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blackdxggr · 3 months

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Garden of Secrets - Epilogue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support throughout the story my darlings! I hope you enjoy the epilogue as well, ILYSM! ❤️

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Thank you to @theskytraveler for helping me with the story and the chapter!

Series Masterlist

3 YEARS LATER

“And this flower right here is called a mock orange, any idea why?”

The cheerful babbling was the only answer you got and you felt yourself smiling wide, turning to look at her better. Camellia was the cutest baby you’d ever seen and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just because she was the most perfect combination of you and Benedict. The only person in your life that remembered you as a baby was Josie, and she swore up and down that she looked more like you than Benedict but you weren’t so sure.

“Very good!” you said. “Because it looks like an orange flower!”

Camellia clapped her hands excitedly, as if congratulating herself for guessing right, kicking her legs back and forth in her high chair, accidentally dropping one of the many pencils on the table in front of her but she didn’t even notice.

“And what about this one?”

“Fwo?”

“Flower, yes,” you said, nodding fervently and she gave you a huge grin. You went to pick her up from the chair and approached the table in the middle of the huge greenhouse.

“This is your flower my sweet, see? Middlemist Red Camellia.”

She gasped when she heard her name. “Me!”

“Mm hm, the most beautiful and precious flower in the entire world!” you said, tickling her stomach while kissing her cheeks, making her happy giggles echo in the greenhouse. You fixed her hair, still smiling bright and took a look at the paper she was drawing on before, full of different colored squiggly lines.

“Perhaps your papa is right, you are to be a big artist,” you said as you walked to the glass door. “A painter like him hm?”

“Papa!”

“And your aunt Lottie says you will be a writer and your uncle Teddy says you’ll be a sculptor…” you said as you stepped out of the greenhouse into the huge garden, the sunlight falling upon you. You grabbed the little hat by the door and placed it upon Camellia’s head while she held onto you, playing with your necklace.

“So many ideas!” you told her as you passed by the winter garden, enjoying the chirping of the birds. A couple of butterflies flew by you, no doubt because you were very close to the butterfly garden and Camellia held her breath, pointing at the blue butterfly.

“Mama!”

“I can see that my love,” you said, pressing a kiss on her small chubby hand, and walked past the orangery. “They’re very beautiful, are they not?”

She nodded fervently, making grabby hand motions as if trying to call the butterflies to her.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you said, still walking through the main garden. “They all think like that but do you want to know what I think?”

She nodded her head again, still listening to you very intently.

“I think you might just become the biggest botanist in the world,” you whispered. “I mean it only makes sense, no? You already know so many flowers!”

Camellia pointed at the pear tree and turned to you. “Mine? Mine?”

“Let’s get you one then,” you said with a small laugh, reaching up to grab and pick the pear off the branch. You dusted it off, then gave it to Camellia who made a happy cooing sound, trying to dig into it. You raised your head to look up at the house, a warmth spreading through you as your gaze fell upon the window of Benedict’s studio, then you turned to Camellia.

“Let’s go see papa, hm?” you asked her, then made your way to the house to enter the foyer. You hummed a song and climbed up the stairs, then put Camellia down when you entered the hallway leading to Benedict’s studio.

“Go ahead.”

“Papa?” Camellia called out, running as fast as her tiny legs allowed her, reminding you of a duck. She was still holding the pear tight in her fist, and you walked right behind her to make sure you would be able to catch her if she fell. “Papa!”

You let out a laugh as you heard Benedict’s footsteps and he stepped out of the studio, his jaw dropping as he saw her and he immediately leaned down to catch her before she could smash herself against his legs.

“Oh here’s my sweet!” he said as he hoisted her up into his arms, smothering her in kisses, making her giggle happily before he turned to you, that fond look crossing his eyes, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Hello my love.”

You smiled, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Hello to you too,” you said, letting out a small laugh as he stole another kiss from you. “I figured you needed a break or so.”

“And you were right,” he said, winking at you before turning to Camellia. “How is she always right, do you know?”

Camellia offered him the pear she was holding and Benedict gasped.

“For me?”

“More like it was for her but she’s willing to share,” you said and Benedict grinned.

“Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the studio and walked inside with Camellia in his arms, and you followed them.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you sang in a teasing manner, pulling the hat off Camellia’s head and Benedict shot you a mischievous look.

“Mm, what am I doing?”

“You think you can turn her into an artist if she spends enough time here.”

“I can’t help if she’s naturally talented,” Benedict defended himself. “I mean have you seen her work?”

“The…the squiggly lines?”

“The squiggly lines!” Benedict nodded, rocking Camellia. “She’s a genius artist even as a one-year-old.”

“I still support my botanist theory.”

“Maybe she’ll be both?”

“As you can see my sweet, no high expectations whatsoever,” you told Camellia who was listening to both of you as if she could understand everything you were saying.

“You can be anything you want to be,” Benedict told her as she rested her head on his shoulder, yawning. “Including an artist. Just saying.”

You walked closer to the canvas to see that the background was almost done, and tilted your head.

“What’s this going to be?”

Benedict shot you a grin and pressed his lips on top of Camellia’s hair. You checked the clock on the wall, then rang the bell.

“That one is going to be her,” Benedict said, softly rocking her and you smiled.

“Aw,” you said gently, and walked to caress her soft cheek with your finger. “Did you hear that my sweet? Your own portrait?”

Camellia sucked on her thumb, her eyes closing slowly.

“Is she sleeping?” Benedict whispered and you nodded.

“She is,” you murmured, rubbing her back and turned your head when someone knocked on the door.

“Ma’am,” Paula said. “Mr. Bridgerton. Would you like me to take her for her nap?”

“That would be good Paula, thank you.”

She smiled and took Camellia from Benedict, careful not to wake her.

“I’ll be right there,” you told her and pressed a kiss on Camellia’s head before Paula walked out of the room with her. You turned to Benedict and he entwined his fingers with yours, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey,” you said as he buried his nose into your hair. “Is everything alright?”

“Mm hm, now that you’re here.”

You smiled softly and squeezed his arm. “Are you still tense about the gala?”

He heaved a sigh and you pulled back a little to look up at him.

“Ben, that painting got auctioned and sold in two minutes because everyone was outbidding each other,” you reminded him. “People are talking about you the same way you used to talk about Gordon, everyone agrees that you’re a genius artist, the whole ton—”

“Yeah but it’s different,” he mumbled. “Tonight, it’s only friends and family.”

“Shouldn’t that be comforting?”

“Technically yes but…” he trailed off and shook his head slightly. “Never mind.”

You cupped his cheek, raising your brows. “Tell me.”

“It’s easier when it’s just strangers,” he said with a small chuckle. “Museum owners and Academy directors and such. It’s different when it’s family and friends, and I’d hate it if they thought all those other people exaggerated—”

“Everyone in the Academy and countless artists and museum owners who were on the verge of a fight to get your painting, they all exaggerated?” you asked with a small smile. “All of those people at the same time?”

Benedict thought for a moment. “When you say it like that…”

You let out a laugh and stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his, and he heaved a sigh when you pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tonight is going to be amazing,” you assured him. “I promise you.”

He shot you a mischievous grin, then leaned down hoisted you up into his arms, making you squeal.

“Benedict!”

“There’s no harm in starting the amazing night a bit early,” he said as he carried you to the sofa and you let out a laugh.

“Scandalous behavior!” you joked and he winked at you, then leaned in to kiss you.

Of course the night of the gala went perfectly, as you knew it would. Both your family and Benedict’s had been so excited and were very proud of him, and you could see it melted away the last insecurity that had been gnawing at him before tonight.

His speech that he dedicated the painting -and his inspiration- to you was enough to bring tears into your eyes but you managed to hide it by burying your face into his arm, earning an “aww” from the crowd. After the speech, people scattered along in the gallery to talk to each other, and if you said so yourself, everyone seemed to be having fun. Benedict was talking to Gordon, Henry, Margery and Lucy by the corner, Anthony and Lottie looked like they were in their own world while Colin kept whispering things to Penelope’s ear, making her giggle. Eloise seemed to be in a deep conversation with Simon while Daphne watched them with a small smile, and you smiled at Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury as Teddy wheezed past you.

“Teddy don’t run!” you called out and he stopped for a moment.

“But I’m being very careful!” he assured you and returned to chasing Hyacinth and Gregory. Your aunt held up her hands, gesturing surrender as she gave him a fond look and your uncle chuckled.

“If he changes his mind about being a sculptor…”

“He can become a professional runner,” you joked and turned to Josie and Bess.

“So yes, we’re going to Paris before the season,” you told them. “Around like a month before, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Andrew will give you a list of things to bring from there, just so you know,” Bess said said and you let out a laugh.

“I’m alright with that. Wait, where is he anyway?”

Josie cleared her throat. “I think he and Felix are in the orangery—”

“The moon garden, my love,” Bess corrected her and you raised your brows, stifling a laugh.

“Of course they are,” you muttered and heard someone calling your name. You turned your head to see who it was, then made your way to Lottie and Anthony.

“Hello you two.”

“Y/N,” she said with a huge smile, still holding Anthony’s hand. “We already said goodnight to Benedict, we didn’t want to leave before saying goodnight to you.”

You tilted your head. “You’re leaving already?” you asked. “Is everything alright? Is Edmund—”

“Oh Edmund is fine!” she assured you quickly and Anthony nodded.

“He’s probably asleep already.”

“It’s just—I tire very easily nowadays,” Lottie said, making you pull your brows together. Anthony and Lottie exchanged smiles and Lottie bounced on the balls of her feet in an excited manner, making your frown deepen for a moment before the thought dawned on you and your jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?!” you whispered and Lottie giggled, nodding fervently.

“You’re the first to know,” she whispered and you let out a laugh, then pulled her into a hug.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“To both of you obviously—” you said with a laugh, then hugged Anthony as well, making him chuckle as he hugged you back.

“We haven’t told Benedict yet,” he told you as you pulled back. “You know with the gala and everything.”

“Oh he will be very happy for you!” you said and Lottie bit on her lip.

“I wish to be the one to tell him if that’s alright.”

“Absolutely!” you said, waving your hands. “Go on then, go home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better,” Lottie joked and squeezed your hand, then they both walked out of the gallery. You looked around, then took a step towards Eloise but someone touched the small of your back, making you look up.

“Well if it isn’t the genius artist,” you teased Benedict and he shot you a happy grin.

“Come with me?”

“As long as we’re not going to the moon garden because if I walk in on them again…” you muttered and he tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said and let him pull you out of the gallery. You both passed through the foyer and he led you outside, still holding your hand.

“Ben, where are we going?” you asked with a laugh and he stopped by the main garden, moonlight falling upon you both, showering the gardens in silver. Even though it was the thousandth time you were seeing this gorgeous view, it still managed to take your breath away.

Speaking of things that managed to take your breath away…

You looked up at Benedict, his handsome face under the moonlight, your heart skipping a beat before you giggled.

“Are we sneaking out of your own gala then?”

Benedict shot you a mischievous smile, then shook his head.

“No I merely…I wanted a moment with you,” he said. “Just you.”

You bit down on your lip as he pulled you closer, his fingers stroking over your hair. Your eyes fluttered close when he brushed his lips against yours and you smiled into the kiss, grazing your nails over the nape of his neck, making him heave a sigh.

“Congratulations Mr. Bridgerton,” you whispered. “Your gala seems to be a success.”

He smiled softly, pressing his lips on your temple. “Seems to be, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

You hummed. “Is it too early to say I told you so?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Well then, I told you so,” you said, sticking your nose up in the air. “And you should listen to me all the time because to be honest, so far I’ve—”

“I love you,” he said, and your eyes snapped up to his, a smile warming your face. You let out a giggle and pulled him down so that you could kiss him.

“I love you too,” you whispered and entwined your fingers with his, then took a step towards the house.

“Come on,” you said. “It is your gala my love. Let’s go and enjoy it.”

The End.

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blackdxggr · 5 months

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i'm seeing people losing hope for palestine i'm begging you seriously please don't. the death toll is high but there are still people alive, there are still journalists risking everything to make sure the world sees what is happening. please continue protesting if you have the option to, keep demanding for a ceasefire and keep talking about palestinians both alive and dead. you have to keep going until the very end or else you really did fail them.

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blackdxggr · 5 months

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too good of a series

two sides of the same coin | finnick odair [prologue]

next part

“and you’re finnick odair – forgive me if i don’t fall to my knees for you, this dress makes it impossible and i wouldn’t want to sully the ground you might touch.” you sarcastically offer as you stab the strawberry at the bottom of your glass. a light chuckle fills the air, your brows furrow at his odd reaction, his odd grin as he steps closer. but what’s even more odd is what comes next from those pink lips.

“oh, you really are exactly who i’ve been waiting for.”

named the capitol’s unfavorable after winning your games, you’re left confused and wary when the capitol’s darling – the beloved finnick odair – offers a deal your heart can’t refuse. one 'kiss' seals your fate and his.

tags to be found every part.

cw: mentions of blood and violence, implications of forced prostitution, thoughts of suicide

prologue.

you weren’t meant to win the games. you didn’t want to win the games.

when your name had been called, all in your district looked confused and puzzled. they didn’t even know who you were. no one knew who you were until you stepped into the light as one of those plucked from that godforsaken pool of names. no one cared as you walked down and were led to death’s doorstep. many were relieved, relieved that to be chosen amongst their district was at least one nobody that would be a smudge on history and in time. you had one more year – one more year to simply last and live your life in the shadows with nothing and nobody.

you didn’t want to win the games. as you stood on that mound and overlooked a jungle landscape in clothes designed for dexterity and the wet environment, you contemplated simply stepping off. you contemplated giving the capitol the most boring show they could ever lay their colorful eyes upon. but you didn’t, you stayed on that mound as death counted back and your eyes observed those beneath the arena with you. those that were friends, those that had families, and those that deserved to live far more than you had. you observed them and you ran, far reserved and accepting of your death until you found yourself cornered.

a group of those allied. two district one’s and two district four’s. their taunts had rung through your ears like the canon blow that might have followed your death. you always taste the blood on your tongue and you always feel the tooth dislodged from your gum while the wet earth soaked up your blood from those above you. those that did not just need to kill you but wanted to.

maybe it was the way you were raised, the reason you were left a nameless nobody in your district, maybe the spite that came from the idea that the capitol may thrive off a nobody mutt dying at the hands of the usual victors and favored loves. whatever it was you were no longer reserved to die, not at the hands of those who thrived off the horrors of the games and not beneath the watchful eyes of those in the capitol. those who deemed you ‘homely’, ‘disrespectful’, and ‘ungrateful’ after the interviews and glitz you’d been forced into. you wouldn’t die. not in the games, not if you could choose your fate.

the games ended so still you hadn’t been sure it was all real. but it felt real. the blood that splattered across your face, the wounds that adorned your skin, the images of brain matter splattered across the grass to the pieces of scalp stuck to your suit – everything and anything confirmed the reality of it all. your performance from a runner, a hunted dog – to a demonic hunter was something that sent many off their seat with a bitter taste that coated their tongue. and despite the way you felt changed in a way nothing could have possibly changed you, you were proud. you felt happy.

happy to see the disappointment, the hatred, the dislike from those within the capitol. but that happiness was as short-lived as your childhood had been so many years prior. because when you win the games, you don’t win anything. because a real prize would have been freedom – and once your name is pulled from the pool there is either death or imprisonment. you were given the ladder on a silver platter, you just waited till you found the blade beside it. you wouldn’t die in the arena, you wouldn’t die unless you did it yourself.

unfortunately, you found no opportunities. sleepless nights to tours, it seemed every time you came close to shutting the book of your life something dog-eared the page.

if you had been ten again maybe you’d imagine that it was the universe intervening, but you weren’t ten anymore. you weren’t a little girl with a loving mother and the most affectionate older siblings and a boy you adored more than anything.

you were a woman, a statue to be shown off and every interruption of your chance to kick out the pedestal from beneath you was simply interrupted by reality. you eventually resigned to being patient. the book could shut when you found yourself back home, alone in your beautiful new estate with praise from those in your district who had never even batted an eye your way before your name had been pulled. and eventually, as you went through the motions, you found that time and opportunity not too far away. the only thing that was left for you to do was to face the man you’d all but blatantly committed treason against, in his beautiful mansion for a celebration for you.

the atmosphere buzzed with much of the capitol enjoying their time. enjoying their riches and food and drinks while they complimented one tacky outfit after another, downing pills to make more room for food those in your district would never even fathom tasting. to say the looks you received were dirty would be a severe understatement, not just from those of the capitol’s but those past victors who you found to be in attendance. nobody wanted you to win, you put on a hell of a show but what did it matter if your face and attitude were as ugly as the mutts they’d released in the jungle?

only your dress received genuine compliments. the woman who dressed you had exquisite taste appearance wise but you definitely didn’t feel it. the dress was all red, the ends dipped in black that hit your heeled shoes. the fabric hugged you tightly, and a corset suffocated you while it kept your breasts elevated. what a sight, you were to those within the party and celebration. “what a nice figure you possess! perhaps you should always wear makeup.” “well those sure do pull away from such a homely face do they not, sweetheart? oh i’m just teasing!” each passing compliment on your dress and each backhanded compliment or flat insult to your appearance drew you more and more annoyed. more and more inclined to recreating the games with those of the capitol.

you knew you weren’t pretty, you’ve known it always. but for people with such hideous souls to say the same, it made your teeth ground and fists ball up.

so you soon left the attention of the party and found your way to an isolated area away. you can hear the faint music as you nurse a glass of alcohol filled with sliced strawberries, the faint taste of chocolate stains your tongue but that taste of copper still remains. no food in the past days upon days would ever get rid of that taste, you know that. just like no smell would ever get rid of the copper stuck to your nostrils. but you did enjoy the foods, you enjoyed the drinks, if only circumstances were vastly different. if only he was beside you.

your brows sew at that passing thought and you sigh softly as you sip the drink that fizzes down your throat. it rids the lump that threatens to form. it’s sweet.

“well if it isn’t the unassuming victor.”

and it turns bitter.

your brows sew tighter, you recognize the smooth voice tugged by rasp at the edge of his words, the cadence of his voice almost sing-song in a manner that sounds as if he isn’t trying – seductive.

you turn and a soft exhale leaves your lips, a curious look paints your face as you meet his sparkling gaze. finnick odair, the darling prize of the capitol. and as much as the man leaves a bitterness on your tongue and an inkinesss in your heart, you can’t help the way you see why so many look to him with the roundness of their pupils shifting into hearts.

he’s handsome. attractive. pretty. any word to describe an appeal to the eyes. tall, athletic, chiseled. tan skin that looks as if you could dip fruits into it littered in moles, bronze hair effortlessly tousled and beautifully messy as if he had an entire team to sort through each curl and wave. and those eyes, sea-green and sparkling even with his back to the lights of the mansion and celebration. despite his looks, the obvious human reaction your body may grab, your bitterness remains and your eyes meet his unimpressed. his attire is neat, black with gold trimmings; it fits his frame nicely.

“this is some far ways out for you to be.” you simply offer in response, your head tilting off to the side. finnick seems to smile, that relaxed smile that doesn’t allow an eye to bleed through to his mind. you find your guard up, as quickly as it flew when you stepped off the pedestal in the arena.

“i wanted to come meet you personally. the talk of the celebration and across all twelve districts is something impressive, you know?” he remarks. that voice, the cadence. almost a purr. you feel a cold chill crawl up your spine. the way he says your name next makes your brows furrow and pushes you a step back on the grass. “the underdog, the unfavorable – what was it caesar flickerman called you?” he pretends to think before he sucks his teeth. “ah yes, you’re the demonic hunter.” he muses.

there’s an air around him. the air of a man who knows what he is, who knows who he is – he’s a diamond standing before a hunk of coal. and he knows it. that bitterness across your tongue worsens and your eyes narrow at the man who holds a handful of candied almonds. you down the rest of the glass, patience already thin has begun to snap.

“and you’re finnick odair – forgive me if i don’t fall to my knees for you, this dress makes it impossible and i wouldn’t want to sully the ground you might touch.” you sarcastically offer as you stab the strawberry at the bottom of your glass with a toothpick. a light chuckle fills the air, your brows furrow at his odd reaction, his odd grin as he steps closer. but what’s even more odd is what comes next from those pink lips.

“oh, you really are exactly who i’ve been waiting for.” he purrs.

you don’t take a step away from him, you offer a snort and your eyes narrow further as you take a soaked strawberry into your mouth. the sweet taste melds with the permanent copper. “the capitol’s darling wants to have sex with the demonic hunter?” you ask with oozing mockery and a coil of disbelief around your words. finnick shakes his head as he looks around with another chuckle, more amused than before, with his smile shifting to a slight grin. “whatever game it is you’re playing, i’m not interested.” you plainly offer, downing the rest of the strawberries before pushing past him.

his hand grabs your wrist and you whip around with the glass shattering on the ground. the broken and jagged neck of the glass soon presses up beneath his perfect jaw, your narrowed eyes burn into his surprised gaze. “let. go. of. me.” you emphasize each word, bitterness enwraps your words and disgust crawls along your skin as memories not present still exist in your atoms. finnick’s eyes flicker between yours as they relax, something twitches at his brows before he releases your wrist. you drop the neck of the bottle and step away. “i’m not like the pampered elite you entertain or the arrogant victors you wave alongside. i don’t care who you are – don’t act like i might.”

“that’s why i came to meet you.” he responds without missing a beat. your brows thread in confusion while your lips part for a wary exhale. something’s shifted in his atmosphere and his posture, he isn’t so relaxed and he isn’t so boyish – something that always seems to be his charm despite the fact that he’s a year older than you. “i want to talk to you – about proposing something.” he says with a gentle nod as he walks close, his hand nearly goes for your bicep but he stops when your eyes snap to him. “follow me.” he whispers so quietly you can barely hear him.

and your eyes watch as he turns away and begins to walk further from the celebration. wetting your lips – strawberries, chocolate, copper, chicken – you watch him. he walks away so confidently, as if he knows you’ll follow him. unfortunately, you figure maybe a chance will come for what you already planned to do. you follow after a glance back at the party, your legs don’t allow much room to rush so you go at your own pace. a bit of a struggle, but you manage with your heels nearly pressing into the grass multiple times.

finnick eventually leads you to a beautiful greenhouse. you find yourself inside, the moonlight bathes white roses by the dozens and the moonlight bathes both you and finnick as you face one another. admiring the roses isn’t a priority for you, as beautiful as they are you’ve always been a fan of ivy in terms of plants and greenery. you look at the man expectantly. “did you walk me into a trap? are these roses getting painted red for snow?” you ask with a bluntness as you fold your hands down at your waist cinched beyond what should have been allowed.

finnick shakes his head. “if i was going to kill you i’d be much smarter about it – not that anyone would miss you but less of a mess would be best.” true, yet that bitterness increases tenfold in your mouth when he smiles that smile. then his smile falls and he crosses his arms over his chest loosely, his hands grasp his fit biceps and he remains a few feet away. “no one expected you to win the games and now that you have, there’s a target on your back and you’re stuck in the light for the rest of your life.” he offers the bluntness you’ve given him.

“why are you telling me what i already know?” you inquire with slight annoyance dragging at your nerves. “why did we come here for you to tell me the obvious?”

“because i know this is the only place president snow doesn’t monitor with a camera or mic and what i’m going to say requires lack of both.” finnick says matter-of-factly. “i’m telling you this because i think we could help each other. if you had me on your side, in your hand to the public, more people would like you and more people would want you – more people would be on your side.” he begins to reason and you scoff with your brows furrowing.

“why would i want that? you think i plan on sticking around long enough for any of it to matter?” you retort with a tilt of your head.

“you think they’ll let you die on your own terms?” he responds without missing a beat. you flinch a bit at the sharp bluntness from the man with furrowing brows and thinned lips. “some way, somehow they will keep you here to keep using you. but if i help you, you’ll be able to live your life as best and as peacefully as it could be led for a victor and future mentor.” you blink softly and wet your lips as he takes a step towards you. your eyes meet the white roses before they flicker to his sea-green eyes. “the moment you left the arena alive was the moment you sealed your fate – you think now your choice is imprisonment or death? it’s neither, it’s servitude now.”

coldness washes over your body. it shocks you that he’s seen you only through screens, he’s spoken few words to you and yet he’s read into you like he’s looking through a pane of glass. your brows sew up and your eyes flicker between his as you absorb all of his words. was it true? how could the capitol, how could those you’re beneath stop you from killing yourself? but finnick is speaking so surely, he’s speaking as if he’s telling you the sky is blue. it can be an act, but what if it isn’t? your mind reels and it races, you wet your lips again.

“what do you have to gain? what could i give you?” you ask with your composure as cool and casual as it can be.

finnick looks you up and down, for a moment your hand tenses to slap him. “if people see me with you – if they think you’ve touched me in a way they all want to…they won’t want to anymore.” you blink softly and your hand relaxes, a bitter scoff leaves your lips and he shakes his head without a single ounce of apology in his handsome face or those handsome eyes. “you’re something dirty to the capitol, if i’m dirty – they won’t want me the ways that they do.” his words confuse you, you’re trying to piece what he means together. but that shame that glitters in his eyes tells you as much as it can.

still, wary and cautious, you shake your head gently. “how do i know this isn’t a trap? aren’t you the capitol’s darling? why would you want to ruin what you have?”

“my reputation is solid enough that i won’t lose anything i want to keep if i put this act on with you.” he says with an almost arrogant certainty. but it’s true, no doubt. then he offers a lazy shrug. “you don’t know if this is a trap for certain, all i can tell you it isn’t. i’ve needed someone like you to get me out of what i’ve been forced into since i won my games.” and you realize your earlier thought must be right, the capitol’s darling must do more than just flash his smiles and ooze his charisma for all he has.

“why me?” you ask without a moment to let the silence rest.

“a good sum of reasons.” finnick meets your gaze from where he looks at a loose thread on his sleeve. “for one you have nothing to lose, if things go sour or bitter you can be the one to take the fall. kill yourself with a peacekeeper’s bullet for all i care.”

“for two?”

“is everything you say a question?” he jokes with a grin. you don’t smile, you only roll your eyes with an annoyed sigh. “two, i’ve seen as well as anyone the way you’ve shown your hate for the capitol. even if it meant you live and i die – you’d never give the capitol what they wanted, right?” again – sea-green eyes looking through the glass of your mind. your jaw tightens and you find irritation in his correct assumption. whatever the capitol asks for, you’d give them the opposite. your mind can’t piece what three could be, your brows furrow and you wait for just a second.

then a second too long passes. “do you always put on a show? even amongst a conversation of posing as a couple in an act of treason and deception that could kill us both?” you ask with hot irritation and annoyance present as can be.

finnick chuckles again. “that’s number three.” your brows furrow and he nods when you eye him in confusion. “you have no want for me – not even desire, i can’t see a fraction of it in your eyes. and i don’t want you, i never will. there’s no chance of our hairs crossing, not unless there’s a camera or observer.”

that is true. you’d never want finnick and there isn’t a single universe where finnick odair would want you. not from the hands he has held out to him. your brows sew and you absorb all he’s said. you don’t trust him, you don’t trust anyone. it seems contradictory, to put on a show with finnick for the sake of yourself while you’re adamant to never give the capitol what they want. but he seems so sure, it’s his charm and his act to persuade and you can feel yourself being pulled in. you don’t want to agree – you almost don’t. but your eyes rake his features and his body.

the capitol’s darling, the capitol’s toy. has he truly been waiting for an opening for so long? he has so much to lose, why would he defy the one that forces him into what he so clearly wants to escape? the one you have a feeling is as snowy as the roses that surround you and finnick. you want to say no, you want to deny him and not believe a word he says. but your mind flickers to the reason touch disgusts you, the reason a hand on your back or a finger on your cheek makes you feel as though you could scrub your skin with barbed wire. and you exhale softly.

“what would this deal entail?”

a grin splits across his lips and he hums out as he pushes up his sleeve and his eyes look around. only then do your eyes flick to notice the small cameras in the corners of the greenhouse filled with white roses. “unfortunately, the act begins now so i’ll explain later.” he clears his throat. “i may have lied, there’s only a certain time the cameras are off because of two particular capitol members participating in an affair during these celebrations only. we have a minute until they flicker on.” finnick explains as he walks towards you, your eyes widen and you meet his gaze with a hot glare. “i’m going to kiss you when they come on.”

“are you insane!” you shout so loudly it makes your own heart jump. you step back and finnick puts up his hands with a glance to his expensive and shiny watch. a hotness seems to rush through your face on instinct and reflex. “you–no! you are not kissing me!”

“just one – all we need is one to get this ball rolling.” finnick reasons in a calm and collected voice. your brows furrow tightly and his eyes flicker between yours. “just one, unfavorable.” he grins a bit at the nickname the media had given you, the least insulting amongst the others. your jaw tightens and your eyes dart around. “thirty seconds.” he says quietly. your mind churns and already you begin to regret your choice, but you can’t help the memories that push you to help finnick, the threats that make you want him to help you, the idea of deceiving the capitol and tugging wool over their eyes. “five.”

but you can’t kiss finnick. you won’t.

still, you know what he’s planning and what he means. things that could benefit the capitol, things that could benefit the games always find a way out of secrecy and into the media. your brows sew up as you look at finnick and grab the back of his head. your thumb presses against his lips, they’re soft, and you pull him close to avoid the need to kiss him directly. disgust crawls through you, discomfort and odd guilt churns at your insides as he grabs your waist and pulls you close. he smells of chocolate and cinnamon.

his scent melds with copper. and it remains even when you find yourself elsewhere the next day. on a train heading to your district, towards your new home and a new beginning. only when your eyes fall to the news, the colorful caesar flickerman standing beside a photo of you and finnick in an embrace with a scandalous headline beneath do you truly feel your decision settle in. your brows sew up as you feel your mentors eyes burning into you and feel the scratches at your waist from your shower the night before burn hotter.

there’s no stepping back now.

your hands grasp your glass of juice tighter as you shrug away the feeling of finnick's hands on you. disgust. guilt. grief. you blink and exhale shakily.

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blackdxggr · 5 months

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blackdxggr · 6 months

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“WELL, WE SHOULD PROBABLY FUCK, RIGHT?”

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are both sealed away in the prison realm. with nothing else to do, you might as well start fucking, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), missionary, degrading nickname, best friends to friends with benefits, bickering, slightly jealous gojo, you & gojo are both the strongest sorcerers in the world.

♡ — A/N; based on this drabble (: I love this man sm, I’d do his taxes for him btw // also, pls don’t repost my gif!

♡ — WC; 3k

“This is all your fault, Satoru.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, so I was distracted,” Gojo kicked up his feet, placing his black boots across a pile of dusty skeleton heads as if he was at home, relaxing on his plush couch, and not trapped inside of the prison realm. “If I remember correctly – and I do remember correctly because it happened thirty seconds ago – you were distracted too. Who knew that seeing your dead classmate would throw you off?”

“Throw me off?” You frowned, moving around a pile of bones to sit down somewhat comfortably. “You nearly passed out. I saw it with my own eyes, Satoru.”

“Oh,” Giving a small chuckle, Gojo tilted his head a bit as he smirked. “So you could see that, but you couldn’t see the weird guy with the two short ponytails almost obliterate you?”

“I don’t remember that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See this?” Gojo lifted a skull pressing against his right leg, and he dangled it in front of you. “This would’ve been you if it wasn’t for me.”

“You dumbass,” you paused, rolling your eyes, “because of you, we’re both gonna end up exactly like that skeleton. You do realize we’re trapped in here, right? No way out?”

“Calm down. Someone will save us. I have faith, don’t you?”

“Hell no,” a small sigh fell from between your lips, “and you know what? I hope we don’t get saved. The fact that we let ourselves get captured like this is embarrassing. I absolutely cannot leave this stupid box and look another sorcerer in the eye after this. I’d rather die.”

“You’re pretty dramatic,” Gojo sighed. “I hear you, though. We really screwed this up. We should’ve picked different careers. I could’ve been a really nice basketball coach.”

“I would’ve been a coffee shop owner.” Distracted by your own what-if daydreams, you mistakenly leaned back on a pile of skeletons, nearly jumping out of your skin once you remembered that you were indeed lying on a pile of skeletons. “Shit! I gotta get outta here, I can’t do this.”

“Just calm down, it isn’t so bad.” As Gojo adjusted himself, he grunted. “Remember when you dressed up as a skeleton for Halloween? You manifested this.”

“I should’ve never taught you that word,” frowning, you stood up, glancing around the dark inner workings of the prison realm. “How can you relax in a place like this? Aren’t you uncomfortable? Or at least a little bit scared?”

“Hmm, no.” Gojo grinned.

“I shouldn’t have asked. You’re too stupid to know when to be scared.”

“Ouch,” Gojo said dramatically, a hint of amusement coating his words. “Ya know, I’m glad you’re not a coffee shop owner. You’d probably toss random shit in someone’s coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, please shut up.”

“You shut up,” Gojo retorted childishly.

Deep breathing exercises had certainly come in handy during moments such as this one.

Although years upon years had passed since you and Gojo were kids, running around in Halloween costumes and splitting popsicles, it felt as if no time had passed at all whenever you two held a conversation.

Even so, how exactly did it come to this?

Gojo never truly had an ordinary childhood — you were the only normal thing in his life at the time — but you grew up rather unextraordinary.

A normal girl, one who went to school and did her classwork before sneaking off to a secluded lake in the late afternoons with Gojo, skipping rocks and eating sandwiches together.

It was a beautifully plain life. One that was ripped away from you by curses and sorcery.

The only silver lining that truly existed was your old classmates; the dear friends you made once you attended Jujutsu High all those years ago, and in particular, a dark-haired, mellow guy.

“Must’ve been really hard for you,” Gojo suddenly mumbled, “seeing Suguru again. You two had gotten pretty close, right? Up until he . . . left?”

“What’s up with the mumbling? Now isn’t the time for you to get jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gojo mumbled once again, turning his head away from you. “It’s not like that was the real Suguru anyway. Our Suguru is gone for good.”

“Yeah.” The sad tone of your voice is what grabbed Gojo’s attention. One thing that was stronger than his jealousy over you and Geto’s old fondness for one another was his deep concern for you.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gojo smiled softly, facing you once again.

“Huh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I said come here.”

Hesitantly, you walked over to where Gojo was stretched out among the bones, sitting down on the ground beside him as best as you could with all the skeletons around. As you looked at him, it was rather impossible to understand how he could relax so comfortably.

“Come closer,” he held his arm out, waving you over.

“Why? What for?”

“‘Cause I wanna hold you, so just come here.” Suddenly, Gojo leaned up a bit, grabbing ahold of your wrist before pulling you on top of him.

With his other hand, he gripped the back of your thigh, moving your leg over his hips as he leaned back. He sighed with contentment once you were fully on top of him. Releasing your wrist, the white-haired man touched the side of your face, slowly guiding your head to his chest. “See? Isn’t this better than laying on those skeletons?”

“I guess so,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Why are you so tense?” Gojo guided his hand across one of your shoulders, and he started to rub it.

“Hard to relax when you’re trapped in the prison realm,” you paused. “Not to mention I’m literally laying on top of you.”

“So? We hug and stuff all the time.”

“This is more than hugging, and we’ve barely done that,” you smiled softly. “Kinda nice, though. You’re pretty warm.”

“You’re pretty warm too. And really soft.” With his other hand — the one that never left your thigh — Gojo slowly stroked you, gliding his hand up and down, but not daring to touch your ass just yet.

But he wanted to. Desperately.

Suddenly, Gojo shifted his body, squirming just a bit.

“You okay?” You questioned, lifting your head off of his chest to look at his blindfolded face. “Want me to get off?”

“No, not at all, everything’s fine,” Gojo lied.

Truth be told, his dick was starting to harden in his pants, and he could barely stand it.

“Oh, okay,” laying your head back down on Gojo’s chest, you spoke once again. “Satoru? What are we supposed to do until someone saves us? Just sit here and wait?”

“No, that’s a bad idea,” Gojo said.

“Then what should we do?”

Before he answered, Gojo placed his finger underneath his blindfold, pulling at it playfully.

“Well, we should probably fuck, right?”

It took a moment for Gojo’s sinful words to fully sink in. Upon realizing that you had heard him correctly, your head snapped up, your eyes widening with utter shock.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart,” Gojo smirked. “No need to make such a big deal out of it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but . . .” You paused, darting your eyes across the vast, skeleton-filled, dark space. “Here? Of all places?”

Gojo shifted once again. He gripped his pants, but he truthfully wanted to grip his cock instead.

“I’d fuck you anywhere,” Gojo said lowly. “I just think it’s time we finally fuck each other, don’t you?”

Suddenly, his large hand gripped the back of your head, and your best friend shoved his lips against yours.

“Hmm,” Gojo moaned softly, kissing you passionately with those sweet, feathery lips of his. Kissing you — finally, after so many years of dreaming about it — was a magical experience. Before, he never believed in soulmates or seeing fireworks when kissing someone — until now.

“Shit, you’re so . . .” His words trailed off as he pulled away, his warm breath patting against your pretty face.

“Satoru,” you mumbled against his lips, “I didn’t know you thought of me this way. I didn’t think that I’d be someone you’d wanna sleep with.”

“Really? Why’s that?” As Gojo spoke, he took off his blindfold, staring at you — then your lips — with those vibrant, ocean-blue eyes of his.

“We’ve barely even hugged,” when you frowned, just a little bit, Gojo wanted to kiss your pouty lips over and over again until his mouth was sore.

God, he wanted you in ways he couldn’t even begin to vocalize.

But he’d certainly try.

“And I thought I was being obvious this entire time,” Gojo paused. “Whenever we would fight together, side by side, do you know how hard it was to concentrate? All I could ever focus on in the middle of battle was trying not to let myself get distracted by you. Hearing you grunt and groan, just watching the way you’d move. I’ve always wanted to take you home with me once the fight ended, toss you on my bed, and find out all the noises you can make; see how loud you can get. I just gotta hear you moan for me, baby. I have to.”

Running his thumb over your soft mouth, he slightly pulled down on your bottom lip, all before he leaned in again, moving his thumb away and replacing it with his lips.

This time, when he kissed you, he didn’t hold back. That sweet tongue of his entered your mouth as if it was on a mission, and he swirled his tongue around yours, enjoying every little surprised noise you made just as much as he enjoyed tasting your delicious mouth. He’d kiss you forever if he could.

A small part of him hoped that the two of you would never get released, and he could spend eternity with his tongue sloppily flicking against yours.

A pair of large hands suddenly gripped your ass. When you gasped, pulling away from Gojo’s lips, he smiled. You were just too cute.

Who knew that the prison realm would actually turn out to be heaven?

“You’re so tense,” Gojo said with a hint of a teasing tone. “Has no one ever touched you like this before?”

“People have — I mean, I’ve done stuff before, it’s just . . .”

When you failed to finish your sentence, Gojo took it upon himself to finish it for you.

“It’s just that no one’s ever made you feel good before,” his sly grin only grew. “Right?”

“I-” you stammered, “that’s none of your business.”

“Lay down.”

“Why?” You asked, your curiosity at its peak.

“I wanna eat you out, sweet girl. Now lay down.” Gojo’s hands moved from your ass to your hips, and he lifted you off of his lap and laid you down next to him.

He then flipped over on top of you, giving you another kiss — a little, quick one — before he started to impatiently unbutton your pants.

“What kinda best friend would I be if I just let you keep living your life without having had a proper orgasm?” He said, shrugging off your bottoms. “Told you not to waste any time with all those shitty guys. You should’ve been with me from the start.”

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your elbows, looking down at the sorcerer between your thighs, who slowly pulled down your underwear and held your legs open. “You’re not the first guy who has said a bunch of hot things to me, but then failed to deliver-”

You were interrupted by your own unexpected gasp, as it was elicited from your throat thanks to Gojo’s skillful tongue, which had swiped right across your clit.

He was such a tease; that tongue of his could work wonders. And it did. He flicked at your clit rapidly, and during every quick stroke, his eyes never glanced away from your face.

You started to squirm, but he held onto your thighs, convinced that absolutely nothing in this world could make him want to stop eating your pussy. Not when it tasted so undeniably good.

“Had no idea this pretty pussy was so damn delicious,” he pulled away, mumbling against your wet folds. “Should’ve done this a long time ago, baby.”

When he dived back into your pussy, he licked and sucked, sucked and licked. Good god, you tasted amazing. So, so amazing. He couldn’t help but moan as he made a mess of your pussy; your juices and his spit decorating his face.

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned, “I’m close-”

Once again, your words were cut off by your own uncontrollable moans. That sweet orgasm was brewing right in the pit of your stomach.

You expected him to pull away once you warned him about your approaching orgasm, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed his calloused fingertips into your plush thighs even harder, and he ate your pussy as messily as possible. Licked at it more rapidly. Sucked on your clit more hungrily.

“Cum in my mouth,” he moaned out in between licks. “Don’t hold back; I want it all. Cum in my mouth right now.”

“Gojo!” You called out. Last warning.

Instead of pulling away, he reached forward, grabbing ahold of your soft tits. With his fingers, he flicked at your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

And with that, you arched your back off of the hard ground, moaning his name over and over again like a sinner praying for forgiveness.

Gojo lapped up your juices as if he was dying of thirst. He’ll be damned if he missed even a single drop of it.

“Damn it,” he said as he detached his lips from your swollen clit. “I wanna eat you out over and over again, but I gotta fuck you. I just gotta know what it’s like to be inside of you.”

Gojo sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled them down, along with his boxers, his hard dick flung out.

You couldn’t help but stare at the mesmerizing large dick. The tip of it was red and swollen, precum dripping from his aching hole. Two long, thick veins ran along his member.

“You’re so big,” you stated, darting your eyes between his hard cock and handsome face.

“It’s okay,” Positioning himself in between your legs, he said, “I’ll make it fit, baby.”

When he pressed the tip of his dick against your awaiting hole, it felt like he was stepping through the gates of heaven.

One hand was placed next to your head, holding himself up, while his other hand gripped your hip.

His dick slid inside of your soaking wet pussy as if it belonged there; pieces of a puzzle coming together. The sinful moan that fell from between his lips was beautiful.

He couldn’t help it.

Not when your pussy was so tight, wet, and warm.

“Hmm, hey baby?” Gojo whispered, his warm breath patting against your ear, soft white hair tickling the side of your face. “You called me Gojo instead of Satoru earlier when I was eating your pussy. I want you to moan it again for me, over and over again. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Such a sweet girl,” he gave the shell of your ear a quick little lick. “So, so sweet.”

He didn’t wait too long to start thrusting in and out of you once your pussy had adjusted to his size. He simply couldn’t. Not when you felt so utterly amazing.

With his lips still close to your ear as he fucked you, the chatty man whispered all sorts of dirty things. And it only made you moan even louder.

“I could fuck you just like this forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grunted, slamming himself inside of you at a quicker pace. “Sorry if I’m being too rough. I can’t help it, baby. Your pussy’s driving me crazy, just like I knew it would. I knew my best friend would feel this good. Who else other than me would know what to do with a pussy like this? Hm?”

“Gojo,” you called out, gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Gojo, I can’t- I’m gonna cum again!”

“Already?” He smirked, pulling away from your ear, his face only a few inches away from yours. “Gonna cum all over my dick? Make a mess?”

You didn’t respond — you couldn’t respond — not when he rhythmically fucked you like a doll, the tip of his dick reaching all the right spots inside of you.

“Shit,” Gojo suddenly groaned. “Think I’m gonna cum too, baby. I can’t hold it . . . Can’t fucking hold it much longer. I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff that pretty pussy with my cum. No one else will get to.”

“Please do it,” you stammered out with a whine, struggling to speak from the way your body was being pounded into. “P-Please!”

Suddenly, Gojo felt your pussy tighten around his cock. A wave of pure bliss washed over you, making your toes curl as you moaned his name in broken syllables.

The prettiest tears started to fall from your eyes. Gojo kissed them away.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, building up in his lower stomach, dick, balls, and even his thighs.

“I’m so close — I’m right there, baby. I’m right there. Shit — I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum right inside of you, baby — there’s so much of it. I’m cumming-”

Feeling your cum coat his cock as your pussy milked him pushed him right over the edge. He moaned so loudly, it would have been entirely unsurprising if someone could have heard it from outside of the box.

He shot ropes upon ropes of warm, thick, pearly cum inside of you. His dick throbbed with every pulse, spilling every last drop of his semen into your stuffed hole.

“Baby,” Gojo whined lowly, attempting to catch his breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever stop cumming. You drive me crazy.”

“Can we go again?” Looking into his eyes with a pleading glance, you said, “I need more, Gojo, make me cum again. Please?”

“Did I just turn my best friend into my little slut?” Smirking, Gojo leaned down, kissing your lips once again. It was his favorite thing to do. “I’ll make you cum as many times as you want, sweetheart. We might be here for a while, so why not?”

Suddenly, Gojo lifted you, switching your positions until you were sitting right on top of him, his dick still inside of you.

“The prison realm doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you grinned.

Gripping your hips, Gojo’s eyes scanned over your beautiful body, admiring the perfect view as you started to ride him.

Perhaps, he would have to thank Kenjaku someday.

🏷: @allofffmypeaches @manjiroswifo @yourusernames @armani78 @darkphoenix3432 @komonika

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blackdxggr · 6 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, light suggestive groping (thigh) with toji and mention of his dick being half hard - nothing happens, plenty of gentle kisses, all of them are soft for you why wouldn't they be look at yourself, establish relationship

8k fluff celebration!

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Turning your head, muffling your yawn in Kento's chest covered by the softest sweater. "Mm stealing this sweater when you're done with it. You'll get it back when it no longer smells like you." Kento shuts off the TV, setting the remote underneath the side table lamp behind his head.

"How is this? I'll carry you to bed and you can sleep in my sweater. You need to get some good sleep." Yawning in response, tears blurring your eyes. Your jaw aching from how wide your mouth stretches from the sheer force of the yawn.

Slipping the blanket off of you, laying it over the back of the sofa. Kento sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist. Supporting you with a large hand on your ass. "Please, thank you Ken." Looping an arm around his broad shoulders, slipping your fingers into the nape of his sandy blonde hair.

Kento kisses the top of your head. "I love you so much beautiful, thank you for making this place a home. Can't think of going to bed without you by my side." Kissing the side of your head, hugging you tightly.

"I love you too handsome. It wouldn't be a home without you. The scent of your bread, the scent of your cologne lingering in the bathroom." Closing your eyes unable to keep them open anymore. Using all your energy to express, "Your coffee cups, books, house plants, and sweaters, everything. I love you."

Kento holds you with one arm, pulling the covers back. Leaning down, laying you down with care. "I'm deeply in love with you, and I fall again every day and night. With every smile, laugh, hug and kiss." He slips his sweater off, setting it on the edge of the bed next to you.

Slipping his arm underneath your waist and lifting your chest up. You hold your arms up for him to slip his sweater onto you. Before you lay down, Kento covers you in the soft blanket. Lovingly kissing your forehead, cheeks, and lips, tucking the blanket in along one side.

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Turning off the tv. "You're adorable falling asleep on me, am I comfortable?" Kissing his neck, he softly sighs, tilting his head to the side. Slowly trailing lazy kisses up his neck, slipping your fingers into his hair.

Sliding your fingers through his hair. "The coziest." Gliding his large hand down your back cupping your ass. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Keeping the blanket from slipping when he slowly stands up.

Gently urging you to, "Never let me go, let's cuddle till we have to get out of bed for food. Then you can hug me from behind when I make us some breakfast." Flicking off the living room light. The moonlight coming the patio's glass doors lighting Suguru's way towards the hallway.

You mumble, "Will you feed it to me?" Suguru chuckles, his chest rumbling. Wrapping his arm around your waist, hugging you. You're too tired to reciprocate with more than a squeeze of your legs around his waist. soaking in Suguru's love.

"Yes my queen can have whatever she wants. You can sit in my lap when I do." Climbing onto the bed, kneeling, sliding the curtain behind the bed's headboard shut/ Slipping the throw blanket off of you, setting it balled up on the side table.

You only partly unwrap his legs when Suguru lays down, straddling his hips instead. Deciding Suguru's thick pecs are the perfect pillow. The steady beating of his heart is comforting. Pulling the blanket up over his and yours's body, arranging the pillow underneath his head.

Sliding his hand from your cheeks to your soft thigh. Resting his other hand on your back. "I want to wake up with you sleeping on me like this. You're adorable clinging to me." Kissing the top of your head. "I hope I dream of you. To see your beautiful face eyes closed or open is my personal heaven."

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Flicking on the lamp on the side table near your head. Wrinkling your nose, your lips twisting in disgust at the light piercing through your sleep. "Aw you fell asleep waitin' on me how cute. I tuck ya up in bed, have a few, and then I"ll come lay down." Smiling at Toji's deep voice, taking a moment to process at he said.

Peeling the covers back, his eyes widen. "Fuck I should've gotten here sooner." Squeezing your thigh gripped by the garter belt. "Not only do I get to come home to you, but you look cozy and sexy. My shirt looks surprisingly good with these garters." Lifting you off the soft, holding you to his chest.

Kissing your forehead. "I bet that's 'cause you're the one wearin' 'em." Wrapping your arm around his neck, pressing your face into his hard pec. Softly biting. "'s that for being late. "m sorry like make it up to ya tonight. Won't let you go once; I'll be your big teddy bear." Smiling at Toji, you've missed the comfort of his arms.

Setting you down in bed, flicking on the lamp. "Mm teddy bear, missed you, your meanie being late by six hours. Worried." Toji turns around facing the pile of clothes in the hamper.

Struggle to keep your eyes open, for the sake of watching him peel his tight black shirt off. His thick arms flex, the muscles in his back tensing. Slipping his sweats off, turning around his cock half hard. "Sweetheart I'll always come back to ya, gotta put some more trust in me. Love ya too much doll."

He climbs into bed, pushing his baggy shirt up. "Love ya too teddy bear." Gently taking the garter belt off. Trailing kiss along the inside of your thigh. Throwing them onto the floor.

You slide your fingers through Toji's dark hair. He lifts its head, admiring you in his shirt before flicking off the light. Leaning down kissing your forehead, softly squeezing your hip, pressing his hard body to yours. His weight presses you into the bed momentarily. Rolling onto his back, pulling you into his side.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You’re defeated, unable to open your eyes. The coziness of your head in his lap, his long fingers gently undoing your curls into a poofy mess. The tv has become a distance hum, the words becoming unintelligible.

Lightly poking your cheek. Smiling down at you admiring your beautiful face. He glances down at your lips. “You're such a sleepy princess!" Leaning down for a gentle, loving kiss. Which partly misses your lips from the angle he's at.

Using all your energy to smile up at him, your eyelids glued shut. "I can take your clothes off, and hold you close so I feel your warm soft body next to mine.” He lifts your head up, gently lying it down on the sofa. Standing up and scooping you up into his arms, holding you to his bare chest.

Satoru croons "You're definitely tired if you're not taking the chance to thank your heroic wonderful boyfriend in kisses when I'm saving you from walking." Slowly turning your head towards his chest and lazily puckering up your lips.

"Mwaaaa!" A yawn stretches out your kissing sound effect. Followed by an exaggerated one from Satoru. "Mwa." Your second one is barely audible.

"Aw beautiful you're making me sleepy too." There is a soft thud from his foot nudging the bedroom door open wider. "I need to show you how to properly cover someone in kisses before I go to bed. So you'll have to stay awake a few minutes longer." Laying you down on your side of the bed.

Climbing on top, straddling your hips, cupping your face. His palm is warm, and the gentle, slow swipes of his thumb are soothing. "Let me see your pretty eyes one more time so I can see them in my dreams." Opening one eye, then another.

Satoru chuckles, "What a beautiful frog my love is! I'd love you if you were a worm. But would you love me if you were a worm, and I was a bird?" When you don't respond within seconds. He cries, "You hate me!" Slipping your fingers into his snow-white hair, and pulling him in for a sleepy, gentle kiss.

oreo creampie's m.list

tagging: @sabo-has-my-heart @tojislittleprincesss @finding-crow @nicktoon1344 @arminsumi

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blackdxggr · 6 months

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₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time.

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- extra. take my time (i’ll spend it all on you)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take:

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says).

And now you.

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure.

It’s lingerie.

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit.

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly.

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you?

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering.

There’s only one way to find out, really.

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie.

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose.

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with.

But he doesn’t want that.

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him?

“Are you wearing lingerie?”

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet.

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking.

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly.

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?”

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside.

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all.

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling.

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready.

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.”

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it?

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now.

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed.

It’s heaven.

You’re a sight.

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you.

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting.

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–”

That’s enough.

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it.

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you.

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring.

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer.

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly.

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry.

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go.

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping.

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.”

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?”

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!”

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?”

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember.

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–”

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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blackdxggr · 6 months

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

cowboy!reiner x y/n | porn without plot

he’s so deep. too deep. (y/n) made the mistake of attempting to threaten your husband with a baby while ovulating and his kisses are little more heated than usual. a witty, “keep kissin’ me like that and i might just let you knock me up.” mr. braun wasted no time kissing you again, only this time it was heavier with want and a goal in mind.

dinner, forgotten. the muddy and half washed truck, a problem for another day. the errands needing to be ran in marketplace, a problem for another couple (hopefully an expecting one).

you’re layed on your back and drilled into. reiner loves to watch your face when he hits all the right spots, he’s spent years learning you inside and out. the least you can do is let him watch your pupils flutter back into your eyelids and your jaw fall open. the hands holding your hips might cause a bruise due to the strength of his grip. he wants to get as deep as he can in your tight pussy, not a single drop of his semen must go to waste. the face you make when he reaches deep in you drives him half crazy.

he feels himself getting sloppy and reaching his high so he pulls out, edging the two of you and you whine at the empty feeling and look at him but he’s not doing so well either. his chest is heaving as he tries to regulate his breathing, his tip throbbing and leaking while his cock is twitching and begging to be back inside you. he almost can’t take it, but he’s got enough self control to hold back and wait a few seconds more before lifting you up and turning you over onto all fours. but, he doesn’t like the angle and he settles on pushing your front down on the bed, forcing your back into an arch for him. a grin rests on his lips when his heavy hand falls on your plump cheeks with a loud smack and your whine make him chuckle lightly.

he slowly pushes the head of his angry and leaking cock back into you and his breath gets caught in his throat. you’re so warm and inviting, he likes to think it’s a little home made just for him. his hands find purchase on your waist as he readies himself and then it starts again. the slow and deep roll of his hips while he pulls you back into him, low grunts from deep in his throat erupt to mix in with your soft whimpers which only get louder once the pace increases.

you’re close to cumming. he knows this. he can tell by the pitch and lack of your moans, the fluttering of your walls around him so he pulls out again. before you can protest and complain, he starts naming various tools and car parts with his eyes closed and head leaning back. you watch him, the display is almost endearing. suddenly, he sits down and leans against the headboard then lifts you and sits you on his lap. “ride me.” a simple command, but the pit of your tummy disagrees. you put a hand on his chest and another under you to hold him then you press his tip to your entrance before you take a breath and slide down his length. his eyes close and his head fall back, a long groan falling from his lips. the sight alone almost make you cum all over his lap, but you pull yourself together and move yourself up and down on him.

it’s too much for the both of you. your pupils are so dilated that your irises could pass as nonexistent, his cheeks and ears are so red they could pass as poorly applied blush. both your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat, the room is a little humid and smells of sex.

reiner can feel his climax approaching and he wants nothing more right now than to hold you down again his pelvis while he fills you to the brim with his cum. his biggest mistake is looking down at where the two of you are connected. a white creamy ring of cum covers the base of his cock and your pussy is sticky with the mixed fluids. he twitches inside you and he grips your hips then holds you up in the air and jerks his hips up into you. “play- ugh play with that clit f’me, hon- oh fu-” you almost don’t process his command, due to your head being so empty by so full at the same time. as soon as you realise what he told you to do, your hand reaches between your thighs to immediately abuse your throbbing bud. your thighs start to tremble and so do his.

your head falls back and your jaw falls open, no sound coming out as you cum on reiner’s lap but you wash it away with your squirt, leaving a puddle underneath you both. the tensing and visual of you coming pushes your husband over the edge and he holds you down on his lap as his hips jerk, wanting to reach deeper in you as white hot ropes pour into you. he groans loudly until he can’t come anymore.

your body falls against his and your eyes close as well as his. his hands roam on your body, somehow his thumb finds your twitching clit and he toys with it which causes your body to jerk and tense and you weakly try to swat his hand away, that earns a chuckle from him and a soft smile from you.

____

@chrollohearttags your faceclaim board thing motivated me to finish this

cowboy reiner is soooo

i’ve been feeling empty since the end of aot, i desperately need reiner to fill me up tbh

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