Can you please tell your chinese spies to stop harassing me?? they keep pointing their lasers at me every time i wanna get up and walk around bcs they always think i’m planning to provoke u 🙄 that’s NOT the case btw..I went to go use my sukuna rose toy that you bought for me 🥰
I will once you get your israeli spies to stop messing with my phone and watching me all the time thank you!😊 Also I did NOT buy you that
I'm sexually frustrated, and I can demonstrate it if you'd like.
𝄞 synopsis: your best friend, SAE ITOSHI knows you've never been one to have sex, do hookups, or even date. he doesn't want to overstep; he really shouldn't. but you keep looking at him like you want him to teach you, like it's his responsibility. and maybe as your best friend? it is.
𝄞 contains: SMUT, fem!reader, reader has hair, reader has a mom, they r 19, swearing, endless anime references, childhood best friends, family friends & neighbours, experienced!sae, inexperienced!reader, bratty!reader, pussydrunk!sae, posessive!sae, pining, sae teaches reader how to kiss and masturbate, making out, neck kissing, vaginismus (complications with his fingers), clit rubbing while you touch yourself, pussy spitting, pussy eating under the blanket, yapper sae i repeat yapper sae
"Okay, it's embarrassing, but I haven't really kissed anyone before."
"That's not surprising in the slightest."
"What? Hey!"
Sae had always been the blunt type; you knew of that. Ever since you were children, he would wave away the kind reporters asking him questions with a harsh 'Go away', take trophies and medals wherever he walked, and speak like he was better than everyone else.
Nobody told him he shouldn't talk like that to people — especially to adults and teachers. That language like that wasn't proper etiquette, so he never fixed it.
And you were always the more polite type. Shy, but got along with almost anyone if they spoke first. Kind, chiding him whenever he told another kid to piss off. Pretty, as the years went by and you went from scraped knees and tangled hair to soft skin, girlish fragrances, and the delicate contour of your legs.
He swallowed thickly.
Your legs.
As you got older, you stopped wearing basketball shorts and switched to skirts, then short shorts, then slacks. Frankly, it was hard for him to look away from your thighs. They were plush and soft and ran up the curve of your—
He tore away his gaze from your bare legs resting over the blanket and focused on the TV screen, the fan, and the open window pouring with rain. Anywhere but your tempting skin.
Sae usually doesn't admit these kinds of things, especially not to you, but looks alone? He's astonished that not even one person ever tried hard enough to date you. You're smart, comforting, and nice to look at. If he were to settle down, he would do it with someone like you.
Of course, someone like you.
"I don't mean it like that," he murmured, fixing on your eyes instead. Pretty they were—all round and warm and focused on his. "You reject everyone who's interested in you."
Your index rubs your chin thoughtfully. "That's because..."
"Of your standards. Always on about your anime boys, huh?"
"That is so not funny, Sae!"
"It is a little funny. You're like Rin. He's almost finished his Junji Ito collection."
"Oh, now we're comparing me to Rin—"
"You collect figures and manga."
"They're pretty."
"They're anime boys."
"They're Tomoe, actually. Don't generalise."
"Tomoe is an anime boy."
"You were the one who watched Kamisama Kiss with me!"
"Hmph. Touché."
When was it? The summer before he left for Spain? You were prancing on about your ritualistic tradition of bingeing romance anime with him. There was Kamisama Kiss; Lovely Complex; NANA, which he had to stop because he hated Shoji; and his favourite, Ouran High School Host Club. The blonde male lead, Tamaki, always made him snort into his sleeve as a boy while you shook his shoulder squealing about it.
Anime like that was more up Sae's alley compared to Rin's fixation for horror and suspense, so he quietly cherished those days. Lying on the couch, watching TV in the summer heat, your frame on your stomach next to his, destroying a popsicle stick. It was a much better predicament than watching some porno his teammates had found on a beat-up DVD rental.
After all, he was with you.
You fiddled with your hands as the movie played on. Taxi Driver, for the third time this year. It was his favourite movie, but now that he thought about it, he never asked if it was yours too.
Was it?
You severed his thoughts with a question. "What was the anime you like right now, anyway?"
"The Apothecary Diaries. I like Xiaomao."
"You just like her cause she's like a cat."
"Meow."
You rolled your eyes at his quip. "I wonder what you think of Jinshi, then."
He paused. Sae always had a soft spot for the types of people with an odd backstory, much like Jinshi. It spiced things up compared to all the boring societal bullshit he deals with enough every day. "...I like him too. But he's a little dramatic for my tastes."
"You only like him cause he's pretty."
"Are you slut-shaming me or projecting?"
You snickered. "The former. Is he your type?"
"Not really? What do you think my type is?"
Waving your hands around, you mocked. "Someone hot with a nice ass."
He scoffed, but for some reason, he could feel his jaw clench. "So now you think I'm shallow."
You snorted. "...Yeah."
"Looks aren't everything, y'know. Pretty sure I go by vibe."
You snickered, your hand reaching into the bag of potato chips, his favourite snack that he was banned from eating. Damn you. "Uh huh."
You popped the chip into your mouth; a soft crunch was heard between your teeth, but all he could focus on was the plushness of your lips. He wondered if they felt as delicate as they looked. If they were as untouched as you said. How could that be possible? Look at you—
"Y'know that scene in The Apothecary Diaries where Maomao thinks his dick is a frog?"
He rubbed his cheek, snorting into his palm. "What about it?"
"Do dicks feel like frogs?"
Sae hadn't jerked off enough to remember, and he certainly wasn't going to check. Sighing, he said. "I don't think so? Mine doesn't."
"So why did she think it was a frog?"
"She's never felt a dick before. And it was probably the position. He was on top of her, after all."
You shook your head. "No, she was on top of him."
"Idiot. He was the one who landed on her."
As Sae reached for his phone before you could pointlessly argue about their weird pseudo-sex position, the sheets rustled and—
You climbed on top of him. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, grinning like you proved something. Your arms were braced on either side of his head, your hair grazing the skin of his cheeks. And your knees—they were braced on either side of his hips, the urge to grab them all too real. Too sweet. Too good.
His breath hitched, magenta bangs poking his forehead as he murmured lowly. "What are you doing?"
Still, his large hands moved to rest on your waist, anchoring himself.
You reached for the phone in his hand, plugging in the password you knew by heart into the screen, fiddling with the phone.
You tilted the glass right before his eyes, it was that stupid frog scene. Maomao was on top of Jinshi, and you were unfortunately correct.
"See! I told you she was on top of him!" You grinned, pulling the phone away.
Before Sae could process what was about to leave his lips, he scoffed. "Are you sure you've never even kissed anyone before?"
"...What is that supposed to mean?"
Fuck.
He grumbled softly. "You're on top of me."
You scowled. "It's how the scene goes—a physical demonstration. And you're dead wrong; I don't feel a frog in this position."
"Cause m'not hard, stupid."
But if you kept yourself there any moment longer, he might be. His dick was already stirring to life in his sweats.
"Pfft— You aren't?"
"Very funny. You're a natural at this."
"At what?"
Sae didn't want to overstep; he really didn't. Ever since you were kids, he had always felt this weird sense of protection towards you. At first, it was the same protection he felt towards his younger brother, Rin, even though you were the same age and probably tougher than him. Then as he grew older and hit that age where some people were more than family, that protection grew into something different. Something familiar, yet completely foreign at the same time.
So he shouldn't overstep; he'd be a horrible, horrible man if he did. But your lips are curved so prettily into a proud smile. Your eyes, the colour and wrinkles of skin, stirred something down his neck and abdomen.
The tingle didn't stop there, blood rushing to his half-hard cock.
Shit.
He already moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, whispering. "Temptation. Wanna gain some experience?"
You paused, eyes blowing wide.
Shit.
The both of you recoiled from each other instantly. Sae had nowhere to run, really, but he threw his head back against the couch, hands twitching, deciding if he should let go of your waist or not. You, on the other hand, completely pulled back. In this new position, it seemed more like you were straddling him than just looming over him.
A flush crept up his neck, his hand moving to cover the lower half of his face. "That was a—"
"Geez, didn't know you could be so bold." You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck.
He blinked, hoping you were another hallucination and he was dreaming in the confines of the Real Madrid training facility. That you were just another illusion tempting him.
No, you were still there. This time, your eyes lit up.
"Hey, that's a great idea, actually!" You leaned in closer again, a bright smile plastered over your mouth as your breaths mingled.
He paused. One second. Then, the next one. His lips twitched expectantly, his cerulean gaze low-lidded and fixed on you.
"...What is?"
"Teaching me how to kiss."
Damn his biology, cock completely twitching to life at your wanton suggestion. "Wha... What?"
"Oh, come on; it's just a little kiss," You whined, nudging his shoulder.
Sae cleared his throat, quickly adjusting the waistband of his sweats. "No."
"You've already kissed like, so many other people. One more wouldn't hurt. And it's for educational purposes."
"There's a difference when I kiss other people," he whispered, his sensual gaze betraying his words. "It's that they're not you."
"Dude, am I that bad?"
Dude? His brows furrowed, his lip curling into a grumble. "Not what I meant."
"Then what?"
The space between you was so thin he could die. Let the couch swallow him whole, and let the hallucination die with him.
Hazy excuses and words scrambled in his mind. "It's just that... We're friends. And your mom wouldn't be exactly happy with me if she knew about this."
You shuffled in your position, hips lifting off his. "...My mom isn't here right now. And we're not kids anymore. I don't need my mom's permission to do things."
Sae inhaled sharply when you pouted, head tilting back and hitting the soft cushioning. Were you going to keep whining about it until he gave in? Pester him and keep pressing yourself against him? God, what if he were going to like it?
Then, you muttered. "...Fine. Not like I wanted to know, anyway."
Ever since you were children, Sae had always been the more disciplined one of you two. When he was renowned as a football prodigy, nutritionists and dietitians quickly came into his life, lecturing him about his dietary restrictions to maintain and grow his build. While you ate Happy Meals and devoured candy every week, Sae had to almost entirely let go of fast food, specifically his favourite—French fries. There was no doubt that he had to let go of many things to be perfect, but then he discovered that perfection was more than a flawed goal. Flawed philosophy. A lie.
But even if he wasn't perfect—nobody was—Sae could have at least shown some semblance of hesitation or discipline, especially when it came to you, someone who was oh so dear to him.
Instead, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you down, his lips brushing your cheek.
One breath.
Then, the second one.
And on the third, his other hand snaked to the back of your neck, the faint blades of baby hair standing up from his touch.
"I'll teach you," Sae whispered, something resembling a low whine pulling from his throat. "Nobody else can."
You swallowed thickly, eyes wide and pouring into his.
"Okay, I trust you."
His lips were twitching and breath uneven as you uttered the words. You might have been some sort of hallucination he imagined to get through the countless gruelling days in Spain. You might have been a fragment of his dream. Who cares? You were still so utterly divine.
After all, you were his favourite girl. His best friend.
Sae didn't want to overstep; he really didn't. But if you didn't learn ruin from him, then someone else would have to teach you. And he knew he was too selfish for that.
One breath. Then, the second one. And on the third, you closed your eyes.
And his lips pressed against yours.
You never thought you would find yourself in this kind of situation.
Sure, younger you had eyes. Sae Itoshi was famous and handsome and rich, but he was off-limits. He was your neighbour. And after Sae moved in Spain for almost three years, you were much closer to Rin than the distant boy since he barely responded to your letters and calls.
Getting involved with Sae would be a betrayal to your dear neighbour and pseudo-son, Rin. You once thought. Sae was annoying anyway.
But then his lips pressed against yours like you were something delicate, and the faint taste of strawberries and honey sent thrills of warmth straight to your core; any semblance of restraint you had melted away, pressing yourself against him firmer—needier.
Then, you pulled away, just enough to peer down at him. His magenta locks were all frizzled up from the cushioning, and his cerulean gaze was half-lidded and fixed on yours.
No, more like on your lips.
"Did I?..." You start, but he cuts you off with a chuckle. "That was just a peck, idiot. Open your mouth."
You blinked.
His cold thumb pressed softly against your bottom lip, pushing the fullness down just enough to part your lips.
"Open your mouth," he whispered again, lower, against your lips. "It feels better this way, I promise."
A soft whine escaped your throat as he pressed his lips against yours again, shocks of electricity shooting down your spine and abdomen. His tongue swiped against yours once, something you assumed was like asking for permission, and your lips completely sealed around his, pressing yourself against him further.
Your hands scrabbled at the collar of his white T-shirt as his tongue prodded in the wet cavern of your mouth. It was gentle, like he was testing if you'd pull back. And when you whined, his tongue dragged slowly over yours, his hands tangling in your hair.
"Mmm—" Sae drawled into your mouth. "Is this okay?"
You panted, your breath mingling with his. "Yeah, yeah—Sae—it's good. Feels good."
"Yeah?" He seared his lips onto yours again, tongue webbing out to rub the roof of your mouth, sending sparks of heat down your stomach. He pulled back again in a quick haze, lips brushing against yours. "Feels good, hm?"
"Feels s'good; is it always this good?" You mewled, pecking his lips before flicking your tongue over his bottom lip, gasping when his mouth parted.
One of your hands gripped his collar, the other cupping the back of his head, tangling between his soft magenta locks. A gentle prick disturbed your bottom lip, caught between his teeth.
It stung a little. And in a normal context, it would even hurt. But it felt so good—so, so good when the sting came from him.
His lips then descended to pressing wet kisses down your jaw, all the way to the column of your neck.
You moaned quietly. His lips were hot—suffocatingly hot to the touch. Burning, like a fire had scorched your skin, but instead of pain, it was bliss.
You felt his lips curl into a faint smile against your warm skin as you craned your head back, exposing more of your neck. Soft groans escaped your throat, your fingers curling hard into his shirt.
His lips settled in the junction between your neck and shoulder, pressing a soft kiss before biting down. Harder than before.
"Sae!—"
"First time it felt this good for me too." He murmured against your skin, slowly thumbing your hips all the way up your waist. "You sure this is your first time?"
A slight flush crept up your neck, turning your head away from him. "You don't have to try and make me feel better, y’know…"
"M'being forreal." He tilted his head to the side, cerulean eyes filled with something you weren't quite used to—mirth. His gaze kept following yours even as you tried to look away. "Don't believe me?"
You pursed your lips sheepishly, your hands moving to rest over his shoulders. "Not really. But I— It's kinda hot in here, isn't it?"
Maybe it was his wet, full lips, or the fact that his lashes were so close you could count the endless, luscious hairs. Maybe it was the soft tingle in your core that tightened with each lingering touch of his hands.
Then, he lifted himself up before gently pushing you off his lap. "You're nervous; I get it. It's because you're on top of me."
He loomed over you, a playful twinkle in his eyes so faint you wouldn't catch on if he weren't your best friend. An annoying kid you forced to be your friend.
Naturally, you pushed yourself back until your back hit the cushions. Blinking up at Sae, who stopped himself short when you lay down, your hand tugged on the hem of his shirt.
You knew what that meant; so did Sae. A silent plea for something more than kissing. A silent prophecy that if he leant down, he wouldn't be able to get back up again.
Fucking Sae Itoshi, the idea of that was too surreal. You knew he had experience, that being a prodigy meant plenty of beautiful men and women threw themselves at his feet. You knew that he lived in an entirely different world from yours for five years, doing who knows what out there.
Still, you wanted him. You wanted him bad.
You frowned. "...Sae."
"This is going a bit far, don't you think?" He said, eyes averting from yours.
"I thought you wanted to."
"...I do."
"Then why are you hesitating?"
"I'm not supposed to touch you like this—"
"But you already have," you cut in. "Why are you acting like I'm some kind of... some kind of nun?"
"Pfft— You kinda are."
"That's not even true!"
"You are really innocent, sweetheart. It's not a bad thing."
You bristled. Sweetheart?
"Sae, c'mon," You tugged harder, watching his jaw clench. "Please."
He muttered. "Don't say that."
"Please."
You tugged on him a little harder, but this time, he let himself fall over you, hands bracing on each side of your head.
He pressed his lips against your forehead once, the action more intimate than you liked to admit. Like he was afraid of breaking you.
"You do know what you're asking for, right?" He whispered against your temple, carefully moving to the shell of your ear. "I don't wanna pressure you into anything."
"I—" You paused, trying to ignore the shivers trickling down your spine. "I want this."
"Are you sure?"
"Sae," you whined. Was he teasing you again? Your chin tilted to face him, your gaze softening at his unsure one. It was so uncharacteristic of him. Completely unlike the impassive boy you grew up with.
"M'sure."
"Okay," he nodded, cheek softly nuzzling against yours. "You're in charge then."
You weren't so sure what he meant, but your eyes shut and carefully found his lips. His kiss was slow and carnal, nose brushing the side of your own and large hands snaking around your waist. He squeezed you so softly, as if it were afraid of your departure, and held you close. So close that his breath felt like your own.
Your hips lifted to accommodate his hands, sliding to paw at your ass. His tongue gently prodded in the expanse of your mouth, darting around before stilling just at the tip of yours.
A noise of confusion escaped your throat as you scrunched his collar.
Sae hummed, laughing quietly against your mouth. "C'mon, kiss me too. You wanted this, right?"
The thought made you squirm beneath him, hands gripping tighter. He gently grasped your wrists and redirected them over his shoulders, coaxing you further.
"Wan' you." You whispered, arms wrapping around his neck. "I do wan' you."
Your lips reconnect, this time slipping into the cavern of his mouth and rolling your tongue against his. The wet friction sent shocks of electricity between your legs. Your tongue prodded behind his teeth before licking the roof of his mouth.
"Don't get shy on me now," he whispered. "Get your tongue deeper."
Your tongue pushed deeper at his words. So warm. So nasty. So fucking good.
He hummed, lips sensually following the pace of your own, hands grazing whatever he could touch. His tongue dragged over yours to poke your inner cheek, laughing when you whined and pulled him closer.
You pulled away breathlessly, only disrupted from his lips chasing yours into one last, searing kiss.
"Sae—" You gasped.
He gently pecked your lips. "Sorry. Got carried away."
You panted, temple pressed against his cheek as you caught your breath. Your thighs rubbed together from the hot ache between your legs, sparking with each fleeting second.
"You're wet, aren't you?"
Your head tilted up, your eyes widening at him. "What?"
Sae was breathless and debauched, his lips swollen and wet from your own, magenta hair dishevelled from your hands, almost revealing the baby bangs he liked to hide after turning sixteen.
"Here," two fingers shakily slipped past to press against your clothed pussy. "Feels good, right?"
You squirmed, fingers clasping around his wrist. "T-That feels good."
"You want me to help you?" He panted, softly thumbing your clothed slit. "You can say no."
"No— I mean, yes."
You paused, eyes darting to the sheets instead of his curious gaze. "...Do you have a condom?"
He was at your place, after all. And frankly, you were gravely underprepared for this kind of situation.
"Idiot," he laughed, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "We won't be needing that for a while."
The chill of the AC hit your skin when Sae tugged your shorts over your ankle, fingers smoothing over your clothed mound.
"Hm," he mused, tapping his index over the wet patch of your panties. "You're really wet."
His digits were twitching over your pussy, hooking beneath the edge of the cotton fabric. Like the urge to push your panties to the side was killing him.
A flush crept down your neck, gaze settling on the sheets. "No—No shit."
He made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, tapping over a particularly sensitive part of yours—one stationed above your hole, twitching when he rubbed it.
Your hips jolted at his touch, his index slowly circling the beady sweet spot. "Mm!—"
Then, his hand pulled away, moving to the curve of your ass. With a gentle tug, he hooked your panties' waistband down. "Up."
Your hips lifted as he tugged away the last remnant of privacy you had. Any semblance of comfort washed away from the cold air and his lingering gaze, the fabric hooking over the same ankle your shorts were.
"Hey, relax." Sae clicked his tongue when you squirmed, his warm hand moving to rest on your knee. "Eyes on me."
You tried to listen, focusing on his collarbones, his shirt, and fragments of his messy hair, but nothing worked. You couldn't meet his gaze, not when he stared at you so intently. Not when he could see every part of you. Not when his fingertips moved to press against your entrance.
Was this really what you imagined fucking Sae would be like? Not like you had imagined it or anything, just out of curiosity. He was never open about his personal life, but it was obvious that there was a side of him you've never seen. The weird phone calls. The weird disappearances. Hearing him curse and belittle others was the normal kind of crudeness you were used to with Sae. It was no doubt he was gentler with you—softer with you.
So to hear him be so blatantly vulgar?
He inched closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.
"You say you want me," he started. "Then you do shit like this."
It was bewildering.
You fiddled with your fingers before finally tilting your head to face him, swearing you saw the faintest hint of a smile when he dipped the tip of his middle finger inside.
"Mm, good."
Something like a whimper escaped from your lips, unaware that you were actually able to make those kinds of noises. "S-Shit."
His brows furrowed as his finger gently prodded at your entrance. "You're—" Sae bit his inner cheek pensively, stilling his digits. "You're a little too tight."
You winced, feeling your hole stretch around his finger. "I-It hurts."
He immediately withdrew his finger. "You've touched yourself before, right?"
"Um, yeah? Not really, like this—"
Sae smoothed his hand along the underside of your thigh—an attempt to soothe you. But his eyes were wide and... chiding? "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"Okay, well, I don't know how this works!"
"Oh my god." He sighed before sitting back. "C'mere."
You chuckled nervously. "To do what?"
"To do it yourself," he chided. "C'mon."
That's when you found yourself in an embarrassingly exposed position, settled right on Sae's lap, his knees stationed right between yours, spreading your legs.
"Can't believe you wanted to fuck before even masturbating..." He murmured, chin hooked over your shoulder.
You swallowed thickly, head turning away. So vulgar. "It's not m'fault I didn't know."
"It's not your fault. Should've prepped you better."
You huffed softly. "So why do I have to do it?"
"Because," his hand gently clasped over your dominant hand's wrist, snaking it down your exposed abdomen. "There's no way someone at our age hasn't touched themselves before."
"I have. Just not..."
"Fingering?"
Your ears burnt. "It hurts."
"Because you're not relaxed or turned on enough." He brought your index finger to rest over your sensitive bud. "This is your clit. Feels good to almost any kind of touch. Be gentle with it."
You bit your inner cheek, watching his hand guide you to rub your clit in slow circles. "I know what a clit is."
"...Nice to know that's the only thing you've touched in the past nineteen years."
Your head snapped towards his. "Hey!"
He snickered, ignoring your huff. "So, if you want to cum..."
His lips ghosted over your ear, whispering softly. "Touch here. Rub there. Doesn't matter. But you could always..."
A soft whine escaped your throat as his hand guides you down further, stopping right at your entrance. "Make yourself feel good here."
Before you knew it, your middle finger was already dipping between your folds and inside your hole.
"Oh my god," you mumbled, brows furrowing. "Sae."
He hummed lowly. "Like that, go slow. It's good, hm?"
"S'good." you murmured, your finger now entirely inside.
"Feels even better when you curl your fingers."
Your brow twitched at his words, following curiously. "Wha... Okay."
His lips trailed down to the spot under your ear, kissing and sucking on the skin softly. "What do you usually think about when you touch yourself?"
His hand tapped the back of your own as you panted. "You."
It came out quicker than you expected, and in all honesty, it didn't even register properly from all the haze. But it was weird that after every call, every time you met Sae, you couldn't help touching yourself later that night.
It was something about his drawled voice, or the contour of his skin, or the flawlessness of his lashes or the chisel of his jaw. Or maybe it was his body, sculpted from divinity itself?
His breath hitched at your admission, fingers twitching over your hand.
You whined, pulling your finger out to push it back inside, curling to hit a sweet spot that made your toes curl. "I always think of you."
Something stiff throbbed against your ass cheek.
Your breath caught in your throat. Then, he bit down on your neck. Harder. "Ow—"
Sae seared your lips in a fervent kiss—all tongue and teeth and the intimate squeeze of your waist. He drank down every noise you made, panting against your mouth, swirling his tongue along yours.
"Let me help you," he panted, shaky fingers moving to gently pinch your clit. "Need to help you."
You moaned into his mouth, hips jolting from his touch. "S-Sae."
"Two fingers, you can do that, right?"
Swallowing thickly, you panted over his lips as he pecked you. "Mm—"
"C'mon," he muttered, pressing wanton kisses down your jaw. "Gonna make you feel s'good."
You pressed your ring finger to your entrance, pushing in slowly, wincing. "Hurts, Sae."
"Shh," he hushed against your cheek. "You can take it."
His index and middle rubbed against your puffy clit in a desperate side-to-side motion. Brows twitching with each passing second, he panted heavily. Your hips lifted in shock, fingers instinctively curling inside you.
Oh, you hit that good spot. It was spongy and rigid and oh so sweet.
You moaned, head thrown back over his shoulder. "Ah..."
"That's—" he sputtered, fingers continuing their relentless attack. "That's your g-spot. Should feel different from the rest of ya. Should feel really good."
Wet noises filled the room as you pistoned your fingers in and out of your hole, bracing yourself atop your best friend. Even though he was talking in your ear, breathy and hot as he always did, nothing registered. Every sense you had was being replaced by the overwhelming sensation of sweet bliss, your jaw slack and eyes shut.
"Curl your fingers more. Yeah, like that, deeper. Shit, you're—"
You whimpered, hips jerking as he continued to rub and roll your clit. "Sae, think m'gonna do that thing where I... F-Fuck."
He let out a quiet whine against your shoulder. "You are?"
"Y-Yeah, aren't y-you supposed to be the expert?"
"Sh— Shut up."
Just as something hot and unbelievably euphoric was about to snap, his fingers pulled away, panting harshly over your shoulder.
You huffed, your brain foggy. "Wha... Why?
"Not yet," he muttered. "Not yet."
Before you knew it, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you. "You sure this is your first time masturbating?"
He pecked your lips, descending to your chest, pressing soft kisses to your clothed nipples and down your stomach. "You're pretty good at it."
"Pretty good?" you murmured, jolting every time he kissed your stiffening buds. "Thank you?"
His low-lidded gaze flitted down to your drenched slit, lips spasming at the sight.
You frowned as he settled between your thighs. "Sae, no."
"No more?"
"No," you shook your head, hand scrambling to tug at his collar. "I didn't do anything for you."
"...You don't need to."
You huffed, spotting the tent in his sweats. "Don't lie."
"M'being serious," he grabbed your hand, pressing a hot kiss to your palm. "I want to do this."
You sputtered at his words, embarrassed that he was inching so close to your bare pussy. Panting, you whined. "Do what?"
"Eat you out."
"What? Oh my god, that is so—" you stammered. "So embarrassing!"
His hands smoothed over your inner thighs, spreading them apart. "No, it's not."
"Yes it is. Sae, get up!"
He huffed as you pulled at his collar again, his sigh blowing warm air over your wet folds, making you yelp.
"How about this?" He reached for the blanket urged aside. "You see a blanket instead of me. Way better, right?"
You huffed. "You say that like I don't want to see you..."
"Isn't that what that is?"
"I don't want you to see me!"
"But you're so pretty." He pressed a kiss right on your clit, making you jolt. "And so sweet."
Your ears burnt as he pressed another kiss on your slit and another on your entrance.
"Okay, okay. We'll use the blanket."
"Alright," he hummed, pressing one last kiss to your clit again.
"Fun."
It was weird, feeling the ghost of his breath but only seeing a broad figure under your blanket.
Your legs were spread over his shoulders, thighs marked with soft kisses and bites Sae spent minutes on perfecting, murmuring something almost biblical to himself.
Then, you felt his fingers spread your lips in a V-shape, letting your head fall back on the cushions.
One breath.
Then, the second.
And on the third, still, nothing came.
"What are you doing down there?!" You whined, heel digging into his defined back.
You were only met with silence, but from the hot wave of air, you knew he was annoyed.
You scrunched your nose. So typical of him.
Then, he spoke from under the blanket. Low and teasing. "Your clit is all puffy."
"...What?"
He leaned down, pressed his lips to the bud and whispered. "And you smell s'good."
Then, his tongue licked a slow strip from your weeping hole all the way to your sensitive bud. The entirely new sensation washing over you in ways you could never imagine, your teeth catching your bottom lip.
"Oh, fuck. Sae..." Your hand reached under the blanket, tangling in his magenta locks.
His tongue slowly swirled around your clit, switching to softer kitten licks, slowly bobbing his head. You whined, thighs clamping around his head. "Ah— t'much!"
Your thighs squeezed shut around his head, so close that your knees grazed each other and the sweat from his hair smeared against your thighs. Sae huffed and wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud, slurping it into his mouth harshly.
You moaned sweetly, cheek pressing against the cushioning. "F-Fuck!"
Finally, you loosened up enough for him to catch your thighs off guard. His fingers dug into the plushness and pushed them apart, all the way until your knees hit the cushions.
"Too much?" Sae hummed, spitting into your messy hole. "You're so dramatic."
Dramatic? He was the one seriously overwhelming you!
His tongue webbed out, swirling around your entrance before licking up your folds. Spreading your labia with his tongue in a firm, upward lick, soothing the fold with soft, barely-there kisses.
Then, he sealed his mouth over your entire pussy.
"Sae," you whimpered, fingers pulling his hair in warning. "Don't even think about it."
A soft huff vibrated against your folds, his snicker evident. His thumb gently rubbed your thigh like some kind of apology. Then, he sucked your pussy in one, harsh motion.
"Oh my god—" you cried, thighs struggling to close against his strong grip. "C-Can't!"
"Mm," he murmured against your folds, his tongue moving to swirl around your entrance again, the tip gently prodding its way inside. "You can."
Your fingers sharply pulled at his hair. "S-Sae!"
He grumbled, the vibrations sending tremors into your pussy. "Stop movin'."
"Can't," your eyes squeezed shut when his tongue pushed in, firmly licking your sweet spot. "Sae, I c-can't."
Sae's tongue withdrew, soothing your pussy with wet, apologetic kisses, lips pressing over your inner thighs. "Why? What's wrong?"
You panted, fingers still gripping his hair. "...I told you I can't."
"Can't what?" he hummed, thumb reaching to rub your clit in slow circles. "Cum?"
"Cum." Your cheeks burnt at the word. "No, I do wanna cum."
He panted harsh breaths against your thigh and pussy, the oxygen levels decreasing by the minute under the blanket. "You're pissing me off. You say wanna cum, but you can't take it?"
"H-How is that my fault?"
He grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it aside. His bangs were all sweaty and pushed back over the rest of his hair. Sweat beaded at his temples, some reaching down his neck.
And his lips quivered, his entire mouth drenched with your wet slick, smeared over his cheeks and nose. Sae huffed lowly, cerulean gaze focused on the cushions, catching his breath. "M'going as slow as I can."
"I-I'm trying to keep up with you."
He scoffed. "...Yeah 'course you are."
You huffed. "I don't like your attitude."
"Okay then," he retorted, eyes threatening to roll. "So stay still. I'm not using a blanket this time."
Your breath hitched as he settled between your legs again, fingers tracing circles over your hips.
"And," he hummed. "M'not letting you hide."
Before you could process what that meant, he steadied his hands over your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. You could only see the open window from this view. Not Sae. Not a blanket. Nothing.
Your feet kicked squeamishly, though it didn't help much. "Wait!— This is so embarrassing—"
His lips found the seam between your thigh and ass, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin. "Hn, stop squirming."
"How can I?" You buried your face in your hands. "You can literally see everything and I wanna die—"
You were cut off with a soft moan, his thumbs spreading your lips to slurp up your dripping hole, tongue prodding into your hole. His fingers dug into your ass cheeks, groping it harsher—needier.
"Fuck," he groaned softly, kissing down your folds until he found your sensitive bud. He sealed his lips around it before sucking fervently, noises growing as you squirmed. "Fuck, fuck. You taste s'good."
He almost growled into your cunt, moving to press kisses to your ass cheeks, softly biting down on the flesh.
Your hand wrings back to grab at him—his shirt, his shoulder—to be met with a firm hand clasping your wrist. He pinned it to the couch as he leaned down again, lapping his tongue over and over at your clit.
He was breathing—panting so hard that his exhaling puffed air into your hole. "S-Sae!" You moaned softly into the cushioning. "Oh my god—Sae!"
Something warm tightened in your abdomen. It was hot and electric and aching to explode, just like the times when you'd touch yourself, but this was much more. So much more.
You panted into the cushions, soft moans and whines escaping you as he ate your pussy. He was relentless; he always was, but this was a different kind. Sae could do anything, say anything, but when he promised you pleasure and brought you heaven?
Holy shit, it was too much that you could go crazy any second now.
"Let me tell you somethin'," he broke your thoughts, murmuring as his tongue slid out of your hole. "When you feel something so good you think you'll go crazy. Say you're cummin'."
"I-I know what that is."You whined, seeing that sort of language in the porn you read and watched, but not exactly knowing when to use it. "I think."
He muffled a scoff against your cunt, switching to long, firm licks up your entire pussy. "Wow. Genius over here."
You felt the warmth spread down your stomach to your thighs and cunt and clit and everywhere, fingers clawing into the cushioning. "Okay! Okay, I'm... M'cummin!"
You could feel his brow quirk, lips ghosting over your clit. "You're what?"
You were close, so close to the pressure releasing. But now, your cheeks were burning because Sae couldn't help but bully you about sex language. "I'm... I'm—"
He smiled against your pussy, the curve faint but there, and wrapped his lips around your bud one last time, flattening his tongue and sucking harshly—so harsh you could see stars.
"M'cummin'!"
White dots skewed your vision, and you swore you had died just now, but the pressure released, getting licked softly from Sae's tongue.
But oh, it still felt so good after you came, grinding onto his wet muscle. "Ah, Sae..."
His tongue stilled as you ground on his face, fingers digging into your ass cheeks harder. "Now's the time you get eager?"
"Sh— Shut up." You whined as he freed your wrist. "Oh my god."
He began to lap again, a little softer but pleasing against your puffy clit. "Mm," he hummed. "You came this time."
"I already told you— I know what that is—"
He slurped your clit into his mouth, the sensation all too overwhelming for your current senses. "Ah!"
"I know you know. Just telling you." Sae said, pressing one last gentle kiss to your bud before pulling away.
You panted against the cushions, only now realising the drool pooling in your mouth. Your ass was still perched in the air, your whole body dripping from sweat.
Sae swallowed thickly at the sight, his own erection throbbing against the cushions.
He didn't want to overstep; he really didn't. Sae was your best friend. Someone your mom entrusted to you. Someone you'd watch romance anime with. Someone who purposely didn't laugh at your jokes, just to see you get angry,
But you tasted so fucking sweet. Your noises were so pretty, so alluring. He'd have to die before leaving his place between your legs.
And you kept arching like it was his responsibility to teach you. Touch you. Make you cum over and over until you couldn't think of anyone else but him.
And maybe as your best friend, the boy you knew since you were in diapers?
It was.
"One more." His hand moved to grope your ass cheeks again, flipping you onto your back. "Give me one more. I know you can. Just one more."
"Wha?... Sae." You whined, so clearly fucked out, not even bothering to glance at him.
"You can do it," he whispered, leaning down to press several shaky kisses to your wet folds.
"For me. C'mon."
BONUS!
The summer after you graduated high school, you found yourself back at home in Kamakura. The weather was scorching, sweat beading down your neck as you stared at the ceiling. Your feet were perched over the side of your bed, back pressed against your cool floor.
"Did you finish?" you murmured, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Sitting on the floor against your bed was Sae, who had come back from Madrid to spend the summer with family. Frankly, in the past three weeks he had been here, he had not spent one day with his family.
Well, maybe aside from his mom, but everyone liked Mrs Itoshi. Besides her, he always had some lame excuse to work out, go on a jog, meet someone, go to Tokyo, or spend time with you.
You didn't mind, really. It just meant summers were meant for Sae.
"Shut up, m'almost done." He said, checking off the boxes on his phone. He wore a black T-shirt, legs crossed in a pair of basketball shorts, accentuating the muscles he had been gaining over the past few years.
Was it weird to stare?
Your head tilted faintly, settling on his concentrated face. He had been getting pretty good-looking recently, a little more than you'd like to admit. Since last year, he's been pushing his bangs back. His bangs were cute—almost childlike, but him with this new style... It certainly brought out his blessed facial structure and his lashes. Also, the glowiness of his skin—
Oh my god, ew, that sounds so dick hungry.
And that was certainly not towards Sae Itoshi.
"Done," Sae tilted his phone towards you, a bright red sixty-four illuminating from his screen.
"What the fuck have you been doing in Spain?" You immediately propped yourself up, snatching his phone. "A rice purity of sixty-four?"
He shrugged. "Why would I tell you?"
"Last year when you came back, it was like, an eighty-seven."
"Things change."
"Whore."
Sae rolled his eyes, taking his phone back. "You'll get there one day."
You scrunched your nose as he petted your hair—outwardly affectionate, but you knew he was being annoying.
"I don't wanna be like you." You swat his hand away. "I am totally okay with my ninety-two. Totally okay."
He stared at you blankly. "...Riiight."
You whined, sighing. "Maybe I'm not, but will that day come any sooner?"
"Y'know, in order to get some, you have to...put yourself out there. Talk to people. Flirt."
"Oh, fuck off," you reached to pinch his side, grinning when he groaned.
"You're too old to be doing this."
"We're eighteen, dumbass."
He grumbled, efficiently moving four feet away from you. "Wonder who your first kiss is gonna be, or somethin'. I feel bad for him."
Then, Sae groaned again when you threw a pillow at his face.
pyroami 2026 — do not steal/copy any of my works !
Hail!!! I've never made a request before and I was wondering if you could write a Jotaro x fem reader where she makes it her mission to try and get him to smile or laugh?
She does it in a way to try and avoid annoying him too much but "subtly" does everything she can think of. In the end he actually laughs slightly or smiles.
the very, very many times you've attempted to make jotaro laugh....
and the one time you did.
it was getting frustrating at this point.
you'd never once met somebody so...stubborn, unmoved, dry...brick-wall-like, before jotaro.
the guy never smiled, hardly talked, and god forbid he let out a laugh. he was just always so distant, as though he wanted nothing to do with anyone all of the time.
unfortunately for him, his aloof attitude seemed to have the opposite effect on you. if anything, his stoic demeanor only made you more curious about him. did he have something going on that you didn't know about? were there issues at home? whatever it was, you had decided to make it your own personal mission to make him smile, or better yet — laugh.
"hey, jotaro!" you sit yourself right next to his seat in class, turning your phone screen towards him, hopefully watching his face for any sign of a reaction to the cute kittens in the video you'd found. "so cute, right?"
alas, you received nothing more than a blank look, thick eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion as to why you were showing him this. how the hell did he not even crack a smile? was his heart made of stone? "oh, right— you like marine life, don't you?" quickly typing away on your phone, you'd pulled up another video, eagerly flipping the screen for him to see.
it was the first video you'd clicked on though, clearly a mistake, because he didn't seem to be very moved by the fat pufferfish being fed a carrot on the screen. "what crap are you showing me?" he simply muttered, turning his attention back to his notes, sighing like he was disappointed you weren't doing the same.
ouch.
looking at the video yourself though...maybe he was right...
your next attempt was at lunch.
sitting across from each other at your lunch table, the conversation was casual like always until you'd decided to finally do it. shovelling food into your mouth, you couldn't help but to giggle at the thought of seeing him cringe when you asked the age old question of: 'do you like seafood?' just to open your full mouth at him.
"the hell are you eating so fast for?" jotaro asked, mildly concerned, definitely judgemental. "mph—! d-do you wike sea—" you were cut off by your own stupid giggling again, struggling to push the words out of your full mouth. "do you wike—seahood?"
you were barely intelligible, but he made it out anyway. "seafood? yeah." fighting off another cackle, you sputtered out: "then see-food!" but half way through you burst into a fit of laughter, resulting in you choking on the food. rather loudly too, it seemed, cause now everyone was looking at you and jotaro was tipping his hat over his eyes in clear embarrassment as you tried to recover.
"good grief..." he grumbled.
it continued like this the rest of the day. random, dumb jokes out of the blue while walking through the halls. recalling past memories you deemed to be hilarious. an attempt at an impression of him that he didn't seem to find funny in the slightest...
nothing was working!
in fact, when you were walking home after school, he'd cut you off mid-joke. "what're you doing?" he mumbled. "you're being weirder than usual. don't tell me you're thinking of becoming a comedian now or something." a wave of mild embarrassment washed over you at his call-out. you hadn't meant to come off as annoying or anything. in all honesty you thought you were being pretty subtle. but it seemed like maybe you'd gotten on his nerves?
the moment you parted ways, you wasted no time in trying to find a suitable way to make it up to him and maybe put a smile on his face. one last attempt!
he was clearly disgruntled to see you knocking at his front door at 5:32pm, but he was even more caught off guard by the box of fresh cookies in your hands, still warm, the scent oddly comforting. "hey, jotaro...i wanted to bring these to apologise for irritating you all day," well, and because you wanted to see him smile, but he didn't have to know about your selfishness right now. "they're peanut butter. i don't know if you like—"
a loud, very enthusiastic bark cut you off, head whipping around to see an extremely happy, and clearly very hungry, pitbull charging right at you, probably a neighbour's dog catching a whiff of the cookies. "no—shoo! go away!" you called out, waving your ankle about as if it'd deter the unit of a dog running at you.
but it was no use.
the dog, barking and undeterred, caught up to you anyway, trying to get onto it's hind legs as you ran around trying to escape it, despite running in circles. really should have just asked jotaro to go inside, but logic was off the table when you were being chased by a drooling, panting mut.
"ohmygod ohmy—leave me alone! bad dog!" you yelped. futile. the next thing you knew you'd conveniently tripped over yourself, falling right to the ground, cookies with you. and the dog wasted no time in getting its greedy jaws around the cookies. was that even safe for a dog? "the cookies! oh you filthy—" you sat up, attempting to shoo the dog away, but the action just caught it's attention instead.
its paws were now aiming at you, pushing you back to the floor as it licked at your face cheerfully, wagging its tail like you were just playing. meanwhile you were squirming around, trying to push it off of you while flailing your legs around. "it's gonna eat me! jotaro it's gonna eat me like it ate my cookies! i'm gonna DIE!"
the whole time, jotaro was still stood at the doorway, a mix of bewilderment, confusion, and surprise hitting him at the cartoonish scene. but seeing you practically wrestling (and losing to) this random dog? crying out like your life was on the line? it was... pathetic to say the least. but amusing.
you missed the quirk of his lips. the way his usually fixed, stone-cold expression softened into something more relaxed and entertained, but you did happen to hear a snort come from his direction. the subtlest, hardly-there sign of laughter, but from him? it was a once in a lifetime phenomenon that had you momentarily distracted enough to chuckle too.
that was, until the dog dragged its big, slobbery tongue across your ear, which made you jolt up and scream again.
guys, I need help. I'm trying to find a Dante Sparda x femreader where the reader is a succubus but she doesn't act on those urges but there's a point where she can't anymore and they end up mating and all. I know I read it before, but apparently I didn't save it 😭😭😭😭😭😭
dude i'm so tired of the chatgpt fanfics. i'm sorry i know i've already mentioned that before but the amount of (popular!!!!!) ai slop in the gachiakuta tags annoys me.
a lot of enjin fics i come across have the horrendous chatgpt pattern slapped all over them and i'm soooo tired of reading this slop it also sucks that people are eating it up without even questioning the terrible writing and bits of narration that make absolutely no sense.
"did you do that?"
"no i did not"
"you literally did though. i saw you."
"you're wrong."
"are you calling me a liar?"
"i'm not calling you a liar. i'm saying i didn't do it."
he blinked. you blinked back at him. neither of you spoke. the silence stretched.
*ensues more bland, one-liner dialogues that does not sound like the character at all*
MAKE IT STOPPP.
and before you say "oh but I write like that!" "ai steals from real writers!" yes! that is very true, but I can promise you that anyone who's even remotely familiar with chatgpt's writing pattern can tell the difference between someone who naturally writes in a similar style and someone who copy pasted ai writing.
please pick up a pen. anything you'll write will be a thousand time better than ai generated slop!
KAGAMI running his fingers up and down your back as you lay on top of him, face buried in his chest, taking in the distinct scent of him that you wish you could name, mumbling about your days as the two of you start to drift, his other hand coming up to run through your hair, fingers softly bumping into the shell of your ear, making you shiver a little, kagami holding you so tight and soft as the shuffling of your neighbor next door permeates through the walls and the afternoon sun warms your bodies just right, sinking into the comfort of a sleepy sunday and kagami's heartbeat.
After Jolyne have moved out, Jotaro was finally able to move to a beach house without risking his daughter's needs.
You, his spouse, came with him. At first, you thought it would be sweet and cute, maybe even sexy. Nothing hotter than seeing your husband coming out of the water in the tightest swimming suit.
That until you entered his hole office and found a massive fish tank. At first, you just assumed he's finally keeping pets. For years, he refused to get one in fear of hurting Jolyne, even if you promised that Jolyne is smarter than sticking her hand in.
But once you got closer, you noticed there is someone already there, and they are staring at you. It seems that it didn't like your face very much, as it immediately marched forward to try and.. Punch you?
"Don't." Your husband's voice surprised you from behind, he didn't even look up from his microscope, let alone turn around to actually see you. "She's injured."
"How and when?" You asked, baffled. You've been married for long, yet it's no less of a surprise how quiet this man can be. Bringing a literal tank and whatever is this without you knowing.
"I had the tank for a while," He finally turned around, walking towards you. "I filled it yesterday and brought her in."
"How do you know it's a she?" You questioned, leaning forward again to try and figure it out yourself. Summoning everything that you learned from him, you still didn't come to a conclusion. "Wait, wait! I think I got it."
He waited on you, genuinely wanting you to get it. Even if he's standing behind you, looking like he wants to do anything but be here. Living with him taught you to not see his face, but take his words and actions. You told him to wait, and he waited. If he didn't want to, he would have told you to get out.
"Is she.. Bigger?" You wondered. That thing seemed to be the case for most animals, especially sea animals, the female is always larger than the male.
He shock his head, but he didn't scoff. He didn't think your question is dumb, he basically said good guess.
"Is the male more colorful?" You asked, noting how her colors are a bit dull. Another thing you learned from studying with Jotaro is that males are more colorful to attract females.
He nodded, yet still didn't conform it's the only reason. There more to it, what else has he taught you. It was one of your most intimate ways of showing interests, you always ask him about his studies, genuinely listening and enjoying learning from him.
"Oh, is it the reproductive organs too?" Your voice raised in hope, maybe it's what you can't see. Jotaro, a professional, would be able to tell just looking at the creatures body. Something you found so fascinating.
He nodded again, moving forward to the tank. "This is a female Mantis Shrimp."
"Oh! I remember those!" Joy filled your body when he said something you recognized. "The ones who hit hard? Fast as a bullet?"
He looked back at you, pleased. Or as pleased as he can look, anyone who would see his face would call you delusional for thinking so. "Yes, those." His arm reached up for something, a powder you don't know its use yet. "I found her on my last dive."
"Awh," You cooed dramatically, a hand on your chest rested gently. "and you so sweetly thought you can bring a creature that can break the tank to our home, how nice."
"She won't." You can't see him, as he poured the power in turning the water even more blue, but you can hear his eye roll. "The tank is strong."
You sighed hopelessly, of course you trust him to know what he's doing, but you can't help but worry at times. He can be too sure of himself sometimes, making him overlook somethings, even if he's smart enough to come up with a plan on spot, you'd prefer that no water would soak the carpet.
"I'll leave you and your mistress alone," You gently pat his shoulder, a signal for him to turn around. He did, without a thought, and you kissed his cheek. He didn't comment on the joke, but you felt his jaw tensed. He didn't like when you make those jokes, even if you don't believe he'll ever betray you, he still prefers if you didn't even joke about it. "dinner is on the table."
You left the office, hoping you won't hear the sound of breaking any time soon. Maybe after the lady leaves, a new one will arrive.
Actually, you should go back to try and convince him on getting Jellyfishs. His excuse of Jolyne getting hurt is not valid anymore.
I just wrote it on a whim, trying to come back to writing fanfics publicly, so I'll just publish it without over thinking it. I haven't publish anything since I was 15, 6 years ago bro..
summary: you're having a hard time. jotaro helps you relax.
pairing: jotaro kujo x fem!reader
warnings: smut, masturbation, fingering, handjob, piv, overstimulation, angst, hurt with comfort, bathroom sex, soft!jotaro,minors clock out pls, barely proofread because uhhh
word count: 2.9k
notes: when life hard, write smut. it may not be good. write anyway.
~☆~
The distant Tokyo cityscape thrummed with life.
It’s picture-esque, you think, how the world presses into the four sides of your little window. You wonder how many stories slide in and out past the panes, carried in by droplets of rain pooling in glistening rivulets.
You listen to it now, life in its familiar monotony.
The weeks had been long, leaving you pulling at strands of hair and limping on broken dreams.
Okay, maybe that was dramatic.
But who were you, otherwise?
Expectation after expectation, responsibility after responsibility, only to be met with insincere apologies and an acrid taste on your tongue.
Very dramatic.
He wasn't, though.
His encouragement was quiet, as if your success was already written into the pages of his mind. Your ethic was never called into question, but existed as a truth, packed into the space between his ribs. He carried hope for you when you couldn't.
In Jotaro's mind, you could do anything.
That steady encouragement hadn't seeped into your skin quite yet, deciding to let scalding water and scented bath soap do that for you.
You press your back into the tub's porcelain wall, the salt of the day settling into your thoughts. It pulls at your tendons and stretches your nerves thin–the weight of hope–how it refuses to settle in your hands, leaving them prickly and aching.
Being an adult felt so out of reach sometimes.
Things were simpler back then, you think.
He walked you home after school until you worked up the nerve to let him step inside. Sometimes you skipped, dragging him to the arcade or a video store because: “We’re only young once!” Even under the jagged exterior of delinquency, he indulged you every time.
You would cross many more thresholds together–early mornings and late nights blossoming into something beautiful and alive.
And life, as it always does, slotted itself between your happiness.
He disappeared, came back, you were upset, you reconciled, and life carried on.
You packed what little you carried from your lives and stuffed it into a cramped apartment right outside the city. Responsibility and the crushing weight of reality settled on top of everything else. You hopped from job to job, class to class, responsibility to expectation as if someone had lit a match under your feet. You danced to a tune you couldn’t hear, trying to avoid scorching what you hadn’t already burned.
You wanted to quit, whatever that meant. A break–some sort of respite from what sat heavy on your chest, threatening to pierce your ribs.
And he noticed.
He always did.
He made life easier for you where he could, filling in the gaps you left behind. The apartment remained clean, your clothes always washed, dinner already made or brought in. He stayed close when you couldn’t be alone, and never strayed far when you needed your space. There was never a conversation, just unburdened care and observation. He listened. Held you. Saw you.
You couldn’t place his devotion for you into words. There wasn’t a sentence you could string together to describe what sat behind his eyes. Maybe you didn’t need to.
The night stretches on, moonlight streaming in as if it had every right to. Your body loosens, ever so slightly.
And then you feel it.
A low, heady pressure in your center.
When was the last time you two made love?
A whispered breath slips past your lips, your trembling hand slipping under bubbles and foam to find the soft folds of skin you left neglected for so long.
Sex was one of the gaps you left open, one that Jotaro never pressured you to fill.
But now, under the honeyed glow of scented candles and pale moonlight, that familiar roiling in your gut sets your nerves on fire. You part your folds, running the pad of your finger along your entrance, circling the ring of muscle you knew so well. Your other hand slides across your soaked breast, and you palm the weight of yourself, thumb and forefinger tweaking your nipple.
You liked the way Jotaro did it, though–the roughness of his fingers, the way they tugged at your skin, sending you somewhere hot and blissful.
Shouldn’t he be home by now?
You file that thought away for later, a low moan buzzing in your chest as you sink a finger between your walls.
“Oh fuck-!”
You slowly pump your finger in and out, sliding in a second as your head fills with cotton and heat. Your mind slips into dangerous territory, somewhere explosive and erotic as you recall passionate nights: the press of his body against yours, the way his fingers filled you just right, how your name curled around your ears.
You continue to fondle your breast as you gush around your fingers, water sloshing around your flushed form and body winds up tight–your release prodding at the tip of your spine. You press your thumb into your clit, moans thickening as you barrel towards your release.
Your skin burns with need, head clinging to thoughts of his cock dragging against your plush walls, that thick vein you loved so much rubbing up against you just right.
You briskly stroke your clit with your thumb, the dual sensation pushing you over into ecstasy.
Your vision goes white-hot, muscles spasming as you buck your hips, riding out your release. The water jostles, slipping from the sides of the tub while your body constricts, cries muting the jingling of keys and the creaking of a door.
You think you hear your name.
Fuck.
Footsteps cross the threshold, heavy and familiar, before his knuckles settle against the bathroom door.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah!” you splutter, “M’fine.”
A pause.
“...can I come in?”
Oh.
You slip in a breath, trying to ground yourself in bubbly water and cool porcelain before you manage to squeak out a small: “Okay.”
He carefully turns the knob and pushes the door open, keen eyes sharpening around the little pocket of heaven you’d curated.
Another pause.
“These candles are a fire hazard.”
You blow, something between exasperation and tired mirth.
“You know just what to say,” you snark.
He says nothing, his large frame crossing the small space to slide the window ajar.
“You’ll let the smell out!”
The dulled sounds of the city sharpen as if coming up for air. The steady pattering of rain is crisp as it echoes against the walls.
His eyes fall onto your form now, soaked and dangerously tempting. He doesn’t miss that familiar flush of skin–the same flush he could coax from you with just his touch alone. Or the way your lids sat heavy over your eyes, pupils wide and pooling with a fading euphoria.
Embarrassment bleeds into the tips of his ears.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt–”
“Just–” you start, settling your neck over the tub’s thick edge, “Just don’t…mention it.”
“...I’ll be in the other–”
“No!” you say, a bit too quickly for your liking. “Stay. Please.”
He looks at you–into you–and feels the quiet pull of his heart, the way it constricts around your vulnerability.
Slowly, he begins to strip.
It’s unhurried and methodical, the clinking of metal and whisper of fabric filling the small space.
You look away for some reason. Normally, you indulged it, eyes roving hungrily over taught muscle and hard lines, but tonight you couldn’t. There was a rawness in the air, sliding alongside lavender and eucalyptus, alongside unspoken anxieties and repressed desire. It sat odd and unfamiliar in your gut, leaving you cracked open in a way you didn’t have words for.
His form closes in on you, and you shift forward, making space behind you where you could.
The water shifts as he sinks into the tub, a low breath slipping past his lips as his muscles loosen. He carefully pulls you into his front, strong thighs pressed against the sides of the tub. You sigh dramatically, pressing your back into his hard torso. He says nothing, silently leaving space for you in your closed embrace. He leans back slightly, and your body follows his own–two minds sharing one soul.
It’s in this silence he’s left for you that you spill, telling him anything and everything that threaded through your mind–a thick foliage of thorns and broken glass.
And he listens.
You tell how it hurts, and why you think it hurts–how the exhaustion settled into your bones, slowly pulling you under like quicksand. How you couldn’t find strength to move. How things didn’t quite turn out like you thought they would. You begin to spiral, words morphing into something bitter and poisonous.
He stops you.
He was never good with his words. But hearing you, just how deeply you were hurting–from your own mouth no less…
He couldn’t stay quiet at that.
“You’ve done what you can. That’s enough,” he says simply.
You hesitate, breath caught on his words.
“It never feels like enough,” you tell him quietly.
“Feelings aren’t always logical.”
You huff at that, the corners of your mouth quirking.
“You’re nothing if not consistent.”
He almost smiles at that.
You sit in comfortable silence for what feels like hours, the sounds of the city thinning into the stretch of the night. It’s domestic intimacy in its purest form–beautiful and alive.
His lips find the curve of your shoulder first.
It’s soft and tentative, gently pressing against the emotional space between you. You arch your back into him with a groan, desire simmering under your skin as if held over an open flame. His plush lips tenderly caress the soft skin of your shoulder, moving back towards your collarbone before planting themselves at your neck. He can read your body better than any textbook or migration pattern; the way you arch against him, how your whimpers spoke to him when you couldn’t, how and where you grew warm under his touch.
The now cold bathwater felt so, so hot.
His teeth tug at the soft skin of your neck before smattering it with heavy open-mouthed kisses, claiming you utterly and fully. He gently bites down, sucking hickeys into you like unspoken promises. Warmth bleeds across your body like watercolor on canvas, cast in lustful shades of rose and crimson. He continues his assault on your neck and shoulders as his other hand comes to caress your breast. The dull ache at your core sharpens into something wanton and needy as his fingers roll your nipple just right.
Then he squeezes, the soft flesh spilling in between his fingers.
“Mmmm, Jotaro…”
“Is this what you wanted?” He husks, hot breath tickling your neck.
Goosebumps erupt across your skin, your nipples beautifully hard and aching. He shifts his attention to your other breast, mesmerized at how the skin prunes and puckers under his touch. You turn your head, catching his lips in a searing kiss as he touches you, his other hand slipping under the water to cup your sex.
He lets out a low moan when you whimper.
Even underwater, he can feel how slick you are, thick fingers lazily stroking your entrance as his tongue slides into your mouth. You suck on it while he swallows your moans, his middle finger nudging at your entrance.
You hum into his mouth, legs parting to grant him entry.
Your lips briefly separate with a wet pop! when you cry out, gripping his heavy arm as he deftly sinks a second finger into your heat. He skillfully thrusts his digits into you, curling them in a way that has you gripping the sides of the tub like a lifeline.
Your breaths are thick and heavy, pupils blown wide, and eyes glazing over in pure bliss. He continues to fondle your breasts as you keen and whimper, spine crackling with electricity as you near your release.
“Right there, oh fuck–right there!”
It’s the pad of his thumb against your clit that does you in.
Water slips from the tub, a choked sob tumbling through your teeth while he keeps his pace, your release slickening his fingers as he rides out your high with you. He pants into your neck, the sharp planes of his face burning with desire. Your gummy walls spasm around his fingers, cries ripping from your throat in tandem.
He holds you through it, slowing his fingers when your pleasure finally settles.
You go limp against his torso, breath smoothing out as your muscles loosen.
And you feel it.
Long and thick and rock-hard against your back.
Wordlessly, you shift, fragrant water rippling just under your bosom. Your body moves on instinct, spine tethered to the strings of your desire. His eyes gleam under the low light, cerulean pools deepening with carefully restrained yearning.
He parts his muscular thighs, silently begging for your touch.
His cock sits smooth and painfully hard in your hands, and you meet his darkening gaze as you begin to stroke him. The broad expanse of his chest heaves under your touch, length shuttering while you work his cock, your other hand moving to grope his heavy balls.
The sounds of shifting water and his low groans fill the stifling space, the friction of your shared desire thickening the air around you. The desire to please him sits sinfully on your chest; you want–need to show him just how much you burned for him, how the acidity of reality could never corrode your love for him.
You pump his shaft in a practiced motion, the skin warm and slick under the water’s surface. His grunts and groans clatter around in your ears, sending electricity straight to your wet cunt. The flushed tip of his cock drools, thick length twitching and impossibly stiff in your hands. You slow your movements, circling the pad of your thumb around the bloodshot head.
“Goddamn, woman–” he rasps, trying to keep his head upright.
He keeps his eyes glued to your form: your flushed face, the focused furrow of your brow, the way the light glimmered around your bare curves…
He couldn’t take it.
In an almost desperate motion, his hands find the curve of your waist, hoisting you upwards to straddle his dick.
You waste no time.
You take him inch by burning inch, cunt squelching as you sink down onto his impressive length. Water laps at the edge of the tub, spilling onto cool tile, but neither of you care. Your arms close in around his neck–his head falling into the gentle curve of your shoulder. His large hands steady themselves at your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.
The heat joining your bodies has your blood jumping.
Your ass meets the base of his shaft, and you curse, pressing your breasts into his chest as you take the time to adjust.
It burns, but in the way that leaves nerves frayed and your mind numb, in the way that leaves you nearly sobbing into his neck.
You didn’t realize how badly you needed him–how the feeling of him wrapped you in a reverent tenderness, dispelling all anxiety and doubt. His closeness, the heat of it, remained a balm to your soul, something you allowed to slip away into the current of life.
Carefully, you rock your hips.
The wet drag of his cock pulling at your aching walls has you reciting prayers. His hips find an intoxicating rhythm: not too fast, but just enough to keep you both suspended right over white-hot bliss. That thick vein slides against you deliciously, and you try to stifle your screams.
“Fuck, Jotaro…ah-!”
His low moans follow yours like some erotic call and response.
You both pick up speed, his hips bucking up into you feverishly as you ride him into oblivion.
Grunts and groans and the sloshing of water reverberate between the walls, the air perfumed with sweat and sex.
He pants into your neck like a dog, grip on your waist almost bruising as he bullies your cunt.
“Good fucking grief,” he breathes.
The pressure in your center rears its head, threatening to pull you over the edge. You feel the way his muscles tighten around you–the way his cock swells between your velvety walls, and it nearly brings you to tears.
“Oh god!”
The floor is drenched, slick with the evidence of your passion as you both find solace in each other’s warmth.
He knows you’re close, angling his hips to piston into the spot that had you seeing stars.
You fall over the edge with a scream.
Your body convulses in his hold, jaw going slack while your cunt pulses violently around his cock, coaxing his release.
His eyes lock on to yours, the way they always do when he’s about to spill over the edge.
A growl rips from his throat, thrusts erratic and length spasming. He chases his orgasm, hips knocking against your puffy hole leaving you numbed and boneless.
Then he keens, eyes squeezing shut as thick, hot ropes of cum splatter against your walls. His back slumps against the tub’s edge, and you collapse against his chest, limbs heavy, but heart lighter than before.
And you stay like this for a while: two lovers coming down from their combined high, white rays of moonlight settling over your bodies with celestial authority. His arm rests against your back, holding you in the way he’s wanted to for weeks now. In the way that you needed to be held.
dick having a crush on bruce’s assistant headcanons (and embarrassing himself in front of her)
dick grayson who meets you for the first time and is immediately down bad.
dick grayson who first saw you when the doors to the elevator opened, stepping out in a tight pencil skirt and heels that could kill him, walking in his direction.
dick grayson who knew he was doomed when you just walked straight past him, not even sparing him a glance.
dick grayson who starts visiting the office more, offering to take over some work occasionally. bruce is happy that dick seems interested in his business and is just happy to spend more time with his son, meanwhile tim is onto dick and is annoyed by him coming around so much just to ogle at you.
dick grayson who tries to talk to you but you mistake him for the new intern and just hand him a bunch of documents to print before continuing on your way.
dick grayson who despite being embarrassed about the interaction, still follows your instructions in hopes of getting to talk to you once more.
dick grayson who comes around the office for weeks, even after you found out he wasn’t an intern but the son of your boss. you almost died of embarrassment when you found out.
dick grayson who starts bringing you coffee, remembering your order after he heard it in passing once.
dick grayson who rips the cup out of tim’s hands so fast when he grabs the cup with your name on it, thinking his big brother got him some coffee, dick almost ends up with whiplash.
dick grayson who runs into you as nightwing one night while you’re on your way home, and the two of you start talking after he insists to walk with you until you’re safe at your destination.
dick grayson who starts subtly not asking about what you do for work, trying to gather more information on your thoughts about him.
dick grayson who is surprised that you opened up so easily, but he’s not complaining. especially when you start talking about him.
dick grayson who embarrasses himself when he almost trips when you admit that you have a crush on the son of your boss, but he’s real intimidating. “he just has that confidence about him, you know.”
dick grayson who embarrasses himself even further when he chokes on air as you say the words “but he could get it.” insinuating that you would definitely be down to fu- oh my god.
dick grayson who is so glad you don’t know that he’s nightwing.
dick grayson who can’t fall asleep and stays awake thinking about what you said. he starts thinking about the skirts you wear or the way he would definitely let you step on him with those heels you always wear and-
dick grayson who visits wayne enterprises the next day, and can’t even look you in the eyes without his whole face flushing while you smile sweetly at him. “thanks, dick!”
Imagine a Dick Grayson x reader where Bruce accidentally walks in on them
YES, MY LOVE? ( Dick grayson! )
summary: Dick has a broken leg, a beautiful girlfriend, and a nice bed in a house where no one is around, so why shouldn't he enjoy his moment in the spotlight?
pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader
cw: smut ( p in v), get caught.
open request - Dick masterlist
The manor was completely silent. Everything was wrapped in soft shadows, with the moon filtering through the hallway's enormous windows and the night breeze caressing the heavy curtains.
You'd received a message from Dick during the day asking you to come to the mansion to keep him company while he rested. He was tired of sitting alone, staring at the ceiling, counting nonexistent cracks, and complaining about "the sad temporary death of his nightlife." So why would you say no to your poor boyfriend with a broken leg?
You crossed the entrance without making a sound, went straight up to his room, and when you opened the door you found him lying on the bed, with an open book on his chest, the cast resting on several pillows and the face of a dramatic martyr.
"As far as I can see, you're alive, darling. How lucky you are." You said from the doorway, taking off your jacket.
"Barely. You don't know what it was like to watch three documentaries in a row about antique furniture restoration. I'm about to ask Alfred if I can rearrange the bookcase by color."
You approached, giggling, and carefully climbed onto the bed, lying down beside him. "So you need me to keep you from leaving your life as a security guard and becoming a decorator?"
"Exactly. My righteous soul is in danger," he replied, turning slightly toward you with that soft smile that seemed innocent as he rested his head on your chest. "And besides... I missed you."
You stroked his jaw, and he closed his eyes for a second, as if that simple gesture was what he truly needed to heal. Your lips found his in a slow, leisurely kiss, until you felt his hands clutch your waist with a mischievous smile until you pulled away. "I missed you too, Dickie."
He groaned faintly, as if hearing that nickname weakened him more than any wound on the battlefield. "Don't call me that if you're not going to stay all night," he said, hiding his smile in your collarbone, his voice vibrating against your skin.
"I have to go to college tomorrow" you sighed, your fingers playing with his hair.
Dick pulled away just to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly and his expression a mixture of Greek tragedy and subtle emotional blackmail.
"You can skip it. For a noble cause. You can say your boyfriend is slowly dying of boredom and needs constant company to survive."
You laughed softly as he gently pulled you towards him again, cradling you against his chest. "You're very persuasive for someone who's immobilized in one leg."
“I’m using the only thing I have left: my charm,” he replied in a deep voice, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t leave me tonight, i beg you, im young, vulnerable and horny”
You rolled your eyes, but clung to him with the same need. Dick had that dangerous ability to persuade; the way he touched you made you dizzy, the way each touch felt as natural as breathing. At some point, between laughter, soft kisses, and wordless promises, you both ended up under the sheets, sharing the warmth of a moment that seemed eternal. You couldn't help but think the force he used while he tried to move with his leg in a cast was ridiculous, but even that was adorable in its clumsiness. And you couldn't help but help him settle in while he gently pulled you on top of him, as if nothing could hurt him more tonight than the distance between you.
"Dick, are you sure there's no one here?"
"Trust me," he replied with absolute certainty, running a hand down your back. "We have the mansion to ourselves. It's a blessing from the universe. As if Gotham were saying: Today, Dickie, today is your turn to be happy."
You kissed him again, deeper this time. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he caressed your waist, his breathing mingling with yours. Your legs were on either side of his hips, the heat between you slowly rising like a tide. His hands, firm but gentle, gripped your waist, slowly guiding you to continue grinding his clothed cock, which you could feel growing at the friction of your panties.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky from the closeness, while his fingers went up just below your shirt, trying to remove it and let him see your songs moving to your rhythm.
Your smile curved at the sight of him so exhausted. You slowly lowered your torso until his lips found yours again. The kiss was hungrier, deeper. Your hands moved up to his already ready cock, feeling his muscles tense beneath your fingers.
"You're killing me," he murmured through gritted teeth, his smile barely trembling as he felt his cock sink into your wetness. "What a beautiful way to die."
"sure no one's there, right?" you whispered against his ear, a playful smile on your lips. "I don't want them to see me riding on your cock."
"I told you..." Dick whispered, smiling against your neck as he held you against him, not wanting you to move yet, both of you in his bed, sharing the warmth under the sheets. "No one's home. Alfred's in the cave, and Bruce left tonight. He never comes around."
His lips moved down your collarbone, and you chuckled, stroking his messy hair. His leg was in a cast, yes, but that hadn't stopped him from moving his hips toward you with that signature "I've been through worse, this isn't going to slow me down" look.
His hips found a rhythm of their own, slow but determined, grinding against you with clear purpose. That smile of his settled on his face.
"Look, I'm hurt, huh?" he murmured against your skin. "You could show me some mercy."
"More mercy than this?" you replied, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly, your voice barely trembling from everything you were feeling. "I'm riding you with my tits in your face. I can't do much more..."
Dick's laugh was drowned in a deep sigh. His fingers gripped your waist tightly, as if he needed to anchor himself to you so he wouldn't lose his mind.
The room, once silent save for broken whispers, was now filled with rapid breathing, wet thuds, and the creaking of the bed as the heat grew between you. It was a moment suspended in time, so intimate that it hurt to think it might end soon.
Dick's lips found yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, while his body, still limited, surrendered completely to what you allowed him to do. "Keep squeezing my cock baby, I'm gonna cum, shit," he murmured, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours.
Your hips began to move with more urgency, as if each touch sought to satisfy all the pent up needs of all those days of waiting. Dick looked at you as if you were all he needed to stay whole, as if the pain in his leg were just background noise compared to the comfort of having you like this, so close, so devoted. His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, but they didn't stop clinging to you, guiding you, seeking more of that connection that seemed to envelop them completely.
"Don't stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse, against your neck. "Please... don't stop."
"Dick, are you awake?" Bruce's deep voice cut off abruptly.
Both of you froze in that instant even though you had both had the best orgasm since you started dating, still feeling his thick threads of cum filling your soaked pussy, your first reaction was to cover yourself with the sheet up to your head, leaving Dick with his head resting against your chest, letting out an exhausted grunt.
Bruce didn't move for a couple of long seconds. "...You should be resting," he said at last, in that serious, dry tone he used when he was suppressing the urge to lecture.
"I was resting," Dick replied without lifting his head from your breasts, still hidden in the sheets.
"And no lock on the door."
"Whose fault is that?"
Bruce took a deep breath through his nose, as if he were doing mental yoga to keep from setting the mansion on fire. "Finish ruining the bed," he said, turning toward the hallway. "But we'll talk tomorrow."
Clic.
The door closed firmly.
Silence.
Dick stood there, leaning against you, completely motionless.
summary: dick grayson can't seem to make you swoon, no matter how hard he tries, until he finally does!
tags: 18+ mdni, kissing, smallest argument with comfort, fluff, not proofread!
2843 words
based off this request -- thank you for sending it in! once again, I cannot write anything short. i'm working on it!!
read part two here!
check out the moodboard here!
You hated Dick Grayson.
He was disgustingly charming, holding a brightness in his eyes that paralleled the beauty of the galaxy. He knew how to wield that power. He was gorgeous, devastatingly so. His face was a perfect canvas of symmetrical visage.
You knew it, and he knew it.
You could see it in the way that other women in the office treated him – the fluttery lashes, the lip bites, the attempts at small, lingering touches – and how he smirked right back, giving them a false sense of hope. You refused to be a part of his roster, refused to be another person that was hypnotized by his charm. Your resistance didn’t deter his efforts, much to your dismay. Yet, despite your annoyance towards his presence, you knew he was anything but malicious. You knew he was harmless in his actions, simply just having fun.
Bruce Wayne was unpredictable in his office appearances. Oftentimes, you were left there alone to pick up the slack alongside Lucius Fox. You had no prior business experience that had prepared you for this role, so you were surprised when you were offered the position.
Today, in particular, was a harder day for you. Being Bruce’s assistant was challenging, despite all the perks that came with the job. December was the hardest month at the company – meetings, preparations for the new year, securing deals, galas – it was a constant weight on your shoulders that you weren’t able to leave at the office.
Neither Lucius, nor Bruce were in office today. Neither had been all week, leaving you to take on the brunt of the work in their absence. Dick, for the most part, was the one filling in for what you couldn’t do.
You hated how easy he made it seem. He came in, handled the meetings, handled whatever paperwork or phone call required of him, and did his work as if it was the easiest thing in your world.
You, on the other hand, were drowning. Your head was already under the water and you were losing air quickly. No matter how much you tried to claw to the surface, to break even on the amount of work you had to get done, several more tasks were added to your to-do list. Each task took you longer than you would like to admit, simply because you were afraid of ruining things. You had to teach yourself how to complete the tasks to the same standard of Bruce, Lucius, or Dick, as none of this was originally in your job description. Dealing with Dick wasn’t in your job description either.
“There’s my favourite girl! How are we doing today, beautiful?” Dick’s voice cut through the quiet space as he planted himself on your desk. He flashed a bright, charming smile down at you as he lounged comfortably on your desk. His arms crossed over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching against the bulging of his muscles. He could sense the tension radiating off your body, all he wanted was to see that pretty smile that you always tried to hide from him.
You were too engrossed in reading the file by one of Wayne’s Enterprise’s partners to acknowledge Dick. One monitor had the file pulled up, while you used the other to research terms and proper practices. Your brow was furrowed as you attempted to make sense of the words in the file.
His finger came up and gently twisted a strand of your hair around his finger, “nearing quitting time, sweetheart, you gonna let me take you out for dinner?” he rumbled smoothly, his head ducking in an attempt to enter your line of vision. His finger carefully untwisted your hair and gently smoothed the strand back against your head.
“Busy,” you mumbled back, letting out a puff of breath as you squinted at your notes, attempting to make sense of the numbers that were being listed in the file. His touch began to overwhelm you, invading your mind and derailing your train of thought.
“Come on,” he whined softly, his thumb coming up to your forehead in an attempt to smooth out the tense skin between your brows. “Gotta make sure you’re eating, yeah? I know a good spot over on-”
“Can you stop-” you snapped at him, slapping his hand away. Your eyes were fire, red with anger. He had never seen this side of you before, never seen you even raise your voice, despite how much he knew he toyed with you. “I’m busy. I don’t want to get dinner with you. I don’t want to do anything with you. Go ask one of your other playthings,”
He said there quietly for a moment, stunned by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, I-”
“I’m not your ‘sweetheart’, Dick. I have had a horrible week because I’ve been too busy trying to pick up your shit, and I have a lot to get done still. So, please, leave me alone. I’m sure you have 14 other girls on your list that you can take to dinner right now,” you seethed out again, cutting off his attempt at a response. The office went dead quiet, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. There was too much to get done, too much on your mind, you didn’t need his shallow flirting to make things worse. You didn’t need empty promises, you didn’t need to be a game for Dick to win.
He sat there quietly again, still stunned by your words. A glob of spit pooled in his mouth, practically choking him as he forgot how to work his motor functions for a moment. He made you mad. He was trying to make you smile, but he did the opposite?
“Right, yeah…” he murmured softly, standing up quietly from your desk. You turned back immediately to the file, immersing yourself back into the work at hand. He lingered behind you, his gaze roving over your form one last time. He didn’t want to leave you like this. He knew that you were under an immense amount of pressure this week. He had done everything he could to alleviate the workload on your shoulders. He did paperwork, responded to emails, took calls before you could get to them – yet your workload never ceased to decrease.
“You have a meeting in 20 minutes, Richard, I emailed you the notes,” you snapped out quietly, not turning to look at him. Your clipped tone paired with the formality halted him in his tracks. Richard? You hadn’t called him that since your first week as Bruce’s secretary.
He remained in a slight daze as he walked into Bruce’s office and planted himself in the chair. Was it something he said? He thought he was making progress in charming you, making you see that he was serious about his feelings for you, and he was planning to say it explicitly for you if you had agreed to dinner with him. But then again, you had said you had a hard week. It was a hard week. For everyone. The company. Gotham’s crime rate had skyrocketed and required all hands on deck. Everyone was being stretched thin.
Dick, however, was used to this chaos. He thrived in the bustle of stepping in for Bruce at the company when needed, and patrolling into the early hours of the night. His entire life was a masquerade, a show.
He knew you did not share that same lifestyle – obviously. He had watched you on numerous occasions, scaled the rooftops on your journey home to ensure you made it home safe. Sometimes, patrol had conveniently situated him across from your apartment window, allowing him to keep an eye on the neighbourhood and over you at the same time. You were quiet, a steady calm in the tornado of his life. His heart, once impenetrable, was consumed by you.
God, he felt like an asshole now. He could make it up to you? right?
The sharp ring of the phone interrupted his thoughts. He leaned back in his seat, taking a breath, before a smile plastered on his face. “Michael Holt! Pleasure to hear from you-”
────୨ৎ────
You successfully avoided Dick for the rest of the work day. Whatever correspondence that was needed between the two of you was done over email. You managed to slip out of the building without being cornered by anyone. Your breath had been caught in your chest all day. There was no amount of air that was able to fill your lungs enough to give you the satisfaction of a proper breath. You felt like you were in a daze until you got home.
You dreaded stepping into the office building the next morning. You knew people were going to be whispering about your encounter with Dick. Perhaps about the lack of professionalism that you displayed. You didn’t care.
There were a few of your coworkers in the office, the early birds getting a head start on their workday. Each give you a small nod of greeting as you passed by. The room was quiet, the low energy of all the staff affecting the atmosphere on the floor.
You had expected to be met with a mountainous pile of paperwork on your desk, like everyday of the past week. To your surprise, there was a singular note.
Come into the office.
R.G.
Stepping into Bruce’s office was nerve-wracking. You didn’t want to face Dick. The way his face had fallen after your outburst caused a crack to split down your chest – seeping with guilt and tar.
The office was empty, cold with the lack of Dick’s presence. The only sign of life was a small basket placed on top of the coffee table that was situated in the lounge area of Bruce’s office. The brown, woven basket’s lid was closed, sealing off the contents from your view. Another note with Dick’s elegant scrawl was placed on top. The note began with your name, and you tried not to acknowledge his usual pet name for you missing from the note.
I know you’ve had a hard week. We would be lost here without you. I got you a little something as a token of my (our?) no, MY appreciation. Please accept it. And accept my apology for angering you, I thought I was doing the opposite. Don’t worry about your to-do list, I took care of it already. Take a half day today – think of it as an early weekend! Yay! Enjoy.
R.G.
You sat down on the chair, reading over the words quietly. Your fingers quietly lifted the lid of the basket. The crack in your chest deepened as you gazed at the contents of the basket.
At the very back was a fluffy blue pyjama set, soft and warm under the tips of your fingers. Stuffed beside it was a small box of calming tea, surrounded by some of your favourite snacks – how did he know?. There were facemasks, cozy socks, a candle, a card to some ridiculously expensive spa, and… a small, homemade coupon book?
He did all of this for you? All the hard work you had put into keeping him out of your heart had crumbled by this gesture. Your heart was singing at the effort put into this basket.
You opened the coupon and immediately rolled your eyes at the contents. Though, you had to fight to keep the smile of amusement from breaking onto your face. You hated how he made you feel, how the thoughts of him always seemed to infiltrate your mind.
Of course, Dick would make a homemade coupon book.
“Good for: one free kiss”
“Good for: one dinner date”
“Good for: one free slap”
“Good for: one free kiss!!”
“Good for: pass off your to-do list onto Dick”
"Good for: ONE FREE KISS!!!!!!”
You rolled your eyes again and moved to flip to the next coupon when the door swung open. Dick’s large frame stopped in the doorway. His eyes roved over you in momentary shock. Your heart lurched as you stood up quickly.
“You’re here early. You usually aren’t here until 9,” he breathed out, shutting the door quietly and stepping closer. He left distance so as to not startle you, afraid you would bolt out of the office once given the chance.
“Had a lot that needed to be done… um.. Thank you for taking care of it,” you responded back, your flickering between the basket and him. He smiled softly and stopped beside you. His delicate walk never failed to amaze you – the way he moved with grace, always sure of his body’s movements, and with perfect motor symmetry.
“Happy to, Swe-” he coughed, cutting himself off. His fingers fidgeted as if he didn’t know what to do with them – something you had never seen from him before.
“I was just leaving. Was hoping to be out of your way when you got here so that you could focus. Use the spa giftcard today,” his tone was gentle, a quiet murmur in the dimly lit office. The rain had cast a prominent gloom in the already present darkness of Gotham.
“Thank you for the basket,” you whispered in return, your eyes flickering up to meet him.
“Of course,” he murmured, the knuckle of his finger gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “You’re wearing the same outfit as yesterday?”
You looked down at your clothes, your hands smoothing over the top. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks in the form of heat. “Yeah…”
“I love this outfit on you,” he added softly, nudging your chin back up to face him. You pressed your lips together in response.
“Dick, I’m…”
“I know, don’t worry. It’s okay,” he whispered back, the tiniest hint of a smile breaking through his lips. “There’s… there are no other girls, by the way. You said yesterday that I have other girls. I see why you think I would, but I don't. I only want one.”
“Can I use one of these coupons right now?” you asked softly, your fingers sliding the cardstock material back and forth. He nodded slightly, leaning closer. His nose gently nudged against yours. The warmth of his hands slowly slid up the back of your waist, hooking into the fabric of your top.
The quiet rip of the paper echoed softly in the space between you as you gave him a soft smile.
“Close your eyes,” you whispered, slipping the coupon into his pocket. You waited until he shut his eyes before a small smile spread onto your lips. You took a moment to admire the beauty of his features. Strong features, angular jaw. The definition of perfect. Beautiful.
The crack of your hand meeting his cheek left him silently stunned. His eyes flew open in shock as he blinked down at you. “I deserved that… but what the fuck?”
Your laugh immediately filled the space, pulling the coupon out of his pocket to show which one you had chosen to cash in – “Good for: One free slap”.
A pout formed on his plump lips, his eyes filling with betrayal. “There were FOUR free kiss coupons for you to choose from!” he whined, pulling you in by the waist again. “FOUR!”
You continued to laugh, your hand coming up to gently soothe the skin of his cheek. You were both aware that the slap did not hurt him. His cheek had barely reddened in colour.
“One of them even has extra emphasis on the fact that it’s a free-”
You cut him off by pressing your lips softly to his. Your hands gently pulled him close by the black hairs on the nape of his neck, silencing his whining. His mouth was warm and sugary with the taste of sweetened coffee. He let out a soft breath of relief into your mouth, immediately relaxing into the kiss. His strong arms wrapped around you completely, pulling you into the hard planes of his body.
“Fuck, you’re so… fuck,” he mumbled into your mouth, his lips turning ravenous against yours as a sudden desperation filled the room. He pulled you closer, his lips devouring yours in a way that left you dizzy. You let out another soft giggle into his mouth, gently biting down on the pillowly skin of his bottom lip.
He ripped himself back, forcing his forehead against yours. His breathing was ragged, his lips wet with spit. He looked utterly destroyed, disheveled, with half-lidded eyes. His hands cupped over your cheeks, holding you close to his face.
“Again, please. Please let me kiss you again, I-” he breathed out softly, his nose nudging against yours again. Every fibre of his being was pleading, you could sense it in his breaths, in his grip on your voice, and the lower frequencies of his voice. “You’re so beautiful, taste so good, can I, please?”
“Yes, but first…” you smiled softly, leaning back fractionally. The sound of paper ripping filled his ears again before you held up another coupon in the space between the two of you.
“Good for: one dinner date”
an: I don't know if this is exactly what the request asked for??? but I had fun writing it anyways. THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT IN!!! I would make this into a universe if I have enough ideas, or if you do. thoughts are being thunk
Synopsis: You arrive in Japan with a soft heart and nothing to lose until the meanest, the most popular fuckboy in your class chooses you as a bet, smiling at you like it means something. While you fall for him counting the petals of the roses he gave you, he’s only counting days to get in your pants.
Tags: Angst, emotional manipulation, bet trope, power imbalance, fear of abandonment, slow burn, smut, college AU, soft reader, rich mean Gojo, lots of drama.
Preview
You arrive wrapped in soft colors. Pink hoodies, sleeves too long, hands hidden. Your smile is automatic, practiced, something you give away so people won’t ask questions you don’t know how to answer in a language that still feels borrowed.
Japan is beautiful. And it reminds you every day that you don’t belong to it. Finance classes are neat. Structured. Predictable.
People aren’t.
You sit alone because it’s safer. Because you’ve learned that attachment hurts more when you know you’ll have to leave again. Because your heart is too soft for goodbyes that never warn you before they happen. You don’t hear the whispers at first.
You don’t see the way eyes follow you down the hallway. You don’t know that your quiet has made you interesting. Or that interesting, to the wrong people, means target.
The bet doesn’t start with you. It starts at a party you’ll never attend.
Laughter. Alcohol. Ego.
“She won’t even last a week,” Toji says.
“She barely talks,” Sukuna laughs.
And then his voice cuts through them—lazy, confident, cruelly amused.
“Thirty days,” he says.
“Thirty days and she’ll be in love with me. Head over heels. Thinking about me when she wakes up”
A pause. A smirk you don’t see.
“And yeah—she won’t be walking away untouched, would practically be dying to have me bust in her”
They laugh because they know his reputation.
Because he’s never failed. Because girls are games and feelings are temporary for him.
Gojo Satoru doesn’t chase.
He collects.
You don’t know his name yet. You just know the feeling of being watched for the first time when he finally notices you.
You don’t know that your shyness feels like a challenge to him. That your politeness feels like permission.
That your softness is something he thinks he can bend. He doesn’t know how your chest tightens when voices rise.
Doesn’t know how deeply words sink into you. Doesn’t understand that you don’t fall easily—you fall completely.
He thinks this will be easy. That you’ll blush, giggle, unravel. That you’ll mistake attention for affection.
What he doesn’t realise is that the closer he gets, the harder it is to remember why this was supposed to be a joke.
Thirty days.
A bet built on arrogance.
A heart that already knows how to break quietly.
And a boy who has never learned what happens when the game stops being fun.
oh no! best friend satoru gojo found your sims and sees something wicked.
gojo doesn’t even knock.
he just lets himself in like he always does, like your apartment is his, calling out before you can even process it.
“i need to use your laptop,” he says, voice loud and careless as ever. “mine finally died on me.”
he’s already moving past you by the time you turn, long legs eating up the distance. his white hair catches the light, almost blinding, and all you really register is him.
you scowl, turning to follow. “aren’t you rich? can’t you just buy a new one?”
he glances over his shoulder, a grin already forming, easy and annoying. “well, i suppose i could… but that would take the fun out of having a reason to annoy my best friend every single morning.”
“satoru.”
you say it sternly.
“yeees?” drags it out on purpose, already hovering over your laptop, long, slender fingers about to lift the screen in one smooth motion.
“i hate you.”
you narrow your eyes at him, all mock annoyance.
his smile widens anyway, pleased, almost, and he waves you off like you’re nothing more than background noise. “yeah, yeah. go make me something to drink.
you scoff, crossing your arms. “magic word?”
he tilts his head, considering you for a second. then he smiles, softer this time, but no less annoying.
“please.”
you hesitate.
then sigh, because somehow he always wins, and turn toward the kitchen, footsteps soft against the tile. the kettle feels warm in your hands as you set it down and reach for a tea bag, your mind already drifting.
completely unaware of what gojo is about to find.
clueless to the simple, careless fact that you stayed up way too late last night playing sims…
and forgot to close out of the game.
meaning when he opens it—
“WOAH—he’s got her ankles hiked to her fucking ears.”
his voice is loud, laughter following right after, echoing through your apartment and freezing you where you stand.
the mug slips from your hand. ceramic shatters against the floor, pieces scattering everywhere.
oh no.
oh no oh no oh no.
this is so not good.
your forever best friend, the one you’ve had a stupidly long, secret crush on—just saw your sim and his sim doing it.
you walk back in, skin buzzing with nerves, hands clammy, only to find satoru gojo standing there, holding your laptop open, the screen facing you, amusement written all over his face.
and the screen—
an icy, frost-haired man with piercing blue eyes, crystalline and almost iridescent in the light, is very clearly balls deep in a sim that looks suspiciously like you.
your face burns instantly, heat spreading from your eyes down to your cheeks. deep and humiliating and impossible to hide.
“is this supposed to be me?” he asks, way too casually.
his gaze flicks between you and the screen, mischief sitting in his stare.
“i gotta say, it does kinda look like me. good job.” he hums, then smirks, because he’s satoru gojo, put on this earth to annoy you. of course he does.
“although… i am much prettier in person. don’t you think?”
he actually flutters his eyelashes at you.
what a sick fuck.
your face burns hotter, heat spreading from your eyes down to your cheeks, deep and humiliating and impossible to hide.
“you’re such an ass,” you seethe.
his eyes widen in mock offense before he breaks into laughter again, loud and unashamed. he even lifts a hand to wipe at fake tears before finally settling, exhaling like he’s trying to compose himself.
he lowers the laptop, setting it aside, but not before giving the screen one last glance.
“i mean,” he starts, tone shifting, too serious, almost, but the glint in his eyes gives him away immediately, “it’s kind of stupid, don’t you think? doing something like this.”
you know he’s baiting you.
then he tilts his head, soft white strands falling around his face like a halo. deceptive, because there’s nothing angelic about the way he’s looking at you right now.
more like the devil perched on your shoulder.
he smirks, slow and sharp, the same tug of his lips that always has your eyes fixated on him. his voice dips just enough to make your stomach churn, heat pooling low.
“i’m right here,” he says, voice dropping slightly, more casual than anything, but edged with something he might not even realize.
“and i’m way sexier than that guy.”
he takes a small step closer, closing the space between you.
“unless,” he adds, dragging it out, clearly enjoying this, “you’d rather play the game?”
masterlist
note: this was inspired by my lovely moots post here!
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