#but just like. a heads up. i will be taking a while!!
Note
Omg hi can I request like a loving, cozy, domestic pronebone with Suguru?? Like he’s just like “shh be quiet Satoru is in the room next door we can’t wake him up” while pressing adoring kisses to the back of your neck omg😵💫
trying to keep quiet with suguru ★
cw. fem! reader, prone bone, unprotected, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise
“. . . shhhh,” he’d shush against the corner of your ear, presenting you deep low strokes. a winded gasp wretches from your throat as a palm of geto’s glues against your mouth. he’s so deep, a free hand of his ghosts against the backsides of your spine. an eye roll overtakes your pupils as he’s giving you such righteous hits against your yawning core. geto’s weight just narrowly hovers over you as he’s pressed right up against you, spit slicked lips of yours gnaw and gnash together before you whine again. “gotta be quiet sweetheart. unless you want ‘toru to hear us. you want him to hear how sloppy you are f’me, hm?”
craning your head slowly, you shake a sweet little no and he chuckles, a kiss going against the crown of your head. “so cute,” he purrs in a husky tone, a hand of his gripping against the very edges of your arced hips. fingertips of his dance alongside the very curvature of your body — he takes pride in the way your body responds to him. you’re flinging back and forth, forward against the screeching mattress. geto’s skin, coated with a sweetened sheet of sweat sticks against your own m with each ruthless thrust. “ugh, h-hey, are you licking my palm? mhm, such a filthy girl.”
you were,
with the flatness of your tongue, it lathers against the very center of geto’s palm — tasting the insipid areas of his hand. it follows the creasing flexion lines that runs against his skin.
not before long, you dig your teeth into his hand as your muffled moans vibrate against his luscious tasting flesh. “ah, let me guess. you wanna suck on my fingers too, baby?”
“mmf, y- yes,” you whine as he momentarily departs his hand away. a nice trail of spit looks almost adhesive, its stickiness pastes against his hand as he pries his hand away from your wet mouth. geto’s sharpened hips still deeply drilling into you in the background. your loving hole flutters as you’re just vigorously being pounded beneath the sheets, each wheezing gasp that snatches from your lungs feels like it’s going to be its last. “pleaseee.”
“my pretty girl,” he whispers, the head of his cock never refusing to hit the right angle. with an easy direction of his fingers attaching to your hips, he makes you raise your torso upward to reach more bottomless areas. oh, your mouth forms into the letter ‘o’ at the way he’s stuffing you full of shaft. it’s almost mouth watering,
it is mouth watering.
as you bury your head into the crook of your elbow, geto leans in to place a few kisses near the indenting lines of your back. “look at this gorgeous body,” he purrs, his hips ultimately slowing its maddened pace down — yet despite his tempo suddenly losing its quickened haste, geto’s chest deflates. as he’s leaning up closer to you, his ravened locks of his dance graze up your shoulders as he moves.
back and forth, back and forth,
his rhythm was purely enticing. your jaw aches a bit from how it’s just idly hanging open before he showers you with more delicate kisses.
this time near your neck.
geto’s slow and precise. he starts by your nape, a tongue gradually rolling out to get a taste of your saline, salty skin.
“can never get enough of your taste, fuck,” he murmurs, you’re still plugged in with a good amount of his dick. geto’s so full, swollen rotund balls of his continues to cuff and cuff and cuff against your slick pussy. your ears knell from the never ending paps your own arousal sings as a response. “open wide, baby. get my fingers wet.”
not even seconds later, your lips happily part in preparation for geto to stuff his thickened fingers into your drooling mouth. he grins, already telling how eager you were—milliseconds leisurely passes by and you’re already relishing in the taste of two of his digits curling inside of your mouth.
“thaaat’s it, get it wet ‘cause i want a taste too when you’re done.”
your long lashes flutter against your own eyes as geto starts to pick up his pace again. his other hand still grips onto your waist as he feels your ass writhe against him. fuck, he’s getting closer and closer by the second. geto groans from how you stick against him — he’s already given you a sweet velvety load already. obsidian-black irises of his leer down at the lewd scene at bay. you’re trying to keep up with his pace, but his girth. the wide end stretch alone has you hearing plethora amounts of fuzz pour out of your ears. “s-shit, you’re so perfect arched over for me, sweets..”
with a tongue still lolling around, you merely prevent yourself from gagging once you feel the tips of his digits prod against the very roof of your mouth. just a few inches away from your uvula, a sheeny trail of saliva starts to dribble down your chin before he leans in to kiss you more against your neck.
geto even creates a little trail of kisses . .
numerous times, the warmth of his lips makes your cunt twitch up in total desperation.
trying your best to stay quiet, a loud roaring whimper tugs out of your throat at the head of his cock thwacks repeatedly against your g-spot. you gasp, two fingers of his falling out of your mouth before you’re just pornographically moaning again and again. “f- fuck, right there sugu. hngh.”
“this spot, yeah i know pretty,” and he’s heaving right with you. the undersides of the bed resumes to grate and screech in harmony. he pauses for a bit, popping his own two wet fingers into his mouth. he hums at your taste, relishing in it entirely. so sweet. as geto’s body lingers over you, your ass continuously rebounds against his. a sharp throaty rasp slides out of his lips and he hisses. “gonna cum, f-fuck, ‘m gonna stuff you so full again.”
“i- inside, sugu,” you whine as he gently delves his teeth into the left juncture of your collarbone. it was all exposed—he couldn’t help but leave a little piercing mark from his pearly white canines. geto loves getting carried away and smothers your entire skin with his own homemade moist, needy kisses. airy hot breath collides against your skin, sending you various shivers before you feel your pussy throb. it’s throbbing only divides and multiplies. he hits you in every angle, the curve of his dick ruptures through you and you moan as you feel the arch in your back perk upward. “don’t miss, wan’ it s’bad, want you.”
“i want you too,” he huffs, though with a deep voice — his voice sounds a bit shaky, a bit needy..
maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you were almost positive geto just whined for you. you had him so sensitive, his jaw tightens as he continues to ram his fat cock into your compressing, dense walls.
the bed’s sobbing from the hefty weight wringing against the furniture. the same creaking sensations reverbs throughout your ears and the room itself before within seconds. he’s dumping yet another oozy load into you.
with a sleazy wry grin, geto toots your hips up and he starts to grind against you.
your head’s pressing against the silky reddened crimson sheets before you grow quiet. huffs and puffs were the only noises that could be heard, as well as geto’s whimpering that subsides as he starts to finish his longing high. “god, you always know how to m-milk the shit out of me,” he hoarsely titters, wrapping a good amount of fingers around his twitching shaft. geto fists his cock as he’s still gushing a sizable portion of cum into your rapacious hole. still being a tease, you rub up against his lap as you’re still bent over, feeling his hands trail against the very curvature areas your ass. “huh, want more, do ya?”
“don’t stop, sugu,” you mewl out in a desperate plea, craving for more of his seed. it trickles down between your thighs, leaving you so sticky, a mess.
his mess,
geto can’t help but smear the fat of his thumb over your emitting entrance. the print of his finger ghosts against your gooey slit.
the gooey warm cum that streams down and outside your slit makes him groan. “i’ll never stop, baby. y-you can milk me for as much as you’d like,” he pants, preparing to realign himself again. “now let me,” he pants, the entirety of his lungs inhaling air from each second. his lips press against your neck for a final time before he whispers. “let me love you, baby. bend back over f’me, ‘m not done with this gorgeous body yet.”
#★vegasbaby.#geto smut#geto x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fic#jjk imagines#jjk drabbles#anime smut#female reader
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ꜰʀᴇʏᴀ ꜝ ⨟ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ
✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader
✩ inspo: this is fun to think about
✧ a/n: for those who don't know exactly what this means (also shoutout to freya the god of love), there are 3-5 'types' of (romantic) love. eros, romantic love, ludus, playful love, pragma, enduring love, and then there's mania which is obsessive love and agape which is universal love. The last two can sorta bend in a familiar or platonic way as well as romantic.
🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, proofread
✎ wc: 3.3k
⎯ Aventurine
LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Aventurine prefers to flirt, to have fun, be a little silly with his love. After all, life’s too short to not enjoy it. He wants a partner who will not only put up with his games but also join in and enjoy it, someone to tease who will tease back. He would love a deeper connection as well, but before that comes fun.
“Honey, I’m hooome~!” Aventurine calls from the apartment door, making his way to the kitchen. You weren’t cooking anything, simply sifting through the fridge for a snack. His arms wrap around your waist as the scent of his near overbearing cologne washes over you. He presses his lips to your neck and peppers it with a bunch of fleeting kisses, mumbling about his day into your skin even though you didn’t ask. When you dared to try and pull away, he only pulls you closer, pinching at your waist and grinning. “Awhhh, are you not happy to see me?”
He doesn’t give you time to reply, hauling you up and turning on his heels. You don’t get to complain, not before he practically throws you on the bed and throws himself onto you. He wastes no time finding your most ticklish spots, waiting for you to ask for mercy. “I want a proper welcome home!” He exclaims, like you hadn't given him enough attention. Not like you can do what he wants while you do your best not to laugh, squirming underneath him, trying to break free from his tickle attack.
⎯ Dr. Ratio
EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. While Ratio isn’t necessarily the best at showing his affection, he is head over heels for you. Absolutely and irrevocably in love, and it only grows with each passing day. He’s quite the gentleman when you get past his cold demeanor, and is quite by-the-book.
You had met him in his classroom after his classes, to give him the lunch you had made him. He regards you with a brisk ‘mh’, You are used to this reaction, and you don’t take it to heart. He tells you he’ll be home a little later, and apologizes. Silence stretches between you two before you tell him it’s alright and start to leave the room.
“I am sorry, my love,” He grabs your wrist before you can fully turn around. He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyes locked on yours as he apologizes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Dinner tomorrow.” He’s so blunt with it, like you have no choice. But he says it with such sincerity, an emotion that is hard to get from him. His eyes linger with yours as you nod, before letting you go and returning to grading his student’s papers.
⎯ Boothill
LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Boothill loves with his whole heart, but he just can’t take it seriously. He’s always teasing you, whether it be sultry words, little touches, anything. He loves making you blush.
Tonight, you two are at some bar he had dragged you to, and it’s quite lively. Which gives Boothill ample time to show you off, his arm around your shoulders or your waist whenever someone comes up to talk to you or him. He leans in ever so closer with that toothy grin, eyes half-lidded as he whispers something about how cute you look tonight. When he sees even the tiniest blush begin to bloom, he amps up his flirting tenfold.
Over the entire night, he makes little comments that turn into big flourishes of his love for you, small, teasing touches that trail from your shoulder down to your hands, interlocking your fingers. He leans in close and whispers against your ear, not necessarily just flirts, literally anything he can think of, like that you guys need to put soda on the grocery list or something. It’s the way his breath fans over your ear that causes goosebumps to riddle skin. You try and hide your blushing face, but he grabs your chin and tilts your head to meet his gaze, using his hat to shield your faces from the rest of the patrons and pressing a kiss to your lips.
⎯ Gallagher
PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. While Gallagher may not sound like it, he’s romantic by heart and looks for a partner he can spend his life with. He wants to settle down, enjoy something that lasts. And he prefers a partner that does the same.
He was lounging on the couch at home, a rare sight normally. When you walked into the living room, he greeted you with a lazy smile, reaching for you like he wasn’t a 30 something year old man. He grabbed your wrist and guided you into his arms with a yawn, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. He lets out a deep, rumbling ‘mmm’ as he does so, sharing no other words.
Any time you try to break free from his hold, whether you wanna eat or need to go to the bathroom, he groans. He doesn’t say much, whispering quiet ‘love yous’ here and there, and if you really do have to get up, he practically follows you around. He’s rarely ever clingy, he’s probably one of the most independent people you know. He’s only like this when he has something on his mind, and marriage isn’t exactly a far off thought…
⎯ Sunday
EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. Sunday is a textbook romantic. A dinner and a movie, roses, have you home by ten, he’s the whole package. Anything you could want, you will have. There’s always a fresh bouquet of flowers in the vase in your living room, and perhaps a new poem for/about you every month.
Whatever he gave you in reality, he gave you tenfold in the Dreamscape (especially since he can). This includes his affection, where you two are hidden away… somewhere in Dewlight Pavillion. Somewhere where Sunday promises no one will find you two. It’s not as if you two are doing something lewd, he’s nestled up against your chest, that’s about it. But, he’s been yearning for some time alone with you since forever. With how busy he has been, he hadn’t got a moment alone with you.
“I missed you.” He states. His work is secondary to this moment, as he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, before nuzzling his cheek into it, all the while his eyes stay on yours. He has you flustered by the way he does it so desperately, yet so… carefully. He needed this, but he didn’t want to allow himself to lose his composure. So, the best he could do was steal you away when you were bringing him his mail, leave you breathless with a few tender kisses and gentle touches, and lead you back to your way out of the Pavillion.
⎯ Argenti
AGAPE ; UNIVERSAL LOVE. Love, devotion, and worship go hand in hand in hand for Argenti. He loves with his heart, body, mind, and soul. He loves unconditionally, every little bit of you, even the ground you walk on. Where the water wet your skin, where the dirt kissed your hands, he loves and loves and loves.
You two are dancing in your kitchen, to a soundless beat. The only rhythm coming from your barely-heard footsteps and the clank of Argenti’s armor as he shares such a moment with you. It is rare that he is home, always out on some adventure across star systems, but it is always a celebration when he is. Atleast, he makes it a celebration. Laughter fills the room as you try your best to keep up with his steps, the man elegant and flawless, as usual, while you stumble just a tick behind.
“You’ve got it, I know you do.” Argenti coos as you do your best to fall into his steps, still stumbling every so often. He dips you down, eyes searching yours with that content smile plastered on his face, before he pulls you up and chest-to-chest with him. His eyes sparkle with mirth, spinning you two around as if your kitchen was a real and proper ballroom, swaying gently. His eyes closed then, humming some tune, a song lost to time that only he remembered. He had hummed it on your longest days and on your darkness nights, the days you weeped and sobbed in his arms, and the days you had turned to him with such a bright smile. A tune that resembled something homely.
⎯Sampo Koski
LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. While Sampo can be quite the romantic, he prefers to tease and play with you instead. Sure, he could dance with you all night long, bring you fresh roses everyday, but where’s the fun in that? He finds it much more fitting to flirt with you on end, brag a little about his ‘sales’, splurge a little for you every now and then.
You walk into your bedroom to find Sampo laying on his side, his head propped up with his hand, a rose in his mouth. He gives you a mock-sultry glare while you stand there, dumbfounded, halfway between disgust and laughter. Rose petals decorate the bed, and the room, and you tell yourself that you’ll have to remind him later that he’ll be cleaning it up.
For now, though, he beckons you closer, and when you do, he pulls you onto the bed quickly, spitting out the rose, and peppering your face with kisses. The room fills with laughter as you do your best to break away, but he continues this torrent of kisses, rarely taking a breath. When you complain that ‘it’s too much!’ he only ups the ante, kissing your neck, your shoulder, any exposed skin he can find. You simply just have to accept your fate, now…
⎯ Jing Yuan
PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. He who has waited for an eternity yearns for an eternity spent in one’s arms. Jing Yuan has lost most of those dear to him, if not all. While he knows life will reach its end, he cannot help but wish he had someone to spend the rest of it with.
It is very rare for Jing Yuan to be free for even an hour, and yet here he was, a whole day to himself. He’s lounging in his room, basking in the sun while you lay in his arms, reading a book. You two barely share any words, yet the silence between says it all. It’s a comfortable feeling, something that feels like home, something he cherishes every second of. It’s one thing to find home within the Xianzhou, but it’s another to find home in someone’s arms.
He tilts his head as he looks down at the book your reading, contemplating if he wanted to pull your attention away from the book, or not. With a soft ‘hmph’, he makes his decision to leave you alone, choosing to nuzzle into your hair instead. You don’t react, which he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer as he closes his eyes. Perhaps an afternoon nap would do him some good…
⎯ Blade
PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Not even death could keep Blade away from you. His own suicidal tendencies, his never-ending want to die, his need to die, his own voice begging for a means to an end, it all washes away when he sees your smile, as if the sun is greeting him once more after such a wretched eclipse.
He knows he has loved in the past, and yet when he recalls that feeling, Blade is only met with a burning feeling akin to rage clawing its way through his chest. He prefers to not think about it much, focusing on Elio’s script and whatever mission he’s been dispatched on. Yet, when he’s met with you laying in his bed, messing with his phone, waiting for him, a different kind of feeling weaves its way into his heart. Something warm, a kindling, of sorts.
His own voice quiets when he allows himself to feel that feeling, peace, perhaps? He’s quick to brush it off, shove it down along with any other emotion that was daring to well up, and takes a seat next to you. When you look up and beckon him closer, he doesn’t accept. But, he does lean in, and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. It’s a rare display, you can’t remember the last time he even dared to hold your hand. And before you can question him, he’s gone, out of the room, leaving his phone behind, like always.
⎯ Luocha
EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. Luocha is quite the romantic when he wants to be. Since he spends most of his time wandering, he doesn’t get to see you very often. But when he returns home, he loves nothing more than to share stories of his travels and hold you in his arms. You are his anchor, what brings him back to reality when his thoughts drift to the distant churches and candle wicks that give way to angry flames…
He finds you sleeping on the couch, phone in hand, twitching every now and then, but making no real reaction to any sound. It was clear that you were waiting for Luocha to come home, and had succumbed to sleep. Luocha had texted you 4 days ago that he would be home, and you yourself had no idea how long you had been up, the past couple of days had skewed your perception of time. By now, it was around 3:00 am.
With a soft huff and an even softer gaze, Luocha scoops you up into his arms and carries you to your shared bed. He’s careful, doing his best to be as quiet as possible as he carries you, but you still wake up. You mutter a slurred ‘Luocha?’, and all he does is shush you, shaking his head and greeting you with a warm smile. You don’t get time to protest as he lays you down on the bed, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead, before turning on his heel and exiting the room. He will join you later, as much as he wants to lay beside you now, he’d like to get settled back in, first.
⎯ Dan Heng
PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Dan Heng tends to retreat into himself, a lot. Ever since he revisited the Xianzhou, this has become a habit of his. He doesn’t exactly push you away, but his ‘time to think’ seems to overtake your guys’ alone time. Regardless of it all, he always comes back to you, finding home safe in your arms.
He wakes in the dead of night, his past life’s memories catching up to him once more. He doesn’t cry or scream, his breath is shallow, as he listens to the silence of the hotel you two were staying at. He stills for a moment, the scars of the past fading into a blissful nothingness, before he looks down at you. Sleeping peacefully, completely unbothered by Dan Heng’s sudden awakening.
His body relaxes as his mind quiets finally, the simple sight of you reminding him that the past is the past, and nothing more matters right now. He settles back into bed, taking a moment to admire your face, hesitantly reaching out. His fingers brush against your cheek, trailing to your hairline, tucking a strand behind your ear. You don’t even flinch, but you instinctively curl up closer to him. Dan Heng graces your sleeping form with a rare smile and a huff, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.
⎯ Gepard
EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. While Gepard may be shy about certain things, that doesn’t mean he is lacking in the romance department. His job may keep him away from you for quite a while, but he always finds his way back to you.
It had been quite a while since you and Gepard had a proper date, or even night out. Oftentimes, he’d come home late into the night, too exhausted to even eat, and all he would want to do is cuddle up next to you in bed. He loves his job, he truly does, even if it means coming home at near 2 am and waking up at 5 am. Of course he wants to spend as much time with you, but some days are harder than others, and he wants to stay as healthy as he can.
Tonight, however, he’s come home early. At 6 pm to be exact. A completely normal time to get off work… if he wasn’t the captain of the Silvermane Guards. Before you can even ask why he’s home so early, he hurriedly asks you out on a date. His face is only slightly flushed, and the minute you say yes, he lights up like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. He takes you out to one of the nicest, fanciest restaurants in Belobog, and he just cannot contain the giddy smile all throughout the night. He stares at you as if you are straight out of a movie, eyes practically shining everytime you laugh.
⎯ Caelus
LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Caelus doesn’t take himself too seriously, even if there’s a stellaron housed inside of him. So why take love too seriously…? Not that he doesn’t love you, no, he adores you. But between all this trailblazing and saving planets and researching stellarons and what not, he doesn’t get much of a chance to be a little silly. And you, luckily, are his escape from that.
He barges into your room with the brightest smile known to man, his hair a little messy, and what you can only hope is soot dusting his cheeks and hands. Caelus looks so proud. Too proud. In his hands he holds what looks to be a worn out raccoon plushie, also blessed with a heavy dusting of soot. You stare at him blankly as he does not explain himself, simply waltzing over to your bed.
“Our son.” He states, so proudly, as if he had brought the thing into the world on his own. Desperately in need of some fun today, you play along, telling him ‘our son needs a bath.’ And Caelus looks at you as if you have offended his entire lineage (which, apparently, is two people now.) He jokingly chastises you for calling your son ‘dirty’, and “How could you say that to him!?” “He’s just a baby!”. Though, eventually after hours and hours of him threatening to put his sooty hands all over you, he washes the stuffed raccoon. And himself.
⎯ Welt
PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Welt has seen lifetimes pass, and lifetimes more come into the universe. He’s vowed to himself to love whoever comes into his life as long as he loves, to love hard and never back down. He dreams of church bells ringing while the scent of roses fill the air, rather than the mournful gong of those ringing bells, signaling someone's end, or the bittersweet smell of lilies.
He holds you closely tonight, practically bathing in your cologne, eyes closed as he hums a tune from some far off timeline. It is a quiet, tender moment, one that is very rare between the two of you. Welt could spend all his time on the Astral Express and still never have enough time for you. He is greedy in that way, seeking any time he can with you, even if it is only for 5 minutes.
He himself doesn’t know why he’s feel especially wanting tonight, but he doesn’t busy his mind asking himself why. Time and space is infinite even as constricting as it feels, and he knows better than to keep himself occupied with such silly questions. The day he catches himself not missing you, yearning for you, is the day that he will wither into stardust.
© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices
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#⁺◟freyito#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#aventurine x reader#dr ratio x reader#boothill x reader#gallagher x reader#sunday x reader#argenti x reader#sampo x reader#jing yuan x reader#blade x reader#luocha x reader#dan heng x reader#gepard x reader#caelus x reader#welt x reader#welt yang x reader#veritas ratio x reader
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Seeing JJK men shirtless for the first time
Pairings: (true form) Sukuna x fem! reader; Nanami x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo and Geto x fem!reader; Ino x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader; Ijichi x fem!reader
Word Count: 6k (this is literally one third of my bachelor thesis lmao)
Warnings: Spice in Sukuna's, a little bit in Choso's and in Toji's part, true form Sukuna so slight spoilers regarding his appearance, I'm sorry but Choso's part is a lil shitty
Notes: You guys...This has to be my biggest fic yet and let me tell you, I poured my heart and soul into this piece. So please, if you find the time, leave me a like, a comment or a reblog. I appreciate it more than you could imagine 🤍
Sukuna
You don’t even know how you ended up here. To be exact, it still feels like a feverish dream to you. Only one second ago, you were on your way to find your friends, injured with your shoulder throbbing each passing second. But now…
Your eyes roam around the barely lit area, gleaming in that unpromising red light that runs shivers down your spine. There is absolutely no logical explanation for how you ended up here.
“Sure took you some time to finally wake up again.”
That dark voice hollering at you, the sarcastic undertone in it. It’s a man, without any doubt. And just by the sound of his masculine voice you can tell that he’s build like a wall.
Is it wise to move forward, to discover this place? Well, standing here like an idiot definitely won’t help to find a way out of here, right? And you definitely need to find out who that man is…
“Who are you?”
Your voice gets lost against the tall walls, echoes back at you over and over again. But no answer.
“Are you the reason for me being here?”
There is no doubt in the fact that his eyes are all over you. Like a hunter, he roams around you in silence while your tingling nerves almost cause you to lose your mind. Who is he? Where are you? What is all of this?
Your feet dash forward once again. Straight into the darkness, chasing after a dim beam of light that catches your interest immediately. Maybe this is your way out, maybe you’ll get to meet your friends again, maybe-
Suddenly your breath gets stuck in your throat, feet stopping immediately. That thing…
You swallow hard, eyes fixated on the most muscular male upper body you’ve seen in your entire life. No, this isn’t a thing. This is a grown man.
“Stop staring at me like that”, he growls with his now familiar voice.
This is him, the person who talked to you earlier. You want to confront him, want to ask him for a way out, but instead you stare him up and down. Those oh so muscular four arms decorated by hypnotizing tattoos, a chest so broad it takes you all your strength to outstand the urge to press your head against it. But what really catches you off guard is his mouth. No, not the mouth on his face. Your gaze gets caught by the parted lips that cover his stomach, teeth exposed to threatful that the thought of getting killed crosses your mind for a split second.
“Are you done now, stupid girl?”
Before you even realize what’s happening, you find yourself lying in his arms, his body pressed so tightly against yours that you fail to breathe. His half naked body, muscles touching your bare skin…
Oh god, this is so wrong. There is no doubt in the fact that this is Sukuna in his true form, the king of curses in his full glory. And you? You are nothing but a tiny human compared to him, an ant underneath his boot.
But why does it feel so good, then? Why do your knees give him, why does your body start to throb in places where it shouldn’t?
A whimper escapes your lips, body almost collapsing into itself when you can feel his mouth there.
Against your bare skin.
Caressing the sensitive flesh of your thighs.
“If you just break into my kingdom like that, then I can do whatever I want with you”, he whispers against your ear.
“P-please”, you groan, not even knowing yourself what exactly you’re begging for.
“(y/n)?”
You close your eyes, searching for the feeling of his tongue against your skin.
“(y/n)!”
No, don’t open your eyes, don’t get distracted.
“(Y/N)!”
When your eyes dart open again, you aren’t greeted by Sukuna’s stinging gaze. No, the innocent eyes that look at you filled with worry belong to someone else.
“Man, you really have me worrying out here for you. You just broke down and started whimpering”, Yuji explains while lifting you off the ground.
Was it…all a dream?
Nanami Kento
Your heart races, blood rushing through your ears like electricity. You told him right from the start that leaving on his own wasn’t a good idea, that the injuries of other jujutsu sorcerers make you believe this might be a special grade curse.
But Nanami Kento never listens when you worry about him.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but it seems like there’s a gaping wound placed under my ribcage on my right side.”
You didn’t hesitate a single second, rushed after him with your little case like you always do. As Shoko’s co-worker, it’s your responsibility to look after injured jujutsu sorcerers. Even though you’ll never be as good as her, you will always make it your mission to help as fast as possible.
Especially him.
His signal grows stronger and stronger with every step you dash towards his location, mind racing back and forth. A gaping wound, what is that supposed to mean? Did he get hit by a gun, a curse? You don’t allow yourself to catch your breath, eyes focused on the little dot that comes closer.
“Are you alright, (y/n)? You really don’t need to rush to my side like that.”
A wave of relief washes over you when you see him leaning against the wall of a public toilet. But only until you catch a glimpse of the deep red tissues covering the sink and ground, his usual dark blue shirt discoloured in horrific crimson.
All colour drains from yourself while you lunge yourself at him, thick fear rushing through your veins.
“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You already lost a hell amount of blood”, you press out, inspecting the wound carefully.
This looks bad. Really really bad. If you don’t act right now, if you don’t start to use your technique immediately…
“Take off that shirt. Now”, you instruct him without waiting for his response while putting on gloves and showering your hands in sanitizer.
You fail to understand the meaning of your automatic words until he stands in front of you, bare chested.
Oh.
Your breath gets stuck in your throat all over again, eyes shamelessly discovering the way his muscular chest rises and falls steady.
“Did you just…”
Suddenly your mouth feels dry like the desert, mind unable to form a single sentence. Since you know Nanami Kento, you always know him as that well-dressed gentlemen in that suit that makes his butt look delicious and his shirt that leaves you pondering about the way he might look underneath when you’re supposed to work. There was never an opportunity to peek at more than his veiny forearm. And now this force of a man is standing right in front of your hungry eyes, showing you that reality is so much better than everything you could have imagined.
“Sorry, didn’t you tell me to take my shirt off?”
“I…”
When Shoko wasn’t around, you always pondered about the way he might look under his dark blue shirt. Do his tight muscles draw those valleys onto his belly you’ve seen on TV before? Does his biceps have that popping vein his forearms make you suspect?
You can’t help but allow your eyes to roam around his frame freely. That little scar decorating his chest. Is it from a fight? And that minor trail of untrimmed hair that lets your gaze wander to places…
“I don’t want to be rude but…I’m not feeling that well, (y/n). Would you mind treating me?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood rushes into your cheeks immediately, face heating up by the horrific thought that he caught you staring at his bare chest like an idiot. Fuck, he definitely thinks you’re nothing but a freak now. What if he’ll ignore you from now on? What if you won’t see him again after that? What a dumbass you are, didn’t you see countless men without a shirt on already-
“Hey, stop worrying. I’m more than flattered that I caught the attention of someone like you but…let’s do this when I’m feeling better.”
Your widened eyes fail to leave his oh so gorgeous face while your trembling hands go to work, mind too focused on what he just said.
“Let’s do what?”, you finally breathe out.
Is this…a smile forming on Kento Nanami’s lips? You feel like tripping all over again, heart pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you might pass out right by his side any given moment.
“I like the way you look at me, (y/n).”
What a simple reply. And yet, his words send you into another dimension.
“You…WHAT?”
Choso Kamo
Your body threatens to fail you, eyes in desperate search for Yuji. When Megumi finally gave in and told you he went out on his own, you almost lost your mind. Yuji, Sukuna’s vessel, on his own in Shibuya when everyone chases after him? Megumi definitely deserves another slap for that.
You sprint down the empty hallways of Shibuya’s train station, following the distant sound of battle. Please, let Yuji be alright. As his bigger sister, it was always your aim to protect him. When Yuji joined Jujutsu High, you did as well. When Yuji decided to fight in first row, you did too. There is no way you’ll allow your little brother to die, even though technically you aren’t related by blood. But even as your step brother, you can’t afford to lose him.
“Yuji?”
Nothing. Your body hollers back at you unanswered, mind slowly but surely starting to get into panic mode as the sound of cracking metal grows closer and closer.
And then you see it, the chaos that lays itself out in front of you dipped in neon purple lights. Blood is splattered across the area, the floor swimming in water that escapes the nearby toilet.
The toilet…You furrow your eyebrows. Is this… a wave of pink hair?
“Yuji?”
His eyes meet yours. The so determined gleam in them escapes instantly when fright replaces it.
“Get away from here right now, (y/n)!”, he screams at you just before a fist pushes him into a nearby wall violently.
Your brain threatens to fail you, body dashing into the toilet without thinking twice. Whoever this is will pay for hurting your brother so violently, for causing all this mess.
“Didn’t I tell you to walk away?”, Yuji questions with an irritated voice.
“And I told you more than once that I won’t leave you hanging!”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
“Are you two done?”
A male voice that makes you turn your head instantly. The second your eyes find him, your breath gets stuck in your throat. Oh, what a force of a man he is with strands of dark hair sticking to his wet face, his gorgeous eyes looking at you so unbothered. But what almost sweeps you off your feet is the way his robe allows you a single peek at his firm muscles that are lit by neon purple.
“Oh my”, you mumble to yourself.
Who on earth is this guy? Why is he fighting Yuji? But most importantly…Why does he have to look so steaming hot?
“Why are you not moving, (y/n)? Get out of here right now”, Yuji taunts urgently.
“What a waste”, you jeer at the man in front of you while taking a few steps towards him.
Choso can’t help but look at you bamboozled. How you move so confidently even though you don’t even know who he is, your eyes still fixated on…
His body? Are you looking at his abs?
“That a handsome guy like you acts like this.”
His eyes widen unintentionally, hands not daring to move. He should kill you right on the spot, should end your life just like that of Itadori Yuji. You’re partly responsible for the violent death of his brothers as well, given the fact that you’re also wearing that uniform. But his tight fists don’t dare to move a single inch, glued to his sides.
“Idiot, you don’t even know who you’re talking to. I will kill you just like Yuji Itadori, I will-“
“Will you, though?”
You come to a stand in front of him.
“W…What are you doing, (y/n)?”
Yuji’s voice shifts into the background. This definitely isn’t the first time you get close to a handsome man, but the others definitely weren’t that handsome. Just one look into his surprised eyes, the delicate marks on his face. And that force of a body. There is no doubt in the fact that this man trains a lot.
“I am distracting him, what else?”, you purr.
“I am not distracted.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Before he’s able to think about your words any further, you wrap your longing arms around his neck and hold him firmly against yourself.
“Because your eyes tell me something else.”
Now it’s Choso who fails to breathe. He never understood the simplicity of tender touch, the urge that drives humans almost crazy. What is so special about another hand placed against your skin, about lying in each other’s arms? He might have never understood if it wasn’t for you. You with your arm wrapped around his neck. You, with your free hand wandering down his chest, the wet fabric exposing his tight muscles without mercy.
In the split of a second, he begins to realize what touching each other seems to be about.
“Respect. Out of all the trained men I see on a daily basis, you have to be the most handsome one out of all. You work out a lot, don’t you?”
Your fingertips discover the valleys of his abs even further, force Choso to feel an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. Fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, has never seen you before. How is it even possible for you to have this power over him?
“None of your business, idiot”, he breathes out.
“What’s your name?”
Your voice does things to him his mind fails to understand, his sharp breath now hanging in the air between both of you. You are threatening, your glowy eyes showing more than urgently that you aren’t playing. But that slight smile on your face, the confidence dripping from every pore of your body…Who are you?
“Choso Kamo.”
“I’m (y/n)”, you reply while allowing your eyes to take one last glance at his tight abs.
Oh, you’ll definitely regret what you’re about to do. What if you won’t get to see him afterwards, the most handsome man you ever laid eyes on? There’s no other way, though.
“And I hope I’ll get the chance to be this close to you again.”
One innocent kiss pressed against his soft lips. One innocent kiss that sends him straight onto the ground, emerged into nothing but darkness. A pretty useful cursed technique, probably the reason why you get called femme fatale at Jujutsu High.
“What a shame, I really liked that guy”, you comment with Yuji coming to a stand right by your side.
“You didn’t have to touch his abs like that…”
“Oh I definitely did”, you reply instantly.
Your hands brush over his upper body one last time before you turn around and walk away.
Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru
What a lovely day. Well, lovely apart from the stinging fact that you are forced to babysit the vessel of Tengen-sama when a bunch of bounty hunters chases after you. Your shaded eyes roam around the area without any break, too scared of the consequences that carelessness could have. In contrast to Gojo, you take this task very seriously. You, who is nothing but an average jujutsu sorcerer at jujutsu high, surpassed by her classmates a long time ago. Who, who only got the chance to go on this mission by coincidence.
Well, and then there’s him.
“(y/n), why are you not wearing a bikini? We’re at the beach, aren’t we?”
Gojo Satoru, the honoured one. Of course, they would choose him to escort the plasma vessel. It’s only logical for him to be here.
“We’re on a mission, Satoru”, you remind him urgently without even looking his way.
“Hey, are you alright? There’s no need to be so tense, (y/n). We have everything under control.”
And then there’s also him, Geto Suguru. The boy with the most charismatic smile you’ve even seen, so gentle and kind that it’s almost unbelievable he’s even talking to Satoru.
“I won’t be tense when she’s finally with Tengen-sama. This mission is very important to me”, you mumble with your eyes fixated on Riko and Misato walking in front of you, completely unbothered by the fact that both of them almost died more than once.
“Hey, stop looking so serious, (y/n)! I’m here to save you if it get’s heated”, Gojo purrs from behind, literally forcing you to roll your eyes behind your sunglasses.
“Why do you always have to tease her like this? (y/n) can help herself and you know that”, Geto remarks instantly, letting himself fall behind to mumble something you can’t understand into his best friend’s ear.
You worked your ass of for this opportunity, always stayed longer than anyone else on the training field, always learned until far past midnight while everyone else was sound asleep. There was never anything except getting a better jujutsu sorcerer in your life. God, you didn’t even have a single boyfriend in all those years.
Enough. You straighten your shoulders and force your eyes onto Rika again. For now, you have a job to do. There’s no time to think about something so wasteful as boys.
Your gaze roams around the beach before you allow the plasma vessel to get into the water with a wink. No one but a little family without cursed energy is located around you, so everything should be fine. Also, Gojo would have detected an enemy with his six eyes. Gojo…where on earth is he, though?
When you turn around in order to follow his and Geto’s muted voice, your breath gets stuck in your throat. You really don’t know what you expected when going to the beach with both Suguru and Satoru, but that? Both of them wear nothing but shorts and a shirt – an opened shirt. Your gaze hits their bare chests one after another, races back and forth while your mouth opens on its own. To be honest, you’ve never seen a real guy shirtless. Maybe here and there at the swimming pool when you were training or at the beach. But they weren’t like them. They weren’t this toned.
“Enjoying the view, (y/n)? Looks like a cat got ya tongue, huh?”, Satoru jeers at you.
“Not every girl looks at you, Satoru”, Suguru comments dryly.
“Hey, are you alright, (y/n)?”
You missed out.
Fuck, you definitely missed out.
How is this he first time you saw both of them shirtless? Geto with a firm body that doesn’t match his soft personality at all. Gojo, who isn’t only blessed with his immense powers but with a god-like body as well.
“I…Uh…”
You can’t find words. How are you supposed to say anything logical when your heart almost beats out of your chest? They were never more than comrades to you, never more than strong jujutsu sorcerers you look up to. But damn, at this very moment, you truly see them as man.
Suguru puts his hand on his hip which makes his muscles dance delicately, head tilted to the side in sheer confusion while he walks towards you. Lord have mercy, you really are doomed. How are you supposed to concentrate on this mission when now you’re aware of how they look underneath those strict uniforms?
“Are you feeling unwell? It’s totally fine if you go back to the ho-“
“No”, you interrupt Suguru immediately when he puts his hand on your shoulder.
His bare hand.
While he stands in front of you with his bare chest.
You never longed for men. No, your only interest has always been your training, to become greater, better, faster, stronger. But at this very moment, when both of their toned bodies stare right back at you, you suddenly feel a weakness you’ve never felt before, a hunger that was unknown until now.
“Can’t you see that (y/n) is busy staring at us right now, Suguru? Bet that’s your first time ever seeing something apart from training”, Satoru teases you.
Faster than your mind is able to follow, he stands in front of you, grabs your wrists and presses your palm against his naked chest. His heartbeat pulsates against your fingertips, forces a warmth between your legs you’ve never felt before. Those tiny hair that tickle against your oversensitive skin, the heat that radiates from his body, that makes you almost faint.
You stumble back a few steps only to get caught by Suguru, who presses you against his body firmly.
“Hey, are you not feeling well?”
“I…I…”, you stutter.
Oh god, you feel like dying and flying at the same time, lying like an idiot in Suguru’s arms while Satoru still grins at you.
“Want me to take off my pants as well, (y/n)?”
“SATORU!”
Ino Takuma
“Why do I have to train with this jerk again?”
Your eyes roll backwards while you let yourself fall onto a nearby bench theatrically. God, how much you hate that guy, the way he always acts so competent around Nanami makes your guts turn in pure disgust. Doesn’t he understand that you are better than him, that you are Nanami’s favorite student? Ino Takuma doesn’t stand a chance against you.
But why does Nanami insist on both of you training together, then?
“Because both of you need to work on your abilities and you complement each other perfectly.”
“That’s not true!”, you answer along with each other instantly.
No, you despise Ino with all your heart. There’s nothing you could learn from him. Him with that stupid grin, him with that dumb confident walk, him in that oversized black sweater.
“I will be back after my mission. It is your choice how you spend your time until then. Stay safe.”
Fuck, Nanami knows exactly what he did with those words. Of course, there’s no way around spending your time with that jerk now.
“Can you stop breathing so fucking loud?”, you jeer at him.
“Me? Nothing but hot air comes out of your mouth. Save your breath, idiot”, Ino bites back instantly.
“You know what? Let’s start right now. I can’t wait to beat your puny ass.”
You dash to the other side of the large room after bumping into his shoulder provocatively. There is no doubt in the fact that you will make Ino regret coming into your life like this. You are the one and only one who deserves a recommendation from Nanami and not him. Just one look into his oh so confident face makes your veins pulsate.
“What’s wrong? Are you scared, (y/n)?”
You let out your shaky breath, hands balling into tight fists. That fucker will regret every stupid comment he ever made when you’re done with him.
“If you were as good at staying dumb stuff as you were at fighting, you’d probably be a special grade by now.”
He dashes towards you with his mask covering his face. Just in time, you are able to dodge his merciless attack while holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. Over and over, he tries to hit you, tries to distract you while you swing your swords without regard as well.
“I won’t lose this fight, (y/n)”, he presses out while pushing you backwards.
“I won’t either.”
Over and over, again and again, your body collapse against each other, his flying fist missing your face only by inches. You have to fight back harder, sweat sticks to your forehead while you squint your eyes in order to follow his rapid movements. How much you hate to even think about the stinging fact that Ino is a decent fighter, that both of you actually meet eye to eye.
You ball your fists even tighter, let your powers roam free in your pulsating veins. Still, you won’t allow him to win this. You will stump him into the ground, make Nanami proud, show him that you deserve his recommendation. This is your only way to become a grade 1 sorcerer, to surpass Ino.
With one well-placed dash of your bare hand, his sweater gets torn into pieces while you position yourself in front of him, so ready to give him that last hit he deserves, so ready to win this fight.
This fight…Your eyes follow the movement of your hand, watch how the black fabric hangs on for dear life, how it reveals something you’ve never seen before.
Your eyes widen in sheer surprise, blinking against the sudden sensation that hits you. Are those really Ino’s abs? So well-toned that you simply can’t look away, covered in a layer of glittering sweat and flexed to the brim.
“Oh my god”, you mutter to yourself.
This is definitely not the sight you expected. Of course you know how much he trains, that he has to be somehow fit. But that?
“Why you’re looking at me like that?”
“You look like fucking adonis”, you spit at him.
“Why do you have to look so damn good?”
“Huh?”
“This is not fair”, you continue, grabbing his arm and yanking him towards you.
“You don’t deserve to look like that.”
“Are you out of your mind, you idiot?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.
Like in slow motion, a sudden redness creeps up his face and discolors his cheeks red.
“Just shut the fuck up”, he continues.
Your eyes travel downwards his body again. What a great figure, what a body of steel. Why does it have to be Ino Takumo who looks this damn good? Why on earth does it have to be him? Your cheeks heat up like fire, a nauseous feeling threatening to eat you up alive. Is it even more disgust, more hatred than you already hold for him? No, this feels somehow different.
Is this…desire?
“I need to get out of here”, you announce before turning on your heel and aiming to walk away.
“No, there’s no way in hell I’ll let you leave like that you creep. Did you just check me out? I thought you’re disgusted of me.”
He grabs your arm and pulls you backwards before you’re able to stop him, his eyes gleaming at you.
There you stand, both of you with red faces, just looking at each other like plain idiots while you force yourself to keep your eyes focused on his face.
“You don’t deserve to be this hot”, you reply in a haste.
Why do his lips suddenly look this inviting? You actually never saw him up-close, always kept your save distance to your greatest enemy. Ino is a jerk, nothing but a trash talker, a pain in your ass since you first saw him. But on the other hand, he’s well-toned and strangely handsome with the way a coat of sweat decorates his forehead, his troubled eyes and those lips. Those lips you never payed attention to, those lips who did nothing but talking shit until this day. You can’t help but wonder how they feel pressed against yours, how his abs feel pressed against the palms of your hand. Out of instinct, your head moves forward, closes the gap between both of you step by step. How did you never notice his delicate smell and how hot he looks with that mask?
“Ino”, you breathe his name out like a prayer.
“(y/n)…”
“What’s going on here?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You stumble backwards immediately, heart dropping to the floor. There he stands like a knight in shining armour. None other than Nanami Kento.
“I didn’t know you were still busy, I’ll come ba-“
“This is a misunderstanding”, you desperately try to explain yourself.
And there it is. Even worse than seeing him standing in front of you with his arms crossed after catching you only inches away from your worst enemy.
A smile. A tiny fucking smile forming on Nanami’s lips.
“Is it, (y/n)?”
“I hate you”, Ino mumbles next to you.
“I hate you too.”
Toji Fushiguro
To say that you’re bored is an understatement. You feel like fucking dying with that little brat walking by your side. These last days were like a trip to hell and back.
“Let me say I’ll never babysit some stupid kid again”, you announce into the silence around you, earning a cheeky grin from Gojo.
“Totally agree with that.”
“Oh yeah?”, Riko replies challenging.
Just seconds before a blade pierces trough Gojo next to you with full force.
Just before his blood splatters across your face.
“Satoru”, you hear Geto breathe out far away.
“Get Riko away from here right now”, you instruct him out of instinct.
When you turn around, you get greeted by the hottest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who forces his blade straight into Gojo’s chest looks stunning with that maniac smile plastered on his gorgeous face.
“Now that’s a pleasant surprise. Apart from piercing through my friend, of course”, you comment dryly.
It’s clear that he’s older than you. Just one glance into his masculine face tells you that he’s no one to be messed with. Well, separately from the sword he pierced through the honoured one.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt ya, princess. But you and your little friends have something I need to kill”, his low seductive voice hollers back at you.
“(y/n), you shouldn’t stay here, y-“
“I got this Suguru. Get Riko to Tengen-sama as soon as possible”, you interrupt him immediately.
Your heart almost beats out of your chest by only a glimpse at the stranger standing in front of you. Finally, something exciting. Or rather, someone exciting.
“C’mon, we both know I can’t let that happen, princess.”
“Get out of here as well and use your reversed technique, Gojo”, you instruct the white-haired man again.
“I’m the honoured one, remember?”
“Well, I’m a woman”, you hiss through gritted teeth while walking past him.
“Seems like we have to fight, then.”
His smirk is intoxicating while he dashes towards you with neck-breaking speed. Over and over, you escape his blade just by inches while enjoying the wave of dopamine that rushes over you.
“You’re hot”, you jeer at him while dodging another attack.
“Ya know, we don’t have to fight here. Lemme finish this real quick and then we’ll have a talk under four eyes”, he replies with his enormous biceps rushing over your head.
“A talk, I’d rather see you naked.”
“Oh yeah? Don’t force yourself.”
A grin creeps up your face while you attack him with both of your swords, swinging through the air so effortlessly that he can’t help but stare at you. How are you so different from all the women he’s met before? So fearless, so forbidden hot. Maybe not his age, but given the gleam in your eyes mature.
What he’d do to run his fingers through your hair once, to watch your expression twitch underneath his merciless touch. You’d sure feel good pressed against his body with your bare back pressed against the mattress.
“Oh no, seems like I broke your shirt. What a shame”, you purr with your eyes locked onto his now exposed upper body.
Just as you expected, exactly how you imagined a man like him to look like. A body built from heaven itself, his abs so firm that you’re sure they’d feel like cement underneath your touch. What a force of a man.
What a shame he came here to sabotage your mission.
“Would have happened sooner or later anyway”, he replies while pinning you against a nearby tree, desire obviously clouding his dark eyes.
You can’t deny the fact that you are oh so tempted to enjoy this little sensation, a timeout from that shitty mission. Carefully, you allow your hands to discover the valleys his upper body has to offer, to feel his muscles tense underneath your merciless touch. There’s no shame in admitting that this was your favorite first glance of a male for a long time.
“You’re probably my favorite.”
The smirk on his face grows even wider while he traps you between his strong arms. What a shame, you think to yourself. You definitely have to tell Gojo to work out even harder after seeing a guy like him.
“But I can’t afford to play favorites when it comes to men. You’re in my way and if you sabotage my mission, I’m screwed, big guy. Let’s just stay here and let that girl live-“
Suddenly all air escapes your lungs, you fail to breathe when he pushes your body onto the ground with full force.
“Thought you were in control, huh? Too bad for ya, I don’t get distracted by a girl touching my abs. Even though I have to admit you’re a nice one. Now you stay here and let me finish your little friend before killing that vessel, okay?”
Your eyes widen in sheer horror as he simply walks away. Him, with his shirt hanging in shreds down his body, exposing his shamelessly toned back to your watery eyes.
He tricked you with the force of his muscles. And you actually fell for it.
Ijichi Kiyotaka
Your heart is racing in your chest, fingertips trembling by the nauseous wave of stress that washes over you. Again, something you didn’t calculate correctly. Again, some students got stuck underneath a curtain.
Your feet rush you to his room immediately. He’s probably the only one who’s able to fix the mess you’ve caused. After all, this is what he always does. Making sure no one gets hurt, having your back when things get messy.
For you, Ijichi is a blessing walking on earth. And he might be your only saviour right now.
With rapid steps, you dash into the building you know so well, the building he calls his come. Even if blindfolded, you’d always find your way to the man who seems so powerless in a world full of people who are ridiculously strong. Forced into the shadow, always looking out for everyone except himself.
“Ijichi, I need your help, I-“
You dashed into his flat like you always do, expected him sitting on the table while reading a book like he always does when you come around. But today, that doesn’t seem to be the chase. All of the sudden your mouth starts to feel dry, eyes fixated on nothing but his naked upper body.
His naked upper body.
“(y/n)! I…I didn’t expect you here today!”, he frantically mumbles while fighting for dear life with his white shirt.
“I never expected you to be so trained”, you breathe out, glance getting stuck on his surprisingly toned chest and six-pack.
“Don’t make fun of me, (y/n). I’m just an average guy”, he tries to laugh your words off.
“You look fantastic. Literally, you’re definitely able to keep up with Gojo. Are you training in secret?”, you insist.
“Don’t say something like that too loud, (y/n). If he hears you-“
“It’s nothing but the truth. You look absolutely…stunning.”
“Stunning” isn’t enough of a description for those butterflies violently racing through your stomach. It takes all your strength to stop your eyes from moving downwards again, to burn the picture of his toned abs inside your brain. How are you supposed to ever look into his face when knowing very well what an attractive man he is?
“Do you…mean it?”
His eyes meet yours, search for a spark of sarcasm in your glance. But there is no doubt in the fact that you mean it. Every single word you said about his lousy body, the praises.
A woman like you…Finding him attractive?
“Of course I do”, you mumble.
Oh.
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living in some dingy apartment building because it is all you can afford on your income unless you want to eat danimals yogurt and saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the stern landlady lives on the first floor, and some neighbors blast music on weekday nights (even if they didn't, the walls are paper-thin. you know more about the cambrian period than you'd like to, thanks to room 105) but it's a modest roof over your head and while the darkened grout lines in the bathroom are permanent, at least there's hot water.
until there isn't. and the landlady has mysteriously gone on vacation for the next two months.
what used to be a cathartic cleansing has now become your torment. every other day is hair wash day which means you're bent over the cold, porcelain edge of your tub, back screaming in protest and pain shooting up your bruised knees even though you've sacrificed one of your very nice pillows to avoid exactly that.
and showering is torture. the icy cold water feels like a thousand tiny claws scraping over your tender scalp, sinking into your trembling shoulders. you don't wait for your body to acclimate, just hastily scrub yourself as clean as you can and hop out, your chattering teeth and shaky breaths echoing through the tiny bathroom.
it's like this for a week and a half, a whole 10 days of suffering with showers so cold it feels like shards of ice biting into your goosepimpled skin when it stops. warmth bleeds into the stream of frostbitten water. finally, it soothes instead of stings. your coiled, tense muscles gradually slacken with relief, with unadulterated bliss. steam rises, the tips of your fingers and toes tingle as if thawing. gratitude wells in the corner of your eyes.
if you had any money you could afford to give, you would to your savior, but every dollar you own is earmarked for the bare essentials. so, with your thick, warm bathrobe cinched around your waist, you pen down a little heartfelt note to stick to the bulletin board downstairs before heading out for work.
thank you, whoever you are, for fixing the boiler. i could kiss you <3
when morning comes, you use one of the dull, golden tacks that previously held a lost pet flyer (sorry, bilbo the hamster, but it's been a year) and pin your note up.
only to come home and find it gone, a torn corner all that remains. maybe it's karma for your callousness towards someone's pet. (justice for bilbo.) you shrug it off, giddily skipping up the steps to wash off the day's stress with hot water.
but before you even hang your keys on the wall, there's a pounding on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its frame. and the masked man you see through the peephole isn't familiar. against your better judgment, you clear your throat before cracking open the door. "yes?"
the piece of paper he's holding in his dinner plate-sized hands seems incredibly small— and it's your note.
"i fixed the water." oh. "'m 'ere for wha' 'm owed." owed?
"i'm not— um. the kiss. it's just a figure of speech." the thick muscle of his bicep coils as he crosses his arms over his barrel chest. he's a very large man, as broad as your door.
if you slammed it closed on him, he'd probably leave it hanging by its hinges. that's not worth a measly kiss.
"okay. but on the cheek since i never specified where so it's dealer's choice."
he huffs out an amused breath but complies, hooking his thumb under the edge to pull up his balaclava just enough to expose his stubbled cheek. he's got a couple of scars; thin, slightly raised. run along the sharp edge of his jaw and disappear beneath the fabric.
he leans close, enough to hear his steady, slow exhales. he smells of dirt. salt. something smoky, tangy-- like on new years, minutes after the clock strikes 12.
your hands cradle his face as you rise to your tippy-toes, wetting your lips and crane your neck-- but he snaps his head to the side,
and takes the kiss he was owed.
(he takes a screwdriver to the ac unit next. wire cutters to the fuse box. nails to your tires. anything that'll inevitably lead you back to him. you tried paying him with dinner but the only thing he was interested in eating was your cunt.)
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you
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Thinking about big dicked Simon Riley who knows how big he is and loves to tease you about it.
It's always a hassle to get you ready for him, his tip and nearly a whole bottle of lube stretching you out for what seems like forever just to take him.
He's very patient and smug the whole time while you whine frustratedly wishing you could just ride him already.
"Aww it's ok love, I know. We'll get that cute, tight, little pussy all stretched for me. Promise I'll fuck you baby." He coos with a smirk on his face. He loves being so big and making you dumb for his fat, thick cock.
When he finally gets himself inside you fully, you gasp and whine at the sudden feeling of your cunt sucking the rest of him in, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
He would definitely take pictures of how big his dick looks inside of your sweet pussy and how you take it so well for him.
When you can finally move, you start to ride him, finally being able to loosen up more than the death grip your cunt had on him not allowing either of you to move. You start to bounce on him and the two of you watch how his cock bulges your tummy.
He feels so fucking good stretching you out and hitting every spot no normal size dick, dildo, or your fingers ever could.
You bounce on his cock, eyes rolling back while tears roll down your cheeks from the pleasure while your cunt makes a sucking noise, sucking him right back in after pushing him out.
"Ooh yeah, that's a lot of fucking cock isn't it love. Taking it so well for me in that tiny little cunt." He praises with the most smug smirk on his face, watching as you near lose consciousness from how stupid his cock makes you feel.
Sucking him off and feeling the weight of him on your tongue is enough to soak your panties. He loves to tease you and smack your tongue and cheeks with his cock and how big it is making you moan.
When you finally start to suck him off you can barely even take it halfway he's just so thick, so you have to use both of your hands to take what you can't fit.
"Cock too big for that pretty little mouth? C'mon you can take it. That's it. That's my girl. Swallowing my cock down so good for me like that."
OR
Big dicked Simon Riley who is shy and self conscious about the size of his cock because he thinks it would be too difficult for someone to take :(
But as you straddle him on the couch, kissing up his neck and cooing at him, trying to convince him that he won't hurt you and you can take it, he feels a little bit more confident.
He blushes and hides his face with his arm thrown over his eyes when he feels you pull out his cock as well as the little gasp that came from you as you realized that he wasn't lying when he said he was big.
You pull him out from his jeans and he's already hard, his cock so heavy it thumps against his tummy if you don't hold it for him.
"W- We don't have to if you changed your mind, I know it's big so I could jus-" He tries to avoid eye contact with you trying to come up with another solution on how you two can still fuck but you shush him by shoving your thumb in his mouth.
He immediately quiets and sucks on your thumb as you start to pump him.
"Shh, none of that. I can take it. Gonna make you feel good honey don't you worry." You say reassuring him, and you laugh when you feel his cock twitch at your words.
He's such a sweet boy :(
#call of duty#cod#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mw3#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost cod x reader#ghost call of duty#ghost call of duty x reader
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names they call you in bed
˖ ࣪ ִֶָ nanami - toji - sukuna - choso - gojo - shoko (separate)
contents Ⳋ multi x f!reader, smut, petnames, spanking (toji), spitting (sukuna), praise (nanami, shoko, choso), degradation (sukuna), daddy kink (toji), size kink (nanami), oral (gojo, shoko), just straight nasttyyy
a/n :: this one’s been sitting in the drafts lol, i felt things writing this
<16 and ageless blogs dni
N. KENTO — SWEETHEART
nanami is always so sweet with you. when he comes home from work, all he wants is to lay down with you, relax, and bury his fat cock into you.
“ken—“ you cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he kisses all over your face as he sinks his dick inch-by-inch into your sopping pussy.
“i knoww, sweetheart, i got you,” he cooes, his large palm caressing your cheek as he thumbs away the tears. “‘s too big, it won’t fit—!” you gasp, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “mm, it’ll fit, honey. it always does, hm? you always take me so well..” he whispers, his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending a shiver down your spine.
he leans up and looks down at where you two were almost fully connected, and he brings his thumb to your swollen pearl, rubbing circles on it to ease you. “there you go, sweetheart. you got it, hm? let me take care of you now.”
once he fully bottoms out, he gives you time to adjust before bucking into you at a slow pace, your gummy walls clamping down around his girth. nanami is such a gentle man when it comes to you.
Z. TOJI — MAMA
toji always fucks you like it’s the last time he ever will. he has your face buried into the pillows while his hips piston into you, pathetic mewls leaving your lips.
he stills, watching you fuck yourself on his cock as he lets out a guttural groan. “yeaah, back that ass up n’me mama, shiiit,”
he stares at the fat of your ass ripple with each bounce with half-lidded eyes, his jaw slack. “you like fuckin’ yerself on daddy’s cock, hm? pussy’s s’greedy,”
“daddy—“ you babble, your head craning to the best of its ability to look back at him, your nails digging into the soft sheets below you.
“hm? what’s it, mama?” he tilts his head cockily, his hands reaching down to grab your hips and continues to thrust into you. “ah— ‘m gonna cum, toj, please—“
he smiles down at you and nods. “yeah? gonna make a mess on this dick? cmon, do it,” he slaps your ass encouragingly, watching the red handprint form.
R. SUKUNA — SLUT
“you’re lucky i didn’t ravish you in front of all those fuckin’ servants,” he seethed, having you in a mating press as he slams his pelvis to yours in an incredible pace.
“ah! ah! kuna, ‘m sorry, please slow down—!” you cry, but to no avail. he grabs your face to look at his as he speaks. “no. you wanted to act like a slut? now you’re gonna be treated as a slut, so take this dick.”
you moan out, your legs propped up over his shoulders as he fisted the sheets below you. his lips were slightly parted as he watched your tears flow down your cheeks, a sadistic smile lacing his face.
“open your mouth,” he commands, and you dumbly nod, parting your lips. in a quick motion, he spits down on your tongue, and you blink quickly in response. “swallow it.”
you obey, swallowing it and then opening your mouth to show him. he pats your cheek condescendingly. “now you wanna listen? damn, you really are a slut.”
K. CHOSO — BABY
“f-fuck— baby, y’gotta loosen up, okay?” he hisses, his cock buried deep in your cunt as you pant. “promise ‘ll make you feel so good, but you gotta relax, can’t move,”
he knows your overwhelmed, he is too — but the way your clamping down on him makes him feel like he could cum on the spot.
he reassures you, his face next to yours as he sweet talks into your ear, and your tense muscles begin to relax a bit. “there you go, good girl,” he shushes.
“cho, please, need you to move,” you whimper, and he nods. “okay, baby, i hear you. gonna take care of you, okay?” he says, earning a quick nod from you in response that makes a soft smile curl up on his lips.
he begins to thrust into you, a moan leaving his lips. “fuck, you feel so good, you’re so good—“ his hands grip your hips, hard enough to leave marks. he can’t help but become pussy drunk, he’s addicted to you.
G. SATORU — PRINCESS
he’s manspread on the couch whilst your on your knees, his head thrown back as your lips wrap and suck on his cock.
you let out whimpers each time his tip prods at the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as you try your best to take him as far as you can. he looks down at you, his eyes lidded as your struggle only turns him on even more.
“you’re fuckin’ dirty,” he lazily smiles, “you like this, huh? you like having your face stuffed with cock, princess?” he cooed, brushing the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty skin out of your face. you hum in agreement, the vibration shooting up his spine with a groan.
“go on, then. make me cum with that pretty mouth of yours and i’ll reward you.”
I. SHOKO — PRETTY
she hums against your folds, your hand tangled in her brown strands as she presses a kiss to your pearl. “you taste so sweet,” she says half to herself, looking up at you. “you feelin’ good, pretty?” she cocks her head as she makes up for the momentary loss of her tongue with her fingers.
you nod quickly, too stimulated to form any coherent words. she chuckles, enamored with how adorable you were being. “i know you are, pretty girl, pussy’s so wet,”
you go to say something but she shushes you. “shhh, she’s talkin’ to me, pretty, listen to how fuckin’ loud she is,” she scissors her fingers in your cunt, earning a loud squelch. you flush, hiding your face.
“awh, don’t hide from me, pretty. gonna eat this cunt and i wanna see every reaction, okay?”
© marimisses on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.
#smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo smut#shoko ieri x reader#shoko smut#choso kamo x reader#choso smut#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji smut
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hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday
im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping
could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.
i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶
thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k
Can I come over? Are you home
You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text.
Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me?
Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner?
What kind of dinner my love
Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken
Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you
You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?
You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable
What’s wrong???
Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there
You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t have to rush over.”
“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”
“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.”
Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?”
“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.”
“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”
“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?”
“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?”
“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.”
“You’re always good company, you loon.”
“You what?”
“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.”
“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.”
“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?”
“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”
“I know what you want.”
“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Spencer!” you laugh.
“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?”
“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.”
“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.”
Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear.
You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway.
He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.”
You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.”
“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?”
“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?”
“It’s in my back.”
Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.”
“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.”
“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?”
“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise.
“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?”
You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.”
“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”
Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.”
“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.”
“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly.
You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”
He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Dialing up for Trouble
Summary: Reader and Spencer were fuck-buddies, until Spencer cuts her off quite suddenly. A party and some risque images may be enough to get them back to their old routine.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: semi-public sex, sexting, mentions of nude images and descriptions of generic lingerie, masturbation (f!receiving), penetrative sex, semi-dom!spencer
Word Count: 3.5 k
Masterlist
Clichés bothered me. There was no other way to put it. I’d grown up hating the likes of love triangles, meet-cutes, chosen ones, and right now, I was being reminded more than ever of that hatred because, what the fuck?
“Too much of a good thing” was the reasoning Spencer had cited when he proposed we stop sleeping together casually, and return to our previous relationship of “just coworkers”. I’d let him know how ridiculous I found his sentiment, and attempted every possible method to continue our secret rendezvous, but he was absolutely dead-set on his decision, it seemed.
No more sex. No more late-night calls. None of it. It was all over. All because of a cliche.
We seemed to agree on one thing, and that was, yes. The sex was fantastic. It really was that good. While I’d never wish weariness on Spencer Reid, I couldn’t deny that in the aftermath of stress and frustration from whatever life had chosen for him, the way he’d deal with that was absolutely electrifying for me.
I’d find myself constantly breathless, pulled into hotel rooms, storage closets- anything resembling the barest hint of privacy, and allow him to use me as he saw fit. I gave him complete trust and control over my body, and in turn, he rewarded me with some incredibly life-changing orgasms. And for what it’s worth, he seemed to get an equal amount of satisfaction out of our hidden trysts, which only made his recent decision that more devastating.
It’d been roughly a month since we’d had sex, or anything resembling the sort, and I found myself absolutely deprived. When the FBI gave out invitations to its semi-annual gala, I imagined the festivities would be enough to distract me, but I was completely in error for assuming so. Amidst drinks and conversations, there was the occasional lull where I couldn’t help but absentmindedly imagine the feel of his hands over my skin, squeezing the fat of my hips. His lips trailing up and down my neck, focusing on spots only he knew about. The way his hair would tickle against my thighs when he’d bury his head-
“Hey.”
The voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I have to remind myself not to choke on my beverage. There he was. The current subject of my thoughts, standing in front of me, live and in the flesh. Spencer Reid.
“Hey.” I mirror back, taking a sip of my drink, acting as lax as I could, given the circumstances. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, gesturing to the party in front of us, the general ambience.
“You know me.” He replies, pausing for a second, keeping his gaze trained on mine. “Not my scene but.. doable.”
I chuckle for a moment, understanding perfectly. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most social guy out there. I was honestly surprised he’d chosen to come to this thing at all in the first place.
“You look nice.” He says, suddenly. “Your dress. It’s nice.” He rushes out the words, as if he’s scared to say them in the first place.
I smooth down the fabric instinctively, nodding. I try not to let the compliment affect me so much, keeping my head down for a split second to hide the creeping heat emanating from my cheeks.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I surprise myself with my own answer. The silence for that tick is horrible. I appreciate it? Jesus. I couldn’t think of the right words anymore. The correct and witty response that would allow this conversation to flow smoothly.
I truly wanted to fuck this man so bad, it made me look stupid.
And stupid I was, because yet again, I attempted to test the current parameters of our relationship he’d put us on. I swallow my pride, lifting my head to meet his eyes with mine.
“If you like it so much, you could- you know. Take it off.” I say, biting my lip. There’s a light tease in my voice, but it’s obvious I’m being as forthcoming as I possibly could. No games. No jokes. I didn’t want to dance around it, and I hoped my boldness would reward me as it did previously in the past.
But no, it seems that fortune does not favor the bold, because Spencer’s immediate response was to shake his head, lowering his voice. He pulled on my arm to decrease our proximity, to the point where it was ensured no passer-bys could possibly hear our conversation.
“Come on.” He pleads, almost looking desperate. “I told you we should stop- hasn’t that worked out? We can be coworkers. This works.”
I roll my eyes, letting my displeasure show plainly over my face. “This works?” I say, and the sarcasm is clear in my voice. “Sex worked too, you know.”
“I know it did!” He says, in a hushed whisper. “But- we can’t. No. It’s not right. Too much of a-”
“If you finish that sentence, I swear to god.” I say, my expression turning much more volatile. I forcibly shrug his arm off me. “This is stupid.” I continue, trying not to let my voice rise. “I see the way you look at me. I know it was good for both of us. I know you’re thinking about it just as much as I am, so why not!” There’s a hint of hurt in my voice as well. Underneath all the sex, I’d grown to miss the interactions after. The giggles under covers and the feel of his hair in my fingers. I missed him. All of him.
There’s a miserable pause on his end, and I hold my breath waiting for his next words. Spencer sputters, looking absolutely defeated. “Because- because we just can’t, okay?” He replies, helplessly, stepping back from me, as I’d done with him. “Look. I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the party, okay? Take care of yourself, yeah?”
Before I can get in another word, demanding a real explanation from the man, he leaves me alone, replaying the words of his confusing outburst in my mind.
I take a short time to myself, electing to go use the restroom and take a breather from the party, a bit on edge after our exchange. Was it possible he was completely fine with what the loss of our arrangement had done to us? Was I the only one absolutely losing my mind? Any attempt to diverge my attention from the topic proved futile, and I remained in the closed room, mindlessly adjusting myself in the mirror with no real rhyme or reason. There’s an eventual use of my phone, focusing the camera directly on my face to make sure nothing had smudged or looked off on my face in the time I’d last checked my makeup. In the use of the device, I remembered the pictures I’d taken before coming here.
The pictures weren’t meant to serve any true purpose. I’d bought new lingerie for this dress, as my previous bras weren’t suited to the cut and shape of the specific piece of clothing, and decided to take a few pictures for myself. It was lacy, and pretty, but nothing truly special. The bra had a slight push-up effect, and the panties were a bit cheekier than my normal, day-to-day undergarments. The actual lingerie was innocent- harmless, even. Looking at the images right now, though, a salacious idea creeped into my head.
Under the right circumstances, these could be exactly the catalyst to finally receiving what I wanted.
I open the messaging app on my phone, finding Spencer’s contact, and beginning to type out a simple message.
hey.
The response is immediate.
What’s up?
You good?
Where’d you go?
I laugh a little. I imagined him scanning the crowd for me, trying to figure out where I’d gone off to.
all good, don’t worry
so we’re still sticking to the no sex thing?
I see his typing bubble pop up, then pause. Then starts up again.
Yes.
Trust me, it’s for the better.
I groan internally. Of course he thinks that. Always thinks he knows what’s good for everyone.
trust me
if you knew what i had planned for us
you wouldn’t say that
I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, indicating he was now calling me? I hadn’t planned for this.
“Spencer?” I remark, waiting for his voice on the line.
“What do you mean?” He says, quickly. I can no longer hear the bustle of the party in the background, so it’s only reasonable to assume he’s moved somewhere quieter. Still, I ask.
“Are you around other people?” I murmur, keeping my voice low.
“No. Alone. What did you mean by your last message?” He repeats, quickly.
There’s my in. I respond, feigning an unmistakable innocence in my voice. “Mind if I show you?”
“Show me?” The confusion in his voice is palpable.
“Show you.” I reply, more definitively. “Check your messages.”
I bring my phone away from my ear, electing to send the first picture I saw in my camera roll, which prominently featured my breasts- a feature of mine I knew Spencer was quite interested in. I return to the call, my heart pounding wildly.
“Did you see?” I ask, hesitantly, when all I can hear is his breathing on the other line.
The response is a choked out, breathy mess of a sentence. “Yeah- I did. Jesus.”
“Want more?” I murmur, biting my lip as the realization dawned on me that this possibly had a chance of working.
There’s a delay in his words on the line, before I finally hear:
“Yes. God, yes.”
I grin ear-to-ear, beginning to send an assortment of pictures I’d taken previously in the day. Knowing this was having an effect on him, that somewhere in this party Spencer was sitting alone, his gaze trained on his phone intently, did something to me. He was behaving this way because of my body, because of what I could do to him.
It was hard not to get wet at the thought.
“You look so good.” He breathes out, and the desire in his voice is unmistakable.
“Yeah?” I mumble to the speaker. “You think so?”
“Mhm.” He murmurs. “You’re wearing this right now?” He asks, seemingly needing that confirmation at this moment.
“In all its glory.” I try not to giggle before murmuring teasingly, “What, you wanna see?”
“Where are you?” He asks, suddenly seeming very determined. I can hear the shuffling on the other line, indicating he was now starting to move from where he was currently situated. He was completely, and utterly serious about this.
“Bathroom, on the left corridor of the entrance.” I say, feeling exhilarated at the thought of him meeting me here. This was happening.
Finally.
“Stay.” He replies, and the call cuts.
There’s an impatient itch that creeps up on me during the two-minute wait for him, before I hear a solid knock on the door, and my name being whispered through the door, belonging to a voice I’d grown so accustomed to and fond of.
My fingers undo the lock, opening it just enough so that he could squeeze through without drawing too much attention to ourselves right now.
And as soon as he’s managed in, he’s practically on me, devouring me with a kiss with a passion I’d never felt from him before. My hands go to wrap around his neck, pressing our bodies flush against each other, every ragged breath of his shooting directly to my core, which was now throbbing with need.
“Fuck. Missed this so much.” He breathes out, gasping for air in between our kisses. I couldn’t so much as get a whimper out, before he’d dive right in again. It’s like he wanted to eat me alive.
And I’d let him.
I moan softly into his mouth, starved for more contact between us. It’s as if he can read my mind, because in an instant, he guides us from the center of the bathroom, towards a wall, slotting his thigh between my legs. He takes a momentary break from ravishing me with his lips, now adopting a slower, more sensual pace as he works down my neck, each soft kiss leaving me craving him even more.
His hands drift down to my hips, keeping me pinned against the wall as he murmured soft praises. My legs felt wobbly, absolutely taken aback by how quickly I could go weak for this man.
“You like this, mm?” He mumbles, letting his teeth nip over the lobe of my ear, before switching to a more neglected side of my neck. “Like me that much, mm?”
I don’t care about the cockiness in his tone. I don’t care how smug I render him. I just need him to continue this, for as long as I can have him.
“Yes.” I breathe out, my voice higher-pitched than it normally would be. “God. Love this so much.”
There’s a flash of hesitance from him, as he pulls his face away from my neck, staring at my eyes with his own. I can’t dwell on the pause, because for once, I’m finally seeing him. His hair was absolutely ruined, sticking up wildly in different directions. His cheeks were a light pink, serving to make his features even prettier and doe-like than before. But what got me were his eyes. His pupils were blown out, the normal honey-hazel I’d seen on a daily basis replaced with an absolute abyss of black. The darkness served to cause a surge within me, practically launching forward to meet his lips with mine.
There are no words required for what happens next, as I feel his hand creep up my back, pulling me away from the wall and towards the closest surface, which happened to be the sink. He guides me to bend over, and I do so with no resistance.
He could have me, whichever way he wanted, whenever he wanted. All I needed was his touch.
I can feel him crouch to his knees, slowly reaching under my dress to hook his fingers around my panties, slowly pulling them down. I can feel a string of my arousal clinging to the fabric, and it seems Spencer can too, because he practically moans as he drags the soiled piece of lingerie down my thighs. I step out of them quickly, and turn my head back, fast enough to see him stuff the proof of our debauchery down his suit pocket.
“Eyes ahead.” He whispers, leaning down close to my ear to nip at the sensitive flesh again.
“Okay.” I murmur, slipping into a more submissive version of myself that he seemed to bring out in me. There’s a sense of relaxation and excitement all at the same time, and I’m absolutely wracked with lust for him.
His fingers stroke my clit for a moment, applying pressure in just the right way. The movements are practiced, precise and guaranteed to hurl me off the edge if he continues this way.
“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He murmurs, almost amazed, letting his fingers slip away. “All this for me?”
I can barely respond, whimpering and nodding. “Yes. Please- Spencer.” I beg, needily.
“I know, I know.” He replies, and I can hear how pleased he is. There’s a certain delight he derives from my submission, and while in any other circumstance, the smugness he displays would turn me off, right now it only served to further my hunger.
I can feel him start to work on his belt, sliding the coarse material of his dress pants just enough, so that his cock could spring free. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, his tip sliding through my folds, and I clench at the thought of him finally being inside of me.
Just when I believed his teasing to be done, there’s a knock at the door, and we both freeze. Spencer swallows, and quickly raises his voice. “Occupied!”
There’s silence, and that previous sense of lust and content drifts back into our bodies, Spencer’s fingers trace up to my face, and he lets his finger slip into my mouth. I can taste my arousal on his fingers, and there’s a genuine struggle on my end to stay upright. How could I, when the man behind me rendered me so indisposed?
He draws his fingers out of my mouth. “Good girl.” He whispers.
It seems the universe has other plans though, because yet again- a knock sounds at the door. I can hear Spencer’s groan, and watch through the mirror as he attempts to come up with a response that would give us the seclusion we required.
My patience however, had worn thin. His cock was right there, and I’d be damned if I was forced to wait any longer. I turn my head towards the door, complacency and submission gone from my voice.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to fuck him in here!” I say, snarking out the words.
There’s a silence, and a murmur of mortification on the other side of the door. Footsteps. And then at last, silence.
Spencer quickly leans down to kiss my cheek, mumbling out an “I love you.”
Before I can even comprehend the words, he’s guiding himself into me, sliding his cock through my walls, and I have to bite my lip to keep a scream in. He feels so fucking good inside of me, stretching me out in ways no man ever could. I can feel the underside of his cock hitting that spongy spot deep inside of me, and my breathing turns rapid in mere seconds.
“There we go, relax for me baby, yeah?” He mumbles. “Nice and slow.”
I moan out my affirmative, gripping onto the sink as I let my jaw drop, eyes squeezing in absolute ecstasy.
“So good for me.” He murmurs. “So warm and wet, Jesus.”
And with that, he starts a pace that works for both of us. It’s hard and fast, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The feel of his cock gliding through my puffy walls is intoxicating, and I can only wonder how I went so long without feeling it.
It seems Spencer’s having similar thoughts, because through my moans and his occasional groans, I can feel his grip on my hips get more bruising by the second, marking me as his own. I can hear occasional fragments of words through his noises.
“Never letting you go. Oh fuck. Fuck.” He mumbles, and despite the overwhelming amount of arousal shooting through me, my heart swells.
“Me too.” I whimper out, gripping the sink even harder. I can feel my wetness seeping all around us, splashing against my thighs with every movement he drives into me. “Need you so badly.”
“Rub your clit for me.” He demands, whispering out the words. “Need to see you come on my cock first, pretty girl.” The words are strained, and I can tell he’s doing everything to keep from spilling inside of me prematurely.
There’s no reason to temporize, and my fingers make their way down to the sensitive bundle of nerves, and the effect is almost immediate. It takes roughly a minute of my incessant rubbing and the feel of him inside me before I’m coming with a soft shout, growing limp against the sink as my muscles twitch and fill me with a deep sense of relief and satisfaction.
Spencer isn’t far behind me, humping into me a few more times before coming inside of me, the release signified with a loud moan and a sense of warmth flooding my deepest point. He slumps against my back, pressing a few, soft kisses to my neck.
As we both come down from our highs, I recall the words Spencer mumbled in my ear previously. I let out a self-satisfied giggle, which Spencer smiles at.
“Mm. What’s that about?” He murmurs.
“You love me?” I ask, softly.
A pause.
“A little.” He responds, voice equally as soft.
“Is that why you stopped having sex with me?” I mumble out, gently.
He presses another kiss to the nape of my neck. “Mhm. Please don’t be mad.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Not mad. The opposite, really.”
He pulls me up, causing us both to look at each other. “You feel the same way?”
I nod, biting my lip. “We could try this out, I think. I want to, Spencer.”
I stop, and decide I do need to tease him a bit, especially after the sex-less agony he put me through for a month.
“Though, I do recall someone telling me too much of a good thing can go bad..”
His lips part in confusion, before he picks up the teasing nature of my words and leans in for a soft, simple kiss. He keeps his forehead on mind, his eyes staring into mine with a gentle reverence.
“Let’s indulge just this once.”
holy shit has it been a long time since i've written a fic!! i'm so sorry?! i've been dealing with life and other assorted things and writing sort of took a backseat in that period of time <3 i hope this was okay. as usual any feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are so so greatly appreciated. i love writing for spencer, and i hope you guys like that writing too <3 i'm sorry that the two previous fics i promised seem to be delayed, i swear i'm gonna write those next, but inspiration sort of just struck on my end f or this, and i hope it was good <3 but yeah!! thank you so much for reading and interacting with this in any way you choose!! i appreciate it greatly!!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid self insert#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds self insert#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fluff
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Captain II
Hardersson x Daughter!Reader
Fridolina Rolfö x Hardersson!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: You come home after being announced as captain
In true Magda fashion, everyone in her contact list gets a call. A quick 'did you hear my kid's Sweden Captain?' call where she ends it before the other person can reply.
You get a text and several missed calls that you just ignore until you're free to go to your mothers' house. It was a slip that had you forgetting to tell them that you were Sweden's new captain.
There wasn't much time between your discussion with Emma and walking out to the press conference.
The best you could have given them was a text in warning but, judging by the messages your Morsa sent and all the uncharacteristic emojis she sent with it, you assumed she was happy.
You also assumed that you wouldn't be yelled at for not giving them a heads up.
You pull up at their house and sigh.
Frido's car is also in the driveway and you roll your eyes.
You don't want to think about how many traffic laws she broke to get here before you.
You unlock the front door, unbothered with using the bell, and slip inside.
The low hum of the tv is apparent as you slide off your shoes and hang up your coat. Frido's definitely in the house because you have to put your shoes next to hers and her bag is sitting on the stairs.
You're not entirely sure why she keeps bringing a bag when all her clothes are in the spare room but you don't dwell on it long before making your way into the living room.
Momma is sitting on the sofa, watching the last five minutes of a random show before what she actually wants to watch comes on.
"Your Morsa and moster are in the garden," She tells you," Calling everyone they know to brag."
"Are you angry I didn't tell you? Are they?"
"I'm not angry and those two are much too smug to be angry as well."
You smile and sit next to Pernille, one of her arms being thrown over your shoulder comfortably.
"At least tell me you told Natalia at least. She's not got access to you while on camp like we do."
"I told Talia," You reply.
In fact, Talia was the first and only person you told before the press conference. She'd congratulated you with a laugh before teasing and saying to take it in while you could because she would be gunning for the Spanish captaincy next.
She'd get it eventually, you knew that. It was only a matter of time but, still, you were the only national captain in the relationship at the moment and you just knew she'd have something to say about it when you finally reunited.
"Good girl," Pernille says," I'd hate for her to suddenly appear at the house unexpectedly. You know what your Morsa gets like."
In sync, you both lean forward to peer out of the windows leading to the garden.
Magda's still on the phone, waving her hand around excitedly as her mouth moves quickly before she drops the call only to immediately make a new one.
Frido's also pacing around the garden doing the exact same thing and you can't help but roll your eyes at both of them.
Magda catches your eyes and instantly makes her way back inside.
"Look at you!" She cries, bursting into the room," My little captain! Look at you!"
You're pulled away from Pernille and crushed into a hug as Magda all but sobs into your hair.
"I remember the first time you wore the armband! So small! You couldn't even walk yet! It kept slipping off! Now look at you!"
"Morsa," You groan, trying to escape from her suffocating hug," Let go!"
"My baby!" She's definitely crying now. "Carrying Sweden to greatness!"
(One day, you do lead Sweden to greatness. One day, you make your mark as one of Sweden's captains. One day, you pass off the armband to a young player you saw greatness in like your captain did for you.)
"Come on," You complain," Let go!"
You're released, only to be forced right back into another hug, from your moster Frido now.
Her hugs is just as suffocating as Magda's. She rocks side to side with you as you struggle to get away.
She speaks to Magda over your head. "Do you think I can borrow your old armband? I can't just wear her shirt to matches anymore. Got to complete the look."
"Please don't," You beg but she ignores you.
"Er..." Magda says," I'm not sure actually. I'll have a look-"
"It's on the bedside table," Pernille cuts in," Magda insisted on wearing it last night when we-"
"Gross!" You complain," Please don't talk about your sex life. You know I wear the armband now. Please don't make me think about you guys having sex every time I wear it."
You peak your head over Frido's shoulder to look at your mothers.
Magda shrugs. "A healthy sex life-"
"Stop!" You clamp your hands over your ears. "Stop talking or I'll go straight back to camp. Stop talking!"
Magda waves a hand dismissively. "You'll find out what I mean as soon as you see Natalia again."
#woso x reader#hardersson x reader#pernille harder x reader#pernille harder#fridolina rolfö x reader#fridolina rolfö#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso#the big adventures universe
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friends with benefits!lando who can’t ever take his eyes off you. even at a party surrounded by all your friends, he’s fucking intoxicated by you. he traces the skin tight dress that encompasses your figure, leaving little to the imagination. the thoughts immediately fills his head: dress on or off? are you wearing panties or is it just a thin layer of silk that separates him from the thing he wants most?
friends with benefits!lando, who laughs when you pass him. scolding him with a playful slap to his shoulder that “all our friends can see your hard-on!” his palm circles your wrist to tempt you back towards him, lips grazing the shell of your ear and stubble scratching the sharpness of your jaw. too close to be ‘just friends’, too far apart for your liking.
friends with benefits!lando who whispers tempting promises into your ear as though you’re the only people left on earth. “are you gonna come home with me, love?”
you fiddle with the lapel of his jacket, biting back a smile on red-stained lips. “that depends. what’ll we do?”
with his hand hovering above the curve of your hip bone - just a light enough touch to be deemed ‘respectful’ - he murmurs, “anything you want.”
friends with benefits!lando, one hand on the steering wheel while the other touches whatever bit of bare skin of yours he can reach, driving like a madman because he doesn’t want to look anywhere but at you. sloppy kisses as you drag him to his apartment, manicured fingers peeling away clothes.
“you’re wearing so much,” you whine against his lips as you desperately try to unbuckle his belt.
“and you’re wearing so little,” he replies when his hand sneaks up your dress, only to be greeted by your slick, uncovered pussy. “is all this because of me, baby?”
friends with benefits!lando, who pins you beneath his warm body the minute you’ve undressed, pink lips trailing from your jaw and downwards, sucking bruising kisses across the plump slope of your breasts.
friends with benefits!lando, who gently pushes into you, trying to lessen any pain that might come from the burning stretch by telling you to keep your eyes on him. he groans when your hips buck up to meet his, pushing his cock deeper into your pussy, desperate whines slipping from your lips.
friends with benefits!lando, large hands leaving imprints on your ass and hip, moaning into your neck as he rocks gently against you. soft skin on soft skin.
friends with benefits!lando, fixated on the sight of his cock slipping into your warm cunt, fingers pressing down on where he can its outline pressing against your cervix. “taking me so well, aren’t you, baby?”
friends with benefits!lando, who’s favourite sound on earth might just be your cries when you come undone at his praise, gripping his neck to pull him closer as you whimper his name over and over again.
friends with benefits!lando, blurting out, “god, i love you” as his cum fills you up, so warm, so full that it leaks out your pussy from around his cock.
but you just reply with a moaned, “no you don’t”.
your admonishment causes his breath to stutter, and he murmurs a low what. your hands cradle his head, pulling him in for a long kiss, lazy and tired and fucked out, before whispering, “you don’t mean that. you’re not thinking clearly.”
after all, a pussy drunk man will say any word that comes to mind.
friends with benefits!lando, probably would’ve said it anyways.
//
my first time writing smut so any criticism/advice is appreciated. requests are open 🤍🤍
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris smut#formula one smut#f1 smut#f1 x reader
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“you only like me for my body.”
the comment is tongue in cheek, delivered with a grin by the man whose lap you straddle, his starlight locks falling across your patterned bedsheets. satoru always jokes like this. half truths hidden behind the smile that nearly puts all of the lights in shinjuku to shame.
“no,” you answer back quickly, sliding your hands up his torso and gently grabbing the sides of his head. your fingers reflexively weave through his hair, nails gently massaging his scalp just the way he likes. his mouth parts slightly and you lean downward to kiss him, pressing your chest against him.
“i love this.” you gently shake his head in your grasp. he smiles softly up at you, large hands finding the small of your back to rest there. “your mind. your imagination.”
chuckling, he rubs slow circles into your skin with his thumbs. you’re in such an intimate and compromising position he could easily do what he always does, dissuade you from discussing the things you really love about him using his fingers and tongue and the bulge your ass is cradling.
maybe he doesn’t want your gentle reassurances. maybe all he wants to be good for is his body, his power, his looks. maybe he decided a long time ago he didn’t desire to seek more than pleasure and polite distance but that was before he realized his life loses color when you aren’t around.
before you began dragging one of your hands away from his head, leaving one there to massage and care for him, pressing the flat of your palm against his chest.
“i love this too. your heart.” you smile but don’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the back of your hand. “how you pretend you don’t care but really care more than anyone i’ve ever met. about the kids, the future.”
his skin warms and his chest turns a shade of pink that matches the dusting across his cheeks and nose thanks to your affirming words. you finally look up at him, half smiling.
“about me.”
how can he deny that? satoru squeezes you in his palms and you lean forward, nuzzling into his neck.
“i love you, satoru gojo.” you kiss his jaw, fingers still massaging his scalp, one hand pressed against his rapidly beating heart. “the body is just a bonus.”
before you can take a full breath, your positions have switched and he now hovers above of you. your arm is stretched, fingers still wound through his hair, and his arms still cradle your lower back. entangled, his body and yours, merely the current vessels for two souls that were meant to spend all of space and time together.
“thanks, i like you too.”
you giggle and he lowers himself to trap you against his chest, kissing your lips with a laugh of his own.
maybe the whole vulnerability thing needs some work in this lifetime but thankfully, you both have a while to figure it out.
#kendall writes#not to be a gojo fan but I am in my feelings about it#hope that’s okay 😞#jjk manga spoilers#satoken#gojo x reader
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✮ tags ; pwp, fem + afab!reader, dubcon (reader is drunk af), dirty talk, rough-ish sex, the liiiightest yan undertone. 18+
✮ a/n ; im not a kiri fucker but i . had a thought in the shower
Kirishima fucks like he has something to prove.
That part of him hasn't changed, you think. It's a bad time to be reminiscing about such a thing, especially since your brain can't think of anything other than how good it feels to have such a thick cock buried in your sore, weeping cunt.
Kirishima has stopped briefly, just to bottom out and press his navel to your sex - so your brain has a little space to think. You don't know exactly how you've ended up here after thinking about it for a long time. The alcohol is making your head feel fuzzy and your lower half is weak, might melt into Kirishima's nice king size bed if you're not careful.
An hour ago, you had come off of work and joined some friends in an izakaya. Kirishima was there too, seemingly with his own friends. You hadn't seen him since middle school, when he shorter and more negative. You had a crush on him then, back before all the hero stuff.
It was refreshing to see a boy your age obsesses over something like being a perfectly chivalrous man. You were friend though not closely, and had a dopey school girl love affair that never came of fruition. You didn't speak to him after that, weren't close enough to ask - and watched him grow into a hero through televised events and news.
He's a pro now. He was much bigger than you thought he'd be. You didn't think men could get that big, unless they played basketball or something. He was shorter than you in middle school but when you saw him again in person, he was double your height. You had to crane your neck up just to get a good look at his face. Defined jaw and rugged, boyish charm that made your cheeks warm like you hadn't grown out of being a girl.
You thought he wouldn't recognize you since he's basically famous now, but he did. Flagged you down and whisked you away for drinks and catch up time. Your friends pushed you to go, so you did. You drank and spoke about nothing in particular and Kirishima seemed so enraptured with you - you thought the alcohol had fried your brain. Thoroughly tipsy and giggly, you admitted to having a crush on him in long and unnecessary detail. That you liked him, and seem to still if this feeling is anything to go by.
You hadn't expected anything of it. But he kissed you in the corner of the bar and asked if you had anywhere to be, hauled you into a taxi when you said no and made out with you on the way home. Put his hand underneath you shirt and squeezed your waist, said something about how cute you are. Always have been.
No one seemed to think anything of it when you left. Pro-Hero's escort drunk girls all the time, but you wonder if it's normal to fuck them? You wonder if Kirishima has practice in bring home drunk girls who are too big for their boots and too needy to be anything but sincere.
He's so good at fucking you, you aren't sure you'd mind that being true. Not like this.
He didn't give you any time to adjust to what was going on, every breath had him chasing more of you like he'd run out of time if he didn't rush. He carried you inside, licked your pussy while you laid against his kitchen counter and finger fucked you until you could take all eight inches of him. Was he always this relentless? You know he was never kind, no matter how much he seems it. He was always critical and cunning, but you didn't expect him to be so ruthless.
He doesn't let you off of his cock after he gets you on it. Makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you barely can because he's so big. Makes you wrap your legs around his waist and tells you to hold tight as he walks you up the stairs with his cock still twitching. The whole thing makes your eyelids burn with pleasure, your body yearning to keep him inside of you for as long as you can stay conscious which is barely when you're this wasted.
He dropped you in his bed and fucked you in missionary. You think in the span of a few hours, you've spent more of it feeling his cock throb inside of you longer than you've spent without. He's too big, and fucks mean. There's no chivalry in it, just pure primal desire behind weight and heavy thrusts that make you gasp involuntarily.
You haven't stopped cumming. You've never done that so much in a row. Your body feels nearly numb as you think on it. He's been keep you like this for so long and the alcohol is making you lightheaded. You can barely understand what he's saying except that he's loved you for so long. You wonder if that's true. Your pussy likes it though, clenches every time he groans into your neck after the headboard hits the wall with his thrusts.
He fucks you like he wants to prove something to you. You don't know what exactly. You're drunk and floaty and you can't stop cumming and you can't think of anything other than how much you want him to fuck your brains out. How much you want him to cum, so deep in your pussy you'd have to push it out to get rid of it. How much you want to cum around his cock until you get so fuckdrunk you pass out on it.
A little pleasant catching up and now you can't unfurl your spine from the way it's raised, and your toes hurt from how tight they've curled. You feel ditzy with it. Didn't know cock could make you cum so much you turn stupid and babbling. It's all you've been doing and Kirishima doesn't seem to mind it all. Just laughs at your nonsense words and kisses you with sharp teeth and fucks you.
And fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, with your knees to your ears and your eyes blurry and hazed.
"Kirisihima-kun," You gasp at him, breathless and hot.
"Eijirou," He corrects with a nip to your mouth. "We won't leave each other now. Not anymore."
He punctuates with the promise with a thrust so deep you can't do anything but agree. You wonder if all this is trying to prove his love for you, but how you could that be true? It's been years.
Another thrust makes your lower belly clench, and something squirts out of you mid thrust. You're too hazy to feel self-conscious of it and Kirishima only laughs.
You close your eyes and let him have you. Again and again and again.
#kirishima smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#writing tag#dubcon cw#aha nooo kirishima dont take advantage of me while im drunk and out of it haha nooo#<- SORRY LAMSDOFJKD
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thinking of mermaids AGAIN sooooooooooooooo
Merman!Ghost x Mermaid!Reader (for Mermay 2024)
cw: dubcon elements, rough sex, SELF-INDULGENT and therefore weird mermaid biology, (suspend disbelief idk and idc about mermaid biology, i just wanted to write ghost fucking a mermaid.), forced?-ish breeding (both parties were aware of the risks)
Merman!Ghost who's actually a selkie... of sorts.
Merman!Ghost who took the coat of a GREAT Greenland shark over three centuries ago and has lived as a shark ever since...
Merman!Ghost who's a deep dweller and has become quite the hunter, using the darkness of the depths to attract dumb prey so he can kill them.
Merman!Ghost who's not above mauling humans, in fact he despises them, especially when he finds them hurting animals. Sure, he kills them, but he's an animal himself.
Merman!Ghost who when he's bored causes issues on purpose, including scaring fish and other underwater life, and finds great humour in it.
Merman!Ghost who constantly gives trouble to fishing boats by trying to sink them, slamming his tail on the side of them to send them rocking side to side... and by ripping their nets with his teeth...
Merman!Ghost who has had horror stories and cautionary tales told of him by many navigators, pirate captains, sailor crews... who has become somewhat of a legend, a myth, and gets referred to as "The Creature".
Merman!Ghost who's not immune to mermaid song, surprisingly enough, but who can resist it plenty well.
Merman!Ghost who hears the lilting of your voice through the dark water but doesn't seek you out.
Merman!Ghost who succeeds in resisting... for days, weeks, months...
Merman!Ghost who awakes to the endless sound of your singing bubbling into his ears, and gets lulled to sleep by it as well.
Merman!Ghost who finds himself going insane by your voice, that follows him like a backdrop for every waking moment of his life, and cannot tune it out.
Merman!Ghost who eventually bites the bait and allows himself to rise from his domain.
Merman!Ghost follows your voice as it carries for miles upon miles.
Merman!Ghost who comes across a natural cave by the beach. Way too close to the beach. Close enough for him to know he'll end up washing up and getting stuck.
Merman!Ghost who checks both sides, making sure the beach is empty before he tentatively strips off his coat for the first time in years.
Merman!Ghost who stashes his coat between the rocks, covering it with algae before he dares venture into the cave.
Merman!Ghost who can't see as easily without the shark eyes, who can't swim as well without the shark fins, who can barely walk because all his human muscles are atrophied.
Merman!Ghost who wades in waist deep water into the darkness of the cave, looking around for you, his burly, calloused hands using the rocks as crutches to seek you out.
Merman!Ghost who only notices you when it's too late... when your song suddenly stops and the water splashes as you dive back in.
Merman!Ghost who watches you zoom past him in the water, a slippery fishtail propelling you in a zigzag amidst the rocks before you emerge out of the cave.
Merman!Ghost who watches you grab his shark coat and try to make off with it...
Merman!Ghost who takes his sweet time returning back to the mouth of the cave, watching you bob on the water with a mischievous smirk on your lips.
Merman!Ghost who demands "Give it back."
Merman!Ghost who scowls when you tell him "No." and "If you want it back, you have to marry me."
Merman!Ghost who crosses his arms and glares at you, shaking his head and refusing.
Merman!Ghost who scowls even more when you tell him "Then I guess it's bye bye to your skin.".
Merman!Ghost who despises being a human more than he despises the prank you're pulling on him.
Merman!Ghost who tries to negotiate and offers you something in exchange for his coat.
Merman!Ghost who pushes you against the rocks at the entrance of the cave as the cold water and seafoam wash over you both while he kisses you, pressing his tongue, the only warm part of his body, into your mouth, toying with yours.
Merman!Ghost who licks at the salty sea water glistening on your skin and the scales adorning your pretty neck, an arm wrapped around the small of your back.
Merman!Ghost whose human fingers, pale and wrinkled from the salt water, wrap around your exposed breast, softly tugging on the pert nipple while his mouth kisses and sucks at the patches of skin amidst your scales.
Merman!Ghost who tsk's at you for having been singing for so long to attract him, and scolds you for getting him so riled up for weeks on end with your song.
Merman!Ghost whose hands push you up onto the rocks so he can dip his head down your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it slowly and watching you mewl and cry so beautifully.
Merman!Ghost who gets a reminder of the one positive side of being a human, as his human cock rises up suddenly and stiffly, large and thick, already oozing precum against your tail scales.
Merman!Ghost who carefully grinds his leaking cock against your slick cunt, right before the spot your thighs meet and blend into a tail.
Merman!Ghost who turns you over, bending you over the rocks, one hand on the back of your neck, the other steadying you around the bones of your hip...
Merman!Ghost who plunges his hooded cock deep into your cunt, causing you both to cry out in delight, eyes rolling and jaws going slack as he bottoms out.
Merman!Ghost who bullies his cock deep into your cunny, feeling how your warm, gummy walls contract and squeeze around him while he groans loudly.
Merman!Ghost who pounds away at you again and again, hearing your voice go high-pitched and squeaky with each snap of his hips, finally shattering the mind-numbing and intoxicating mermaid song he's had stuck in his head for weeks.
Merman!Ghost who watches you squirm and whine as you cum around his thick cock, nearly choking it with how tight you get, before he slams his hips against the back of your tail a few more times, and shoots his cum deep inside you.
Merman!Ghost who watches smugly how blissful, quiet and calm you are after he's done, breathing heavily and your body buzzing.
Merman!Ghost who snatches his shark coat from your hands as you're too fucked out to remember you're meant to keep it out of his reach.
Merman!Ghost who puts his shark coat back on and morphs back to the shape he's comfortable in, then wraps his maw around your tired body, beginning to drag you underwater with him.
Merman!Ghost whose body rumbles with a laugh when you try to get free and loosen his grip on you, demanding he let you go.
Merman!Ghost who tells you "I thought you wanted me to be your husband? Well, I made you my broodmare too... Now I have to take care of you."
#ikea writes 💚#simon ghost riley#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#mermay 2024#mermay smut#mermaid au#mermaid#i love gaz#mermaid smut#cod smut#cod au#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty smut#simon “ghost” riley#simon riley#ghost#simon motherfucking riley#merman!ghost#simon riley smut#ghost smut#cod ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut
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i found your account through the story of jealous jay... that's really amazing. would you write more for him? 🥹
ahh thank you smm!! ; girl bsf!reader, cunnilingus, implied pnv, enjoooyyyy
jay who just broke up with his girlfriend because she was insecure over you, his girl best friend, easily in his top three favorite women in the entire world.
he’s ranting to you, cheek against the palm of his hand as he tries to put into words how confused he is.
“i don’t get it. she’s— was, my girlfriend. i liked her, that’s why i even dated her in the first place? so why’s she even jealous over you?” he sighs frustratedly, because this is definitely not the first time one of jay’s ex’s broke up with him over him being too close with you.
you don’t really know how to break it to him. you know why the ex’s are all fussy about you, but you also know that if you were to tell jay that he has to distance himself from you, he would never do it.
you’re his favorite girl (other than his mother!). it would be too difficult for him to not hang out with you every other day. hell, he couldn’t imagine living a life without you.
“jay…” you start, placing a comforting hand on his thigh and you feel him tense slightly, “i think that, maybe… we shouldn’t keep seeing each other all the time while you’re dating somebody else.” you finally bite the bullet, but your shoulders still feel heavy.
jay doesn’t say anything for a solid minute. you start to feel even more awkward than you already were before, shifting slightly in your seat on the couch beside him and you begin to remove your hand from his thigh.
and then he scoffs. he shakes his head as if he’s in disbelief. “why does it sound like you’re breaking up with me too?” his tone sounding mean, hurt over that you would think he’d ever let you go.
well, he’ll just have to prove to you that you’re the only girl in his life.
“oh— ah, j-jay hold on!” you squeal, your legs being practically folded in half as your knees meet your chest. jay doesn’t waste any time, his tongue already prodding at your leaking entrance. his pinky finger hooking your ruined panties to the side, not bothering to fully take it off.
“damn,” he curses underneath his breath, the air fanning over your cunt that causes your hips to buck up into nothing. “leaking like you’ve been waiting for this, aren’t you? would’ve never wasted my time with her if i knew you were waiting for me all this time…” he rambles, staring lasers into your clenching cunt.
you whine, hips needlessly pushing towards his face. “stop it…” you say meekly, throwing an arm over your heated face. he tsks, his hand reaching up to remove your arm.
“cover your face again ‘n i’ll tie your hands together,” he says meanly, but his hand thats interlocking yours shows you otherwise.
but that mercy is easily taken away as he dips his head forward, tongue exploring your insides and he groans into you.
with a cry of his name, you writhe and squirm on the couch, your grip on his hand tightening and he reciprocates as well. his thumb caresses the back of your hand, so kindly…
totally opposite of the tongue that’s bullying your entrance and clit, switching back and forth like he’s indecisive on which to focus on more— but he easily solves the issue with a finger slipping inside with ease from your slick.
you start panting, “fuucckk— oh fuck, wa-it,” your voice breaking when jay enters another finger inside you, the stretch already more than what you’re typically used to.
he chuckles at your squirming, not bothering to obey your small pleas and cries for him to slow down. he’s too entranced with your taste, his tongue swirling and toying with your sensitive clit and the way you clench around his fingers? oh, he highly doubts you actually want him to slow down.
jay’s fingers entering in and out of you, the loud squelches of your sloppy cunt making you feel hot and embarrassed, but the overwhelming pleasure makes you dizzy. he pulls away to give your poor clit a small break, but his fingers are still relentless.
“girl, don’t fight me…” he drawls, leaning his face into your neck, peppering wet kisses near your ear. “wanna cum for me?” he whispers so gently, causing your hips to fuck back into his fingers. he groans at this, his voice near your ear making you even more sensitive.
you nod your head earnestly, your free hand grabbing onto his wrist that’s between your legs. “pleaassseeee,” you whine, moving your head to look at him.
he peers up from your neck, a smirk playing on his handsome features that makes you weak. he hums, “my girl wants a kiss?” and you nod again, a cute pout on your lips that he can’t refuse.
bringing his face closer to yours, he meets your lips into a sloppy kiss, your pace already needy and fast, contradicting his originally slow pace. he moans into your kiss, the hard on in his pants getting even more difficult to ignore.
his fingers curl up inside you, your lips parting against jay’s lips, whimpering and moaning loudly as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you. jay responds by kissing you harder, intent on stealing your breath away as you do your best to keep up with his kiss.
“nonono, ahh…” you whimper, your hips twitching from oversensitivity with jay still thrusting his fingers. he laughs softly, pulling his fingers away and giving your cunt a cute pat.
you stare at him with furrowed brows, but you look non-threatening with your chest heaving from catching your breath. “what was that for?!”
jay shrugs, “makin’ sure she can still handle my cock.”
#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#jay smut#jay x reader#park jongseong#enhypen fanfic#jay hard hours#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#kpop smut#enhypen
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May I pleaseeee request poly!marauders x reader (gn or fem, up to you) where r and siri come home at like, 4 am from a rave (or clubing), and they are in makeup and have glitter all over them, and their exhausted and only slightly tipsy (from alchohol or drugs, up to whatever you think would be more fun to write) so they try to get cleaned up without waking up james or remus but ultimately fail?
I totally understand if you don't wanna write it 🫶
Thank you for requesting lovely!
cw: mention of alcohol
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words
When Remus wakes, he doesn’t at first know why. James is asleep next to him, snuffling softly, his cheek smushed into the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Remus’ fingers are woven loosely in the curls by his forehead.
Then there’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by some hushed cursing, and he remembers.
“They definitely moved the couch closer to the door to fuck with us.” Then, a moment later: “I am being quiet. Doll, you’re projecting.”
Get a drop of alcohol in Sirius, and he becomes the worst whisperer in the world.
Remus can hear your attempts at shushing your boyfriend as he slips out of bed. James is dead to the world, but he stretches out an arm as Remus’ fingers unwind from his hair as though feeling for where he’s gone. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he’s gladder than ever that he and James had begged off this particular excursion. It’s past five.
He goes toward the light they left on for you by the door, but you and Sirius have already migrated into the kitchen. Remus props himself up on the doorframe, wrapping his arms around his middle, and allows himself to just watch the two of you for a minute.
“Water first,” you’re saying, voice hushed far more effectively than Sirius’. You grab two glasses with extreme care from the cabinet, setting them down slowly so as not to make any noise.
“I think this makeup is going to be crusted onto me forever,” Sirius whines. “I’ll never be able to get it all off.”
“I don’t know if I have the energy to try,” you admit.
You do both have an awful lot of glitter on you. What was intentional and precise when you left that evening has now traveled down onto your cheeks, leaving you lustrous and disheveled-looking. When Sirius closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he leans against the countertop, the black makeup around his eyes makes them look like glittering chasms. Remus notes that your shoulder shimmers with a similar color, like he’d laid his head on it.
You pass Sirius a glass and hoist yourself up onto the counter, the both of you falling quiet while you drink your water. You sigh at the end of it.
Sirius hums in response, a tired sort of smile lifting his lips. He leans his head against the side of your arm and lets his eyes fall closed again.
“Did you have fun?” he asks, softer now than he has been since you came inside.
“Mhm.” You set your empty glass down, using that hand to comb strands of hair away from Sirius’ face.
Remus' heart nearly turns to mush as he watches the two of you, each clearly exhausted and yet still trying to take care of the other. You, you’ve always been open with your tenderness, but Sirius has taken years to get to where he is now. It still surprises Remus sometimes to see it, his boyfriend’s caring out from under the shroud of insouciance and joking.
“I have an idea,” you say. Your tone is warm and lulling, not unlike your boyfriend’s. “We could take the spicy crisps into the living room, and lay on the couch to eat them.”
Eyes still closed, Sirius smiles. “What about bed?”
“Rem won’t let us eat them in the bed.”
Remus suppresses a chuckle.
“I know, sweetness. I thought you were tired.”
You sigh, long and heavy. “I am. I think I’m so tired I almost don’t care if I go to sleep. I might die if I don’t have a spicy crisp, though.”
Sirius seems to be contemplating this when James comes up behind Remus. His hair is askew and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, and he has the glazed-over look of someone who themselves is not quite sure if they’re awake or dreaming.
“How wasted are they?” he asks, voice weighted with drowsiness.
“Not very,” Remus murmurs.
That’s when Sirius notices them. He picks his head up, nudging your knee with his elbow so you look over.
“Oh.” You shrink a bit, expression pinching. “Sorry.”
You so thoroughly look it that Remus can’t even feign upset. “Come to bed,” he says fondly.
Neither of you move but Sirius opens his arms, beseeching Remus to come to him. Remus, too tired to pretend at being any less in love than he is, goes.
“I thought you’d be in earlier,” he says into Sirius’ hair. It smells like sweat and a little bit like smoke.
“The cabs were busier than we expected,” Sirius replies, voice even sleepier now that his face is in Remus’ neck. “We walked a while and then caught a bus once they started running.”
Remus makes a disgruntled sound, but it’s James who says, “You should’ve called.” His voice sounds muffled, and Remus looks over to find it’s buried in your chest. You’re smiling faintly with your face turned down into his curly mop, your hands on the back of his head and his holding your thighs. “We would’ve come and got you.”
“I wanted to,” Sirius defends himself, removing his face from Remus’ neck to cut you a teasing look. “She wouldn’t let me.”
James lifts his head to look up at you.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say, voice soft as though still trying to accommodate the sleep he really should be getting. “You both have work in the morning.”
James groans at the reminder, hiding his face in your chest again. Remus sets a hand on top of his head, scratching his scalp consolingly.
“You should always call,” he tells you, just for the record, but really he’s in no mood to argue. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, slipping off the counter.
James wraps his arms around your shoulders, forcing the both of you to walk with small, plodding footsteps, and Sirius also refuses to be out of Remus’ hold, clinging to his arm as you all start down the hallway. The bed is no sooner in sight that you let out a low whine.
Sirius echoes it when you say, “We still have to take off our makeup.”
“What if,” James suggests, “you sleep now, and when Remus and I get up in an hour we can take it off for you while you stay in bed?”
James hardly has time to let you go before Sirius is hanging off him, almost teary with gratitude. “God, I love you. That’s the best idea I ever heard.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
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Black Magic
Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader
Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse
Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.
He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”
“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.
Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”
Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.
There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”
“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”
You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”
“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”
Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”
Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”
“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”
“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”
You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”
A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”
“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.
Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.
Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”
You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”
Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”
And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.
You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”
Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn’t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”
He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”
“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”
Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”
A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”
Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”
You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”
He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”
You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”
Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”
A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He’s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.
Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.
“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”
Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.
“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”
“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”
You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”
A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”
“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”
You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”
Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.
But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.
His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”
A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”
“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”
And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.
After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”
You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”
Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”
A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”
“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”
You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”
Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”
A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.”
A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”
Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”
“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”
Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.
It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.
Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.
As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”
Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”
You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”
Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”
You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”
He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.
The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...
Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.
“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”
“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”
A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.
Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”
“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”
An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”
A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”
With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.
As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...
With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.
Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.
***
The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.
This is it. His moment of truth.
Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.
“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”
You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.
“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”
Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”
You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”
“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”
Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”
The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”
He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.
By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.
As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.
A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.
And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...
And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.
***
As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.
He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.
“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”
“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”
“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”
At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.
“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”
The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”
Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.
“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”
The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”
“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”
A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.
Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”
Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”
The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”
“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”
He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”
The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”
A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”
“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”
“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”
The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”
A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”
He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.
Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”
The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”
Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”
Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.
As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.
“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”
Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”
“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”
Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.
But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.
He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”
You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”
Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”
He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.
“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.
Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”
You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.
Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”
You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”
He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”
Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”
Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.
There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.
He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.
Protected. Centered. Empowered.
Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.
As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.
So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.
As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.
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