Simon wanted to do was wash away the filth of that night down the drain. So he placed the bag of peas back in the freezer before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. They quietly muttered their goodbyes before Simon quickly slipped out of the kitchen and towards the exit. His hand had hardly brushed against the dull, brass door knob before he heard her call out to him from the kitchen doorway once more.

“Stay safe, Simon.”

Hesitating for only a moment, he continued to twist at the knob until the door swung open and the night air seeped into the entryway. He glanced over his shoulder and looked to where his mother’s small frame stood, blocking the illumination from the kitchen. A small smile appeared on his lips, but his face felt too numb to give her something more proper.

“Always.”

The thing about Simon Riley was that his hands were always dirty. No matter how much pink tinged water swirled down the drain, he could never quite get the stench of death and raw muscle out of his skin. But that was alright. Men like him, large and burly and utterly terrifying, were meant to be that way. Hidden in the back of butcher shops, transforming once living creatures into something so unrecognizable that the average person would be able to stomach consuming something that once looked at the same stars as them.

Just as Simon had finished washing and drying his hands, the small pitter-patter of feet caught his attention. Looking up from his station, he caught sight of Meara, the young girl who ran the register up front. She was kind enough yet always seemed eternally bored with the work at the shop, but her usual dull expression was replaced with one of slight concern. Meara leaned against the doorway and jammed her thumb over her shoulder as she cleared her throat.

“There’s someone up front asking for you,” she said. “He’s uh… very adamant about speaking to you.”

Sounded about right. It was a Monday, and for some reason that usually attracted the frustrated white collar workers and the absolute loons. Simon tossed his paper towel into the bin next to the sink before following Meara up front where he was met with neither office worker nor freak but his own brother. Each time Simon saw Tommy, he looked worse with gauntly cheekbones and heavy sunken eyes. His skin was so pale it looked as if it had been rotting for some time, and yet he still smiled at Simon as if nothing was wrong.

“Simon, hey man,” Tommy greeted as he placed his hands on the counter. His scuffed knuckles didn’t go unnoticed, but Simon didn’t bother to mention it. “How’s work?”

“What do you want?” he questioned, skipping the pleasantries and getting straight to the point. “Got tired of freeloadin’ off of mum?”

Whatever kind persona Tommy wore quickly morphed into something a bit more desperate at his little brother’s comment and he slumped forward over the counter. He was close enough that Simon could smell his breath; it was as if he had rotting flesh stuck in his teeth.

“Come on, Simon,” he said, nearly begging, “I know it sounds bad, but I just- this is serious alright? Look, I couldn’t tell mum because she’d freak the fuck out, but I… I owe some guys a bit of money, and they’re getting a little impatient with me.”

Feet shuffled behind Simon as Meara not-so-secretly eavesdropped. Papers slapped against one another as she messed about, pretending to be busy when he knew that she didn’t have any work to be done. Ignoring it, he kept his attention on his brother, and more importantly the bit of information he had dropped.

“How much?” he asked.

Sweating, Tommy rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I’d just need a couple hundred to keep them off my back for a while.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” Simon snapped. “How much, Tom?”

Avoiding his gaze, Tommy looked down at the counter. “Seventy five.”

“Hundred?” Simon pressed.

“Thousand.”

Simon nearly laughed at the absurdity of the number. He was well aware his brother was an idiot, but he never imagined he would get into that much trouble. Tommy refused to look at him, which gave Simon the time he needed to get his thoughts together and stay as level headed as possible, lest he scare Meara.

“How the fuck did you manage that?” Simon asked as he kept his voice low.

“That’s not important right now,” Tommy retorted, though he backed off when he saw the glare his brother gave him. “I-It’s a long story, I can explain later but right now I need you to help me. Please.”

A small bell rang with the opening of the shop door and Tommy anxiously turned around to greet the two men like he knew them by their presence alone. Both men were dressed similarly with large bulky coats that Simon knew couldn’t be hiding anything good. Neither brother had time to react before one of the men threw a punch that hit Tommy’s diagram. All the air in his lungs left him with a pitiful heave before he was promptly shoved onto the cold linoleum. Meara’s gasp came shortly after followed by what sounded like a sob when the other man pulled out a knife and pointed it towards Simon in a warning.

“Let’s not get any ideas,” the man chuckled as his partner sauntered over to Tommy’s crumpled form on the floor.

Stuck on the other side of the counter, Simon’s eyes flickered between the two men in assessment. Average height and build, neither of them were all too intimidating and yet they both sauntered into the shop like they owned the place. The man who stood above Tommy chuckled as he knelt down to his height like some ravenous beast ready to eat his meal. This was Simon’s work, but this was their territory.

“Time’s up,” he said as he held his hand out, but all Tommy could do in response was sputter and attempt to catch his breath. “Do you have the cash or not?”

Suddenly, Simon was in that empty pool again with its cracked cement walls and stained floor. Adrenaline pumped through his body so furiously the only thing he could hear was his brothers groaning and the blood rushing in his ears. He could freeze up. He could stand there and watch his brother get beat to a pulp or stabbed beyond recognition. It was easy to give in to fear, to be nothing but a helpless bystander, but it wasn’t in his nature. No, a man like Simon Riley would do the thing he did best: fight.

Mimicking his movements from the other night, Simon grabbed the blade of the knife with one hand and the thugs wrist with his other before bending them in opposite directions. A loud crunch reverberated through his hands as the man’s forearm shattered in his grip, causing the man to scream louder than anything he had heard in his life. There was nothing left in Simon’s grip than powdery bone and mushy meat. Yelping, Meara took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge, and she quickly dove through the doorway and into the back of the shop.

All it took was a simple shove to get the man to lose balance, and with him out of the way Simon was able to step around the counter. The man closest to his brother was no longer concerned with Tommy and instead turned his attention to Simon. He looked to his comrade who squirmed and moaned on the floor as he gripped his flopping arm, and it was in that moment that they finally realized they should have taken Simon seriously.

Cursing, the man fumbled with one of the pockets in his coat and Simon’s stomach dropped at the sight. This was the moment where the man would try and level the playing field by drawing his own weapon, and though Simon was strong, no amount of fortitude would stop a speeding bullet. Bracing himself, Simon charged as fast as he could towards the man with his new weapon held tightly in his hand. Strong and powerful steps propelled him forward, and they collided seconds later where they both toppled to the ground right next to Tommy like dominos.

Ensuring that he was ready for whatever came next, Simon jumped to his feet and looked down at the man he had tackled. His breathing was short and sputtering, and at first he thought that was just because he had knocked the wind out of him; until he realized the knife was no longer in his hand. A long blade had been embedded into the thugs stomach and it fit so snugly as if it had never known any other home. All the man could do was lie there on his back with his hands pawing at his abdomen as if he could will the pain away. But nothing could get the blood to stop oozing from the wound.

Simon had just washed his hands.

“Fucking… Jesus fucking… holy shit,” Tommy stuttered, still gasping for air. “Simon… oh my god, he’s gonna fuckin’ die. W-What do… what do we do?”

Simon’s heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest, and each thump rattled painfully throughout his entire body. Both intruders laid on the ground, one still half conscious moaning in pain over his arm, and the other slowly losing the light in his eyes. It was then that Simon realized he was scared. Terrified, even, but he had a difficult time deducing what had spooked him. The fact that he had killed a man, or the realization that taking a life was just as easy as butchering a pig?

Ignoring his brother, Simon dug around in his pocket where he quickly pulled out his phone and a small card. He wasn’t sure why he still even had that useless piece of scrap that John Price had given him. Maybe he lugged it around because he knew that there was no escaping a life of violence, no matter how fast he ran. He unlocked his phone and hastily punched the numbers on the keypad before bringing it up to his ear. The line rang for so long he was a little worried no one would pick up, but eventually it stopped and the silky smooth voice of John Price came through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“This is Ghost,” Simon answered. His voice was terrifyingly calm despite the fresh corpse that rested on the ground next to him. “That job offer still on the table?”

here's our little introduction for the boy. still not quite sure how i feel about it, and updates will be slow to come, but i'm excited to get more of his lore out there. hope you all enjoyed. we'll get to see reader in the next part

#mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #in limbo

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nishimuramp4 · 15 days

Text

untitled #1

synopsis: your roommate riki is a little messy, very annoying, but relatively normal. sometimes, though, you find that he acts very strange...

content warnings: unrealistic sex, dubcon, blood, mild body horror

The faucet had been left on again, a gentle yet steady stream of water draining into the kitchen sink. You sighed, twisted the knob, and called, “Riki!” behind your shoulder.

Soon, Riki walked into the room, leaning his elbows on the counter space in front of the sink. “What is it?” he asked, feigning innocence. As if you couldn’t see the smirk twitching on the corner of his lips.

“Stop leaving the water on,” you admonished. “This is the third time this week I’ve had to tell you to turn it off after you're done with it."

Riki shrugged and reached over, twisting the knob again. You twisted it back, and he turned the water on again, snickering to himself. “You’re not funny,” you said.

Riki pointed at your lips. “Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m not,” you said, fighting a grin. If you didn’t put your foot down now, he would never learn. You maintained a stoic expression as best as you could. “Look, if you leave the water on, it’ll start to add up, and then we’ll have to pay more.”

“Please.” Riki waved his hand dismissively and straightened up, walking over to the bowl of lustrous fruit that tucked next to the paper towel holder. He picked up a ripe, red apple and moved to lean against the fridge, tossing the fruit from hand to hand. “You’re worrying too much. It’s just a little trickle of water, it’ll cost like five dollars extra, max.”

“Or,” you said slowly, “you could just turn the faucet off when you’re done using the sink.”

Riki rolled his eyes and took a bite out of the apple. Its juice dribbled down his lips, and he wiped it away with his thumb, sucking on the digit with an exaggerated pop. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to distract you. “Does it really bother you?”

“Wasting money bothers me,” you grumbled. “Now move. I need to get something out of the fridge.”

In true Nishimura fashion, he didn’t budge. Instead, Riki crossed his arms and grinned slightly at you before taking another bite of his apple. “I don’t wanna move,” he said, his voice taking on a childish cadence.

“Get out of the way,” you said. Riki was normally frustrating, but sometimes, he would drag a joke on for far too long. When you had first moved in together after meeting on a roommate app, he had pulled pranks on you, almost as if to set a precedent for his devilry. Riki had put spray foam on the mirror in the bathroom the two of you shared, replaced the knives you had brought with cheap plastic alternatives, and had stuck little pom-poms to the edges of all of the pieces of furniture in the home. Your kitchen table, the matching chairs, the small coffee table in your miniscule living room: all adorned with multicoloured pom-poms. You had grown accustomed to them, so you didn’t bother peeling them off.

Riki sank his teeth into his apple once more, no longer bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk. “Nope.”

Groaning, you tried to pry him off the fridge yourself. “Get off.”

Despite his lithe, skinny frame, Riki was strong and easily pulled you away. One hand held you in place. Riki lowered his head towards yours, widening his eyes. “What’s the magic word?” His tone was condescending, as though he were a teacher and you were a child.

“Fuck off?”

“That’s two words,” Riki said, using the same patronizing voice. “Come on, just one word.”

You sighed. “Please?”

Riki let go of you and stood away from the fridge, choosing to prop himself up against the kitchen counter. “Was that so hard?”

Mumbling expletives under your breath, you picked out a few vegetables. Fried rice had been on your mind for a while, and your stomach was starting to growl.

“What are you making?” Riki asked, following your movements as you procured a bamboo cutting board and one of the flimsy, hot pink plastic kitchen knives Riki had bought.

“I’m making fried rice,” you said. “You can starve, though.” Wielding the knife, you began to cut into a medium-sized carrot. Chopping vegetables was a laborious, painstakingly slow process now because of Riki. When you cut anything now, the pieces always end up jagged. You had tried to negotiate, but Riki was adamant on keeping these stupid novelty cutlery pieces. Whatever. It wasn’t the only weird trait of his that you had had to tolerate.

Through a mouthful of apple, Riki said, “You wouldn’t let me starve.”

“I would,” you said, eyebrows knitting in concentration.

“Don’t be mean,” Riki murmured. Hands hung loosely around your neck, and Riki’s scent permeated your nostrils. His chest pressed lightly against your back, startling you. The knife slipped, and you nicked your index finger.

“Ah!” You stared at the small bead of blood pooling at its tip in annoyance. “Look at what you made me do,” you began, but the look on Riki’s face was enough to stop you in your tracks. His lips were contorted into a grimace, and he had ripped his arms away from you. His eyes, too, were fixed on your finger.

“Band-aid,” he said quietly. “You need one.” With that, Riki stumbled out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom.

You shook your head and ran your fingertip under cool water from the sink, watching the redness spill into the clear liquid. It was more of a shock that you hadn’t cut yourself before, given what you had to work with.

Riki came back less than a minute later, thrusting the box of band-aids in your direction. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Could you open a bandaid for me? Don’t wanna get blood everywhere.” You turned off the water and blotted your fingertip with a paper towel.

“Sure,” Riki said, his voice thin. He nearly dropped the box of bandages as he hastily tried to peel apart the strips of paper covering the bandaid. “Uh, finger. Give me your finger.”

“Weird phrasing,” you said with a slight laugh. You held your finger up and Riki hesitated to apply the bandage. A trickle of blood slipped down your pointer. “Riki? What are you doing?”

Riki’s eyes were fixed on your finger, but he blinked and pressed the bandaid unceremoniously onto the cut. “There,” he said. “Saved the day.” Riki swallowed and looked at his half-eaten apple. He washed his hands in the sink and ate his apple furiously while you cleaned up the rest of your blood.

“Maybe if you let us have regular knives, this wouldn’t have happened,” you said. The plastic knife was dotted with some of your blood, but Riki took it from you, pocketing it.

“It’s contaminated,” Riki said. “I don’t want to taste blood in my food.”

“Don’t avoid the issue,” you said, rummaging in the drawers for another stupid knife. “I want a normal knife.”

“No way,” Riki replied. “You would have cut yourself ten times worse if you had used a normal knife.”

You pulled a knife out, this one a putrid bright yellow. “No, I cut myself because I used your stupid knife,” you said. “Can’t we just g-,”

Riki’s voice rose suddenly, the first time he had ever sounded angry. “Drop it,” he said. “Please.”

You turned to gauge his body language, and Riki didn’t look mad. He looked scared, with pleading eyes. “Please,” he repeated.

“Fine,” you relented, getting to your feet.

Riki plucked the yellow knife out of your grasp and pushed you out of the way. “I’ll cut these,” he said, gesturing at the vegetables. “You go do… something else.”

“I’m not an invalid,” you said.

“It’s my apology,” Riki said. “Go lie down or read a book or something, I don’t know. I’ll make dinner tonight.”

You grimaced. “Riki…”

“Go,” he insisted sharply.

“Fine,” you said, walking towards your bedroom.

Riki was a decent roommate, but he could be ridiculously immature sometimes. The knives, the stupid decorations, and the way he avoided you when you were on your period. It was like he was a middle-schooler. He insisted that you dispose of your hygienic products as quickly as possible, citing the smell as the problem. “I wouldn’t leave my cumrags everywhere,” he had said, pointing vehemently at the small trash can in the bathroom. “So you can clean up your…shit.”

“Not even close to being the same thing,” you had said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll start leaving my used cumsocks everywhere, then,” he had said. Unfortunately, Riki had made good on his promise, leaving a single, worn, wet sock on the bathroom floor. Not willing to fight a war of attrition with a young adult male, you had taken to tossing out the trash every day when you were on your period.

An hour later, Riki called you into the kitchen. He had set the kitchen table for two, a spoon and a steaming bowl of fried rice on your placemat. "Done," he said, settling into his chair. He nodded at you. "Eat."

You begrudgingly ate the food. It was fine, but it was almost impossible to ruin fried rice. As you ate, you noticed that his gaze continued to flicker over to your bandaged finger.

After dinner, which has remained unusually terse, you retired to your room. Riki and you shared an amicable friendship, but you liked to have your alone time. You spent the rest of your night lounging on your bed, reading a fantasy novel that you had been putting off.

Once you noticed yourself beginning to yawn, you changed into your nightclothes and crawled into bed. Despite your fatigue, sleep refused to come. You tossed and turned, punched your pillow, and even tried slow, meditative breathing. Nothing.

As you lay there, burrowed under your blanket, you heard something from Riki's room. The apartment was laid out so that your bedrooms were on one side of the hallway and the bathroom and laundry room were on the other. You had the room closest to the living room, and your bed was pressed against the wall separating your room with Riki's.

It wasn't like Riki didn't make noise at night. Sometimes, he would wake you up while he played an online game with his friends, or you would hear his light snoring.

This wasn't like those times. Muffled sighs were emanating from his room, and you could hear his quilt rustling. As you listened, you realized that the sighs weren't sighs, but quiet moans.

You took your ear away from the wall, bristling in embarrassment. Normally, the two of you could be quiet. At the very least, Riki had never teased you about you pleasuring yourself, so you figured you were decent at hiding it. To his credit, despite his allusions to jerking off, you had never caught him either. Until now.

When you checked your phone, you saw that it was around 2 in the morning. He probably thought you were asleep, which was why his moans were growing louder. Riki almost sounded like he was in pain, and his bed creaked underneath him.

Against your better judgment, you pressed your ear against the wall once more, biting your lip. You wondered who he was thinking about. Riki had started working straight out of school, but you knew he had friends. Maybe it was one of them? Or a female celebrity? A male celebrity? Your mind worked overtime, trying to figure out who Riki could be getting off to.

Riki's breathing turned into a stream of panting and moaning, unsuccessfully smothered by his hand or blanket or whatever he was using. It was dark in your room, dark enough that your imagination was quick to fill in the gaps. You imagined his hand pumping his cock, his plush lips parting as he let out desperate whimpers, the sheen of sweat that had surely formed on his forehead.

You weren't crazy. You knew that you lived with an objectively attractive man, but you refused to act on it. The living arrangement you had now suited you well, and a relationship could only complicate things. You were sure he felt the same way.

Which is why his breathy whimper of your name caught you off guard. Heat nipped at your core, and you waited for him to say it again. Instead, the shuffling of fabric stopped, Riki's breathing began to even out, and the air was once again filled with silence.

"You imagined it," you told yourself. "Freak."

You didn't fall asleep for hours, rubbing your thighs together. You refused to get off to your roommate.

In the morning, you dragged yourself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. Riki was already there, eating a piece of toast slathered with strawberry jam.

"Morning," you said.

Riki waved at you. "How'd you sleep?"

"Badly," you said, rubbing your eyes. "You?"

"Pretty well," Riki said, chewing on his breakfast as he scrolled through his phone.

You popped two pieces of bread into the toaster oven and yawned. You wanted to tell Riki that it was partially his fault you couldn't sleep, but you figured he would manage to misconstrue it into you being the weird one.

"If you stopped looking at Draco fanfiction, you'd sleep better," Riki said without looking up.

"What makes you think I read that?" you asked haltingly.

"A hunch," he replied.

"Yeah, well, maybe you'd sleep better if you..." you faltered.

"Take your time."

"Oh, fuck you, I'm too tired," you said, putting the toast on a saucer and shuffling to the kitchen table. Before you could use the plastic knife to spread the jam, Riki took your plate. He hastily spread globs of jam onto your bread before setting the plate in fromt of you.

"You take too long when you do it," Riki said, avoiding eye contact.

"Doing the cooking, helping me make breakfast, what's next for you?" You tried to lighten the mood, or you would be forced to contend with the uneasiness lining Riki's forehead.

"Don't get used to it," Riki said.

"Wasn't going to in the first place," you replied, eating your toast.

"Whatever," Riki mumbled. "Oh, I'm going to the grocery store after work. Text me if you need anything."

"Will do," you said.

"And try not to get hurt," he said, standing up. He put his plate in the dishwasher.

"No promises."

Riki groaned and left the kitchen.

You spent the day reading, studying, watching TV, and doing household chores. You always loved it when you got the house to yourself, and today was no exception. Finally, you could release some of the pent-up tension you had been carrying since last night.

You managed to get off without thinking about Riki, and afterwards you took a well-deserved, orgasm-induced nap. When you woke up, you remembered that you still hadn't unloaded the dishwasher.

The cutlery went first, and you grimaced at the sight of the various plastic knives. Then you handled the plates. You recognized one of them as the saucer that Riki had used that morning, which made you think about last night. The way he had said your name, voice muffled and hoarse. Just the thought of it shot desire throughout your body, and you banged your head into the edge of the cupboard. Luckily, you managed to put the plate on the counter before you slipped to the floor. Otherwise, you'd have a broken saucer to deal with, too.

Getting to your feet, you made your way into the bathroom. You assessed the damage in the mirror with a grimace. It would probably develop into a goose egg later on, so it was imperative that you stopped the swelling now lest you develop a garish-looking bump. You retrieved a small hand-towel from the little cupboard above the towel and mopped up some of the blood. The ice packs were all in the freezer, so you stepped out into the hallway.

There, you were greeted with Riki, who had seemingly materialized out of thin air. He was staring at you with narrowed eyes, lips pressed into a line. "You got hurt again," he said in an almost accusatory tone.

"Not like I meant to," you muttered. "Now move, I need an ice pack."

"Let me see," Riki said, and before you could protest he tore the stained towel away from your face and cast it aside. With no buffer, your blood dripped freely down your face, tickling your skin during its descent. You could see Riki's Adam apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously, eyes trained on the trickle of blood.

"How'd you do it?"

"Walked into a cupboard."

"Idiot," Riki muttered. His hands fell to your shoulders, lightly squeezing them. His gaze was starting to grow unsettling; you realized that you hadn't seen him blink once.

"Let me go," you said, squirming. "I'm gonna bleed everywhere." You could feel the blood sliding down to the tip of your nose.

"Just..." Riki leaned in and licked a stripe from the tip of your nose to its bridge. You gasped, a flurry of goosebumps painting your back. "Sorry," he whispered. Empty apology. He did it again, his tongue flicking over your face again. His grip grew tighter as he licked all the way to the scar, lapping up your blood. As he did so, he groaned softly.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

When he pulled away to look at you, his mouth was smeared with your blood and his saliva. Riki licked his lips and shivered. His hands dug into your shoulders, his nails sharp even through your shirt. Too sharp. You looked down at them and gasped once more. His hands, which were so pretty and slender, had become gnarled, his fingernails elongating and solidifying into something else. You rubbed your eyes, but the sight didn't go away.

"Sorry," Riki said again. "I'm sorry..." His tongue swirled around the wound on your forehead, and you noted that it felt different. It felt thicker, less soft, more like an appendage than a squishy piece of muscle. As he licked the scar, Riki hooked his leg behind yours and took you down to the floor of the hallway. He pressed his body weight against yours so that you were pinned underneath him.

Riki kneeled over top of you, his breathing growing laboured. He wiped his mouth with his ever-thickening hand. He parted his lips as if to say something, but all that came out was a low growling noise.

His body continued to undergo fantastical changes. Every inch of skin darkened into an inky blackness. He was already tall, but his spine cracked and groaned as Riki grew. He was now around 8 feet tall. His torso expanded, tearing through his shirt. The sinews of his shoulders became visible, and the hard outline of his abs looked embossed on his new body.

His pants were the next to be ripped to shreds, as his legs went from thin yet muscular to large and bulky. Riki's hard cock was equally as obsidian, imposing, and hopelessly inhuman as the rest of him. Besides its unnatural length and girth, the underside of it was ridged with little bumps.

You were dreaming. You had to be because this didn't make sense. Generally speaking, cute boys didn't turn into monsters.

Riki, if you could still call him that, ran one finger along your shirt, from its neck to its hem. Then he roughly dragged his claw all the way up, ripping your shirt in half. You yelped and moved to cover yourself, but Riki let out a noise that could only be described as animalistic. He shoved your hands away and tore the rest of your shirt off of you. Your bra was discarded in a similar manner, and your nipples immediately hardened from the chill.

One of his massive hands kneaded your tits, eliciting another growl from him. Just one hand was enough to cover your entire breast. The other clawed at your pants, leaving them in tatters. He stripped the fabric off of you, finally leaving you in just a thin pair of panties.

Riki dragged his claw along the waistband of your panties, then he trailed it onto your still clothed clit. You whimpered pathetically at his touch, writhing underneath him.

"Riki," you pleaded, "what are you doing?" You kept telling yourself that it was a dream, but the sulfuric scent wafting into your nostrils was all too visceral. The wetness starting to soak through your panties was also real.

He took off your panties with a bit of more delicacy, making a cut down the middle and peeling them off with a wet, sticky noise. Seemingly having his fill with your blood, Riki lowered his head to your pussy and started to lap at your clit. His dexterous, thick tongue felt amazing on the sensitive nub, and you moaned. Satisfied that you wouldn't run away, Riki moved his hands to your thighs, holding them lightly in place. His tongue, feeling twice as long with the average human's, alternated between teasing your clit and probing its way inside of your pussy. It flicked upwards just enough to reach the gummy wall of your G-spot, forcing more moans out of you.

You didn't think Riki in this form would have been particularly occupied by your pleasure, but given the way he fucked his tongue into your pussy, it was clear that he fully intended on bringing you to the brink. His hair was still normal, so you tangled your fingers inside the black locks as you enjoyed the sensations. If this were a dream, it was a pretty fun one after all.

Riki sucked and licked your clit, causing a pleasurable heat to rise within you. Your hips bucked into his mouth as you anticipated your orgasm. Then, forcefully, a wave of sheer, white-hot ecstasy washed over you, stars flashing in front of your eyes. Never had you ever had a climax so powerful, so delicious. Riki kept lapping up your juices as you came, and you tugged at his hair weakly to get him to stop. He continued, and you whined, the overstimulation growing painful.

"Riki," you said, pulling his hair again. "Stop..." You sat upright and tried to catch your breath.

He lifted his head up, and to your surprise, he was smirking. So, even as a creature, he was still an annoying brat. You rolled your eyes at him, which he responded to by pressing his moist lips against yours. Immediately, Riki's tongue shoved itself inside of your mouth, slithering down your throat; his hands continued playing with your tits. Slowly, he pushed you down once more onto the cold tile.

You could feel his stiff, barbed cock pressing against you and you grimaced. There was no way he was going to be able to fit that inside you all the way, was there?

Riki seemed intent on finding out. Parting your legs again, he jammed the tip of his cock into your pussy, working it in carefully. At the slightest bit of friction, he moaned deeply. He was thick, almost too thick. Just the tip made your toes curl. As he adjusted to your pussy, he sucked on your nipples, one after the other. He bit them and pulled at them with his abnormally sharp teeth.

He stuffed about half of his length into you before starting to move. Even half of him filled you nicely, stretching out your walls. It had been so long since you had done anything, and you welcomed the pleasure. The barbs on his cock only added to the sensation.

Riki started to ram his hips into you faster. His claws dug into your waist, and his head was thrown back as he let out guttural moans. He jammed more of his cock into you, and you screamed.

"Too much," you said. "It hurts, Riki." But it was as if he couldn't hear you anymore. Instead, he only quickened his pace. He placed one knee on the ground, balancing his other leg on the ball of his foot. He held your hands, now tiny in his grasp, and used this new position to better pound into you. Riki brought you onto his cock over and over again. Every time he went deeper, you could feel more of the barbs dragging along your sensitive walls. His balls, which were heavy and hung low, slapped against your thighs.

You cried out again, tears running down your face. It hurt so badly, but it felt so, so good. Riki was treating you like a ragdoll, pushing you around, doing whatever he wanted with you. He dropped your hands and spun you around so that your boobs pressed against the floor. Your hands splayed out onto the tile, desperately searching for purchase.

Grabbing your ass using both of his hands, he effortlessly pushed you up and down on his length yourself. Despite the pain you were already feeling from his monstrous dick, he still hadn't plunged himself all the way inside yet. His tip pressed against your cervix, threatening its narrow opening.

You hadn't realized that you had been approaching another orgasm until electric shocks ravaged your body. You bit your fist and shrieked into it as your pussy undulated against Riki's length. The different stimulations made you feel like you were touching a live wire.

This only spurred Riki on, and he drove himself even further into you. His cock breached your cervix and you screamed again. He was fucking your womb now, bulging your stomach with his long, hard cock. His claws dug so sharply into you that tears sprung to your eyes; your tits bounced painfully, and your ass hit against his groin with loud, lewd smacks. The sounds he made were like grunts, but stronger, more primordial, darker. Everything about him screamed power.

Riki pulled out of you only to slam himself back inside, tearing through your cervix with renewed vigor. He was crouched over your body, holding your legs above you. He drove himself inside of you slowly at first, then harshly. His grip around your ankles was as tight as a vice.

When his thrusts became erratic, you figured that he was close. With a final, primal cry, Riki came, pumping your womb full of his seed. He pulled out of you with a gasp and rolled onto his back. You were left to lie down your stomach, hyperventilating as you tried to regain your senses.

Curiously, you reached a finger down into the liquid pooling between your legs and examined it. It was black, much less viscous than regular cum, and it smelled of sulfur. You took a lick and spit it out immediately, as it tasted exactly how it smelled.

You glanced back at Riki, who was returning to normal. The blackness of his face faded to his usual, fleshy tone, although he was flushed all over. His body became wiry again, and the claws rescinded into his regular, short nails. His eyes had been squeezed shut, but when Riki opened them and looked at you, he winced.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. He pulled you over to him, resting your head on his chest. He sighed and rubbed your scalp. "I honestly am sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, do all that..."

"I'll consider forgiving you if you explain yourself," you said.

"Ugh, it's so cringe," Riki said. "I feel lame as shit talking about it. Fine. I'm a half demon on my dad's side."

You looked up at him, and he offered you a weak smile. "I know," he said, "it's stupid. But that's what I am. Normally, I can control my human form, but when demons become of age, and they uh, see or smell blood, it makes them, uh..."

"Horny?" you offered.

"Hungry," Riki said. "It makes us go kinda crazy."

"Is that why you replaced all the knives with fake ones?"

Riki nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. And why I can't be around you when you're on your period."

"Well, what would happen if you were?"

Riki screwed his mouth up as he thought. "I'd probably fuck you until you were passed out and while you were passed out and we'd have period sex for a week straight."

You shrugged. "I don't see a problem with this."

Riki snickered and kissed the top of your head. "Gross bitch."

"You're literally a creature."

Riki mock-gasped. "That's a slur." He tried to maintain a poker face for added effect but failed, laughing loudly. His laughter was always contagious, so you did the same.

Maybe, just maybe, being roommates with Riki wouldn't be so bad.

#riki nishimura smut #ni-ki smut #niki smut #niki enhypen smut

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rainbowbarnacle · 1 month

Note

Please make a tea post so I can save it especially the pineapple ice cubes I need more info

Oh, like, different teas I like to make? Okay! :D

🍍Pineapple Tea🍍

The way I do it is really simple:

Buy a giant jug of already-made tea (I like gold peak!)

Buy a carton of pineapple juice

Freeze the juice into cubes, pour a little of it in the tea for extra flavor

And that's it. That's aaaall you gotta do.

There's all kindsa ways you can dress it up, but nine times out of ten I just do this and drink it by the gallon when it's hot out.

If you wanna get fancy with it, feel free to cold brew your own black (or green) tea, add actual hunks of pineapple fruit in there, add some orange juice, add some honey, add some coconut milk or sweetened condensed milk, whatever sounds good! (Also, pairing pineapple tea with coconut cookies? SO GOOD.) Put mint in the pineapple cubes if you like mint! Add a bit of boiled ginger root or some brown sugar and cinnamon for a little kick! Heck, last summer I used blue peaflower star-shaped ice cubes just because they were pretty.

(Peaflower petals don't taste like much, but they make a GORGEOUS blue, and if you put something acidic in there like lemon juice IT TURNS PINK. :D)

🍓Strawberry Tea🍓

I find this stuff sort of difficult to find where I live, so often I go the same route as the pineapple tea: grab a jug of black tea, grab a jug of strawberry juice, (ocean spray has a really nice cran-strawberry one I like) freeze the juice, mix, and enjoy. Super simple.

If I can't find strawberry juice, I dice some strawberries up and put it in a jar with some water and a bit of sugar for a few hours, then add *that* to the tea. (heck, it's really nice all by itself!)

What goes with strawberry? ANY DANG THING YOU WANT. I am particularly fond of lychee. Jasmine tea and rose petals pair really well with it too. Again, if you like mint, it's *really* nice with strawberry. And you know how if you put black pepper on strawberries they taste even strawberrier? (If you haven't tried this, go do it, it's magic.) Same goes with the tea, add some peppercorns or a teeny bit of chili powder or some ginger.

If you wanna drink it hot or cold brew a batch of your own, here are some brands that are also nice:

1. Strawberry Sensation

2. Adagio Strawberry Tea (this is also where I got the peaflower petals)

3. Any of Lupicia's Strawberry Teas they are HEAVENLY

🍏Apple Tea🍏

As with the pineapple and strawberry teas, it's totally fine to just go find some ready-made tea and mix it with some apple cider or apple juice for tasty low spoons fun. If you drink it iced, a bit of sugar and lemon juice brings out the apple flavor nicely!

I prefer drinking this stuff hot though. You know that Fall Drink post that was floating around? IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, TRY IT, IT'S AWESOME.

☕Chai Tea☕

So here's the thing about chai for me personally: I don't tend to drink it iced or sugary, but if you do like it iced and sugary, there are a couple of really nice chai tea concentrates:

Oregon Chai Latte

Tazo's Chai Latte (Forget the "skinny" nonsense, I just wanted to include an option with no milk so you can add whatever you want to it)

Pacific Chai isn't concentrated, but you can use it to make hot or iced chai and it's really lovely, not too sweet and super easy to work with. As for dressing up chai, I don't tend to! There's already so much going on with all the flavors, I just drink it as-is most days. Play with milk-to-tea ratios or sugar amounts all you like, figure out what's your jam.

I do know that mixing chai and coffee together (or chai and chocolate together) is guaranteed to make a feeling groovy kind of morning, at least if you have two thumbs and you're me. Iiii think that's all the tea blather I can think of for right now. Thank you for asking, anon, it was fun! Anybody reading this, feel free to add your own favorite things to do with tea. :D

#domestic blifs #this has been tea blather with rainbowbarnacle #thank you for attending my TEA-d talk

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bloompompom · 1 year

Text

The Opposite of Star-Crossed

You had been best friends with Eren for the last five years. Surely, if there were something between you, you would have known by now. Right? ☆ content: eren jaeger x fem!reader. just a rom-com in the form of a one shot. soft and sappy af, modern/college au, idiot friends to lovers, two weirdos falling in love, skinny dipping, rough(-ish?) sex, explicit language, explicit sexual content. reader discretion advised. ☆ word count: ~5.6k

You met Eren Jaeger during your sophomore year of high school. He was stuck in the in-school suspension room for spray painting the bleachers. You had to spend a week’s worth of lunches there after getting caught cheating on your algebra test. And though you weren’t allowed to talk to one another, you both laughed your asses off when the teacher’s chair lost a wheel and she tumbled to the floor. Eren laughed so hard that chocolate milk came out of his nose.

The incident added an extra day to each of your punishments, but he walked you home that afternoon so it was worth it. The rest was history.

What started with walks home—it was a happy coincidence that you lived on Eren’s route—became an extra lap or two around the block. Just because the conversation was easy. Then, eventually, down to the skate park, where you’d stay well past sunset. Before you knew it, the Jaegers were leaving an extra plate out for you at dinner time. Eren’s mom was always thoughtful like that.

You and Eren went to the same college. Surprise, surprise. Honestly, it wasn’t like you had made the decision together. It was a popular choice for most of your classmates since it was only an hour and a half drive from home. Plus, Eren happened to get a really great academic scholarship, which actually came as a surprise to everyone (except you, of course).

Your relationship with Eren lent itself to jokes. Friends would say how you were too close, teasing you for it as you’d leave to fetch Eren whenever he was drunk, even in the early morning hours when the streetlights would flicker off. But he always had your back, too. In different ways. Like when your food came out wrong at a restaurant, but you were too chicken shit—as Eren lovingly put it—to do anything about it.

It had been going on long enough that no one even bothered to make the classic, ‘just date already!’ comments anymore. But it was never like that. It was just that you never had to think when you were around Eren. You never had to clarify yourself and you never had to worry. It was a comfort, really, to have someone that just gets it.

It was spring break during your junior year. You told yourself you would spend the week trying to play catch-up on your research paper, but Eren talked you into coming along to your friend’s lakehouse, mainly because his car was one road trip away from combusting. Still, it didn’t take much convincing.

You picked him up early in the morning, McDonald’s coffee and hashbrowns in tow, and teased, “You better love me forever after this,” as you kicked on the ignition.

Eren tossed you a smile back as he buckled himself into the passenger seat. “Was already planning on it.”

It was fun. The lakehouse was beautiful—pulled straight from a movie, built of cobblestones and rosy wood. There was even a guest house! And you couldn’t have asked for better weather. You spent the days swimming, the sky radiant with that big blue that’s somehow brighter than the sun, and at night, you swore you could count every star. When you’d head back inside, the smell of bonfire sticky on your clothes, you’d watch your friends play cards on the floor, lying upon your stomach, lazily sipping beer from the bottle until the birds started chirping.

And thanks to said beer, you slept wonderfully the first two nights. But as day three rolled around, you were so hungover that even looking at alcohol made you queasy. So that night, you didn’t exactly pass out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Far from it, actually. You learned the hard way that Sasha, your friend and roommate for the week, had an awful habit of snoring. She was, quite possibly, the world’s loudest snorer.

You tried everything. You poked her to see if she’d wake (she didn’t) and rolled her to her side. Then her other side. You even tried to plug her nose. Nothing helped.

Eventually, you were fed up enough—not to mention, wide awake—that you decided to go on a walk by the lake. You figured you could get a good view of the stars out on the dock.

The day was feverishly hot, leaving the night balmy and the air thick. When you dipped your toes into the water, it was barely any cooler than bathwater.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but at some point, you heard Eren’s voice behind you. “I had a feeling I’d find you out here.”

Unsurprised, you turned to look at him, walking toward you with hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats, and you reckoned, “Because you know I can never sleep?”

“Well, there’s that. Plus the fact that Sasha snores like an old man.”

You frowned. “How nice of you to leave that out when I agreed to room with her.”

“Can you blame me?” The shabby dock creaked when he plopped down beside you. “I wanted you to come.”

His eyelids looked heavy, blinking slower than usual. He was more tired than he led on, but when you told him to go to bed, he only bucked back with, “You first.”

So you let him stay. You were no astronomer, but you entertained him with plenty of facts from the one class you took last year. You spouted them off, squinting with your tongue poked out past your lips, as you tried to make out a single constellation.

“Oh! I think that’s Ursa Major. You can see it because the Big Dipper is—”

Eren was asleep. Knocked out. You didn’t know when he had decided to lay down, but he had flopped back on the dock, an arm thrown behind his head like he had long made himself comfortable. The hand you were about to use to point out the Big Dipper dropped to your side.

Yep. He was definitely tired.

You shoved his leg. “Hey, wake up!”

Eren jolted awake, eyes wide and frazzled as he pushed himself upright. “I’m up, I’m up!”

“I was trying to tell you about space!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes and rested his head on your shoulder. “Tell me again. I’m listening.”

“You’re just going to fall asleep again.” You nudged his side with your elbow. With a snicker, you added, “Maybe you should jump in the lake. I bet that would wake you up.”

There was a pause. You didn’t like the way Eren said, “Not a bad idea,” because he made it sound like it was, most certainly, a bad idea. That ‘I’m down for anything!’ sort of tone. “Is the water still warm?”

He started to stand up like he was actually going to do it.

“You’re insane,” you told him, your laugh cautious. “You’re going to have to go back inside with soaking wet clothes.”

“Not if I take them off.”

You made a sound—something resembling an eek!—when he threw his shirt at your head.

“What? it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he said coolly.

You were embarrassed to admit it, but he was sort of right. Maybe, just maybe, you had taken a drunken leak in front of each other, only once or twice, on a walk home. People always said you were too close, remember? But that didn’t mean you’d seen anything!

You slapped your hands over your eyes before Eren took off his boxers. You listened for the splash and waited until the water settled before poking out from between your fingers.

“You’re being dramatic,” Eren said. He looked like he was about to flick water at you, laughing when you flinched. “Are you gonna make me swim alone or what?”

You thought it over (what did you have to lose, anyway?) then started to push yourself to your feet. “Fine. Just—” You did the spinny thing with your index finger. “Just turn around.”

Eren did as he was told. When you were sure he wasn’t looking, you peeled your shorts down your legs. Your tee followed, and since you weren’t wearing a bra, you reached for your underwear next. Before you tugged them off, you reminded him, “Don’t look until I’m in the water.”

“Got it.”

You jumped in and swam around for a moment. The lake was clean and crisp enough that you didn’t mind bobbing your head underwater, letting it wash over your skin that had clammed up from the summer night. Eren wanted you to tell him about the stars again, and after brushing him off a few playful times, you did. Up until—

“Something touched my foot,” you blurted out, your heart sinking deeper with each word. Then, while bounding aimlessly around in the water, you loudly repeated, “Something touched my foot!”

“It’s probably just—”

You cut Eren off with a shriek, followed by frantic yelps of ‘help, help, help!’

He shushed you. “Oh my god. You’re gonna wake everyone up!”

You didn’t hear it; you had already thrown yourself at him, as if he could possibly do anything about it. You just wanted to get your feet off the bottom of the lake, any way you could manage. Even if it meant bear-hugging Eren until he had no choice but to hold onto you.

When the realization hit—you know, that you were naked, chests pressed together, closer to Eren than you had ever been before—you didn’t freak out. Your heart was pounding, so hard that you thought you might bust a rib, but you were no longer freaking out. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you. So calmly that it was almost unreadable. Then you caught the heavy roll of his throat.

You didn’t move away for whatever reason, and you didn’t apologize either. There was nearly a full minute of silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the sound of crickets. Water smoothly crashed at the shore, and you heard the breeze rapping at the old wooden house.

You quietly asked Eren, “What are you thinking about?” as if he had the right answer. Like he could tell you what you should be thinking at a moment like this.

He started to say something—not even a full syllable left his lips—then he only replied, “I don’t think you want to know.”

On the off-chance he was merely pulling your leg, you thought to laugh it off, but it wouldn’t come out. Instantly, you were hot all over again. You weren’t sure if it was just you, but the unmistakable pink tint to Eren’s cheeks told you enough. Just under his eyes, it blossomed enough that you could still spot it, even in the moonlight.

You didn’t know if you had ever seen him like that before. It made your heart flutter in a peculiar way, and you could no longer look him in the eyes. Your noses brushed as you glanced down.

“Hey,” Eren whispered. He tilted your chin up. “It’s just me.”

That’s the problem, you couldn’t help but think.

‘Problem’ was a bit too harsh a word, though, wasn’t it? There wasn’t truly a problem, none at all, besides that you were wholly confused at how you ended up here. But it looked like Eren seemed to know.

He tried to kiss you then. You inched away. It wasn’t a rejection, and he didn’t take it as such. It was more like a time-out.

Eren stayed close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips. He laid the back of his hand against your cheek, stroking the side of your face with his knuckles. You found yourself leaning into it, eyes flitting shut as he told you, “I’ve loved you since we were sixteen. You know that.”

Did I know that? The casualness with which he spoke had you questioning even yourself. Your thoughts were flighty, racing too quickly for you to nab a single memory and inspect it, magnifying glass and all, for any sign that he had loved you. In this way, at least. The way that metamorphosed a friendship into something more.

“Then why didn’t you ever do anything? Why didn’t you say something?”

Eren shrugged slightly, with arms still around you. “It never came up.” You rightfully leered at his boyish answer. “I don’t know. I just wanted to be with you. Any way that you’d have me.”

It really was as simple as that. Eren just knew that he loved you, how deeply he felt it. He never gave it more thought than that, and he certainly didn’t try and assign it any greater meaning. There was never a need to. Just being around you contented him enough. He liked this—whatever your relationship was, however strange it may be—just as it was. And whenever you decided to give him more, if ever, he’d gladly take it.

You still didn’t know what to think or what to say, so you didn’t do either. You kissed him then, full on the lips. He was frozen at first, but when he kissed you back, you melted. You laid your arms over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and pulled yourself closer.

So, this is what I’ve been missing.

The thought both relieved and overwhelmed you. Eren was better at this than you would have imagined—if you had given it any prior consideration. It seemed like he had, though. He kissed you like he had thought about it many times before, exactly how he’d do it. With his tongue parting your lips, hot, and licking into your mouth.

Looking back on it, there were so many times—missed opportunities—over the years when you could have been doing this. Exactly this, just kissing.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t quite as innocent as mere kissing. You were still naked, after all.

But how wonderful it felt. You wished he had done it sooner. After he walked you home from school, at the edge of your driveway, on some random and meaningless Wednesday afternoon. You wished you had done it sooner, after sneaking out to meet at the park. Hell, you wouldn’t have even needed to sneak out. You could have skipped over all those awkward and teenaged encounters, like the fumbling dry humping that only happens in the back of a car, because his parents let you spend the night.

You wanted to kick yourself for it.

“I think something touched my foot now,” Eren said, only slightly wary. You felt the smile teasing at his lips, right against your own, and giggled. He took a few steps toward the dock. “We should probably get back inside.”

You wondered what sort of face you made right then, even as you tried your best to hide it. You imagined you wore a disappointed expression, something like a puppy dog, because Eren shot you a too-knowing look. “Unless you wanted to…”

He didn’t even need to say the words before you were biting back a smile and nodding. You watched him think, his eyes scanning past you, until he settled on, “The guest house.”

You followed his line of sight to the little bungalow, off by itself between some oak trees. All its lights were off. Entirely untouched. “You want to break into the guest house?”

“It’s not breaking in if we’re guests.”

You decided not to argue it because he was technically right, like always, even if he had to bend the rules.

He started to help you crawl up onto the dock first. You warned him to shut his eyes. ‘Your face is going to be way too close to my bare ass,' and he gave you a look like you couldn’t possibly be serious.

You and Eren slipped around on the wet dock, laughing. You let him take your hand, like he had done many times before, and he led you to the guest house. You both used your free hands to clutch your loose clothing against your bodies because, despite how it looked, you still had some shred of decency left in you.

Eren opened the front door with a snort. “Leave it to the Kirsteins to leave the door unlocked.”

You flicked on a light and, down the hall, you opened a few doors until you found the linen closet. There were a few towels folded neatly inside. The fluffy, hotel-style ones that you probably shouldn’t use after wading around in the lake. But the longer you stood there, sopping wet, the more your teeth chattered. So the guilt didn’t last long before you tossed a towel to Eren and grabbed a second for yourself.

You stumbled into the bedroom in the same manner, opening two more doors until you discovered the nook of a room. There wasn’t a light switch, so you ambled through the dark until you reached the lamp in the corner. It was old—you turned it on with a pull-chain—and its glassy, yellow luster filled the room, its bulb humming low in your ears.

It was the first good look you got at Eren. In the light, you studied him. He stood there in just a towel, lowly tied around his hips. You had seen him without a shirt before, many times. You had seen every groove, every scar, and every freckle. You could make out each and every one, right now. There was nothing different about him. Still, it felt indecent, like you had caught him fresh out of the shower. He looked like it, too, with his hair touseled from his quick attempt at drying it. It felt too intimate.

And all at once, it was the first time Eren had ever made you nervous.

You had never done this before—not with him—and it felt like you were a virgin again. Like you were sixteen and meeting Eren for the first time.

There were a lot of ‘firsts’ with Eren. Ones that you still thought about, but only from time to time. Like the first time he held your hand. He wasn’t even thinking about it when he did it. He just closed his larger one around yours, tearing you from the concert crowd, or else you would have been swallowed whole. It was a common courtesy, something anyone would do for their friend. You were sure he didn’t think twice about it.

You remembered the first time you laid your head on Eren’s shoulder. In the crook of it, right where you could smell that cologne he used to wear. The one you hated. And though you were sobbing—a blubbering mess, actually—you still complained of the scent, how you could still smell it through your snotty, stuffed nose. Eren said he was just happy to see you laughing again, even if it was at his expense.

Once, while you were watching TV on his laptop, he had fallen asleep and unknowingly slipped an arm around you, just over your stomach. You left it there, too sleepy to make a fuss over it, and napped like that for the next hour or so. Then again. And on a few more occasions after that. Those may have been less of an accident.

You felt something—something you couldn’t name—each of those times. You remembered it vividly, how it burned in the low part of your stomach. You told yourself it was happiness and nothing more. And yes, that was part of it, but it went deeper than that. Excruciatingly deeper. You were only realizing it now because it had started to bubble again.

This was another ‘first.’ The first time you were seeing him—like really, really seeing him. Effortless and raw and right in front of you. It was just him.

This time, when you kissed Eren, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. The kiss was lustier, his hands smoothing over your hips until he dragged your towel down with them. From there, things quickly picked up from where you had left them.

With hands still at your waist, Eren walked you back toward the bed. You fell against it, keeping him close with your hand curved over the back of his neck. He didn’t break the kiss, even once, as he dropped to lie at your side. He let his fingers explore you, from your jaw to your breasts. He was slow about it. So slow that you couldn’t help but moan when his fingertips ghosted over your nipple.

You didn’t know when he lost his towel, but it was gone. You noticed when you reached to take it off but were met with his stomach instead. You splayed your hand over the ungiving muscles, feeling how they tensed beneath your touch—even more once you slid low enough to palm his cock.

You felt him twitch under your hand. At the same time, he groaned into your mouth. He mimicked you, pushing a hand between your legs, making room for himself, and tracing through you with his middle finger.

His touch was light as he made small circles against your clit. You could feel how wet you were just by the way he slipped between you, his finger threatening to plunge inside you. You whimpered, and he started to drag it in and out of you a few times to pull the sound from you again.

You savored the sharp exhale Eren gave when you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You stroked him, base to tip, quickening your pace until he was panting against your face.

You’d already stopped kissing because you were much more attuned to everything else. Pumping hands. Heady shared breaths. His once-vibrant eyes had turned glossy, and you could see the curl of his brows whenever you’d slip your thumb along his tip.

Eren added a second finger inside you. Your hips arched. He was knuckle-deep inside you, the pads of his fingers working against the spot that had every part of you tingling, warmth rippling through you, down to your toes. You started to grind against the heel of his hand, desperately close to coming undone.

“That feel good?” he asked you, his voice all breathy.

You could only gasp a faint, ‘yes’ while you stuttered and struggled to jerk him off much longer.

You heard the little chuckle he did, just through his nose, as he started to leave kisses down the side of your face. Each was deliberate and hot on your skin. With his breath fanning over your ear, he whispered your name. “Come for me. Please.”

“Oh—ah, Eren—fuck,” you choked out. And just as you breathed, “I’m coming,” it washed over you. You slapped your hand on top of his, pressing down and riding his hand like you were no better than a dog in heat.

Your body went limp and lazy, your chest heaving, as his fingers left you. When you could open your eyes again, you found him with his fingers in his mouth, indulgently tasting you. Your face burned.

You didn’t comment on it—your mouth dumbly agape as you stared him in his pretty, pleased face—before he was above you. He spread your legs even wider, enough for him to nestle in between. When he touched you again, still bleary and sensitive, you squirmed.

“Do you need a minute?” Eren asked.

You shook your head. He started to rub your clit, gently coaxing out the needy part of you.

“It feels good,” you assured. And when your eyes fluttered to look at him, all swoony and slow, you were only thinking of him. “I want this.” You lifted your legs, one at a time, and hitched them around Eren’s waist. “I want you.”

He kissed you again like he couldn’t bear going another second without you. You traded kisses, and between them, he muttered, “You’re on the pill, right?”

“Yeah. You’re good.” You reached down, gliding your hand over his cock before guiding him to your entrance.

Eren’s eyes left your face to watch where he’d bury inside you. He tilted his hips, stopping short of bottoming out because, for a split second, he was already worrying about finishing too early. The thought mortified him. Thankfully, it appeared like you needed a second to breathe, too.

There was a stretch. It had been a while since you had been with anyone, and while you didn’t get a long look at it, in your hand, it felt like Eren was—ahem—well-endowed. You dug the blunt of your nails into his biceps.

“Ouch,” Eren softly chuckled.

You eased up. “Sorry.”

“Was that a good scratch or a bad scratch?”

“Good.” You sighed as he rocked into you again, filling you entirely. “Really good.”

“Good.” He pecked the side of your face, right at your temple. It made your heart skip.

He dipped his head, nuzzling his nose into your neck and letting his breath swelter your skin. You held him close with your arms tucked just under his, your hands flattened against the sinews of his back.

You pressed your lips to his throat, sucking and nipping away at the delicate skin. The scent of him, masculine and familiar, tickled your nose. You grazed your teeth along the intoxicating spot, right where you felt his pulse.

Eren took his time with you. He thrust into you with long strokes, allowing you to feel every inch and adjust to him. Each roll of his hips was doting and as though he believed he could break you. You didn’t know where the sudden gentleness came from, considering this was the same boy who used to throw you into a headlock when you were annoying seventeen-year-olds.

If there was a coy way of saying it, you didn’t think of it in time. “You can be rougher with me.” You tried to keep your voice honeyed to prevent any embarrassment from seeping through, but it didn’t work. “O-only if you want.”

He leaned back just enough to look you in the face. “Is that what you want?” You nodded.

Eren knew everything about you. He knew how you struggled to sleep at night and your favorite foods. He knew your birthday, obviously, and how you couldn’t even think about Bubba from Forrest Gump without getting a bit misty-eyed. Only enough for him to tease you for it.

But you, right now, like this—he knew nothing about you.

He thought of all the people you’d been with. Past boyfriends you’d introduced him to, flings, and, surely, there were some he didn’t know. Eren wondered how they were rougher with you, how they had put their hands on you, and where. Perhaps with fingers wrapped around your throat.

The thought upset him momentarily, but when he realized you might like it if he did that to you, he groaned.

Eren paused, sucked in a heavy breath, and sat back on his knees. You followed his scorched eyes as they trailed over you. He tucked some of his loose hairs away from his face to get a better view.

He raised you by the hips and used the leverage to sink you back onto his cock. The angle was better, deeper, and you let out a sound to let him know.

Every slam of his hips was met with him yanking you back on his cock, watching your pretty body bounce with each. He fucked you like that, his fingertips searing into the fat of your ass, until you weren’t grasping at the sheets but clawing at him—for more of him.

He traced his thumb over your bottom lip but stalled, still heedful to what you may or may not like. But as he slipped it into your mouth, you sucked on it eagerly, swirling your tongue around it. He imagined how you’d do the same with his cock.

“So good,” Eren murmured to you. He pushed his thumb in further, pressing it on the back of your tongue until you gagged. You’d do the same with his cock.

You gasped when he pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop. Wet with your spit, he brought it to your clit, rubbing right where he split you. His other fingers pushed down on your stomach, adding enough pressure to make your head spin.

He wanted you to come again. He wanted you to come over and over and over because, fuck, you made the cutest face when you were coming. He had only seen it once, not even thirty minutes ago, but he already knew he would never get enough of it.

Eren loved every part of you, and this side was no exception. Maybe it was his new favorite. He knew how that sounded, though, and it made him a bit guilty to think like that. He just liked that he could make you feel this good. That, for once, there wasn’t a single thought in your mind other than how euphoric you felt, and he was the cause.

“Eren,” you whispered. You gazed up at him, radiating body heat and desire above you, with abs tight and tensing each time he stuffed himself inside you. You reached for his face with needful, grabby hands. “Kiss me.”

His heart swelled. He took your cheeks between his hand, pinching them together before kissing you. It was filthy. Sucking tongues and bumping noses and swollen lips. You swallowed the growl he let slip, right as you started to come. Each of your whines was punctuated by your muscles squeezing him perfectly. So perfectly. Only then did his need consume his consideration for you, no longer kissing you but more focused on pounding into you, harder than before.

“I love you,” you cooed, even as he unceremoniously fucked you deeper into the bed, with a voice no greater than a weak mumble against his neck.

“I love you so much,” you said again, louder. It was moany and giggly and disinhibited. It was the truth.

Eren came then, just as your legs went slack and fell to the sides. He never stilled nor slowed as his hips strained to continue ramming into you—just because you felt that fucking good—until you couldn’t imagine he was still coming.

“Jesus—fuck,” he grunted, his forehead falling against yours. He didn’t say it then—he couldn’t, even if he wanted to—but he had never finished inside anyone. Ever. And he definitely did not expect his first time to be inside you, of all people. His cock threatened to stiffen again at the thought alone, despite it still leaking inside you.

You didn’t get up, and you didn’t mind the mess you had made. Just for now. You curled up against him, his chest your pillow, and rested a hand on him. He was warm to the touch, practically scalding, but you were, too. Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to untangle from his side.

You asked him, your voice a sleepy purr, “When did you realize it?” Eren looked down at you with interest. “That you loved me.”

You could tell he wasn’t expecting the question. He mulled it over, long enough that you had started counting his steadying breaths, then finally decided on, “Remember that day you almost died at that concert?”

That was so long ago—the same day he first held your hand.

“Okay, ‘died’ is a bit excessive.” You gave him a chagrined look. “But, really, that was it? Because I looked dumb and pathetic at a concert?”

“I didn’t say you looked dumb and pathetic. Don’t put words into my mouth.” Eren flicked your forehead. He actually found you helplessly adorable, in the middle of the pit, dressed in one of his shirts because you didn’t want to stand out. You definitely still did. “But, no. It was after that. When we went for milkshakes.”

You used to do that so often that all the times had blended together.

“We were walking back to your house, and you dropped yours, so I gave you mine.” He peered down at you. “I wanted that milkshake really damn bad,” he admitted with a laugh because he knew how ridiculous it sounded when he said it aloud. “I remember thinking I wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.”

Eren played with your hand as he spoke, the tips of his fingers dancing up the length of your own, between them, and locking them together.

“Maybe I was just a stupid sixteen-year-old that didn’t know any better, but I must have been onto something because I’d still do it.”

You smiled up at him, all big and embarrassing, that was for sure.

Eren had told you everything. Forked over his heart and granted you permission to do with it what you wished, whatever that may be.

So you knew he wasn’t expecting it when you sang, “Carla’s going to be sooo happy,” drawing it out unnecessarily and annoyingly long.

“Please don’t talk about my mom right now,” Eren groused. He didn’t think he could physically handle hearing another one of your MILF jokes. Especially right now, considering what you had just done together—what he had just confessed to you.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. You lost the waggish grin on your face and replaced it with something more genuine, lovesome. “I meant what I said. I want you. All of you.”

Eren smiled, laughed through his nose again—you still weren’t getting it, were you?—and petted the side of your face. “You already have me.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren fluff

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