rafayelspearldrop

[rafayelspearldrop]

BLOOD IN THE WATER

Elf King!Xavier x reader

Synopsis: The elf king had taken you from your home and kept you locked away in a gilded prison. After an incident, the king realizes he must change tactics to keep you alongside him.

Warnings: manipulative!xavier, yandere!xavier, naive!reader, gullible!reader, weapons, sword fighting, multiple minor character deaths, suicide of minor character, wounds, bruises, degradation (not the fun kind), the briefest amount of tit worship

A search party had been sent out after you the second the Elf king discovered you had escaped. You hadn’t made it far, their stamina allowing them to close in on you with an expressive speed. They surrounded you, backing you into an invisible corner. Whichever direction you turned, there was an arrow aimed at where you stood, ready to be released at any sudden move.

You could feel the judgment in their eyes. The obsession the king had for you was one they’d never understand. When he could have a she-elf ruling beside him, someone who matched him in not only rank and beauty, instead he had you.

“I’m impressed you made it this far, Naiad. I suppose the king finds your determination to be rather admirable. A redeeming quality for your kind.”

The Elf commander spoke as he circled you. He refrained from sneering in disgust as his eyes trailed over your figure.

The gown you wore once spotless, the fabric flowing softly along your curves in a way that resembled ripples in the water, was now covered in grass stains and drying mud. Though the material was sheer, the multiple layers kept your modesty. The jewels the king had the seamstress stitch into them had snagged on low branches, pearls and crystals lost somewhere within the vast forest.

“Why do you run? Surely, you’re better off here than in some abandoned lake.” Fingers toyed with the tips of your hair, a presence growing as they leaned in to speak into your ear. “You should be grateful the king favors you. If not for him, we’d happily leave you here to fend for yourself. What use does a meek nymph have for us besides warming our sheets?”

“Please-”

You caught yourself. What good would your pleas do if they fell on deaf ears? You’d be digging yourself an even bigger hole. Xavier had more than likely gone into a fit of rage when he learned you had run off. The maids already had their hands full, they didn’t need to busy themselves cleaning up splintered wood and shards of broken glass.

“Grab the nymph. Let us arrive at the palace before the king returns.”

At his orders, two guards flanked you, their grip tight as they each grabbed onto one of your biceps. You should have spoken up about the pain they were causing, but you assumed it would be pointless. You’ll be sporting some new bruises.

It didn’t take long for the familiar sound of those heavy gates cracking open to reach your ears. From where you stood, you managed to get a full view of the palace. There we no broken windows, no wounded guards who tried to stop the king from going on a rampage, nothing.

“Seems as though the king learned his lesson from last time. Damn brute left the castle unharmed for once.”

When you reached the front door, the maids flittered about, taking you from the guards and walking you in the direction of the bath that was adjacent to your room. While one maid busied herself pulling leaves and tiny weeds from your hair, another cleaned up the muddy footprints you left behind, returning it to its usual spotless state.

Rivulets of steam rose from the porcelain tub, the space warm and humid from the rise in temperature. The distinguished scent of water lilies and sea salt lingered through the air, overpowering the smell of dry mud.

“Hurry, madam.” Another maid spoke as she reached for the hem of your gown, ready to pull it off your body. “We must hurry before the king returns. It’ll ease his anger seeing you waiting for him.”

They were quick and efficient, their elvish agility evident in even the most mundane tasks. While one worked the suds into your hair, the other scrubbed your arms while another cleaned your legs, down to the bottoms of your feet. By the time a maid finished drying your hair by the fireplace, the others made quick work of cleaning up the bathroom.

It was once again ready, prepared for the king’s return. They knew what to expect. The clothes he wore under his armor always returned stained with dry blood and sweat, evidence of the bloodbath he had caused.

“You must eat to regain your strength, miss.” With a platter of dried fruit, smoked meats, aged cheese, and salty bread in hand, spoke the head maid. “The king would have our heads if he learned we let you go to bed on an empty stomach.”

You thanked them, the door shutting behind them with a thud. Though you were alone in the room, you were aware there’d be multiple members standing guard. They had let you slip out once, and the punishment they received was sure to keep them from making the same mistake again.

You had your fill of the sustenance they prepared, allowing yourself sips of the fruit juice they brought alongside in a crystal pitcher. The cold air from outside made its way into the room, prompting you to take a few last bites a food before making your way under the plush covers.

After spending the day on the run, you let out a sigh of relief when your back met the plush bed.

You were a fool and the elf commander was right.

Where else would you receive this kind of treatment?

When you lived amongst the naiads, you’d all sleep in a cramped room, using one another for warmth during the wintertime. At times, food was scarce, giving your share to the little one to keep them from going to bed hungry. You didn’t have the luxuries Xavier had given you and, you had nothing to offer in return.

Though Xavier was hotheaded and stubborn at times, he showered you with not only materialistic items, but also attention.

You could feel the blood rushing to your face as you thought back to all the times he paid extra attention to your body. Perhaps it was because you were naive to the temptations of the flesh, but Xavier had a gift when it came to having you fall apart before him. He made it seem so easy as he had you shattering on his fingers.

You had everything you could ever need or want. It could all be so simple. Nothing had to change, all you had to do was listen.

As your eyes began to flutter shut, you recalled the time you awoke in the middle of the night to find yourself wrapped up in the arms of the elf king. A strange sensation fluttered about in the pit of your stomach as you fell asleep.

-

Xavier returned sometime during the night. He rushed to your shared bedroom, his heart vibrating in his chest as he spotted your figure on the large bed. The fire was still going, keeping you warm and safe in his stead. Even after the stunt you pulled, your expression was as serene as ever, chest calmly moving under the sheets.

Was being with him such a chore?

Any other person would kill to be where you were and yet here you were trying to run away.

He released a tired sigh as he went to brush a digit along the apple of your cheek but the dried blood under his nails held him back.

He needed to get rid of all the muck staining his skin and clothes. He needed to make sure the next time you saw him, he’d appear tired and defeated. How else could he make you stay? You were a tender-hearted being and he needed to take advantage of that.

The sound of rain hitting the window roused you from your sleep.

While sheer curtains were drawn closed, they did little to mask the storm raging outside. The walls of the castle nearly shook with the rumble of thunder. Quick flashes of light brought your attention the the figure sitting in a chair by the dying fireplace.

Xavier’s eyes were noticeably shut, his chest rising and falling with the steady flow of his breathing. He must have fallen asleep after he returned from his hunt. Who knows how long he’s been in that position?

With the soft glow from the dying flames, his expression appeared soft, an air of innocence. The position took years off him. It was not his usual commanding, overpowering spirit. He looked approachable for once, the tension in his brow gone.

Even the clothes he wore were out of the ordinary.

Instead of his black matte armor, he sported a billowy white tunic, the slit in the front offering a peek at the smooth, porcelain skin of his chest. There lay a necklace he had crafted to hold your initials and birthstone. You knew he was tall, but the skin-tight, black slacks he wore made his legs look as though they went on for miles.

There’s no way that position was a comfortable one, even for the king of the elves. The crick in his neck would leave anybody else sore for the next few days. He’d be able to sleep much more comfortably in your bed.

When your feet touched the cool, stone floor, a shiver ran through you and goosebumps erupted along your skin. The pater of your feet was nonexistent as you made your way over to him. It was brave of you to face him head-on after the stunt you had pulled. You could only hope his reaction upon seeing you wouldn’t end with your bottom burning, stained a lovely shade of red by his hand.

The nudge against his shoulder was gentle, his name a whisper along your tongue. When he didn’t respond, you tried again.

His reflexes never failed to surprise you.

When you went to poke him a third time, his arm snapped out, his fingers curling around your wrist. You half expected him to squeeze until the bones cracked under the pressure, but rather he brought your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles.

He wasn’t lashing out. Yet.

If you wanted it to stay that way, you'd better start apologizing.

“Xavier, I can’t begin to explain how-”

“I know I can be difficult…” He pulled you in close, positioning you between his spread legs. “…But don’t I make up for my flaws by looking after you? Cherishing you? Is being with me so terrible?”

Gazing up at you, his blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. From where you stood above him, he gave off the impression of a young boy pleading with his true love.

“What must I do to keep you from running off? We’re surrounded by nothing but dense woods that are filled with beasts lurking in every shadow. You won’t make it far before you find yourself caught in the web of a mammoth spider.”

“Xavier, I’m-”

“When I learned you had somehow managed to escape, I had the guards go after you. I trailed after them for a bit, knocking down a couple of orcs that had managed to find your scent. Damn things would have you for dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react not only to his words but to the fact that he buried his face against your tummy, his breath tickling the skin there as it slipped past the thin nightgown they had dressed you in after your bath.

“Tell me what I must do. Just please, don’t leave me here.”

Your heart broke at the crack in his voice. You never thought you’d see the day when the elf king cried over you. His devotion to you was like that of the followers of the gods who went to leave offerings at their temples.

What more could you ask for?

“Xavier…” Cupping his cheeks, you pulled him away from your middle. Shockingly, you pressed a shy kiss to his lips, tasting the salt from his tears. Yours fell soon after as his arms came to hold you against himself. Without pulling away, you spoke along his lips. “I’m so sorry for doing this to you. Please, forgive me.”

He shot up from his seat, the chair falling back as he grabbed you and walked over to the bed. A small ‘uff’ slipped from you as your back hit the mattress, Xavier keeping you trapped beneath him with his hips pressed firmly between your thighs.

“There is nothing to forgive, sweet nymph.”

The words he spoke brushed along the skin of your neck, tickling the sensitive area till a shiver ran through you. Your nipples pebbling caught the king’s attention as they poked from under the thin material of the gown.

You gasped when his hands reached for the neckline of the dress and tugged until the material ripped down the middle. He didn’t pull away, merely slid his lips down from your collarbones to your tit, inhaling the scent of your waterlily soap. His eyes remained closed as he lathered your nipple with attention, pulling breathy moans from your lips with every tug and caress.

“To think you tried to take this away from me…”

As quick as his smirk appeared, it was wiped off his face as his eyes caught a discoloration on the skin of your arm. With a hooked finger, he exposed a larger amount of flesh. When you noticed his eyes were focused on the bruises wrapped around your bicep, you tried to speak, but words caught in the back of your throat at his sour expression.

“These have the shape of fingers. How did this happen?”

You tried to cover up the blemished skin but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he checked the other arm, frowning at the matching bruises. His jaw clenched as his nostrils flared.

“I’m not angry with you. I just want to know how these happened. Please.” He pulled away, standing before you as you sat up, hands clutching the shredded dress to your chest.

“I don’t…The guards weren’t too thrilled about the fact that they had to go after me, especially the commander.”

“Did he do this?”

His hands curled into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms.

“N-no. Some other guards held on too tightly on the way back to the palace and the commander, he…”

When your words faded, Xavier’s brow raised as did your nerves.

“The commander made a few nasty comments, said I should be grateful I have your favor and that the only thing I’m good for is to…”

You trailed off. Your cheeks were red and burning with embarrassment. You couldn’t repeat such a lewd comment.

“Tell me, starlight. It’s alright.” He cooed.

His hands settled on your shoulders, grounding you, and his lips brushed the skin of your temple.

“H-He said all I’m good for is to wa-warm your sheets.”

You tried to pull away, feeling unworthy of his touch, but he didn’t budge. In fact, he held onto you tighter, smothering your face with his broad chest.

All he offered you was a monotoned “I see”.

He held you until he felt the beat of your heart slow down to its normal rhythm, no longer overcome by nerves. He soothed you. His hand petting your hair. Though he said nothing, you could tell he was thinking.

“I should let you rest and stay in bed a little while longer. You had a rough day yesterday, it would be nice if we could have dinner together today. I’ll have the maids come up to get you ready once it’s almost time, yes?”

He was too calm but you couldn’t deny that this newfound attitude of his was pleasant. If listening kept the beast within the cage, you might as well do as you're told.

You offered him a soft smile when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“That sounds nice.”

The maids were knocking at the door just as Xavier said. As efficient as always, they got you ready for their king before one of them escorted you down the stairs. You were confused when she stopped in front of the door of the throne room and opened it. She was silent, only gesturing for you to enter.

As you passed the threshold, you could see two hunters kneeling before the ceremonial chair, the king’s claymore leaning against the side of the throne.

All the times you had been allowed in, you’d find him sitting there leisurely, fingers tapping on the armrest as he wore a bored expression, listening to the council as they bickered about the issues beyond the borders. It was strange not to see Xavier occupying the grand chair.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling stained glass window, eyes gazing past the layers of trees. You wouldn’t put it past him to be scanning for any lurking threats beyond the border.

“My sweet nymph, you look lovely as ever.” He spoke, looking at you through your reflection in the glass.

The gown the maids had dressed you in was a bit excessive. The silk made from spun spiderweb and sparkling mithril crafted an opalescent blue gown that should be worn by a she-elf from the moon clan, not some ordinary nymph.

Heels from Xavier’s polished boots clicked along the marble flooring as he made his way over to the throne. He took a seat before beckoning you over to him.

You were hesitant, glancing at the elf commander who stood off to the side. His eyes were focused straight ahead as if avoiding you. There was a noticeable flex in his jaw and a flare of his nose, the very same reaction caused by one trying to hide the pain they were in. When your gaze lingered on him too long, Xavier called for you once more.

“Don’t mind him. Come, sit with me.”

You made sure not to lose your footing as you quickly crossed the open space, accepting Xavier’s offer to sit with him. Leaning on his chest for support, you sat upon one of his thighs, clinging to his arm. From this angle, you could see the faces of the two elves kneeling before you.

You recognized them as the ones who had carried you back after running off. The same ones who left distinguishable bruises on your arms. Their normally calm demeanor was replaced with shaky hands and avoidant eyes. The fact that they were stripped of their armor and dressed in ragged clothing stood out to you. It was odd to see members of the guards out of uniform.

“I know I said we’d have dinner together, and we will as I can smell the feast the cooks are preparing for you from here but…there’s something we need to deal with beforehand.”

When the look you offered him was one of confusion and anxiety, he soothed a hand down your arm.

“Don’t fret, starlight. I just need you to confirm something for me, alright?”

You bobbed your head, earning yourself a smile from the king.

“When you were caught by the search party, were these two ordered by the captain to carry you back home?”

“Yes.”

“Went I sent them out, I made sure to clarify that I wanted you back unharmed. As we all know, nymphs are fragile creatures. Your kind lacks our ability to heal and are more likely to bruise.” Xavier spoke as he stood, settling you upon the cushioned throne and walking down the marble steps to stand directly in front of the trembling two. “I gave you one simple order and none of you could follow through. You’ve returned her to me battered and bruised.”

“My king, please let me-” The guard on the right tried to speak only to be cut off.

The sound of bone cracking reached your ears as the tip of Xavier’s boot met his nose. It was a nasty, wet sound that had you looking away as blood dripped onto the floor. The sound of bone and cartilage breaking was a gruesome one, unlike anything you had ever heard.

“In harming her, you committed the act of treason. It’s customary for us to release traitors into the woods with only the clothes on their backs. Of course, they tend to lack the training you’ve gone through and thus succumb to whatever creature’s den they mistakenly made their way into.”

He turned to the commander.

“The swords.”

The gruff male spared you a glance before stiffly making his way to Xavier, handing him a pair of rusty swords. As he moved away from the wall, you noticed a pool of blood gathered where he once stood, a trail left with every limp he took. Xavier noticed the curious look on your face.

“Had him whipped for spewing such vulgarities.” Xavier directed his words to you as he took the short swords from the commander, unceremoniously dropping them to the ground before the kneeling men.

“A dull blade requires a great amount of force to cut and wound. It'll be messy with jagged slits. I don’t care who wins, but know that the winner will be offered a proper burial. The other will be tossed out for the wolves to eat. Until I could no longer hear one of your heart’s beating, will the fighting cease.” He gave a bored sigh, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked back to you. “You may begin.”

Xavier did his best to keep your mind occupied. Walking you over to the window, he pointed out specific plants; telling you their medicinal purposes, which you could eat without poisoning yourself, and so forth as the sound of skin slicing and metal clashing grew. It was a thick, wet sound when blood splattered onto the floor.

With each cry or groan of pain, you’d flinch, face tucking itself against the broad chest shielding you. You felt nauseous and lightheaded. If it weren't for Xavier holding you up, you would’ve been sprawled across the floor by now. When he was no longer able to block out the noise, he resorted to cupping your ears, only his muffled words able to reach you.

A loud cry rang through the room before the sound of something heavy hitting the ground followed. Mustering enough courage, you took a peek, finding the guard who had his nose broken by Xavier standing, a battered body lying at his feet.

His clothes were drenched in blood. When he caught you staring, he bowed his head.

“Forgive me for my incompetence. I broke the oath I pledged the day I became a knight. Should you find it in your hearts to provide me one final grace, bury me alongside my forefathers.”

Raising the short sword with both hands, the tip angled at his stomach, he brought it down without a second thought. Even as he struck himself down, his moves were graceful and decisive as expected for an elf. With blood spilling from his mouth, he begged, asking for your forgiveness as he fell to the ground.

Xavier remained eerily still, until he could no longer hear the extra heartbeat. When he confirmed their passing, he turned to you. His eyes softened as he watched tears run down your cheeks, sobs getting caught in your chest.

“Hush, my sweet.” His hand grabbed the back of your head to tuck your face against his form, the other caressing your back. “Just one more thing, and we’ll be able to enjoy our dinner without any interruptions.”

After spending a few more seconds lulling you, he patted your head before stepping away, taking the Claymore with him. He confined the captain to his space by the wall.

You could see Xavier’s fingers tapping along the handle as he thought to himself.

The room was silent and suffocatingly tense.

Once Xavuer figured out whatever he was planning, he gave a bored sigh.

“Commander?”

“Yes, my king?”

“Take a look at what your ineptitude has caused. Two fallen soldiers.” Xavier adjusted his grip on his sword. “You thought you could allow your men to wound what belongs to me. You even had the gall to insult her. I should cut out your tongue so that you may never speak such witless thoughts…Though, I think I have a better solution.”

It all happened within the blink of an eye.

At the sight of Xavier stabbing his sword through the commander’s chest, your hand flew to your face, shielding your eyes from the horrid sight.

His pacifying you earlier was pointless. You cried, disturbed by what had occurred in this very room. How did he expect you to stomach food after this? You'd never be able to enter this place without picturing this scene. With the force used to cut into the man, the damn thing went in so deep that it pierced through his back, pinning him to the wall.

Xavier leaned on the hilt of his sword, a pained groan coming from the captain.

“I should make you apologize, but you don't deserve to gaze upon my nymph before entering the shadow realm.”

Twisting the claymore, a nasty crunching sound resonated as ribs broke from the pressure. Having managed to perforate the beating muscle, causing rapid blood loss, the captain slumped as his final breath left him. His body remained pinned to the wall.

Xavier looked over his shoulder at you. He wore a disturbingly wicked smile and had a crazed look in his eyes.

“Hopefully, when everyone learns about what happened here, they’ll think twice before insulting my darling nymph.”

not happy with how this turned out as i lost steam halfway but i felt like i just needed to get it over with

[rafayelspearldrop]

▷ Wet Frames

Synopsis . Flirting with your tutors gone right wrong. / Pairings . Tutor!Gojo & Tutor!Choso x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, oral sex (f!receiving), forgotten tutoring sesh, dirty talk, a "hint" of chojo, they both talk you through it, squirting, inappropriate use of glasses(?), praise, degrading, men kissing, fake confidence, loots of teasing, hot guys w glasses, a bit of cockiness here and there, overstim, jealousy, they kinda fight over you (just a lil bit), flirting, etc. / wc . 7.4k

A/N: My fav rare pair, hope you enjoy!!

With a soft clack to your kitchen countertop, your pencil couldn't have fallen from your fingers any faster. You can't do it anymore. You can't focus.

You should’ve known better than to invite two hot guys over to your place to study.

With Gojo sitting so closely to your right, lanky leg brushing over yours every now 'n then, his perfect hands soothing just past yours to point at something, and voice as calming and directive as they come. Not to mention how good he smelled. Whatever he was wearing oozed in this rich scent that made your head spin and your figure shift against the island stool you sat on.. 

Being the most recently spoken, he’s the first to notice your wavering focus. Looking at you with a gentle tilt of his head, "You uh, you alright?"

Your eyes flicker over to his own the moment he decides to part those naturally glossed lips of his again—gaze focusing solely on the faint, but evermore pretty curve that lifts the corners of his lips into a soft grin. Staring, gaping almost, your words come sputtering out past your lips, “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Jus’ can’t seem to focus.”

“Why’s that?” Comes chiming in from the man sitting to your left in a rasped tone that makes your back stiffen. If Gojo’s presence wasn't distracting enough, then you should maybe just ignore the way Choso's equally as curious about your lack of focus as he is.

One hot tutor is fine, but two? Yeah, you were fucked—and not in the way you’d like (yet).

“Well,” You roll your eyes over to your left and make contact with Choso’s curious pupils, one of his brows quirking just barely over the reading glasses sitting center at the bridge of his tattooed nose. “We’ve been at it for like two hours with no break.” You explain to the duo.

Gojo slips a notably scarred hand up to the bridge of his glasses and gives them the faintest push upward along his sharp nose. It was such a subtle adjustment and yet even more of your attention was captured anyway. Which is why you look back over to him and nearly flinch at the instant eye contact.

Those cerulean eyes of his are as sharp as ever as they scan over the entirety of your face. Gojo’s got scratches and scars all over his face, trailing down to his neck, and it makes you wonder what the hell he’s doing outside of class…

“We took a break earlier, no?” He asked, tipping his head further to the side to meet eyes with Choso for a hot second.

The brunette shrugs in agreement, “Pretty sure we did.”

Then both of them look at you and you sink back into your chair, crossing your arms over one another and searching the counter ahead for something-, anything else to settle your gaze onto instead of them. You felt like you were being stripped of every flimsy fabric clinging to your person and neither of them had even done anything aside from look at you, expecting some kind of logical explanation to come from you any moment now.

Though, you didn’t exactly have one. What are you supposed to say? ‘Oh, I can’t focus because both of you smell and look ridiculously good.’ As if.

Instead, you reply to them with a shrug of your own and lift your eyes upward in thought, “The break wasn’t long enough,” You explain with an irritated exhale. “All this studying is overworking my brain.”

Poking his lower lip out a bit, Gojo tuts, “Hmph. So, you wanna do something else?”

Your head turns to him and you blink. “Like what?”

A shade of pink instantly coats his cheeks and now he’s the one finding something on the table to focus his eyes on, “W-Well I dunno, I didn’t exactly have anything in mind…”

You let off a scoff and then quickly turn over to your left.

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one who needed a break or suggested we do anything else.” Choso quickly breathes out before dropping his eyes to the book in front of him.

And this is exactly what you dealt with almost every other day for the past few weeks—both of them getting weirdly shy at the most absurd moments. It never made any sense to you. You didn’t even do anything; why were they the shy ones? Perhaps it was because they were in your apartment this time? Who knows.

With a sassed roll of your eyes, you push to stand up, “Well, you two should go ahead ‘n leave then...”

“What?” Gojo’s heard gasping dramatically as his head lifts to trail your every movement with his cerulean gaze, “But you have four hours with us.” 

Then, before you could even try to get any sort of reply out past your lips, here comes Choso, lightly nudging you on your leg with the end of his pencil as he too looks up at you, “Yeah, you can’t just tap out on us halfway through.” 

His words ring throughout the air for a hot second before you slowly look at him with perked brows, eyes searching his own for a direct clarification regarding the context in which he meant that.

Gulping, a shade of red coats the tips of his ears as he quickly turns his head to the side, “I-I don’t mean it like that, I just…”

While his words fade off, Gojo comes back in and suavely keeps up with whatever vibe had just entered the atmosphere between you three just now. “He could mean it like that if you wanted him to though,” He says with a shrug while leaning back against his rather uncomfortable stool.

Choso chokes and his doe-like brown eyes frantically fawn over to his tutoring partner, “What—” 

“Seriously?” You breathe out, glancing back and forth between the two.

Both of them lock eyes with one another before redirecting their eyes back to you. Gojo’s got a smirk on his face but Choso looks nervous.

A soft exhale leaves Gojo’s nose and he leans up, moving to rest his head against his knuckles as he props his arm up against the countertop—glasses slipping down a bit with his movements, “Why do you look interested?” 

You focus on him for a second and you think your brain begins to lag, “I-I’m not—”

“Oh.” Choso hums, sounding almost disappointed.

You redirect back over to him, “No, I mean-, oh my God,” Your eyes roll and you lift a single hand to wipe over your face, “Can you guys not do this?”

“Do what?” They ask in sync.

With an almost defeated sigh, you simply plop back down into your seat. It’s almost annoying how they can be so hot and yet so clueless at the same time. Or perhaps they were just pretending to be oblivious, who knows.

“Tappin’ back in?” Gojo teases, earning a glare from you. To which his lips curve up into a smirk and his eyes lower a little, “So you really are interested then?” 

Well, it’s not like you ever said you weren’t, right? Honestly, look at the two guys for a second. Who wouldn’t be interested? On one hand, you have Gojo Satoru, a staggering six feet three inches tall, as clumsy as they come, eyes bluer than the Pacific, hair as soft ‘n fluffy as ever, and above all else; as sexy as a man could ever be.

Then… there was Choso. The complete opposite in terms of aesthetics. Long dark hair, chocolatey brown eyes, an inked face, a bit less clumsy but definitely looks shy as hell, and of course, just as handsome as your other tutor.

And of course, they both wore these annoyingly whorish frames—you weren’t sure if they were even prescribed or not but either way, the display of those slutty glasses resting so perfectly on both of their faces did nothing more than intrigue you to no end. Which is why you always leave these sessions feeling oh so distracted. 

Eventually, you sigh and move to pull out your phone, checking the time briefly. “We have two hours left, right?” You ask softly.

“Sure do,” Choso replies, a sudden confidence sparking within his tone.

“Okay, so… let’s say I am interested,” You suggest with a gentle voice, the sound almost careful as you glance between the two guys. Their entire undivided attention was focused solely on you and fuck was it just as nerve-wracking as any other time they stared at you in sync. “...Now what?”

It’s quiet for a few beats, as if both men were trying to process what you just said and wrap their minds around it. The fact that your question came out so genuine took them both by surprise, despite their teasing.

Gojo’s the first to crack the silence since he’s the one who’s been egging this on the most, “Wait, w-what?” He stammers all of a sudden, trying not to flinch out of nervousness when you focus on him, and clearing his throat afterwards.

You lean toward him and crack a smirk. He’s kinda cute when he’s nervous, you could practically read it all over his face that he wasn’t expecting you to agree, “You heard me. I asked what happens now that I am interested?”

“Oh, I was uh,” He averts his eyes elsewhere, “I was just fuckin’ with you…”

Your expression falls flat, and you almost immediately grow irritated by the way he led you on like that. “Really? But, you were just so confident a few seconds ago,” The way you’re still looking directly at him is making this bothersome wave of heat creep up against his neck, blood rushing to his cheeks again as he unknowingly blushes, hard. “What happened, Satoru?”

“Please,” Gojo breathes out, clearing his throat to hide the near-submissive tone he’d just taken, “Don’t… don’t say my name like that.”

You blink. “Like what?”

Grumbling something beneath his breath, Gojo turns his head to look past you and at Choso—as if to silently request his help. Choso meets his gaze instantly and then your head turns back to the brunette, who feels his breath hitching in his throat with the intimidating eye contact you greet him with.

“What?” You breathe out, trying to figure out why both of them keep looking at each other like that. “One second you two are teasing me but then when I wanna go through with it, you both back out. Why?”

Bashfully, Choso moves a calloused hand to scratch at the back of his neck, “It was just some harmless teasing, we didn’t expect you to uhm… Well, I didn’t think you’d actually be interested.”

“Me neither,” Gojo throws in, “I just saw that look on your face and started saying whatever came to mind…”

You turn to him, “What look?”

A lump is suddenly caught in his throat and for whatever reason, talking to you is so hard now that he knows you’re interested in pressing forward with all the teasing. “It’s in your eyes,” He murmurs to you, “You start looking away from us and then your tone softens as if you’re afraid to get the words out—like you’re afraid to let us hear you.”

Batting your lashes at the man, you can’t help but sit there and stare at him all dumbfoundedly. He… pays attention to you that much? This is the same guy who was just blushing like an idiot two seconds ago, right?

“Y-Yeah,” Of course Choso’s throwing his two cents in next, as if he only gains confidence after Gojo says something worth piggybacking off of. “But then you’ll do that thing with your eyes and look at us like you wanna…”

“Wanna what?” You press. You were finally getting somewhere with this. It seemed like acting clueless here would be your best bet.

He rolls his shoulders back a bit in an attempt at maintaining his confidence before just barely meeting your expectant eyes, “You give this, like, seductive look. Like you wanna eat us alive, and not in a cannibalistic way.”

Snorting, you can’t help but break out a smile at that. “You can just say I look at you like I wanna fuck, y’know.”

His head turns away entirely, and you catch just how reddened his ears are.

“...It’s a bit intimidating,” Gojo tells you, “I prefer the other way you look at me.”

You go to turn back to him, but just as you do, you’re met with him standing now, towering over you in a way that makes you feel small—despite the pink still decorating that angelic face of his.

Gojo leans down a little to you and tilts his head, “Like that, I like that expression.”

You simply gape up at him, “Why?”

You can see his confidence faltering a bit once your question hits his ears but, he's trying… “Well,” Gojo lets his eyes trail along your face before shrugging, giving his best attempt at sounding like he knows what he’s doing. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah?” You suddenly purr, making him want to fall to his knees before you all over again. One change in your tone, and he’s ready to adhere to your every wish and desire in the blink of an eye. 

You open your mouth to tease him some more but the sound of your chair moving against the floor behind you makes you angle your head back to see Choso standing and drawing himself closer to the two of you. “That’s not fair,” He pouts a little, leaning in closer to you. “I wanna see the expression Satoru gets to see.”

It can be a bit overwhelming to have two hot guys standing so close to you like this, both gazing at you as if your every faint facial shift was the thread holding together their very lifeline. Slowly, Choso moves a hand around to tip your head back to him fully and his body grazes your backside in the process.

Whispering, “Is this it, Satoru?” Choso asks.

Gojo tilts his head a little more to get a better look at the way you’re holding eyes with Choso and then he nods, “Yeahh, that’s the look.”

You gulp and Choso lets a hum vibrate deep against his throat, “Then you’re right,” His fingers start slipping down your jawline and to your neck as he leans in a little more, “It is hot.”

Gojo lifts a careful hand next and finds his fingers taking your chin into his hold and pulling your attention back to him. “Hey,” He coos, “Don’t forget about me, yeah?”

You swallow thickly. You could feel Choso creeping even closer behind you, the tip of his nose soon grazing the side of your neck while Gojo remained in front of you—staring down at your lips completely unashamed.

“You said you were interested, right?” Gojo asks, closing whatever distance remained between his frame and your own.

You could feel your body heating up already just from finding yourself sandwiched in between the two guys like this. How did you end up here again…?

You nod, just barely. “Yeah, but are the two of you just teasing me again or…” Gojo slips the tip of his thumb up to trace the outline of your lower lip and you almost forget to finish your statement. “Or are you ready to follow through this time?”

“Depends,” Gojo cracks a smirk you’ve never seen on him before and then weighs himself close enough so that his minty breath is tickling the skin of your lips, “Do you want us to follow through?”

Before giving you the chance to reply to that, Choso slithers his touch down to your waist and gives you a featherlight squeeze, “You really wanna know how long you can last with us before tapping out?” He asks shyly, referring to the earlier statement that started this whole thing, “Y’know we’re not gonna let you give up halfway through.”

Gulping, “I think…” Suddenly, your hands start moving, and you place one overtop of Choso’s, and the other slips up a bit to tug on Gojo’s blue cardigan. “Both of you should have a little more faith in me.”

And then you’re pushing your lips against Gojo’s and he’s letting out a whorish moan into your mouth—both caught off guard and relieved at the sensation of finally getting to feel the same lips he shamefully stares at during every study session. You kiss the man like you’re hungry for him and it makes his knees weak in seconds, mind spinning at the reality of finally being able to kiss you.

When you do pull away, it’s only to quickly turn your head back to Choso and crash your lips onto his, readjusting your hands against both of them to tug them closer to you by their shirts.

While your lips work against Choso’s, he’s letting off this whine into your mouth as if he’d never been touched before—especially with the way you were holding onto his shirt to keep him from pulling away. All as Gojo angles his focus to your neck and feels your own little groans vibrating against your throat in the midst of receiving double the attention.

Gojo fights the urge to pull your lips back to his own and you feel his mouth spread over your skin just mere seconds before he bites down. In surprise, you end up gasping in Choso’s mouth and he uses that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in. In that moment you felt like you needed some kind of control here.

Choso was pushing deeper into your mouth and Gojo was leaving marks all over your neck. Naturally, you let your hand reach down and grab the twitching bulge Gojo’s been hiding for far too long now. At that, he snatches his mouth away from your neck with a reddened face and a hitched gasp.

His lashes bat and he lets his eyes fall to your hand that’s trailing the outline of his hard cock. “Fuck,” Gojo breathes, falling right back into your neck and letting his hips rock into your hand while you touch him. 

Your other arm wraps around Choso’s neck and you feel him smile into the kiss for only a split second and then his hand meets your throat to keep you from pulling away this time. Gojo adjusts slightly and presses small kisses into your shoulder before moving as far as to kiss Choso’s fingers.

It’s only because of that as to why you feel Choso’s hand leave you and he finally breaks the kiss. When your eyes open, you find Choso’s eyes focused just past you and your head oh-so-curiously turns just to see Gojo sucking on the tip of his thumb now. You unintentionally squeeze his cock through the layers of his clothing and Gojo’s moans before parting his lips and taking Choso’s thumb into his mouth fully.

“Shit,” Choso whispers, pressing the pad of his thumb against Gojo’s tongue to watch the unbelievably slutty expression the man makes in reaction.

In the midst of that, you let your hand pull away from Gojo’s crotch and try to slide it past his waistband. Just when the faintest bit of your fingers graze his bare skin, he tugs his mouth away from Choso’s hand and turns right into you to distract you with another kiss.

While his lips run over yours, he takes your wrist and instead guides you over toward Choso, who takes your hand and drags it down his body until you reach his erection. “I need your attention too, y’know,” He comments, feeling the way you respond by running your hand over his outline just like you did with Gojo.

Though, it almost seemed like you were trying to feel the difference between the two. Especially with the way you smile into your current kiss.

The moment you do, Gojo tugs away and scoffs. “You’re having too much fun with this,” He whispers.

Choso’s lightly pressing his hips into your palm but he’s nodding, “Way too much fun.” He adds on.

Despite their collective realization, both of the men are panting and blushing a bit more than they even realize. They both look as though this is the most they’ve felt of a woman in forever and the mix of starvation and desperation in their eyes is driving you insane.

You open your mouth to say something against their claims but Gojo speaks before you can, “You can feel how badly we want it but..”

Choso picks up right where Gojo leaves off, “Makes’ us wonder how worked up all this has you.”

You’re swallowing something down before you even realize you are, probably nerves as you feel your face heat up. You think you liked them both a little bit more when they were the nervous ones. Taking a deep breath, “I–”

“Show us,” Gojo cuts off.

To which Choso leans closer, “Please?”

——

It never takes much for you and you weren’t exactly the strongest soldier.

Only a few moments later and you find yourself in your living room with the two men now, in quite the position, as well.

Now sitting in Gojo's lap as he holds your legs open, you watch with heavy batted breath as Choso lowers himself down onto his knees in between your perfectly parted thighs.

Gojo's fingers soothe over the inner parts of your legs, watching the way your cunt twitches cutely against the soddened fabric of your panties and he chuckles. His warm breath tickles your ear and you're already squirming against him, "Looks like you've been cravin' this for a while now, huhh?" He utters behind the shell of your ear.

Your jaw falls open a little and all you can do is gasp at the feeling of Choso hooking his eager fingers around the lace of your panties and giving the fabric a polite tug, soon revealing your gorgeous cunt to both of their greedy eyes.

"She had to have been," Choso hums as his eyes rake over the slick dribbling so prettily out of your pulsing pussy. You just barely catch the way he stuffs your panties into his pockets before leaning in close and taking a strong inhale of your scent.

You shift in Gojo's lap again and he chuckles, "That was kinda hot, wasn't it?" He asks you. The worst thing about the situation you've found yourself in has to be the fact that you felt the wild jump of Gojo's lengthy cock under the curve of your ass.

Turning your head away, you let off another sigh, "Y-Yeah, I guess..." You murmur, earning a scoff from Gojo.

Suddenly a hand is meeting your jaw and he's turning your head back into place, "Don't do that, bring back the confidence you had earlier. C'mon, tell Cho' how pretty he looks down there, won't you?"

Choso gulps at the sound of that and his eyes so gently flick up to you, the natural plea that rests so perfectly in those dark brown pupils of his making your body react with another filthy drip of arousal. Then the brunette has the nerve to give you this innocent lil tilt of his head and you swear you can feel a sense of cockiness oozing off of him all of a sudden.

Your lips spread to try and follow Gojo's instructions but you get a bit distracted by the way Choso turns to kiss your inner thigh, trailing said kisses up until his lips are grazing over your drooling cunt.

And of course, seeing all of this, Gojo only wants to make things all the more difficult for you so he leans into your neck and kisses you too. Then his hands pull your legs up a bit more, forcing you to spread open even further. At that, Choso moves in and quickly latches his lips onto your folds, giving them one firm suck to taste.

Gojo's tongue is felt darting out against the skin of your neck and you swear your entire body is on fire right now. The moan that leaves your throat as Choso begins to drag his tongue lazily between your soaked hole and as Gojo redirects his hands up to your tits is rather pathetic.

You'd forgotten all about the little direction Gojo had given you and all you could focus on was the way Choso's mouth felt clinging onto your pussy as if it were the sweetest taste to ever hit his tongue and the way Gojo rolled and pinched your nipple in between his fingers, pressing hot kisses all into the side of your neck simultaneously.

It was too much attention in too many places all at once. And that was just the foreplay.

Soon, Gojo is messily unbuttoning your shirt and exposing your tits to the confined study room, grabbing a handful of your breasts and fondling them against his palms before his voice meets your ears again.

“I wonder how many of these tutoring sessions you’ve spent imagining this,” He whispers, tipping his head to the side a bit to get a good look at the rather starved Choso in between your legs. “All those times you were in a daze, is this what you were thinking about? Having us like this?”

Choso’s lips pry away from you and he quickly replaces them with a rude thrust of his two fingers into your squelching cunt, your arousal dripping all messily off of his skin as he lifts his head and focuses on your expression.

He watches the way you struggle to get out words instead of moans and it only makes the corner of his lips twitch. 

You let out a bated breath and both men are hanging off every sound and syllable that’s leaving your lips, “N-No, I… fuck, I’ve never-”

Choso curls his thick fingers against your sopping walls and tilts his head innocently at you, “Don’t lie now. Surely you didn’t get this wet from a couple of kisses,” He hums, voice a pitch deeper than you remember. This time when you look at him, you can’t help but notice the bit of fog building up on the bottom edge of his glasses.

Your back arches up from Gojo’s chest a bit and you could practically hear him smiling behind you. “I think she did, Cho.” He chuckles right next to your ear.

Watching Choso’s fingers dive in and out of you, you’re left sitting there forced to listen to the two exchange words as if you’re not even there. Choso merely takes his free hand and pushes his frames higher up onto his tattooed nose bridge before flashing a wet smile, “Yeah? Think’ she’s that sensitive?”

Gojo lets his hands meet your legs and he stretches you out even wider, grinning, “Mhm, look at her. Falling apart over just your fingers.” He teases before turning his head to kiss the side of your face.

Your mouth was busy opening and closing every few seconds but the only sound that actually escaped your throat was one pathetic moan after the other. 

Catching sight of this, Choso pouts as if he were mocking you, “She can’t even speak, aww.” He coos with a hypnotic curl of his fingers inside you, letting them caress spots you swear you could never reach on your own.

This time you let out a groan and your head falls back on one of Gojo’s shoulders, “Don’t… patronize me.. ah-, assholes.” You just barely manage out.

To which Choso scoffs, “She says while moaning.”

“Shut up.” You huff right back at him.

And then of course Gojo comes right back to your ear, whispering, “Shut him up, sweetheart.” Before moving his hand to yours and directing your fingers back into the dark tresses of Choso’s hair.

You feel the man’s digits falter inside you at the touch alone and a small gasp slips past his lips the moment he feels you grasping at his hair and forcing him back down in between your legs. The next thing you feel is his tongue on your clit again, greeting it with a needy lather of drool and one messy flick as if he belonged exactly there.

 “There you go, atta’ girl.” Gojo’s voice is hitting you again and his hand leaves your own, “Doesn’t that feel so much better?”

You’re nodding almost dumbly for a second, mumbling a hardly coherent, “Uhuh.” Before Choso starts spelling something out with his tongue while his fingers are busy drawing out the messiest of squelches from your cunt.

Not that you ever get time to focus on only one thing with these two though, “And what about me?” Gojo starts once more, his hands at your sides now—trailing up, “Will I get the same treatment if I keep talking, hm?”

You scoff, “You’d like that too much.”

He rolls his eyes and then nods his chin at Choso, “And you think he doesn’t?”

“He-,” Just as you’re about to work out some sort of argument to that, though you’re not sure what, Choso drags his fingers out of you and quickly replaces them with the entirety of his mouth. He lets out a heavy groan against you and you lose all train of thought. “Oh fuck, right there..”

Gojo, ever the drama king, starts frowning. His hands are busy fondling your tits now but he’s far too greedy for that to give him any sort of satisfaction in all this, “I’m starting to feel left out, y’know.” He tells you.

You glance at him and with only one look into your eyes, he could tell you were far too wrapped up in pleasure to manage out any sort of solution to that. Even so, you do try to get something out even with your voice wavering with moans, “Satoru, I–”

“Are you now?” Choso’s heaving out all of a sudden.

The man who was just on the verge of locking his jaw trying to get more of your taste down his throat quickly receives the attention of both of you. He’s licking at his lips and you quickly notice how his eyes are trained entirely on Gojo like he was about to be his next object of starvation.

You hear the way Gojo gulps and his voice is almost quieter, “Just a little, yeah.”

Nodding, Choso leans down one more time to sloppily kiss your dewy pussy, “Mh.” He hums before sitting almost all the way up, “C’mere then.”

“W-What?” Gojo stammers, your tits still in his palms.

“I said come here.” The brunette repeats more sternly.

Maybe you imagined this part but you swear you feel Gojo’s cock jump against your ass. And before he can even try to move, the impatient Choso is already leaning up toward the two of you and taking Gojo’s jaw in one hand—the other not failing to make up for the lack of his mouth with two fingers diving right back into you. Brows furrowed and pout ever-so-present on your face, you watch closely as Choso presses his lips into Gojo’s.

Then, Gojo’s hips roll upward to grind into you slightly as Choso shares your taste with him. 

The kiss they share is absolutely nasty and depraved on both ends. Choso’s tongue is sinking into Gojo’s mouth and you hear both of them groaning against one another. You sit there, quite literally in between the two, watching the way Gojo’s drooling into it and the way their lips glide over one another sensationally.

Choso’s fingers trash at your insides with each second his lips remain on the man behind you and you eye the way he swallows up every slutty sound that washes out of Gojo’s throat.

By the time they finally pry away from one another, you think you’ve just about soaked the entirety of Gojo’s lap. 

The brunette lets out a pant and you think this is the most confident you’ve seen him since-, well, ever. “Still feeling left out, pretty boy?” He asks softly. Gojo shakes his head, cheeks as flushed out as ever, and Choso lets out a scoff. Then he glances down at his fingers and slips them out of you just to smile at the sight. “Good because someone here really enjoyed that.”

“Hm?” Gojo hums lightly, letting his eyes follow Choso’s. As he sees the sheer mess you’ve left all over Choso’s hand, he laughs breathlessly. “Ohh, you liked that huh?”

And just like that you were right back where this all started, in between the two of them and unable to focus on anything. This time, instead of studying, it was the raw attention and focus you were receiving from the two of them at the same time that made your brain feel all numb.

All you could do was nod, refusing to open your mouth in fear of whatever sinful noise was destined to pour out of you.

“Of course you did.” Gojo comments. 

Choso lets out a little hum of his own and pulls away from both you and Gojo, “Good thing we’re not done with you yet.” He says before diving his fingers past his lips and licking off the mess you’d left there.

You hear Gojo gulp behind you, “...We’re not?”

To which Choso cocks a brow, “Don’t you wanna taste directly from the source? Bet’ you she’s even sweeter after she cums.”

——

And that’s roughly how you end up where you are now—lying back flat against the couch with Gojo getting his taste of you. One could argue that he’s a far messier eater than Choso is and in a way, that’s almost better.

If you thought Choso had you losing your mind, you think Gojo’s a little bit worse. Especially since he spent all that time waiting and watching. Gojo’s breath mingles hotly into the drooling folds of your cunt and he only uses a single hand to keep you spread open for his tongue to work against you.

Not only is he messier but he’s also nastier, pulling away for only seconds just to let a fat glob of spit trickle down in between your slit. And after each time, you’d watch the way he flashes this drunken smile before diving right back in.

Choso, also not wanting to be forgotten, has been busy holding your legs open and whispering softer praises into your ear. He’d taunt you with murmurs of, “Whose tongue do you like better?” and, “You’re so loud. Does it really feel that good?”

Each question goes pretty much unanswered since you’re too busy moaning and writhing around Gojo’s tongue but at some point Choso gets a bit jealous. You had enough energy to respond to Gojo before when he was talking to you.

Hence why Choso slides a hand down and starts thumbing at your clit in a slight attempt at gaining your attention again. Does it work? Not really since you feel Gojo sliding his mouth up and kissing both Choso’s recently added thumb and your clit at the same time.

The motion seems to catch Choso off guard and he glances down at Gojo, “C-Can’t you focus on one thing at a time?” He unintentionally stammers.

Instead of answering, Gojo takes that greedy mouth of his and angles it further onto Choso’s thumb before it slips past his lips and into his mouth completely. Before you could whine at the abrupt loss of attention where you were currently making a mess of your couch—Gojo’s multitasking and shoving two long fingers inside you.

Both you and Choso have the same flushed reaction as you two watch Gojo put on the sluttiest little show. His other hand meets Choso’s wrist and he starts sucking on his thumb as if he were needy for something more all whilst scissoring his digits against your sappy walls.

Choso opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo pulling away from his thumb all of a sudden, “If you wanted my attention so badly, you should’ve just asked for it.” He calls out, tilting his head a little, “Y’know, instead of getting in the way of my meal.”

You glance up at Choso and watch the way his face reddens as he snatches his hand away from Gojo. “I-I didn’t–”

Choso’s cut off again, this time by watching Gojo lower his mouth to you once again and give your pussy the lewdest slurp as he suckles your taste into his mouth. Gojo looks down and watches the way your body spasms in reaction and he scoffs, “See? Look at what you were interrupting, Cho.”

He grits his teeth in reaction and wants to say something snarky in response but he instead feels something wet drop onto his other hand. Looking down, Choso realizes he was drooling and quickly wipes his mouth off.

Now, whether or not he was drooling because of the way Gojo just sucked his thumb off or because of the way Gojo was now moaning into your cunt was completely unbeknownst to him. Either way, Gojo had something to do with it and it was starting to make Choso feel embarrassed.

Wiping his mouth off all aggressively, he hears a slight chuckle coming from you and his eyes fall onto your face immediately. 

Letting out a small bit of laughter, you end up pointing at his face, “You’re blushing, Cho.”

Said blush only worsens when you point it out and he groans, “You have no room to speak. I just watched you cum on his tongue three times in a row.”

Gasping at a sudden smack against your cunt from Gojo’s hand, your back arches up and the hand you’ve got down in his hair gives his head a mean tug. You hear the way Gojo whines but your focus is still slightly on teasing Choso.

Breathlessly, “A-And you… hah… came untouched,” You point out.

Baffled, Choso’s brows push together and he looks down at himself just to see yet another embarrassing sight. His eyes flick up to you and he opens his mouth but you’re reaching for him and pulling him down before he can try to explain himself.

And then your lips are on his and you’re using the kiss to drown out your whines and whimpers due to Gojo’s persistent lapping. It’s all messy with the way you’re letting yourself melt onto Choso’s lips while Gojo’s thick tongue works you toward yet another orgasm.

At some point you bite on Choso’s bottom lip and he pulls away from your mouth, wincing in surprise. When his eyes open and fall on you, he’s met with the sight of your body trembling a little and you look so blissfully fucked out.

He glances down at Gojo for a moment, who looks like he hasn’t moved an inch within the past few minutes and is currently ignoring the weak push of your hand against his head.

“Choso,” You whisper, earning his eyes on you again.

He raises a brow in faint concern and lets his head weigh to the side a little, “What? Doesn’t that feel good?” He coos.

You’re gaping at the man for only a second longer before he watches your eyes roll back and your body arch off the couch, “I-It’s too much, I-I can’t… mgh, I’m gonna-”

“Again?” Choso grins.

You shake your head, “N-No-, fuck. This is-, hnngh-, d-different.”

“Different?” He repeats, quickly turning to Gojo who’s all but lost in eating you out. 

He’s branding his tongue into your pussy at this point, having seared his name into it multiple times—first and last. When Choso looks at the man again, he’s met with Gojo’s pussydrunken blue eyes. Most of his face is soaked in remnants of you and he’s stuffed his tongue into you enough times to leave all of his jaw and neck soaked.

Pulling away just barely, Gojo mumbles, “She’s gonna squirt.” And then smiles and dives right back in.

You feel his tongue lull around your clit in messy circles and his drenched fingers slip right back into you again—printing his fingertips against your g-spot and grinning through every second of it. 

It’s a messy repetition of tugging his fingers out, sucking every drop off of them, and then sliding them back in for a while and your legs are really trembling now. You could feel yourself clenching and slavering up just about everything in between your legs at the moment.

It’s not until Gojo removes his hand entirely and starts grinding against the couch for friction while only using his mouth again that Choso shakes out of his little daze and clears his throat.

“Shit, Satoru move over.” Without waiting for a response, he’s quickly shifting himself toward Gojo and nearly shoving the guy over just to make some room for himself—your legs flailing further open just to fit both men in between them.

Gojo’s far too drunk in lust to argue with Choso but you see the frustration in his white furrowed brows when Choso angles his head closer and takes your clit into his mouth. Gojo lets off an annoyed groan against the puffy lips of your pussy, and the two are practically fighting over space with their tongues now.

With both of them on you, you don’t have room to say anything or even speak at all since you’re left whimpering and holding onto both of their heads—weakly pushing at them and yet lifting your hips to their faces simultaneously.

Not even a minute with both of their mouths on you passes before you’re finally finally squirting like they both seemed to want you to. It’s only then that they pull their faces away a little—only enough to watch the way you shake and enough for you to quite literally wet up their glasses.

“Fuuck,” Gojo chokes out for the first time in what felt like forever, voice all husky and eyes just watching the filthy mess you’re making just a few inches away from him. 

Choso’s got the same surprised expression on his face and even in your panting and huffing, you manage to catch a glimpse of the way you, quite literally, wet up the entirety of both of their glasses.

By the time you’re done, your body is quivering and your arms have found themself over your face—hiding your expression from your two tutors who were still staring at you in pure awe.

Eventually, you hear one of them chuckling and lift your arm just a little to look. Gojo’s got the biggest smile on his face and his glasses are in his hands now, using the bottom of his shirt to clean them off. “I can finally scratch that off my bucket list.”

You and Choso both blink in innocent unison. The brunette looks at you for a second and then back at Gojo, “Cross… what off of your bucket list?”

Gojo holds his glasses up and his smile seems to widen, “Using these for something other than to see.” He says with a small shrug.

Choso lifts his hand to his frames and takes them off just to look at them. He quickly finds himself admiring the wet mess you’ve made of them and it clicks in his head exactly what Gojo was talking about. 

“Huh. Hey uh,” He looks over to you and squints a little so he can tell whether or not you’re still covering your face, and when he spots you looking at him, he smiles. “After we clean you up, can I take a picture of them like this?”

You don’t think your brain is all the way there yet so you find yourself just staring at him instead of answering—trying to figure out if he actually just asked you that.

“…And after he’s done with that, can I lick them off?” Gojo adds in.

At that, you let your legs fall shut and turn to face the couch instead of them. Letting out a steady reply for the first time in what had felt like forever, “You’re both sluts—do whatever you want.”

Choso smirks, “Hot.”

And Gojo bites his bottom lip, “Can we start with that during our next ‘study’ session?”Oh yeah, that’s right. You were supposed to be studying with these two…

[rafayelspearldrop]

Save a Horse, Ride a ‘BULL’-Boy: Caleb!Bull Fanfic

Synopsis: Bull!Caleb runs the roost of the Farspace Farm, a farm YOU have been sold to. But can this big ole’ bull win your heart over?

Warnings: Smut, Switches POV a bit, Caleb has an accent, Breeding, Knotting, Omegaverse, Hybrid!AU, Dubcon, Mounting, sort of Monster Fudging(?), Reader described as “tiny” but in reference to Caleb, who I s literally HUGE in this story.

The shaking of the transport truck makes the cage rattle. Everything sounds so loud. Not even an hour ago you were grazing the fields of your farm, not a care in the world.

But then breakfast came. You remember happily chomping on your feed and then when you woke up, you’d been shoved in a metal cage.

The truck came to a sudden stop, jerking the cage forward. The back of the truck slid up and sunlight came pouring in. The sound of heavy boots entered, and a young man kneeled down beside of your cage.

He had soft brown hair and a ball cap thrown on. “Hey pretty girl, this is your new home. I’m Gideon.”

But you were silent, eyes narrowed. You didn’t trust easy. “W-where’s Josephine?” Your voice shivers. The man named ‘Gideon’ sighs, peeling off his hat to wipe at his forehead.

“Well Kid, she sold ya. Welcome to the Farspace Farm.” Your blood run colds. You press yourself to the far end of the cage, your eyes wide as saucers.

Sold you? No, no she would NEVER!

“Lies!” You snap, ears flattened to your head. The pretty pink bows Josephine has tied to your cow ears, ruffled with your anger. Gideon sighed before standing, patting his hand on the top of your cage.

“Let’s get her to the stall. The quicker we can make her comfortable, the quicker we can introduce her to Caleb.”

Caleb? Who the Hell was Caleb?

You didn’t get much time to focus on that before you were being wheeled out of the truck. The sunlight beemed through the tiny bars as you were rolled through the barn. You saw glimpses of other Hybrids, a goat Hybrid with a bell that peered through a stable, a Horse Hybrid, tall and lanky that peered over the side of their stall to get a whiff.

You tucked yourself into the corner of the cage, frightened and alone.

The farmhands rolled you into a stable, one with fresh, clean hay. But the smell. The smell was off.

A male.

Gideon opened the door to the cage, kneeling down to hold out a hand to you in invitation. “C’mon girl, he won’t bite.”

Who the Hell was HE?

You were shivering, tail tucked so tight between your legs even God himself wouldn’t be able to pry it out from under you. Gideon sighed, knowing the various treats he had in his pocket probably wouldn’t get you to come out either.

He looked up over the edge of the crate. “Caleb? Help me out Bud?”

Caleb, the Bull Hybrid, huffed from somewhere you couldn’t see, but your felt him. He brushed against your crate, all muscle and dominance. He moved to Gideon’s side, earning him a pat on the shoulders as he tried to make himself smaller when he kneeled.

But he was massive. Messy brown hair, the most stunning violet eyes and charming smile you’ve ever seen.

The strong, curved horns on his head looked like they could gut you open in a second. The red flannel and jeans he wore left little to the imagination of just how much power he was holding. The silver glint of the bull ring in his nose was pristine, showing just how much trust the farmhands had in their prized bull.

Caleb held out a hand, head cocked with a goofy smile. “Hey there, sweetheart," he said in a gentle tone, trying to soothe the newcomer. "You're safe here, I promise. Come on out, let's take a look at ya."

He offered his hand, reaching through the opening of the crate.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Your muscles and demeanor relaxed at the mere sight of him. Growing up, Farmer Josephine kept you far from the Bull Hybrids. Out of safety or from them taking advantage of such a pretty Heifer, you weren’t sure.

Your fingers shook uncontrollably as you took his hand. You took a few wobbly steps out of the cage until your boots hit the hay.

Caleb then rose to his full height and your tail immediately tucked back between your thighs. God, he was massive. But he gave you a boyish smile, one that disarmed you immediately.

“There we go Pipsqueak. I bet it feels nice to stretch your legs a bit.” His hand lingered on yours for a beat, before you pulled it back, fingers clenching and unclenching. Your wide eyes took in the stall.

It was spacious, with cots in the corner and separated feeding troughs. Your eyes darted between the two men, wary and distrusting.

Gideon slapped Caleb on the back with a grin. “You are in good hands here! Caleb runs the show around here when it comes to the Hybrids.”

Caleb chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his sunburned neck. “Yeah, something like that.”

You folded your hands in front of you, rubbing your arm at a poor attempt at self-comfort. “B-but I wanna go home. I miss Josephine…”

Caleb and Gideon shared a quick glance before Caleb approached. He placed a massive palm on your shoulder which you tensed at but didn’t say much else.

“I know Sweetheart. It’s a big change. But I promise you,” his fingers gently lifted your head until you made eye contact. “I’ll take care of ya.”

You could feel your body heating up, a flush running across your cheeks and body and you quickly looked away. “Why are we sharing a stall…?” You said naively, not knowing exactly what was expected of you here

Caleb was taken aback by the question, but he quickly regained his composure. He could see the innocence in the heifer's eyes, and a part of him felt a pang of guilt for the situation you were unknowingly in.

"Well," he began, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "You see, this is a farm that specializes in producing..." He trailed off, not sure how to put it delicately.

“Well...let's just say, we're here to make baby hybrids."

You cocked an eyebrow, tail flicking behind you as you looked between Gideon and Caleb. “Baby Hybrids…? Like babysitting?”

It wasn’t uncommon for you to care for the young Hybrids that came and went from the farm. You liked babies well enough.

Caleb couldn't hide the amused smirk that twitched at the corners of his lips. “Not quite, sweetheart," he said, trying to stifle a chuckle. "We're here to make the real kind of babies. You know, the kind that come from a papa and a mama?"

He could see Gideon trying to hold back a laugh, his eyes brimming with amusement.

You blinked once, then twice. A cold dread washed over you. You didn’t exactly grasp what was expected of you, but even the words made a weird feeling gurgle in your belly. You backed up into the crate, a low warning whine in the back of your throat. “No…no I wanna go home…”

"Whoa, whoa—hey," Caleb said gently, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Nobody’s making you do anything you don’t want to, alright?" He shot Gideon a quick look that very clearly said back off.

Gideon cleared his throat awkwardly before nodding. "Yeah, uh... no rush here."

Caleb turned his full attention back to the scared little heifer crouched in the crate. His voice dropped into something softer, almost protective. "You just got here today, yeah? Let's get you settled first—food, rest, whatever makes ya comfortable." He tilted his head toward one side of the stall where fresh straw had been piled for bedding (far from where he usually slept). "That spot's all yours as long as ya need it."

A few days passed and you kept to yourself. Caleb kept his distance, busying himself with his task around the farm.

~~

Caleb tossed another bale of hay into the feed trough, wiping sweat from his brow. His gaze flicked—again—to the far corner of their shared stall where she always tucked herself away, nibbling quietly at her meals with those wide eyes that tracked every move he made like he might lunge at any second. Normally? He'd have already closed that distance by now. Bull hybrids weren’t exactly known for patience when they wanted something (or someone). But watching how skittish she still was had him clamping down on instinct hard enough to leave teeth marks in his restraint.

So instead? He did chores extra loudly, made sure Gideon brought her favorite apples (learned after eavesdropping), and "accidentally" left fresh wildflowers near her bedding every morning. Small things to say ‘you’re safe here’ without crowding her space more than necessary yet…

But damn if it wasn't driving him slowly insane having someone so close yet untouchable day after day like this too.

She peeked her little head out of the edge of the stall. The pink ribbons Josephine always tied to her little cow ears were starting to slip as she curiously watched Caleb work.

Caleb paused mid-task when he caught movement in his peripheral vision. There she was, those loose pink ribbons fluttering just slightly as she peeked at him with timid curiosity. His chest did something stupidly warm at the sight, and he had to school his expression into something neutral before turning fully toward her.

"Hey," he said casually, like they were just two hybrids chatting over fence posts instead of dancing around this awkward tension between them. He nodded toward the wilting flowers near her bedding from previous days. "You, uh... you like those? Gideon’s got a whole patch growing behind the barn if ya want fresher ones."

A heartbeat passed before he added gruffly, almost shyly for such a burly bull hybrid. "Could... tie your ribbons back up too while we're at it."

The end of a ribbon flicked into her eye and she huffed in annoyance. “M-mmhm…”

Caleb snorted—actual amusement this time—at her little huff of annoyance when the ribbon smacked her in the eye. She was too cute for her own good, even when flustered.

"Alright, c'mere then," he rumbled, crouching down to her level and holding out his hand palm-up so she could approach on her terms. "Won't bite ya over some ribbons... unless you ask real nice." The teasing lilt in his voice was obvious (mostly joking... mostly). But his fingers stayed carefully still, waiting for permission to fix what Josephine had clearly once tended to with care. something intimate in its own way without crossing lines she wasn’t ready for yet between them either way.

Caleb waited patiently, keeping that same easy-going expression on his face to ease some of that tension lurking around her shoulders.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he coaxed. "Let me show ya that we big tough bulls can be gentle too when we want to, yeah?"

Besides, he thought to himself, it's a damn crime to let those pretty ribbons mess up that cute little face.

She stepped to the edge of the stall, lowering her little horns and ears towards the Bull Hybrid. “Don’t tie them too tight…”

Caleb chuckled softly, holding back on the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to ruffle her hair and tease her some more. Instead, he gave a solemn nod, a playful seriousness in his expression she could see in the lines of his face as he took one of the loose ribbons in his hand.

"I promise, not too tight, pipsqueak," he reassured gently, his touch surprisingly light as he carefully began to re-tie the first ribbon behind her right ear.

His fingers worked deftly, nimble for someone so large, as he secured the satin back into place with just enough slack to keep it comfortable. The warmth of his calloused hands lingered for half a second longer than necessary when he smoothed the ribbon against the hair between her horns, throat tightening at how small she felt under his touch.

"There," he murmured, leaning back slightly to admire his handiwork before reaching for the other rebellious ribbon. "One down... now let’s get this troublemaker too before it blinds ya again—" A teasing smirk as he flicked the offending loose end lightly with one finger.

He was being good. Not mentioning how fucking adorable she looked like this. Not dragging this out just to keep her close a little longer beneath his palms where she belonged. Patience.

When Caleb finished tying the second ribbon, she gave him a small smile. “Thank you…” her eyes flicked over to the bushel of wildflowers, ears flicking. “I like purple. It’s my favorite color.” She whispered, eyes darting to Caleb’s wide purple eyes for a split second before the blush took over.

Caleb’s breath caught for half a second. There it was, that first real crack in her walls, and damn if it didn’t hit him right in the chest.

He recovered fast with a slow grin, leaning back on his haunches to give her space now that the ribbons were fixed. "Purple, huh?" he mused aloud, tapping one finger against his temple playfully. "Convenient. Saves me guessin' what color to pluck for ya tomorrow." His tail flicked behind him, a telltale sign of barely contained satisfaction. Before he added slyly-

"Though... might have to start stealin' all the purples before Gideon notices. Man loves those flowers more'n his own boots." He licks his lips as he watched her blush deepen before standing with an exaggerated stretch showcasing just how much bigger he was than her. “But hey—worth it if it keeps your ears lookin' this pretty."

Subtlety? Never heard of her. But hell if Caleb cared when teasing earned him another one of those shy little smiles.

She giggled, a soft and light sound that had his heart doing backflips.

Ugh. His chest was doing that thing again—that stupid, stupid squeeze that only this little heifer seemed to cause, just by giggling like a pretty little songbird in his presence.

Caleb clenched his jaw and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, desperately trying to look like a normal, unaffected bull hybrid instead of some lovestruck fool drooling over a heifer a head shorter than him.

Patience, he reminded himself again. Just a little longer...

Just then, some of the other Cow Hybrids came strutting by on their usual walk through the barn.

They eyed Caleb like a piece of meet, before turning to size up the new cow who was lucky enough to get paired with the prized Bull.

Caleb’s ears flicked sharply at the sudden presence of the other cows, his easygoing expression hardening into something more guarded as they eyed her like she was competition. His tail lashed once—a warning flick—before he shifted just enough to put himself subtly between her and them.

"Ohhh, look," one of the older cows drawled, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she tossed her mane over one shoulder. "The new girl got Caleb playing ribbon stylist now? How... domestic."

A muscle in Caleb’s jaw twitched as he cut in before she could even react: "Y'all got nothin' better to do than stand around gawkin’?" His tone wasn't quite a snarl but edged close, enough that the group immediately stiffened before scoffing and sauntering off, though not without a few lingering glances back.

Once they were out of earshot, Caleb exhaled through his nose and turned back toward his heifer with an apologetic wince. "...Ignore 'em," he muttered gruffly. "Jealousy ain't a good look on anybody. You okay?"

She gives him a small nod, but innocent eyes blinked up at him. “Most Farms only have one or two Bulls. Does that mean you’ve…ya know…made babies with them too?”

Caleb choked on air—actual spit-take levels of caught off guard-before coughing into his fist hard enough to make his shoulders shake.

When he finally recovered, cheeks still warm under his fur, he shot her a look that was way too amused for the gravity of the question. "Whoa there, pipsqueak," he huffed out between lingering coughs. "That's the first thing ya ask after seein' them stare at me like I’m dessert?" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before sighing.

"Look... yeah, it can happen sometimes if management pushes for certain bloodlines." His nose wrinkled slightly at how clinical that sounded before shrugging one broad shoulder dismissively. “But ain't none of 'em mine now. Farm policy." He pauses as he studied her expression carefully before adding,because apparently today was brutal honesty hour. “And nah—never wanted to either way."

His tail flicked once behind him as purple eyes held hers pointedly . ‘You’re different’ that gaze screamed without words but all he actually said aloud was-

"...Any more dangerous questions or we done scarin' Gideon off from ever checkin' in on us again?"

Her ears twitch but she ignores the tight feeling of jealousy in her chest. “Oh…so no little Caleb’s running around anywhere?”

Caleb’s smirk was instant, sharp enough to cut glass as he leaned down just slightly, voice dropping rougher.

"Nope," he confirmed with deliberate slowness. "No little Calebs anywhere.. yet." The last word lingered in the air between them like a challenge before he straightened back up and added casually:

"But hey, maybe ask me again in nine months if you're that curious, pipsqueak." A wink, because apparently subtlety had fully left the building now. Then, as an afterthought while turning to grab his discarded work gloves off the fence post nearby-

"...Y'know. Hypothetically."

She gives a small scoff, trying to ignore the burning in her face. “Get back to work, Cowboy.” She reaches out, flicking the bull ring in his nose.

His head snapped up so fast his horns nearly clipped the barn ceiling, eyes widening with surprise and... maybe something like delight at the playful flick of metal against his nose.

"Oh now you wanna sass me, huh?" His words were gruff but the amusement lacing them was undeniable, especially once his brain processed what she’d said through the surprise. "Cowboy? Pipsqueak, you've been hangin' around Gideon too long if you're pullin’ out nicknames like that."

Caleb couldn’t resist. He lunged forward suddenly. Just fast enough to make her yelpc but instead of retaliating, he just booped the tip of her nose right back with one big, calloused finger before retreating again with a smug grin.

"Now we're even," he declared, tossing his gloves back on and sauntering toward the barn door like nothing had happened... only to pause at the threshold and glance over his shoulder, eyes glinting mischievously in the sunlight streaming through.

"And don’t think I forgot about that nine-month question."

Then—gone before she could throw anything at him, probably for the best.

~~

She had never went through a Heat. Josephine kept her on suppressants through her Feed. So when the cow hybrid awake one morning with her body feeling like it was on fire, fear rushed through her.

Her entire body was burning.

The sudden wave of heat had her bolting upright in the bedding, panting as sweat dampened her fur and made the nightclothes cling uncomfortably to her skin. Every breath felt too heavy, too hot. Her pulse hammering wildly under the unfamiliar ache settling deep in her core.

No no no— she clutched at the straw beneath her, panic rising as realization hit like a bucket of ice water: Heat.

Josephine had always kept her regulated before—dosed just enough suppressants into her feed that this never happened.

But here? Now? With Caleb's scent lingering all over the stall from where he'd slept nearby these past nights? It was unbearable how much it made something primal inside her coil tight with need instead of fear.

A whimper escaped before she could stop it as another wave rolled through. And then came worse: The unmistakable sound of heavy boots pausing outside the stall door... followed by a low inhale that sent every muscle in Caleb’s massive frame locking up instantly once he scented what was happening inside.

"Oh." His voice came out strangled—halfway between a curse and prayer as his shadow loomed against the wooden slats separating you two right now. "...Fuck."

Caleb’s grip on the stall door nearly splintered the wood. Every instinct in him howled to push inside, to answer that desperate whine with his teeth and hands and more. But he forced himself to stay rooted where he stood, knuckles white from restraint.

"Easy, sweetheart," he ground out, voice rougher than gravel as he deliberately turned his back against the stall even if every muscle in him protested. “I ain't lookin'. Ain't touchin' either unless you say so." A shaky exhale before adding tightly: "...But I can’t just leave ya like this."

He could hear her struggling behind him. Those frantic little noises and helpless moos carving directly into his self-control like a hot knife through butter. His tail lashed once before stilling again with effort when another rush of her scent hit him full force

"Gonna call Gideon," Caleb managed after a beat, already reaching for his comm device despite how badly every cell in him rebelled at inviting someone else near her right now. His jaw clenched hard enough to ache: "...Suppressants or somethin’. Whatever you need."

Even if what he needed right now was currently curled up trembling on bedding that reeked of both their mingled scents.

Gideon came quickly, but he wasn’t showing an ounce of worry. In fact he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

Gideon strolled up, arms crossed over his chest as he took in the scene. Caleb stiff as a board outside the stall, back turned like some kind of martyr, and oh, that delicious scent wafting from inside. His grin widened.

"Well, well," he drawled, clapping Caleb on the shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. “Looks like our little heifer’s all grown up."

Caleb’s answering snarl was instantaneous, a deep rumble that vibrated through the barn as he shoved Gideon back a step with one broad shoulder. “Not another damn word outta you unless it's about fixing this."

Gideon just raised his hands in mock surrender before tossing Caleb an unimpressed look, the kind that said really? ”You want suppressants? Now?" He jerked a thumb toward her stall where her soft whines had turned pleading between muffled moos against her blanket nest... then shrugged like it wasn't obvious what solution nature already provided here, especially with them already paired by management for breeding purposes anyway

When neither of them spoke mostly because Caleb looked seconds away from breaking someone's nose, Gideon sighed dramatically before fishing something small from his pocket: A single syringe filled with clear liquid labeled emergency use only. He tossed it carelessly at Caleb who caught it mid-air without thinking... only to freeze once realization hit exactly WHAT "emergency use" meant in these cases (namely: Buying time until bull and cow could be properly locked together without risk of interruption).

Gideon smirked knowingly at him before turning away entirely now (coward but not without throwing over his shoulder. “One dose buys ya twelve hours max so uh… plan accordingly, Romeo."

Caleb stared down at the syringe in his hand like it was a live grenade, every muscle in his body taut with conflict. Twelve hours. That’s all he had to either get her help or...

Another whimper from inside the stall shredded what little remained of his self-control. "Gideon—" His voice was pure gravel, a warning and plea all at once as he glared after the retreating farmhand who absolutely knew what kind of hell this choice was putting him through right now (the bastard).

But Gideon just waved over his shoulder without turning around. "Nope! Not gettin' involved past this point! You two figure it out!" And then he was gone, leaving Caleb standing there alone with nothing but the scent of heat-soaked sweetness clinging to every damn breath he took and an impossible decision burning holes through his skull.

1) Give her suppressants (delay what they both clearly wanted, even if she didn't fully understand yet)

2) Walk away entirely (like hell)

3) Open that godforsaken door and finally answer every moan she’d been making since sunrise with teeth & tongue & everything else begging between them since day one...

His grip tightened on syringe briefly before shoving it deep into pocket unused (decision made). Then he slowly turned toward stall door again while rolling shoulders loose despite how badly they trembled under anticipation. The feeling was already coiling low in their guts like wildfire about to ignite any second now if they weren’t careful. But careful wasn't part plan anymore either way apparently because next the words out of Caleb’s mouth came like rough velvet instead of the growl intended originally.

"...Still want me stay out there sweetheart?" The question was honest, raw in a way he never usually allowed himself be around anyone before, much less some scared little heifer currently turning world upside without even trying– "...Or ya gonna let me take care of ya proper?"

The low whine that escaped her was more animalistic than anything as she managed to push herself up, night gown nearly unbuttoned all the way now. “Need you…”

That was all it took.

The moment those words left her lips, something in Caleb snapped, like a frayed rope finally giving way under too much pressure. He was moving before he could think better of it, the stall door slamming open hard enough to rattle hinges as he crossed the distance between them in three strides.

One hand caught her jaw almost roughly , not that she seemed to mind with how eagerly she leaned into his touch while the other dragged the blanket aside so nothing separated them anymore now except the thin fabric already damp from slick. His fingertips skated up her trembling thigh without hesitation either because–fuck patience, fuck waiting when she smelled like this looked like this, begging for him after weeks dancing around each other’s space, pretending they weren't both dying inch closer every damn day–

"Say it again," Caleb growled against her mouth, a claiming bruising kiss even if it wasn't question but demand, fueled by months of restraint unraveling at the seams all at once now. "Wanna hear ya say exactly what ya need from me sweetheart since you’re bein’ so honest today..."

She hiccuped at the feeling of his mouth on her. Her pretty little mind still couldn’t comprehend what she was asking for, but her body knew. “J-just make it go away…”

Caleb’s breath hitched—fuck, she didn’t even know, did she? That only made it worse (or better, depending on how you looked at it). His grip on her thigh tightened just enough to feel the give of soft flesh under his fingers before forcing himself to ease up.

"Shhh, I got you," he murmured against her skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the feverish heat of her neck as his other hand worked carefully between them, palming where she was already dripping without shame. "Gonna make it all better... just like that." A slow circle of his thumb over that perfect little bundle of nerves had her back arching off the bedding with a shattered moo.

She was soaked everywhere. All the way from her entrance to the cleft of her ass. It stained the hay and blankets underneath her with a delicious scent.

He pushed down his jeans just enough to free his cock. It slapped against her lower belly and she winced at the pure size of it.

When she tried to look down, Caleb immediately grabbed her jaw.

Caleb’s grip on her jaw was firm but not painful, just enough to keep those wide, curious eyes locked onto his instead of the intimidating reality of what was about to happen. His thumb stroked her cheek once in reassurance before he leaned down, voice dropping into something low and honey-thick with promise-

"Eyes on me, pipsqueak," he murmured. "Not gonna hurt ya... but I need you here with me for this."

His free hand smoothed down her trembling flank before gripping his own length and guiding it where she was already soaked and clenching around nothing

Fuck, that slick heat alone had him seeing stars.

Slowly—so damn slowly it bordered on torture for them both—he pressed forward until just the tip caught against her entrance. His breath came ragged against her lips now "...Still wanna say stop? Now's the time."

But she didn't. Instead, her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer with a quiet little whine that went straight to his head like the finest whiskey and obliterated any chance of restraint he still had left.

“Fuuuck..." Caleb’s voice came out hoarse and rough, all pretense of control slipping away as she tried to rock her hips up in silent plea beneath him instead: "That's it, sweetheart. Look atcha. So damn beautiful. So damn...” He bit back the words that nearly slipped from unthinking lips, knowing full well there was no going back once they were said out loud.

But that didn't matter as long as she just kept holding his gaze... those gorgeous eyes pleading for him like this.

Instead of finishing the thought, he simply took a slow breath, trying to steady himself for her sake, before finally giving in to what they both wanted. "Breathe for me," he murmured, his teeth grazing against her shoulder once before adding gently- “And hold onto me."

You were so full, full to the brim. The blood of your innocence stained the hay beneath you and dribbled down his length. But he was only halfway in. “S’too biggg!”

Caleb groaned at the sight of her ruined so thoroughly beneath him already. He couldn't help the way his eyes darkened with something possessive when he saw her pretty little nest covered in her blood. "Too much," he agreed in a low growl, fingers twitching against her hip. "Too much like this..."

He leaned down, nuzzling his nose against her cheek before asking in a ragged whisper, “Wanna try something else, sweetheart?" He knew the answer. He was just letting her give it. Like a good girl "Think you can do that for me?"

Her soft little nod was all he needed. "My good girl." He pressed a kiss against one flushed, feverish cheek before murmuring against her mouth: "Roll over for me."

His hand moved to her hip, gently coaxing the trembling heifer to turn over for him. He made quick work of lifting her trembling thighs and positioning her on her hands and knees just so, every movement rough but calculated. Once she was positioned just how he wanted, presented in the most basic, primal sense.

He took a moment to admire the view before him, unable to keep a low laugh from rumbling through his chest when she tried to glance back at him instead of keeping her eyes fixed forward as instructed, "Nah, nah. Keep those eyes looking ahead, pipsqueak. This isn't a show.”

Caleb’s fingers dug into her hips as he positioned her just right, the deep grip of him from this angle already dragging a ragged groan from his throat before he even moved.

He watched the way her tight little hole wrapped around him, stretched obscenely. Her body trembled, sweat forming in the arch of her spine.

Beautiful.

"There," he growled, voice wrecked as his thumbs pressed into the dimples of her lower back. "Now you take it like you were meant to." No more hesitation. No more gentleness either when she was spread so perfect beneath him like this.

A single sharp thrust buried him to the hilt this time. Her surprised cry muffled by straw as she clenched around him impossibly tight.

Caleb's head dropped forward with a shuddering exhale. “Fuck... gonna ruin me sweetheart." His teeth grazed the nape of her neck in warning before adding roughly. “And don't even think about lookin' back at me again unless ya wanna see how fucking gone I am for ya right now..."

Because if she turned? She'd see it plain as day. How every ounce of control had left him the second she took all of him without complaint, without fear, for first damn time since they met.

Her tail flicked, and one of those stupid pink bows was tied to the end as it brushed his cheek.

Caleb couldn’t help the rough chuckle that escaped him as her tail—adorably ribboned even now—brushed his cheek like some teasing little taunt. He caught it mid-flick between two fingers, giving it a gentle tug just to hear her gasp before murmuring against the sensitive spot where fur met skin:

"Still wearin’ these damn things even when I got ya bent over like this?" His teeth grazed the base of her tail next, light enough not to hurt but heavy enough to make her shiver, "Guess that means I didn’t ruin all Josephine's hard work yet..."

Then, because he was nothing if not thorough when claiming what was his,he used his grip on that stubborn little tail to angle her hips just so, before driving into her again with a groan. “But we got time."

The new angle was devastating for her insides. The way she struggled to take each and every inch of a cock MADE for breeding. Her tail wrapped limply around his wrist as he used it as leverage to drive back into her.

Her thighs ached, her tummy ached, but she couldn’t see past the Heat and instincts spurring her on. “A-am I a Good Girl? M’ being good right?” And despite his warning, she looked over that pretty little shoulder, all teary eyed and needy.

Caleb groaned, nearly losing the battle right then and there. He brushed her hair off her shoulders, leaving smooth kisses along her skin. “Such a good fuckin’ girl. Pretty lil’ cunt was made for me.”

He emphasized the compliment with a roll of his hips. His balls pressed right against his clit, making her take each and every inch to the brim.

Her fingers clawed at the nest, hay and dirty collecting under her fingertips. “Nu uh lil’ lady. Gimmie your hands.”

Her chest pressed to the nest as he took both of her wrist in a single palm. He ripped the ribbon from her tail and used it to tie her wrist together. She only gave a weak mewl, drool dripping from the corner of her pleading mouth.

He leaned over her trembling frame, keeping her wrists bound behind her as he covered her back with his bigger body while breathing hot against her ear. “You'll be so damn spoiled by the time I'm done with you…"

The words felt thick in his throat, hoarse, like he wasn't used to speaking this way, or like it was something he'd had to hold back before she showed up. "No more waiting. No more teasing. No more pretending we don't feel what we do when we're around each other."

Because she felt it too. She had to feel it.

His balls were drawn tight to his body, it had been so fucking long since he last relieved himself. Always by one of the farmhands with cold gloves for sampling. Hardly ever an actual hole.

The thought of those gloved hands, so impersonal, clinical, compared to the scorching heat wrapped around him now had Caleb seeing red. His hips stuttered for the first time, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he pressed his forehead between her shoulder blades.

“Fuck," he gritted out, voice wrecked beyond recognition. "This-this is what I waited for." Not some sterile fucking procedure but her, all soft whimpers and trembling thighs taking him deeper than he’d ever been allowed before. Deeper than anyone else would ever get.

His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise as he pulled her back onto him with a snarl. “Ain't ever letting anyone touch me again after this." Not when she fit around him like she was made for it. Like she was made for him. “You hear me? Only you.”

And then no more words, just the brutal snap of his hips chasing that sweet, tight heat until neither of them could remember a time before they were tangled together like this.

She was so desperate for the build-up in her tummy to ease. Every fiber of her being was like striking a hot iron. Her milky walls created a circle of frothy foam at the base of his cock. This is what she had been missing out on. Being full of her Mate, full of the Hybrid who would feed her, care for her, breed her whenever she asked.

Caleb mounted like a true beast, thighs drawn up with corded muscles, hands gripping those tiny horns on her head as he chased completion.

The moment he felt her legs tremble in his hands, it was like the last frayed thread holding him back snapped. Caleb's hands dug into the smooth, velvety softness of her thighs with a groan. Those gorgeous horns the perfect leverage to hold her in place while he used and filled her like he needed. Like the entire world had never mattered more than this one perfect place.

She was so damn small compared to him, so fragile.

How did she have this power over him? How—after just a few short weeks—did she turn him into a man he barely recognized with a few innocent questions and pretty damn eyes?

"Mine," he repeated, fingers curling against her horns as he snapped his hips against hers again. "Only mine."

His to fill. His to own. His to protect.

His tail flicked as he leaned down, his chest pressed against her back to growl against her ear: "Never gonna want to stop, sweetheart. Not even after I fill you so full you can't take anymore. That what you want?"

When his thumb flicked her pulsating clit, she was a goner. Back bowed, drool leaking from her mouth and tits pressed into the nest, she gushed around his cock like a fountain.

"God damn," Caleb choked, eyes clenched shut as his lips grazed her ear. "Sweet thing, that's gonna get you in trouble if you keep doing that."

His hips stuttered again, and he had a feeling not all of it was from how much he was fighting to stay in control. That was just unfair. She'd done nothing more than be his perfect little tease and yet she was somehow winning, one trembling orgasm at a time.

"You feel me? Every drop you're milking out of me?" He'd always been stubborn by nature. There was just something fun about putting that same stubborn streak to use right now. "I’m gonna give you just what you asked for, pipsqueak, but there's more where it came from if you keep being soooo good to me." His fingers found her ear, rubbing one tender, silky horn in an almost soothing way like he was rewarding her.

"Let's make an even bigger mess of this nest before filling you up." His lips curved in a rough kind of grin. "...Then we can talk about how cute your little ass looks with my handprints all over it. How's that sound?"

A shuddering breath against her shoulder. "Tell me you like it. Or I'm gonna keep you like this. Tied to a ribbon like a pretty little piece of livestock for me to breed whenever I damn well please." He didn't bother slowing when he added like a soft promise: "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take realllll good care of ya.”

She whined, a broken noise when her body tensed up like a bow.

His hips stuttered, and all that bravado fled him. His cock pulsated inside of her tight walls and she gave a mewl.

As promised he filled her up. His massive cock twitched and his knot popped in place.

But the Heat seemed to flee her mind. She panicked, bucking up with a huff under the massive Bull, every instinct screaming at her to Run. A common occurrence in freshly knotted females.

Instincts. It was just heat-driven instincts. Not fear.

That's what he tried to remind himself when she suddenly bucked beneath him like she was scared instead of just getting what they both needed. Not that he could blame her for it, but it still hurt like a kick in the teeth to have his sweet, perfect girl suddenly panicking when he only wanted to give her more.

His hand smoothed from her lower belly to stroke along her side in the first gesture that could be considered soothing. "Whoa there, pipsqueak." He'd been a damn fool to forget.

"Shhh."

Caleb's voice was a low rumble, rough but impossibly gentle as his hands, still trembling with the aftershocks of his own release. He shifted to cradle her closer instead of pinning her down. His knot kept them locked together whether she liked it or not right now, but he could at least make sure she felt safe while they waited it out.

One palm smoothed up her spine while the other cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through sweat-damp hair as he pressed a kiss to the crown between those pretty little horns. "I got you," he murmured against her skin like a vow. "Ain't goin' nowhere... just breathe for me, sweetheart."

He shifted just enough to roll them onto their sides in the tangled mess of hay and scattered ribbons, his fault, tucking her back snug against his chest so she could feel every steady beat of his heart against her shoulders if she listened close enough:

1) Slow

2) Steady

3) Hers.

The way hers was his. Knot or no knot—heat or no heat—that wasn’t changing anytime soon.

She let out a low growl. He’d never heard her make that sound before. She threw her head back, horns knocking into his own.

Her instincts were screaming at her, to fight, to kick, to flee the knot ensuring his seed made it to her womb. “Off. OFF!”

"Easy—!"

Caleb barely managed to turn his head in time to avoid a full-on collision of horns, the dull clack still ringing through his skull as he tightened his grip around her waist. His own instincts flared, bull meeting cow, dominant meeting flighty prey. But he swallowed it down hard. This wasn’t about dominance now. She was scared. Overwhelmed. And his, whether she realized it yet or not.

“Listen to me," he growled, low and firm against the curve of her ear as he pinned her tighter against him not punishing, just unyielding. “Kick all you want, sweetheart—ain't goin' nowhere till this knot goes down." His teeth grazed the nape of her neck in warning before adding, “And neither are you."

She tensed like she might actually try bucking him off again. Until his palm slid down to press flat over the frantic flutter of her lower belly with a possessiveness that brooked no argument. She could physically feel his length still throbbing inside of her through the layers of flesh on her belly.

Mine.

My claim.

My mark.

He exhaled sharply through his nose before forcing himself to soften, just a fraction when another panicked huff left her lips. "...Breathe, Pips." Rough fingers brushed along her ribs like an afterthought, gentle now when minutes ago they'd been anything but. “Just breathe... I gotcha."

Caleb felt the moment her muscles tensed like coiled springs beneath him, her body trembling with the urge to bolt despite being locked together so intimately. He saw the whites of her eyes, heard that unfamiliar growl rumbling in her chest.

Instincts. Raw, untamed. Like a wild thing caught in a snare.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated, bull wrestling with man, before exhaling sharply through his nose and pressing his forehead between her shoulders where sweat-slick hair parted for skin. “Shhh," he murmured again, voice gravel-rough but laced with something close to tenderness now as his hands slid up to frame either side of her throat, not squeezing, just holding. “Feel that?" His thumbs stroked the frantic pulse there once before dipping lower to where his knot stretched her impossibly full. "Already takin'."

A low noise escaped him when she squirmed again—half groan, half growl—as he leaned down to nip at one velvety ear. “Gonna keep bitin' every time ya try runnin’, sweetheart." Another sharp tug of teeth against sensitive hide punctuated the threat before adding almost amusedly- “…An’ we both know you’re too damn tired for round two yet."

The moment his knot deflated, she scurried on shaky legs, crawling from the nest. A mix of seed and blood trickled down her thighs. She could barely move, only making pathetic noises of pain, discomfort and the lingering effects of heat.

Caleb let her go. let her crawl but only because he was already moving with her, one arm hooking under her trembling belly before she could get far. “Oh no you don’t," he rumbled, hauling her back against his chest with a grunt as his free hand swept the mess from between her thighs with a rough swipe of fabric torn from his own sleeve.

She whined at the touch, legs kicking weakly stubborn even now, but he just pressed a kiss to the damp crown between those horns while murmuring. “Hush... I know." His palm smoothed over the ache in her lower stomach next. "Shoulda warned ya how bad it stings after..."

A beat passed where neither moved beyond shared breaths and Caleb exhaling sharply through his nose before finally scooping all five-foot-nothing of quivering cow girl into his arms that still shook from chasing high after high inside of her tight heat.

"...C'mere." He left no room for argument as her carried her towards the water trough outside the stall without another word

She barely managed an indignant moo before being deposited unceremoniously into cool water that had been drawn fresh just hours prior by some poor unsuspecting farmhand. Who would regret ever leaving buckets unattended.

But those were problems for future Caleb. The current version was too busy fishing out floating pink ribbons like trophies while muttering about ‘goddamn menace livestock’ under breath despite clear fondness threading every syllable.

Her ears flattened to her head as she flapped around, water splashing from her weak kicks. “C-cold!”

Caleb should’ve been annoyed.

He wanted to be annoyed—really, he did—but the way she flailed in the water like a disgruntled kitten had his chest doing something weird.

"Stop squirming," he grunted, catching one slippery thigh before she could kick him square in the ribs. “You smell like sex and hay. You're gettin' clean whether you like it or not."

But even as he said it, his hands gentled on her skin, scooping handfuls of water over her back to rinse away sweat and worse while muttering: "...Ain't my fault you're too damn feisty." Her eyes narrowed at the Bull. "Don't you dare bite me."

His thumb brushed over a fresh bruise on her hip. One of many left by greedy hands that hadn’t known when to stop taking, before sighing and reaching for soap with resigned tenderness: "...Gonna take care of ya now. So quit whining."

Tag list: @kjk2788 @horanghaeegr @kittygothpastel @mephistothecrow @slytherin-min99 @m00nstar12 @perfect4taehyung @space-trashlordsideblog-blog @mrskuran13

[rafayelspearldrop]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. ugh. suppose gojo has his moments, even if you: 1) didn't want, 2) didn't ask, 3) preferred that he didn't.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. gojo forgets to pick up megumi bruh and also swear wc. 3.6k author’s note. in this story we actually technically get custody of megumi much sooner than the original timeline. that's cuz i have.... plans nyahahaha

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CHAPTER 3: 100 laps

“eh? megumi?” you tilt your head, “…did…you just get back?”

why is a seven year old trailing from jujutsu tech’s entrance at sundown? fushiguro megumi seems a bit frazzled, like the long trek up has left him winded. it likely has. you’re almost always grappling for air if you have to actually climb up the mountain just to reach your dorm.

you’re not, however, surprised that he keeps his composure very well, even for a kid. that zenin blood has a kick to it.

he doesn’t respond, simply peers up at you, as if assessing. he looks displeased, but fushiguro almost always is. at least from what you’ve seen – you don’t exactly spend enough time with him to find out.

while technically a property of the faculty, gojo is his legal guardian. somewhat. it’s complicated. you didn’t look into it, because it involves gojo, and you want nothing to do with him. you know about him too much already. the information is cluttering your brain, and it doesn’t matter how many temple massages you do.

still, it’s a bit concerning. he’s all alone. you make a point to look around, expecting gojo to jump out a bush or maybe be hovering in the air like some omnipotent kami. no such thing in sight, “…did no one come to pick you up?”

“hmph,” is the response you receive, all punctuated with a glare and a sharp turn of the head. fushiguro doesn’t want to talk, but he’s not plowing past you, either.

you are, by no means, good with kids. you think they’re quite stupid. but fushiguro seems to possess an intelligence absent from most (absent from some adults too, see gojo), so you crouch down to his level and try, “stupid was supposed to do it, wasn't he?”

ah, the insult softens him up a bit. it’s in the way his shoulders droop slightly and eyes waver down. the golden sunset has him glowing. what a cute kid, “…he forgot.”

“woooooow,” you can’t say you’re surprised, but now you really feel bad for fushiguro. did he wait all day alone? christ, now you might really wring gojo, and for no selfish reason, too. which cursed weapon could do the most damage? maybe if you told yaga-sensei, he’d let you use the ones from the vault, “that’s rough, buddy.”

“it’s whatever,” an eloquent one, surely, “i had detention anyway.”

“ah, get into another fight?” that’s been happening since kindergarten, but his grades are too good for him to be kicked out. he nods curtly. you smile, “did you win?”

“yes.”

“good job!”

*

after leading fushiguro back to his room, you make your way to the track field. he wasn’t very enthusiastic with your company, but he didn’t complain, which could mean he didn’t hate it. you have a feeling if he was displeased, he’d let you know. he always lets it be known with gojo.

finally, you’re better at something. that’s a win if you ever had one.

regrettably, you couldn’t locate yaga-sensei in the first 10 minutes, so you gave up. you’ll catch him eventually and tattle. fushiguro arrived safe, even if he could have been kidnapped, hit by a bus, lost in the city, collected by the police for loitering without a custodian. but he wasn’t, and that's what matters.

you drop your gym bag by a bench, breathe in the cooling air. you begin your warm-ups. yaga-sensei has updated the training regimen to include more cardio (and likely to make use of a gigantic track field), and your number of laps was bumped to a 100. a daunting number, but it only sounds scary. a 100 laps on even terrain is doable; a 100 laps up the steep mountain would be pure torture. even you, with your impressive stamina and unyielding will, would face trouble during the second lap.

shoko would die halfway up. you imagine getou would give up around 10. gojo is a freak of nature, so he’d likely be fine.

you could have invited shoko, but she’s down at the clinic, breathing in anesthetic and mixing the perfect ratio of potassium chloride into the bags of solution for use next week. you could have asked getou to join, but you don’t fancy him seeing you too sweaty, and lately, getou prefers to train and spend his evenings alone. maybe he just wants some space.

maybe.

still, the track is empty this time in the evening, so it's perfect. you can do your exercises in peace and enjoy the breeze and the pretty spill of rose-lilac in the sky.

then, he shows up.

"kami-chaaaaan~!" and has the audacity to yell your name in that saccharin-dripping sing-song.

you spring up from your stretches, aghast. briefly, you wonder what higher power had you insulted to be punished like this.

gojo waves at you like the biggest dork on planet, barreling from the other side of the field at alarming speeds. seems in a particular hurry to antagonize you. you should leave before he gets too close and decides verbal abuse isn’t enough. if his hands haunt your nightmares, you will never tell.

you are faced with another life or death scenario. stay and be vulnerable to gojo’s bullying, or skip your workout and be faced with yaga-sensei’s wrath? you can almost hear the latter cowing in your ear about responsibility and aspiration – you can be a 1st grade on paper all you want, but you have to act like one, too.

your deliberation has wasted your time. the answer becomes apparent when gojo beams at you, more blinding than midday sunlight. his eyes must crinkle underneath those dweeby sunglasses, but that’s none of your business.

you put your hands on your hips and give him a displeased once over. he has two huge sodas pressed underneath his armpit and too many candy bags in his hands. if he started juggling, he’d be a perfect clown.

“no hi?” he ticks a brow, smug.

if he’s here, you might as well let him have it, “you forgot to pick megumi up.”

he doesn’t even have the decency to seem apologetic. simply heaves with an annoyed, “uuuuuuuughhhhh,”

“what a pathetic person,” you point.

“for your information, i was on a mission,” he states, “and my battery died. didn’t you notice i wasn’t around? surely you should’ve noticed.”

you don’t like how his tone implies a certain familiarity. you did notice his absence, but you chalked it up to him growing a conscience. miracles do happen, and the fact that you haven’t gone crazy is a testament to that.

“besides, i already talked to megumi,” he shrugs, “said he’s fiiiine, mom. totally wasn't in any danger."

"i'm sure."

he gives you an ugly, goofy grin that means he's still plotting a way to get underneath your skin. not very difficult a task, not very difficult at all, but gojo has to do it anyway. and right on cue, he coos, "sweaty? that's cute."

"you wish. get out of my field," you snap back. he opens one of his 52 gallons of soda and makes a grandiose show of downing it. disgusting. how has the sugar not fried his brain beyond repair? maybe it has, and his actions are a direct result of that.

“well, don’t mind me,” he says after a moment, shuffling past you and making sure to bump your shoulder, because why not? he sprawls out on  the bench, all those snacks pooling in his lap like he’s about to have a feast, “hop to it.”

“excuse me?” you utter.

“what?” he has the audacity to look clueless, “i’m enjoying the weather.”

“enjoy it somewhere else.”

“’m good here, to be honest,”

you scoff, stomp the earth because it has all his stupid dust and the weight of his presence. he, again, gives you the most innocently confused look.

there is no chance in the nine hells that you're letting him be the obstacle to your regimens. if that were the case, you'd flunk out the same day of initiation, and would have sooner set yourself aflame. it doesn't help that it's gojo sitting there like a garish signpost, a perfect example of someone about to thoroughly enjoy himself watching you squirm underneath his gaze.

what happened to the simple pleasure of watching TV while you eat?

you resign yourself to your fate, as you always do. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger or whatever. by now, you’ve collected a plethora of motivational quotes to inspire you during times of mental anguish. you say these affirmations before going to bed, like they’d help. speak to the universe, and it will speak back! that’s what your horoscope said today, and you’re desperate enough to believe just about anything by now.

you will not skip warm-ups just because he’s a creep. you do move a good distance away, though, plant your feet on the track. you will touch your toes and do your squats and ignore him. if he does have a great view of your (rumored flat) ass, that’s none of your concern.

except—

gojo whistles. a shrill noise that rises in pitch with each note, a keen you assume is intended to irritate you.

you want to murder him. strangle him with your own bare hands. maybe run his face over the bleachers and be done with it. you will beg yaga-sensei to allow you access to the vault.

"perverted freak," you seethe.

"what? nice view here; can see the mountains and stuff."

he drinks his 485763242 gallons of soda, slurping in all sorts of rude manners that have you wrinkle your nose. you should've taken your headphones from your bag. music would drown him out, but you're a bit wary of approaching him. you feel like he expects it.

after your last stretch, you pivot on your heels and start your runs. it takes exactly two laps to notice him digging around in your gym bag, because why should you have any privacy. everything within reach is his property, which extends to you, too.

he takes out your bottle of water, waves it like he’s calling you back. fuck that.

“kaaaaami-channnn! you need to drink your water unless you wanna topple over!” he announces common knowledge, and once again, it appears he’s trying to do you a favor. no way in hell you’re stopping. taking the hint, he unscrews the lid and takes a sip. that’s great too, now your water is contaminated.

fine. you’ll die of dehydration. maybe the lingering heat will get to you first. that’s okay too. it’s an honorable way to go.

as your feet smack the ground, you mutter the meanest, foulest insults about the man currently perched in your corner-eye view. his legs are spread wide and he leans back, unabashedly chewing, grinning, and being himself in your field of vision, in your life, like a bright light on full beam that makes you so angry sometimes you think you might pop a blood vessel.

somewhere around lap 80, you lose track of him. there’s relief that washes over, muscles aching and—

“kami-chaaaaan,” the fucking whine on him, christ. he trails right after you, too lazy to catch up, and god, please, please you have never wished for anything more in your life, please please please please—

he has for sure finished your water. maybe he jogged up just to show you. why are you still doing this song and dance. he has grown on you like an inoperable tumor. please please please—

you find your breaths a bit too loud in the quiet. the sun is gone and soon the grounds will flood with darkness. your muscles burn with exertion and you pant, leaning on your knees. this is, normally, where you’d drink water, but since gojo gulped it down for you, you will just rest for a moment to fight down the blooming headache and rising nausea before you continue.

you must have lost consciousness for a brief period of time, because the next thing you register is being thrown on top of gojo's bony shoulder and a mild grip just above the back of your knee.

"…what the?"

"did you know," his voice sounds annoyingly pleased, "that you started rolling when you laid down, and it was a miracle that you didn’t drown yourself in the pond?"

your body wanted to save you, bless it. even in your blackout, it attempted a good thing.

it’s not the first time you’re the recipient of gojo’s touch, but it feels strange in your haze. his hand is warm and obscene; how big really is his palm and how long are his fingers? why is he caressing you? you might be imagining it, but there’s definitely a pattern to his touch. it tickles.

but of course — of course, you make no sense of this. he is too hot and the world is dark, so your reality is nothing.

"you can't walk, let me take you back to your room," he sounds helpful, like he's performing a service for you, not harassing the hell out of a tired, miserable woman.

"i need to finish my laps. let go."

he ignores you and takes you away from the track field, "if i find out this was some sick plot to get me to touch you, i swear…"

he talks and you tune out, because listening makes your brain hurt worse than the hangover you could have. it takes a herculean effort just to keep your from crossing.

unfortunately, he opens his big fat trap again, but his tone has changed. gojo is speaking normally. you force yourself to listen and are vaguely aware of something terrible happening.

"are you gonna hurl or something?" he asks.

"maybe."

"gross. not on my shirt, it's expensive,"

it is expensive. and tailored perfectly to hug his torso. gojo carries his self-importance like law, and it is. he's the 2000 years of jujutsu sorcery distilled into human form.

your hands dig into the hard muscles of his back. he smells great. so do you. not at all sweaty and muddy from your apparent tumble and roll to escape this world.

"look alive, kami-chan," he chides, squeezing. "where's that tenacity?"

the only reason why you open your eyes is so you can properly scowl at him, which he can't see, but you know in your heart that he can feel, "in your future grave, which i have yet to dig."

he laughs at this, a loud and ringing sound. your headache intensifies. the lights outside blink on, dousing the world in a faint glow.

you make the mistake of breathing. the fresh scent of night is almost pungent, and you groan, letting your eyes fall closed again. gojo's steps don't falter. the smoothness of his walk makes it seem like you're in a car driving down a straight road. it would be soothing, if you didn't suspect that he had ulterior motives. which he does, because he's gojo, and he would never show you an ounce of mercy.

his silence is suspicious. it lingers between you two for the remaining trek. there's a tightness around your leg now, a certain warmth that should alarm you, but doesn't. a gentle warning.

"oi, did you pass out on me?" he prods your shin, jostles you back and forth to regain your attention.

"no," you sigh, opening your eyes. the corridor is much brighter and stings like crazy. "are we back?"

"yep, almost," he chirps, "want me to tuck you into bed?"

you scoff, "i'll castrate you if you lay your hands on me."

"i’m literally holding you."

"you'll have to let me go eventually."

"hmmmm," the hum he lets out is a tingle down your spine, "ha. no."

there are bitter words of defiance for you to spit out, but your thoughts are incoherent right now, so they scatter on the tip of your tongue. he gives up easily on teasing, focuses on his steps. you hear a door sliding open, a rush of cool air.

"okay, up you go," he sets you down, careful as can be.

hallway lights spill into the dark of your room.

gojo stands over you, but his posture is slouchy. you're at the foot of your bed. this isn't what you expected him to do.

"what? not gonna run me through a list of new curse words?" he chimes, dropping your gym bag down from his other shoulder. you didn't even notice. "paint a pretty picture of my demise and tell me in detail?"

"i'll pass," you drop onto the mattress with all the grace you can muster, so face first into the sheets. gojo's brows quirk upward, "but it is on my to do list," or something along those lines, your voice is pretty muffled.

you hear him shift. not stepping closer or away, just there. is he waiting for a thank you? he'll be waiting for a long time. you might be in debt to him for the rest of your miserable life, though you didn't ask for it. he could've left you and not given a shit, and you'd appreciate that more. you would've left him, no questions asked. snapped a few pictures to send to utahime too; she'd probably have them framed.

the longer his presence weighs over you, the less you want to move, to get him to leave. you really do appreciate the lack of kicks to the back, though.

"...are you dying on me?"

"’m trying," you garble.

he clicks his teeth, and suddenly, two massive hands scoop under your hips, lifting you like a sack of rice, "up."

you obey, sitting back and staring up at gojo in his towering form. you swallow around the dryness in your throat, breathe through the pounding in your temple.

he tips his head to the side.

"ugh, don't give me that look. just—" gojo removes his hands, dusting them over his pants, like he touched something gross. and maybe he thinks he did. "water."

a single bottle is presented to you like an olive branch, which you will not take. not to appease gojo satoru, and not to kill the headache, because the spiteful, nasty part of you has to win.

"you spit in it?"

this makes him crack up. you notice the dimple on his cheek, how his shoulders bounce in silent laughter, and how stupid his stupidly perfect hair is. you take the water, chug it without a second thought.

he sits down next to you. you pretend he isn't there. he stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle, makes himself at home in your space, and you will cuss at him as soon as you regain function of a single brain cell.

"where'd you get this, anyway?" you ask instead, motioning to the water.

"didn’t drink all of it, it was more of a palate cleanser," he shrugs.

"then why are you only giving it to me now?"

"what am i, an errand boy? besides, i did try, didn’t i?" he scoots back and a slow, pleased smile curls on his lips, "aren't i nice, making sure your needs are met?"

god, you might actually throw up. why can’t he, for once, be deterred by your perturbed silence?

a particular look shadows his features, one that will either mean the worst or something horrifyingly good and you don't think you are mentally present to handle whatever he might spew next, "you gonna call me satoru now?"

he isn't even remotely subtle. you feel him press his weight closer. a subtle motion, but you are painfully attuned to every inch of his body, the things his limbs are doing at any given moment, because you always expect them to strike.

"would rather eat sand," you swallow the rest of the water down, feeling your blood pump a bit easier. you exhale, closing your eyes and tipping back, "besides, isn't that for people who actually like you?"

he moves to rest on his forearms. it’s so strange to see him within these walls, filling the empty spaces with his vibrancy, "you can add the sama, too."

the plastic bottle aims straight for his forehead but tumbles down without touching him.

he grins, "there she is."

"get out of my room," you deadpan.

"aa, so cold," he does a bad impression of being offended. he's terrible. gojo will forever be terrible, "i see, i see. gotcha."

"before i grow old and crippled," you add. you're about a minute from collapsing and he hasn't moved his ass off your bed.

he gets up then, slowly, leisurely, because the man loves making everything difficult. you squeeze your eyes, furrow your brows together. he chuckles, a deep reverberation that plucks every string of nerves in your body.

gojo does not say a thing until his silhouette is barely visible in the bright doorway.

"try not to overdo it next time, okay?"

it's probably the first considerate thing to come from him, or maybe you're exhausted and hallucinating the entire interaction. you exhale as the door slides shut behind him, leaving you to rot in a pit of your own misery. the hum of your air conditioner eases into the background.

everything he says and does is to mess with you. you don't doubt that this was just some ploy, too. tomorrow, it'll be nothing but an awkward, fleeting memory. but this evening's been taxing enough, and there's no energy left within to parse through another one of his possessed ideas.

you hate that your room smells like him now.

this is going to be a bitch in the morning, you already know it.

tags. @shokosbunny, @jotarohat, @alygator77

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break

till divorce do us part?

synopsis: your marriage was perfect up until the moment your husband didn't remember it anymore. and now, two years and a hell of a lot of heartbreak later, you're still picking up the pieces - with two new additions to your life you never planned for. how exactly does your ex-husband fit back in the puzzle?

pairing: amnesiac ex-husband!Gojo x f!Reader x rebound!Sukuna

content: mdni, angst, light fluff and smut, emotional hurt, like LOTS of it, amnesia, divorce, unplanned pregnancy, hidden child trope, secret baby, dad-who-stepped-up Sukuna, lots of pining and yearning, very complicated and messy feelings, nostalgia, reminiscing, more tags will be in each chapter

blink | breathe | before

bruise | blunt | bitter

broken | (re)built | bliss

other series here | patreon here

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[nsfw!] phone sex w xavier

not so proud of this one lmao

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[nsfw!] car sex with rafayel (remade)

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[nsfw!] xavier eating you out

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[nsfw!] you giving caleb a handjob

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only ones who know

stealing someone's heart is the hardest heist of all to pull off - what happens when yours is caught between the man trying to save you and one who swears you don't need to be saved?

synopsis: sneaking into penthouses to steal jewels in your spare time is fun - until a certain white-haired CEO catches you. but instead of sending you to the slammer, he strikes a proposal to suit both your interests. the only problem? it looks like your fiancè-to-be has a few secrets of his own up his sleeve, ones your former superhero fling is determined to dig up

paring: hero!Geto x thief!Reader x villain!Gojo

content: mdni, modern superhero AU!, fem-bodied reader (loosely inspired by black cat!), pining and yearning, angst and smut galore!, coworkers lol, taking care of wounds from typical superhero crime fighting violence, piv sex, choking, oral (m! + f! receiving), multiple povs + positions as per usual, blackmail (kinda sorta it's complicated ok!!), man who wants to make you better vs a man who wants to make you worse (LISTEN)

chapter index

one: haunted two: dreamer

three: a night to remember four: trouble

five: silver lining six: while you were sleeping

seven: lovesick eight: fragile

interlude: nocturne

nine: promise ten: serendipity

alternate ending

gojo art by ash.eko on ig + geto art by @aransmind + dividers by @bronzewasp

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Currently into JJK, KNY, BSD, CSM, Sousou no Frieren, Kaiju No. 8, and SpyxFamily, but my void is not exclusive.

I write a bit for my own amusement, so this is mostly for my reference, but please feel free to take a look <3

Bits of stories

Satoru Gojo:

koi no yokan

one, two, three, four, five, six

Pay it no mind

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII, Part XXVIII, Part XXIX

New Year drabble

Other things I wrote on a whim?

Untitled drabble (no happy ending)

emophilia

Almost the one

Part I, Part II

Headcannons

Satoru Gojo:

ObsessedSatoru (in the stalkerish way) and there is a part II

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⋆°·☁︎Dreambound part 3

⋆°·☁︎Morpheus x underworld princess!reader

Summary::You adjust to the life in the Dreaming — your husband is rather absent.

Warnings::Emotional repression,angst,hints of death

It had been a week.

Seven full days since you had stood before all realms, bound by ancient rites and spoken vows, watched by gods and monsters and dreams alike. A week since the ring had slipped onto your finger ,sealing a fate you hadn’t chosen — and yet had accepted with your chin raised and your spine unbowed.

You hadn’t expected a love story. You weren’t naïve. But still you had expected something else.

The Dreaming was a realm of wonders, yes — endless halls that shimmered like stardust, libraries where the books whispered secrets to one another, skies that changed color with your moods. But it was also strangely empty, hauntingly silent. Especially in the castle. Especially where and when it mattered.

You saw him only in passing — the King. Your husband. Always dressed in black, always composed, always distant. If he wasn’t vanishing into the echoing corridors, he was locked away in that great obsidian chamber he called a throne room, speaking to ravens, to ghosts, to nothing at all.

And when you did speak it was only ever formalities.

“Good evening.”

“Do you require anything?”

“Sleep well.”

You tried to answer in kind at first. But politeness has a weight to it when it stretches too long, too thin. It becomes a silence all its own.

You’d imagined tension, maybe even resentment. Not absence.

Even when he was in the same room, he felt a thousand miles away. A shadow draped in melancholy, eyes like collapsing stars that never looked at you long enough to leave a mark. Sometimes he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. Not cruelly. Just as though he was afraid of something.

You had been married for seven days.And you had never felt more like a stranger in someone else’s kingdom.

And yet, the strangest part — the one you didn’t say out loud — was that you wanted to know him.

You didn’t understand it, not really. He wasn’t warm. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t trying. And still, something in you kept drifting toward him.Maybe it was the loneliness in him, quiet and bone-deep, that mirrored your own.

You found yourself hoping, more than once, that he might one day look at you — not through you. Speak to you — not just past you. Maybe even sit beside you, not because the gods demanded it, but because he chose to.

But hope is a dangerous thing for a woman.Still, it refused to die.

Aside from Morpheus — who still treated you like a distant obligation — you had surprisingly built something resembling a life in the Dreaming.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t what you expected when they shoved a ring onto your finger and called it fate. But it was structure.You started building a routine. It was simple, silent and yours.

Every morning, after dressing yourself in whatever soft, flowing thing the attendants insisted on calling “ceremonial comfort,” you left the shared suite through the quieter door — the one Morpheus never used — and let your feet guide you through the endless, shifting corridors.

You knew your destination – the library.

Lucienne was always there, already seated with two cups of tea on a small table between tall shelves. You never asked how she knew you’d come. You never had to.

She greeted you with a nod and a dry, knowing glance. You answered with a raised brow and the smallest of smirks — the kind you reserved for people who didn’t feel the need to ask how you were.

Most mornings, the two of you spoke of books. Sometimes philosophy. Sometimes politics. Once, dreams of cats.It was the closest thing to ease you had in this kingdom.

And though Lucienne never said it aloud, you could tell that she knew you were trying to fit in.

Lucienne didn’t need to ask what was on your mind.She could read it between your pauses, in the way your fingers drummed softly against the teacup, how your eyes wandered the rows of ancient tomes without ever focusing on a single title.

"You seem distracted today," she said, calmly. She never pried. That was something you appreciated.

You lifted your gaze, offering a dry smile. “I’m married now. Isn’t distraction part of the deal?”

Lucienne gave a small breath of amusement and turned a page in the book resting on her knees. “I thought you’d be more curious.”

“About what? My brooding husband, who disappears before I wake up and says five words a day?”

“You’re exaggerating,My Lady. He says at least six.”

You actually laughed — a short, rough sound that surprised you more than it did her.

Lucienne adjusted her glasses and added gently, “He’s trying, in his own way.”

“He could try with words. That’d be refreshing.” you huffed.

There was a pause, filled only by the quiet ticking of some invisible clock.Lucienne’s voice softened. “I know you didn’t ask for this.”

You looked at her then — properly. No sarcasm in your voice this time. “No. But I also didn’t expect to feel like a shadow in my own home.”

Lucienne’s expression didn’t change much, but you saw it — the flicker of sympathy. The kind she didn’t show often.“Give him time,” she said. “He doesn’t know how to be close to people. He barely knows how to be around them.”

You stared into your tea. The steam curled up, delicate and warm.“I don’t need him to be close,” you murmured. “Just... human.”

Lucienne tilted her head thoughtfully. “He’s not human. And he is lonely.” You didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the tea a little longer.

Then, finally you answered.“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Lucienne rested the book in her lap, adjusting her glasses thoughtfully. She looked at you from the corner of her eye, as though weighing something, then chose a different path entirely.“By the way, did you ever finish The Hollow Sovereign?”

You groaned dramatically. “Unfortunately. Three hundred pages of a guy staring out of windows and making cryptic remarks. Riveting.”

“I happen to think it’s an excellent character study,” Lucienne said evenly. “The way the Sovereign distances himself to keep his realm intact—how much he sacrifices, how utterly alone he is—”

You cut in with a wry smile. “Oh, spare me the tragic martyr speech. He’s a control freak with trust issues who pushes people away and then acts shocked when nobody stays.”

Lucienne’s eyebrows rose. “Or maybe he’s someone burdened by responsibilities you and I couldn’t even begin to understand. Maybe isolation is the only way he knows how to survive.”

You shrugged. “How utterly pathetic. You see too much in him.”

Lucienne narrowed her eyes. “You’re being unfair.”

You shrugged. “I’m being realistic. The whole time, everyone keeps offering him kindness, loyalty, love even—and he builds walls instead of doors. I don’t call that noble. I call that fear. And what about his poor wife? He doesn't even look at her.”

Lucienne’s fingers paused mid-turn of a page. She blinked slowly. “Uhm...Your Majesty,he doesn't have a wife in the story”

Your lips parted, then pressed back together in a tight line. You blinked, once. “Right,” you said flatly. “No wife. Of course.”

Lucienne tilted her head. “I assume you were thinking of someone else?”

You scoffed. “Well, obviously.” You placed your teacup down with deliberate care. “I was talking about—” You paused. There was no salvaging it. “Oh for heaven's sake, yes, I was talking about him — about my husband.”

Lucienne’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, but her eyes stayed patient. “I thought as much.”

You leaned back with a huff, tossing your hands up. “Gods. I can’t believe I just emotionally projected on a fictional man out loud in a library in front of a librarian.”

She folded the book and closed it gently. “It happens more often than you’d think.”

You pointed at her. “That was judgmental and I felt it.” you exhaled sharply, eyes rolling. “Fine. Yes. My husband has the emotional range of a stone statue. Yes, I’m bitter. And yes, apparently I’m now channeling that bitterness through tragic royal protagonists.”

Lucienne gave a thoughtful nod. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“I’d rather be less aware and more married,” you muttered under your breath.She pretended not to hear that one.

You pushed your chair back with a soft scrape, rising to your feet as if the weight of your own commentary had finally exhausted you. “Alright. That’s enough public self-reflection for one morning.”

Lucienne gave a quiet smile. “It was hardly public.”

“Well, you were here,” you said, gathering your shawl with a theatrical flick. “And you count. You're terrifyingly observant.”

“It's part of the job,” she replied mildly.

You turned toward the towering doorway, already mentally preparing yourself for the next social challenge. “I'm going to see how the kingdom’s favorite dysfunctional brothers are doing. With any luck, Cain’s only tried to kill Abel once today.”

Lucienne arched a brow. “They’ve actually been unusually quiet.”

You squinted. “Now that’s alarming.”

You paused in the doorway and turned back, leaning one arm against the stone arch, head tilted. “Thanks for the tea. And the passive-aggressive therapy session.”

Lucienne merely inclined her head. “Any time. And...Your Majesty” You looked over your shoulder.

“You’re not wrong about him. But walls can be dismantled... if someone is willing to keep knocking.”

You exhaled, slowly. The words hit somewhere inconvenient. “Yeah. Next time I'll bring Thor's hammer.”

Lucienne said nothing more. She simply returned to her reading, but the weight of her gaze followed you until you slipped out into the winding halls of the castle once more.

You muttered to yourself as your boots clicked softly against the stone. “Fantastic. I came for tea and left with metaphors.”

...

The winding paths of the Dreaming never looked the same twice.One day they curved like rivers, the next like veins. Today, they straightened just enough to lead you to Cain and Abel’s little patch of madness—past a dead tree that was somehow always blooming, and a mailbox that occasionally barked if you didn’t knock properly.You made sure to knock.

Cain opened the door with his usual dramatic flourish, brow raised like he expected bad news or an apology—possibly both. “Ah. Your Highness.”

Behind him, Abel’s head popped out from behind a curtain, face lighting up. “Your Highness! You’re just in time, we were—Cain was—well, there was tea, before someone knocked it over. And the biscuits—though Cain says they were actually poisoned.”

“They were experiments,” Cain corrected. “Also, possibly cursed.”

You raised both brows. “You two are the definition of hospitality.”

Cain stepped aside, with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Enter, Princess of Pity.”

You strolled past him like the royal title was official, nodding regally. “Why, thank you, Duke of Delusion.”

The inside of their cottage looked like a library had exploded and been partially stitched back together with bad decisions. Scrolls, books, maps, things in jars—some of which blinked at you.

You took your usual spot on the sagging couch, careful to avoid the corner that had tried to eat your cloak last time.

“Tea or water?” Abel offered hopefully.

“Water,I already had tea. And I’ll take the non-cursed kind,” you said.

Abel brightened. “As you wish.”

Cain muttered, “Asskisser.”

“Anyway,” you sighed, settling in. “Distract me. Please. Pretend I’m not in an arranged marriage with a man who talks less than my fork.”

Cain poured you a glass of water and handed it over. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“No, actually, I didn’t,” you replied,lifting the glass. “I assumed brooding and mysterious had an off-switch. Or at least a personality somewhere under all the silence.”

Abel sat beside you, hands fiddling nervously. “You seem unhappy.”

You paused then smiled, dry and thin. “No. I just had expectations. You know, like maybe my husband would say good morning once in a while without looking like it physically pains him.”

Cain took a loud sip of his tea, eyeing you over the rim. “He’s been like this for eons. You’re not special.”

You smirked. “Thanks for the reality check.”

“But,” Abel added gently, “you might be the first person to ever try anyway.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Not here. You let it stretch, your eyes drifting across the cluttered room—at the frayed books and crooked paintings and Abel’s hopeful little birdhouses lining the windowsill.This was chaos. But at least it was warm.

...

You found Mervyn Pumpkinhead sitting on a crumbling stone wall near the outskirts of the castle, puffing a cigar and looking like the embodiment of 'I don't get paid enough for this.'

Matthew was perched nearby, wings fluffed up against the slight breeze, watching something that may or may not have been real scuttle across the clouds.

“Look who survived another week in the royal mausoleum,” Merv grunted as you approached.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “I thought you’d be proud.”

“Of what? That you haven’t snapped and turned him into a toad yet? Sure. Gold star, sweetheart.”

Matthew gave an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t listen to him, he’s been extra grumpy lately. Something about Lucienne reorganizing the storage scrolls.”

“They were in order,” Merv muttered darkly.

You sat down beside them, legs crossed at the ankle, gaze wandering toward the distant towers of the castle. “You know… I’m starting to think he really is made of fog and bad decisions.”

“Boss ain’t that bad,” Matthew said gently. “Just, y’know… emotionally constipated.”

You huffed a laugh. “Charming.”

“He doesn’t hate you, y’know,” Matthew continued, tilting his head. “He’s just… old. Set in his ways. And people—feelings—they’re not something he navigates well.”

Merv grunted. “Understatement of the millennium.”

You stared down at your hands. “He barely talks to me.”

“He doesn’t talk to anyone,” Matthew said. “Well, except Lucienne. And sometimes me. If I pester him enough.”

You glanced up. “So the trick is pestering?”

“No,” Merv chimed in. “The trick is effort. Which, sorry, princess, you haven’t exactly been overflowing with.”

You shot him a look. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I’m not saying it’s your fault,” Merv shrugged, smoke curling from his mouth. “But the guy is made of shadows and regrets. You don’t knock, he’s not opening. That’s just how it is.”

You leaned your hip against the side of the wall, arms crossed. “Right. So it’s on me to keep knocking, even if the door’s clearly sealed shut with ancient cosmic trauma.”

Merv gave you a lopsided grin, ash falling from the end of his cigar. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

Matthew ruffled his feathers on your shoulder. “I mean, not entirely on you. The boss has his issues, sure. But he also listens, even if it looks like he’s not. You ever notice how he remembers everything?”

You did. It was almost unsettling. You’d mentioned offhandedly once that you liked jasmine tea — and without a word, that’s what had appeared in your cup the next morning. The problem wasn’t inattention. It was distance. Controlled, suffocating distance.

You sighed. “You think I should...what? Bake him a cake? Write him a poem? Casually cry in his general direction until he processes something?”

Matthew squawked a laugh. “God, no. Just... show up. Be around. Let him see you trying.”

“And what if I stop trying and he doesn’t even notice?” you asked, quieter than before. “What if it wouldn’t make a difference?”

Merv’s eyes softened, just for a blink. “Then at least you’ll know you gave a damn. And that counts for something.”

The silence stretched between the three of you. Not heavy, but thoughtful. Merv puffed again, and Matthew stretched one wing.

You straightened up. “Alright. That’s enough emotional vulnerability for one day. I’m off to emotionally pace somewhere dramatically.”

Matthew chuckled as you started walking away. “That’s the spirit.”

“Try not to overthink it,” Merv called after you. “He already does enough of that for the both of you.”

...

It had been a long day.Not dramatically so—just full of small, persistent irritations. Too many polite smiles. Too many glances that lingered a little too long. Too much silence from the one person who technically mattered most.So you went for a walk.

You weren’t looking for him.But as you rounded the edge of the gardens, there he was your husband — Morpheus, sitting alone on a stone bench beneath a slender tree that barely offered shade. Elbows on knees, hands folded, staring out into some distance only he could see.

Your first instinct was to turn around.The second said, no—enough of this.You approached, arms crossed. “Greetings,Dream.”

He looked up. No smile—but no sharpness either. “Greetings”

"What are you looking for?"

“I was seeking quiet.” he answered simply.

“And did you find it?”

He paused for a second before deciding to answer. “Until you arrived.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Charming. Can’t wait to hear your anniversary toast.”

Something in his expression flickered. Not quite a smile—but something almost like appreciation. He shifted to the side slightly, a silent offer. You took the seat beside him, leaving a few respectful inches between.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The sky above the Dreaming was a strange shade of twilight: too blue to be night, too shadowed to be day.

Then, unexpectedly, he said, “I’ve heard from the others... that you’ve been adapting well.”

You shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just stared straight ahead, fingers flexing slightly in his lap.“And you?” he asked, softly. “How do you find it here?”

You glanced at him, surprised. It was the first time he’d asked you anything that wasn’t a logistical formality.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just... visiting. Like everyone’s being polite because no one actually believes I’ll be here long enough to matter.”

He nodded slowly. “The Dreaming adapts slowly. Not just its inhabitants... the realm itself. But I don’t regret that you’re here.”

That landed heavier than you expected.

You tilted your head. “That’s the longest sentence you’ve said to me since our wedding.”

A ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. Tired and wry. “It may be.”

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head slightly.“I owe you an apology,” he said. His voice was low, but steady. “I’ve neglected you. Not out of cruelty. Only... because I don’t always know how to begin.”

You didn’t interrupt. You just listened,that seemed to matter.

“I have... responsibilities,” he continued, gaze fixed on the horizon. “Things that weigh heavily, often invisibly. But it isn’t just that. I struggle with this—connection. Conversation. I know it must seem as though I’m pushing you away.”

You let the silence settle a moment before answering. “I get it.”He finally turned to look at you.

“I mean it,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s okay if you’re quiet. Some people just are. The right company doesn’t need noise to be good company.”

His expression didn’t shift much, but there was something different in his eyes now. Less distance and more thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

You gave a light shrug, teasing. “Well, try not to vanish for another week and we’ll call it progress.”

A breath left him—maybe not quite a laugh, but something warm enough to count.Morpheus sat still for a moment, long fingers resting on his knees as though holding the weight of something unseen. The sky over the Dreaming had shifted into shades of dusky lavender, the castle casting elongated shadows across the quiet grounds. You didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t need to. The silence between you had a shape of its own—wary, tentative, but not unkind.

Finally, his voice broke through it. Low. Careful.“There is something I did not tell you.”

You glanced sideways. “Well, this should be fun.”

He didn’t smile, but he didn’t pull away either.“My brother,” he said quietly. “Destiny.”

You raised a brow. “The one with the big book and zero sense of humor?”

A faint exhale through Morpheus’s nose. Not quite a laugh, but close. “Yes. That one. Some time ago… he spoke of a fall. A great fall. One of the Endless would fall. A king.”

Your heart stilled for a second, breath caught between one moment and the next.He didn’t look at you—just stared ahead into the twilight.

“He did not say who. Only that it would be soon. And final.”

You swallowed. “And you think it’s going to be you.”

“I do,” he said simply. “And if that is true… then there was little point in trying to build something I would not be here to protect. To preserve.”

You didn’t speak right away. There was a dull ache behind your ribs, and for once, it wasn’t just frustration—it was something heavier. Something more fragile.

“That’s not fair,” you said finally, voice quieter. “That’s not your choice to make alone.”

“I did not wish to give you false hope. Or waste what little time you might have in peace.”

You turned toward him fully, searching his face. He looked tired, like the stars themselves had worn him down from the inside out. But beneath the distance, the restraint—there was fear.

“Well,” you said softly, “then I hope Destiny’s wrong.”

He turned to you, and for once, didn’t look away.“And if he’s not?” he asked.

“Then I’ll be at your side when it happens,” you replied, firm but not cold. “ I’ll fight with you.”

Something loosened in his shoulders, just slightly.He tilted his head.

“I do not deserve your loyalty,” he said after a beat, voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

You scoffed lightly. “That’s not really your call, is it?”

A long silence stretched between you. Not cold. Just full of things unsaid. But not forever.“I should return,” he murmured, finally rising to his feet with the slow, unhurried grace of someone carved from shadow and time. “There are matters I must attend.”

You nodded, standing as well, brushing the imaginary dust from your skirts. “Of course. Dream King duties and all that.”

He looked at you again—longer, this time.And then he was gone,but it felt different now. Not like a door closing,but more like the beginning of a hallway finally opening.

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Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap- explicit sex, shower sex, oral ( f receiving) lots of fluff, lots of emotions, mentions of past angst, an INSANE breed kink (reader and Toru hehe) cumplay, sweet whipped Satoru, they're so in lovvve.- WC- 7.8k

Based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Taglist closed! -Comments/rbs appreciated <3

<<<Part Seven - Masterlist - Playlist- Part Nine>>> (soon)

Part Eight

You’ve never been on a plane.

You’ve driven everywhere, even out of state you’d get a car rental and just cruise, but Satoru has you on a plane in first class, headed to Hollywood. You’re so nervous, heart racing as you think of seeing him again, as you think of being in his arms. It’s only been a couple weeks, but a couple weeks feels like forever when it has been eight years without him.

The plane ride goes smoothly, despite your anxiety, a couple airport bottles may have been necessary for how panicked you were at first, so you may or may not be a little buzzed when you get off the plane. You step into the airport and the overwhelming amount of people surround you, you’re momentarily disoriented at just how many, walking past and rushing off.

You eye your phone then, before a big sign catches your attention, a dark haired man with glasses holding up your name on a huge sign. You giggle just a bit and walk over then, he smiles at you. “That would be me!”

“Perfect, I’m Ijichi. Mr. Gojo is waiting in the limo, he didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much attention if he came out.” You nod in understanding, certainly the paparazzi would be all over him. “Right this way, Miss.”

You follow him out, and through all of the rest of the enormous airport, the chaos makes you just a little dizzy. You can still feel the nerves even as you walk out into the much different climate than back home. It’s warm and sunny, there’s a dry heat you’ve never really felt entering your lungs as you inhale and exhale, shutting your eyes at how good it feels when Ijichi reaches a black limo.

The door opens and Satoru rushes out of the car, surprising you when he scoops you up in his arms, wearing some round Gucci shades and a big grin. You giggle and let him pick you up, twirling you like you’re a little feather in his strong hold, slamming his lips down. That’s when the tears well up, mixed with the laughter, how badly you missed this.

How can you miss something you didn’t have before so vividly? Now it feels the perfect and only place to be, his arms, clinging so tightly to him. He’s whispering your name over and over when cameras start flashing, you hear the clicks and feel eyes on the two of you then, not just paparazzi either, it’s random people gossiping.

“Satoru, baby they’re all watching…” You murmur then, and he glares at them for a moment, setting you down.

“Mr. Gojo, weren't you supposed to hide in the limo?”

“I got too excited,” he’s pouting as he looks down at you, cupping your face, you feel his eyes are only on you, feel the warmth of his touch as you grip his wrist gently. “Fuck I missed you.”

“I missed you more, um… are you okay with them seeing me?” He frowns a bit, caressing your jaw line tenderly, and it’s really just you two, nothing else at that very moment.

“I should ask you, I’d love everyone to know I have the prettiest fucking girl in the world.”

“You go on too much!”

“Wanna bet?” You’re giggling again even as he swipes your tears, and his bright, brilliant eyes look at you so lovingly.

“You hype me up a lot you know.”

“As I should,” he kisses you again, right as people are wondering who you are outside of LAX, you feel the warmth of the sun shining down as he tugs you closer. “Should give ‘em a show.”

“Oh gosh!”

“Blushing, cute.”

“You’re ridiculous!” He’s chuckling again, slipping back on his shades and then gesturing for you to climb in as Ijichi puts up your luggage in the trunk.

When Satoru’s back with you, he’s pressing your back against the seat, leaning on top and kissing every inch he can find, your face, your throat, your chest, all while you giggle breathlessly. You gasp when he’s at the base of your neck, his plush lips brushing on sensitive skin, god he missed you so much it takes everything not to fuck you right here.

He’s sure you want a shower, to relax a bit from a long flight with two layovers, so he holds back just a bit, keeping the touches teasing and sweet. Your lips are pliant under his, parting as his tongue slips through the seam, and he tastes your sweetness again.

“Mochi has nothing on you.”

“You’re too much!” You’re grinning against his lips now, and he sighs, leaning up to look down at you for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Hmm, wait… is that tequila!?” He’s lapping at your lips as if it’s an inspection, you burst out into more laughter.

“Maybe! Maybe I’m a little tipsy. Just this much.” You put your thumb and finger together, grinning now, he can’t help but laugh with you, infectious as ever, studying your precious face and wondering how he ever went without it.

“You’re good and drunk, I can’t take advantage of you.”

“Not even, take all the advantage.” You’re kissing across his neck, hands slipping over his dress shirt, feeling the luxurious material as it ripples across his muscles, eliciting a soft whine from his throat.

“Fuck,” he’s throbbing under his slacks now, pressing against your heat and feeling your body arch, hips pressing for more of him. “You need water bottles or something, you're gonna get dehydrated that soaking wet.”

“Oh!” He’s smirking, sitting you up then, tugging you right against his side as he leans over and snatches a bottle up. “Do you just typically ride in a limo?”

“Yeah, long legs you know.” You roll your eyes as he spreads them wide, shoving one on you.

“You are like ninety percent leg.” You take the cool water, sipping it and sighing as it hits, cooling you off just a bit, Satoru nudges you further, before you kick back at him, and he tugs you to him again.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he’s softer now, the teasing gone as he cups your face, the condensation from the water pressing against your palm and dampening his dress shirt just a bit. Your heart races, the emotions mixing with the exhaustion, you haven’t slept in days in anticipation. “I don’t know how I went that long without seeing you to begin with.”

“I always missed you.” Your words break him, the sincerity and sweetness, and he swallows down the guilt once more.

He could have had this.

He could have had you in his arms, in his life, but you quickly shut off his thoughts with another kiss. “Hey, Satoru…”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, you feel it then, his longing for something that cannot be, even if he doesn’t say it.

“We don’t know what would have happened, if we confessed our feelings then, we’ve grown a lot now, and we’re different in ways. I think everything happens for a reason, okay? So don’t look back on the past, we can’t change it. Focus on this right here.” You kiss him again, pulling back to look up at him, he sighs then.

“You’re all wise and shit huh?” You smile and wiggle your brows. “You’re right, there’s no sense in it. But to think I could have had you in my life…”

“I’m in your life right now, Toru.” The little nickname always breaks him, always melts him for you even more.

“Drink your water,” he presses a kiss on your forehead. “You little drunk.”

“Am not!” But you’re doing as he says, you are so thirsty, soon you’re resting your head on his chest as you two drive through the LA traffic, he’s got an arm wrapped around you as you yawn. “I don’t want to sleep as soon as I see you!”

“Take a nap, we have an hour before we’ll get home.”

Home, the words make your heart race, how he says it so easily, as if you’ll instantly be a part of that for him. The love you’ve always had makes the ease of this so perfect, a new relationship shouldn’t feel like this, nothing could ever really feel like this, like your home is in the arms of the boy you’ve always loved. Your eyes drift shut even as you fight it.

“I got a guitar you know,” you smile against his chest, inhaling his scent as he tugs you closer. “I am trying to remember how to play it.”

“I’m excited, I’ll get serenaded by the Satoru Gojo huh?”

“You’re very special, it's exclusive.” You’re resting more and more, until he hears it - a light little snore, and he knows you’re zonked out from your trip. Affection claws at his throat, mixing with his own exhaustion, while he strokes back your hair gently.

He’s been so busy this week, he worked to clear as much time as he could with you, but even so he has events. He’ll have you right by his side for them all, which he can’t wait to have you there, not being lonely and plastering on a trademark look for every camera and every interviewer. No, he’ll have you, all dolled up in one of the fancy dresses he bought you.

You soon find out he went overboard, as you all eventually take the elevator up to Satoru’s fancy penthouse overlooking the oceanside, it’s stunning and spotless as he gives you a little tour of it and you notice he’s already got half his closet filled with beautiful gowns. There are stacks of fancy shoe brands you cannot even pronounce but you’ve seen in magazines.

“Satoru! I said a couple dresses, holy fuck…” You’re brushing your fingers along one now, black sequined with a slit all the way up, you flush as you think how much leg that will show. “I’m more of a jean or legging girl you know.”

“Oh, I know, it’ll make it even hotter to dress you up,” he’s got his arms wrapped around you, tugging your back against him, lips trailing along your temple. “Like you’re my little doll, huh?”

“Mnh…” You’re lost as he presses hot kisses on the side of your neck, gasping at the sensation, his closet is as big as your room back home, organized by color and brand, a mirror between the shelves that shows your disheveled state. “Your doll?”

“Would you like that? Be my pretty little doll,” your eyes shut for a moment as your body reacts to his nearness, to his touch, igniting heat in your tummy that spreads at his whispered words. “No thoughts in your head, just for me to dress you up and fuck you like you’re a toy?”

“God,” you’re done for, his words bringing filthy pictures as his hand splays over your tummy, long fingers spread across it, the knot tightening with how badly you want him inside you. “You’re insane.”

“You really haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.” Your chin is turned, and he kisses you deeply, tongue delving inside your mouth again.

“I need a shower, I’m sweaty Toru.”

“Like I care?” You giggle again, but he pulls back, sighing. “I figured you would want to wash up. Go put your things up here and I’ll get it started, okay?”

“Yes, thank you!” He kisses you once more as you start placing the few outfits and things you brought with you, he’s got a whole empty drawer as if he was waiting for you and cleared it out.

You hear the water running, walking out to smell sweet fragrant steam, following it until you get into one of his bathrooms, it’s all polished cream marble and immaculate, some waterfall shower with three heads, two on either side and one overhead. You blink in surprise at it, before studying a now shirtless Satoru, his body is so perfect it makes you ache more.

“This shower is insane,” you shut the door and slip off your own shirt, just wearing a bra, they bounce gently when you do, making Satoru exhale, his cock throbbing as he sees the body he’s been missing so fucking bad. You brush your hair over one shoulder, turning then. “Can you help me?”

He runs over there like an eager teenager, you both laugh at it, at experienced supermodel Satoru Gojo’s hands trembling with anticipation, as he unclasps the bra nervously. He slips it down your shoulders until it falls to the floor, turning you and running his slender fingers over the marks the bra left, as if he could soothe them away for you.

“Don’t wear one here, please?” His pout is enough to do you in.

“Not at all?”

“Not at all, my one thing I’ll ask. Well…” he eases down your jean shorts, then slips your panties down, his breath hot on you as steam fills the room, swirling around you two, your thighs trembling, cunt pulsing around nothing at his avid attention. “Two things.”

“What’s the other thing, hmm?” Your fingers card through his silky white locks carefully, nails gentle on his scalp, while he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“No panties here either.” He eyes you under those snowy lashes, on his knees like he worships you, it’s a heady feeling, the way his huge hands grip your thighs, the way his lips caress your hip.

“I can do that for you, only here though,” he grins against your skin, you feel the lines of his pretty white teeth as he does, before he stands, towering over you and cupping your face. “I want you in there with me, please?”

“You think there’s a world where I wasn’t going to take a shower with you?”

Soon Satoru is leading you in, and the hot water starts pounding against your skin, soothing the soreness of the flight right away. He’s gently running a sudsy washcloth all over your body, inch by inch, relishing and putting attention into every little bit he can see. Your head falls back against the warmed tiles as he starts massaging his hands, feeling the fragrant bubbles and your soft, slick skin.

“This is perfect, it’s well worth any flight.” He smiles at that, lips quirking up at the corner while he continues, now his thumbs brush your nipples, you gasp.

“Sensitive?” He teases, you nod then, looking up at him, the water has made his silvery locks long and slick, you brush them back, biting your lip when he brushes them again. “Asked ya a question, sweetheart.”

“They are sensitive, feels s’good though, mmm!” He’s got them between his thumb and forefingers now, twisting just a bit and making the need unbearable, you gasp out at it.

“Imagine when I get you pregnant,” his words fuck what’s left of your dumb brain then, his eyes flashing with some feral hunger that makes them almost hard to look into. “They’re gonna be so full.”

“Fuck, you’re talking like that?” You’re dragging him down for a kiss, trying to tiptoe and nearly slipping, he grabs you and keeps you steady, his other hand slipping down to cup your ass cheek. “God, don’t even talk like that to me.”

“Why, you got a breed kink?” You’re burying your face against his chest, slick from the body wash, and he chuckles at you then, you feel the vibrations against your body as you whine out. “You do? Don’t be shy, I wanna know all about it.”

“I’ve never… acted on it… mnh…” Satoru turns you then, leaning down as you brace your hands against the wall, pressing closer to him when he slips his fingers between your soppy folds, you’re whining out at it.

“Tell me, what do you think about, hmm?” He’s taunting you, his other hand gripping yours as the water cascades over you both.

“I want babies in me,” your whisper ends him, his cock throbbing and leaking precum as he runs his finger over your clit in little circles. You’re gasping out at the sensations, him pressing up more, it’s twitching against his fingers, cunt leaking out of your hole. “Ah!”

“You want babies in you, what a little freak my sweet girl is, tsk,” he’s taunting you, fingers entwining, his teeth sinking into your neck as he leans over you, the water pounding against his muscled back, heating his skin until it’s a blushing red. “You want my babies inside you?”

“Only yours, only ever yours.” You’re arching for more, his teasing fingers just dipping in your hole, that grips his fingertip like she wants to suck it so greedily inside of her.

“You want me to throw out that fucking birth control?”

“Oh, Toru…”

“You do, huh?” He’s lost in his madness, you two know it’s nonsense for now, but his words end you, picturing it vividly. “I’ll put so much cum in you it’ll never work anyway.”

“Ngh, please do it - ah!” Satoru’s got you spun back so quickly you’re dizzy, the mix of the heat of the shower and his hard body overtaking all your senses. He’s leaned down, kissing your lips, his big hands taking your body over, your waist, your hips, slipping even lower.

“Thought you were a good girl,” he’s taunting you, but you couldn’t care less, when he lifts you like it’s nothing, pressing you against the wall, your thighs against his narrow hips. “You want all of my cum, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I want it.” He’s moaning, hoarse sounds from his throat, his tip aligning itself with your hole, pressing inside - the most delicious pressure, stretching your tight ring of muscles when he pulls back and thrusts his hips. You choke on your moan, while he just looks at you, hungry and fucking insane, hands sinking into your thighs.

“Want me to fill this perfect cunt till you can’t walk without dripping?” You nod weakly, he’s sinking deeper in your slick walls, which pulse and slip down his veiny length. Your cunt tries to accommodate him, but he’s so thick, that leaky tip hitting just your spot, until you’re shattering already, cumming so hard you can’t think. “Ya that easy, we just started.”

“Shh,” you’re kissing him, aftershocks rocking you, the release so good you’re already fucked out in moments. “Want you.”

“I want you, pregnant with milk pouring from your nipples.” Satoru’s trying to end you, your eyes shooting up to his as he braces you on the wall, one hand gripping a slick breast and squishing. You’re cries echo in the shower, bouncing right off the walls to fill his ears, a sound he never wants to stop fucking hearing. “That’s it, you’re so easy when I bring it up.”

“J-jerk…” He’s smiling against your neck when he buries his face against it, bottoming out as deep as he can go, making you so full you feel him everywhere, in your stomach, hitting every spot you have with his mean tip. “M’gonna cum again,”

“Again, god you’re slutty for me,” he’s lost inside you, talking all the shit he can when he’s just trying to desperately not cum, not bust this early, but the way your cunt is milking him for all it’s worth. He’s pulling back, hands back on your ass, dragging your cunt closer, just making it more sensitive. “You’re trying to get me to cum, aren’t you brat?”

“Me? N-no,” you tighten just a bit, earning his cute glare, when he starts pounding into your cunt, you’re gripping his shoulders, nails pressing in, as he fucks you so hard it hurts - the pain perfect, heady and addictive.

“God I would keep you pregnant,” he’s huffing those words under his breath, your lower back bruising against the wall as he presses you harder, head lowering to rest his forehead on yours as he holds you up. “Use you, like my little doll, just to fill with cum over and over.”

“Ngh!” How many kinks is he trying to hit!? You’re gasping and clinging to his back, fingers slipping as he holds you up, pulling you off the wall. “Toru I’m gonna fall, s-stop!”

“Think I don’t got you, sweetheart?” He’s dragging your cunt down, using you, you’re not even able to move, his hands on your ass guiding you up and down as your head falls to the side, slick hair dripping down across your shoulder. He’s devouring your neck as his thick cock shoves in so deep, your cries making his cock twitch, making him sensitive.

You’re whining out his name, while he holds you like that, and you’re shivering, goosebumps rising as the pleasure builds, until you feel like you’re going to break. “Mnh! Fuck…”

“That’s it, cum again,” he’s pressing you back on the wall, eyes looking down into yours. “Want me to use you don’t you? Till I bust inside, fill you up?”

All you can do is nod in jerky motions, and Satoru’s filthy with it, his strokes mean as they slam your cervix over and over. He’s whispering your name over and over, you’re clinging to him, fingers slipping, thighs threatening to lock up, but he doesn’t let you fall, he’s lost as you are, rhythm faster and faster as your cunt gushes around him, head falling back for his teeth and mouth to mark you.

You’re kissing him as he presses you against the tiles, as the water drips and cascades off his face to yours, and your lips move over each other, until you feel him slow, and thicken. He thickens so much, so deep inside you, stretching you out as his tip is against your cervix, and his hands leave marks against your thighs. You’re crying out in his mouth, gasping as he pumps hot cum inside you.

“Toru!” He moans, kissing you messy, saliva dripping as white hot ropes shoot up inside you.

“That’s it, take all my cum, huh?” You’re nodding desperately, thighs shaking with the effort, as he moans low in your ear, resting his head against the shower wall as he fills you. “God I missed this.”

“M-me too, mmm, me too.” The kisses are messier as he eases out, he gently washes you after, careful as you’re sore just a bit from having him inside you again.

“Beat her up.”

“Toru!”

“Sorry, she’s cute.” He presses a kiss on her and chuckles after the shower is done and he’s drying you off. “Let me dry your hair.”

Satoru works carefully then, bringing you back to thoughts of when he’d curl or straighten your hair before a competition. To when he’d help you do your makeup because you were hopeless at it, and his hand was always so steady and precise. The thoughts fill you with warmth as you swipe some of the steam off the mirror, bringing him into view.

He has a towel loose around his narrow hips, yours is carefully tucked around your breasts, it’s so domestic, it’s so perfect. A comfort you think you could only feel with him, even after the time and distance, he shows you that affection, the sweet way he slathers some fancy oil in your hair, how he massages some other fancy lotion against your skin.

“You use all this?”

“I get a lot of free things when I do commercials or ads, I have a stupid collection. You can take anything you want, though I don’t think I wanna remember you have to leave after a few days.” You hear it, the sadness in his voice, before he clears his throat and tugs you against him, pressing the soft terry cloth against his chest. “Let’s not think of it at all.”

“Let’s not, let’s enjoy.”

Laying in Satoru Gojo’s fancy ass bed, in his huge immaculate room, it feels as cozy as his childhood room did, because he is there. He’s holding you close to him, an arm wrapped around your waist, hand gripping your tit, you giggle at it, tugging it a little lower, for him to bite your shoulder playfully and scooch it back.

“I waited how long to grab these? Better let me.”

“You’re silly, y’know that?” You turn your head and he just grins, squishing it again and making you laugh.

“The first pair of titties I noticed.”

“Oh whatever!”

“Think I’m lying? Don’t you remember the tissues, the lotion, the-”

“Oh god. Not a poster girl or model?”

“Nah fuck that, nicest pair right here.” He squishes your other one now, you exhale and arch against him at the sensations. “They’ll get so big when you’re-”

“Fuck this.” You’re on him before he can blink, and you do not get any rest until the sun rises and filters through the blinds.

***** 

“Relax, you look fucking beautiful.” Satoru’s grinning at you the next evening as you two sit in the limo, right in front of the event. He is looking like a million bucks in his dark blue suit, elaborate lace designs embedded in the lapels, matching just a few shades of his blue eyes.

His big hand holds yours, he feels how sweaty it is, how shaky as you tremble just a bit, looking out at the limo then, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know you think I’m beautiful-”

“I will put this off and bend you over my knee,” he tugs you to him, a hand precariously on your thigh, scowl on his handsome features. “I’ll beat that pretty ass so hard if you say one more thing.”

“Satoru, you’re a model. I am not a model.”

“No, because I’d be too jealous to ever let anyone see your pretty fucking body, huh?” You’re a blushing mess, as he does look at you like you’re the prettiest thing in the world.

That’s when it all hits.

Satoru always looked at you like that, maybe not as intense, maybe not as bold as he is now, but he always eyed you with that devotion. The memories all start to cascade together, bits and pieces - a memory of going to your middle school dance together in eighth grade.

‘You’re the prettiest girl here,’ he’d been so cute with his fully buttoned dress shirt and bowtie, grinning with his braces on full display as he twirled you on the floor.

‘And you’re the cutest boy!’ he’d blushed, full pink, his eyes directly on your face, and when a boy asked to dance, the little pout he gave made sure you turned it down.

‘You can dance with other people, it’s okay.’

‘No, it’s our night.’

That memory is as vivid as the others, all falling together and showing the glaring conclusion - Satoru Gojo had always been in love with you. It’s exactly as he said, and you’d been oblivious to it, now just quiet as your eyes fill with tears, he frowns in concern, his brows drawing together, fingers caressing your cheek with the utmost care, eliciting another memory.

“Sweetheart, if you’re not ready, I can put this off.”

“No… it’s not that.” He swipes a tear, glittery with the mascara dripping from your lashes, while you remember again, a night at a party where you’d been far too intoxicated back in high school, when he’d eyed you with that look.

‘Satoru, dance with me!’ you’d been slurring your words a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck, seeing him flustered.

‘No, I hate dancing, you know.’

‘Not with me!’ you’re pouting as you stood outside the blaring loud party at someone’s house, you both didn’t even know, but Satoru always got dragged along with your dumb ideas. ‘Please!’

‘We’re in their yard, silly,’ he pecked a kiss on your head then, looking at you with an unreadable expression, sighing as his fingers hovered over your cheek, but never touched it.

‘Satoru has anyone told you, you’re really hot?’

‘Yeah, you did. You’re really drunk huh?’

‘Hmm, maybe,’ you’d leaned up, eyes fluttering shut, and Satoru would have died to kiss you, if he knew you were sober. ‘Hmph!’

‘You’re going home with me, c’mon.’ you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder as he drove you home, but you remembered it - how he looked at you.

“Sweets, what’s wrong?” He asks then, and you realize you’re in a full throw of tears, remembering his caring, remembering the way he just listened, how he was always there.

Until he wasn’t.

“Satoru, if I appreciated you more, would you have stayed?” He glares now, lips parted, shaking his head at you, you grip his wrist while he cups your face, sniffling more now. “Be honest.”

“You appreciated me, god you were the best person in the world. You really think that’s why?” His voice is hushed, while you look back out at the window, hearing the flash of the cameras, the announcements, echoing in the confines of the limousine, before looking back at him.

“You always loved me.” He exhales then, swallowing, nodding his head imperceptibly. “And I didn’t know.”

“To be fair, I was as oblivious as you, remember?” You nod then, while he brushes back just a bit of your carefully curled hair. “I didn’t leave because you didn’t appreciate me. I left because I didn’t love myself.”

“Oh, Toru…”

“Shh, gonna cry off all that makeup.” He’s gentle as he tries to fix the smudges, smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners a bit. “I wasn’t okay with who I was, I wanted to be… perfect. And now I am by all standards ‘perfect’ but baby, it wasn’t shit without you, okay?”

You’re done then, kissing him furiously, as you pour everything into it, he gets lost right with you, lips pressing over yours over and over, breaths heavy and scattered, his hands sliding over those delicate sequins. “I don’t want to go home.”

“I don’t want you to, fuck… ever.” He’s kissing you softer now, pulling back as he eyes the window then. “But will you really feel home here?”

“I want to keep trying, and see if I can. I just know I have a lot to… take care of if  I do that first.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, anything okay? If you fucking hate this event, we’ll figure out something. If you love it, then we’ll go to every one you want. I want you, more than anything.” You kiss him again, he’s tugging you closer, every memory of you two drifting in his mind now too.

“You always loved me, and I always loved you.”

“Always, sweetheart. Since I met you. Who wouldn’t?”

“Who wouldn’t love you?” He sucks a breath in, his hand slipping up the bare skin of your thigh, watching your face flush, your eyes dilate.

“We’re not gonna make it out of the car if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I’ll put a baby in you here.”

“Toru don’t say it, you know what it does to me now!” You’re whining and he smirks now.

“Soaking wet?”

“Hush!”

“You’re so easy f’me,” he’s kissing your lower lip, lapping across it with his tongue as your lips part, your hands tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “I should have fucked you before, could drip cum on the red carpet.”

“You’re ridiculous, stop it,” but you’re wetter now, and he knows it, his teasing smile replacing the emotional one he had earlier.

“Ya really want me to stop, sweets?” You exhale, shaking your head as he slips it higher, finding you over the delicate lace of the panties he bought you, groaning. “You are soaked, you wanna be pregnant so bad.”

“We will never m-make it if you keep touching me.” He swipes his finger closer, as another courtesy rap on the door sounds, you pull away a bit, when he swipes your glistening arousal on his lips, making them even glossier, your tummy tenses, breaths caught in your throat at the sight.

“Should I tell them my new secret to glossy lips?” He kisses you again, spreading your flavor along your mouth, you’re whining out softly when he finally pulls back. “Let’s knock 'em all dead, yeah?”

“Let’s do it.” He’s grinning, so brilliant, and you try to focus on him then, as the cameras hone in on you, lights glittering off the sequins while Satoru keeps a hand at the small of your back.

“It’s so many people,” you murmur, looking everywhere, it’s loud and insane with the sheer amount of people walking, the attention on you makes you anxious. You used to cheer and competitions would also have you in a cold sweat, he’d always hype you up. “Satoru…”

“I’m here baby,” he tugs you against his side, you feel his reassuring arm wrap as he looks at the cameras ahead. “Just look at me.”

You do that, and he eyes you and smiles, when a couple interviewers start shouting his name. “Should you go?”

“We’ll go,” he’s holding your hand as you two walk over, and then more interviewers run up, overwhelming you as you look down at your glittery heels, but Satoru holds your hand even tighter. “One question each.”

“Are you two together?” One asks, and you look up at Satoru, focusing on his cute little smile as he winks at you.

“We are together.”

There’s a clamoring, and people are leaving other interviews to get a shot at a question of the elusive Satoru and his new girlfriend. The attention is just too much, you’re not sure how he handles it all, but the way he commands them with just enough friendliness, but still holds back himself from them is impressive.

That Satoru is all yours.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Hmm,” he taps his chin, eyes narrowing. “Let’s see… over eighteen years ago we met.”

“How has she been a secret?”

“She lives back home. For now.” He’s winking again, you let him command them, answering their questions until he sighs a bit. “Okay, yes she’s my girl, but this is boring and I’m ready for the show. One more question.”

“Is it serious?” One of the girls asked, and Satoru holds your hand to his lips, giving your knuckles a little kiss as he eyes you.

“It’s very serious. I’m afraid I’m permanently off the market.” He says, to the murmurs and gasps of everyone around.

The warmth spreads, as you realize how devoted he is openly, making you fall impossibly deeper, the love spreading an expanse of your lifetime but still growing with every moment. As he looks into your eyes, you see it too, the apprehension, but the love shining so brightly, nervous maybe that he said it, but you’re reassuring him with a smile, a little nod, until he exhales and grins.

“May we ask you a question?” You look at an interviewer then, nodding shyly, Satoru tenses when she opens her mouth.

“How do you feel about his career, with all these models and now he’ll have co stars? Are you ever stressed about how you’ll fit in his life?”

The words hurt, and suddenly you feel every bit of your prior apprehension, Satoru scoffs. “She knows she’s the only girl for me.”

“I can answer, it’s okay,” you smile up at him again, and he nods a bit, as you look back at the interviewer, the lights still bombarding you. “I would never worry, it’s his career, but also I know what we have, and it’s irreplaceable.”

He leans close, murmuring - ‘good girl’ in your ear, you flush under his praise meant just for you as they keep chatting and throwing out questions, but he’s already leading you away. The closer to the red ropes, the more lively, but the less cameras, as you two walk hand in hand.

“My feet are killing me already,” you whisper, only for him to pick you up in his arms. “You don’t have to!”

“Shh, let me carry you,” he’s pressing a kiss on your head as everyone is oohing and ahhing, you snuggle against his neck, sore feet finally feeling better as you relish in his devotion. “You’ll get used to the heels.”

“Really? I want to just wear some tennis shoes next time.”

“I love you but no, not on the red carpet. Fashion faux pas.”

“I see, you take this serious.”

“Hmm,” he’s raising a brow as he eases you down into the theater, slipping across his body, and he kisses you right in front of a room full of stars. “Let’s enjoy the show.”

*****

The next couple days are a whirlwind, so many things he’s packed in, even at lunch people snap photos from outside the windows, but Satoru seems oblivious to it, just happy to be there with you. You go see the stars on Hollywood boulevard, you put your hands against your favorite stars and he takes a photo.

He’s got you and him together as his instagram picture, it has an insane amount of likes and comments, you’re reading them as you lay on the soft carpet of his floor, ankles crossed as he takes out his new guitar. “Satoru, they’re insane - I wanna suck his dick - wow.”

“They all want to, it’s true.” He has a shameless grin, you giggle, sipping the wine he’d poured. “Only you get to though.”

It’s so similar to that night in his room.

The nostalgia hits, but so does one thing, you miss home - and not just home, you miss him being home. You swallow it down, the fact that you’re not sure you fit in out here, because no matter what you want him to follow his dreams, and you want to be by your side. You all still have time to figure this out, even if you have to leave in a couple days.

That ache of missing him happens before you have to go, like your heart and body is already anticipating it. You push it down, looking at another comment. “This guy says I have nice tits, what?”

“He what now?” Satoru snatches your phone up, glaring. “Oh fuck no.”

You’re giggling as he types a mean, nasty ass response to him, then to many others who said anything. “Toru!”

“Don’t ‘Toru’ me, tch, the fuck they think they have a chance? Never.” He has to have the phone physically taken and put up, eyes lit up with anger when you straddle his lap, cupping his face.

“No one can have me, ever.”

“Fuck,” he kisses you then, deep and desperate, the hunger that’s always there ignites, the constant need for him in every fucking way, every position, every rythm, a neverending madness. “Fuck the guitar, wanna put cum in you again.”

“No no, I wanna hear! Please!”

“Don’t you pout at me,” he sighs though. “You’re too cute. Fine, go sit before I fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

“Oh god, maybe not,” he’s chuckling as you slip off, going to grab your wine and sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m ready!”

“All right, it’s the one I played in school, but I’m rusty.” He holds the guitar now, on his lap, a light tan acoustic that his fingers gently begin to strum the frets, and his gaze locks on you. “I wrote that song for you.”

“You composed that song for me? You never told me.” You’re swallowing now, as you scooch closer, a hand on his thigh over the soft pajama pants littered with little white kittens.

Everything in that moment feels so perfect, you never want to leave.

“I never told you, I never sang the words to you,” he’s blushing like the boy he was back then, nervous you can tell, when you reassure him with a nod and smile. “All right then, here it goes.”

Satoru’s melody fills the room, as he starts playing the familiar rhythm, it’s a little off key in places, but you instantly remember it. Remember studying as he played - Satoru was so smart he never studied. You had to try pretty hard for your grades, and he helped you all the time, answering questions as he played that guitar with those long fingers.

You’re suddenly that girl, but also now a woman, both of them sitting and looking at the boy they love, as you now realize it’s meant for you, when his lips form those words. You almost can hardly contain yourself, the longing to stay and the dread of leaving falling back, to just enjoy this moment, in how much you adore him, how much you love this moment.

The words are for you, they’re only for you, spilling from his lips in a soft little husky pitch, and before you can comprehend your tears have spilled across your cheeks in glittery streaks. As Satoru sings the words he only sang on his own, practicing over and over in front of the mirror, too afraid to ever play them, too afraid to sing them out loud.

They mirror the poem in the year book, the mirror everything he’s never said, as he sings about your smile, as he sings about his heart. You’re a mess to the point his fingers falter, but you shake your head. “No, keep going please.”

Satoru finishes the song and he has just enough time to put it aside when you’ve knocked him to the ground, wrapping your arms around him, he chuckles a bit, stroking your back gently. “Would I have gotten this response then?”

“Yes, I  would’ve been your first.” He chuckles again, as you pull back. “I’m such a crybaby.”

“You are… and you are the first that has ever mattered. Okay?” You nod quickly, kissing him again, until he’s hungrily kissing down your body, you’re on your back as he does, your gasps fueling him. “Fucking perfect.”

“Love you, mnh don’t wanna - ah - miss you again,” he exhales, breath tickling your tummy as he leans up, silvery hair falling over his brow. “I don’t want it to ever end.”

“It won’t baby,” he’s kissing lower, spreading your thighs, you’re gasping when his tongue slips up your slit, and he moans. “I never want this taste out of my mouth.”

“Please…” He’s groaning against your hot, eager cunt, tongue swirling and flicking your clit, as two fingers curl in your messy cunt. “Ah! Oh god… mnh!”

He’s devouring your cunt hungrily, losing himself in your wetness pouring, in your taste as he eyes you under those lashes, his long fingers pressing into your hips to drag you closer. He’s working you so good, curling his fingers in your soppy little hole as his mouth latches on your clit, and he sucks the tiny, twitchy nub into his hot and eager mouth.

You’re screaming out, so fucking thankful you can - the quietness of playing in your childhood houses did not do his sexy moans or your cries justice. You’re closer and closer, feeling the coil tighten and then release, until the pleasure shoots through your body, and you’re convulsing around his thick fingers, clear arousal pouring into his mouth which he slurps up, fucking obscene.

“That’s it, make me a mess baby,” he’s dragging you back against his mouth, lapping every drop up as more starts dripping, then leaning up and slamming your thighs to your chest, pressing you into the floor. “Can’t make it to the bed.”

“Then fuck me on the floor, ah!”

Satoru needs no more invitation, he’s hastily tugged those pajamas down, precum dripping on your pretty cunt as he slips his tip between your folds, feeling how fucking perfect you are. He doesn’t give it inch by inch, no he bottoms out in one thrust, making you so full so fast, you’re screaming out, fingers gripping the plush carpet underneath.

“Mnh, it’s so much!”

“Take it f’me, all my cum hmm? Gonna fill you so much…” you’re cumming so quick it’d be embarassing if he didn’t love it, if he wasn’t lifting your thighs and fucking into you deeper, harder, strokes mean and messy, loud with the slapping of his skin against yours. “Perfect, fuck you’re perfect.”

“Toru! Please,” you don’t even know what the fuck you’re begging for, until he finds your clit, hugging your legs with his other arm, and you’re shattering underneath him again. “Ngh, there, yes please! L-love you!”

“I fucking love you, I’ll love you round with me, huh?” You nod eagerly, your cunt greedy as she milks him when he does bust after fucking you harder, faster, until you’re both broken. You’re cumming from his hot white ropes filling you. He’s cursing stuttering as his weight presses on you, heavy and so perfect, smushing your thighs up even higher, until he’s slamming his cum against your cervix.

“Want it, want it all.” He’s moaning, pulling out and watching your little hole twitch and wink at him, as white milky cum pours out.

“Wasting it, tsk,” he fingers it right back inside you, smirking at you with dilated eyes when you’re wriggling under him, cunt so sensitive. “Don’t you want it all?”

“All of it. Mmm, I can take it.” He’s inside you again and again, it’s like the two of you can’t stop, until you’re so sore it’s hard to move, and he’s hugging you against him in the bed.

“Don’t ever go, please.” He’s pouting against your neck, you’re so fucked out it’s hard to think, you look back at him, and he caresses your face.

“I will try to see if I can start to… figure out what to do. But Satoru, I don’t know if I fit in here?”

“You will, god everyone thought you were a star,” you’re smiling shyly, sleepy eyes dozing off, while he presses little kisses on your head. “It’ll be so lonely if you go please…”

“Toru…” You’re kissing him again, turning until you’re facing him, and he tugs you against him closely, sighing shakily.

“I shouldn’t put so much pressure.”

“No, no, I don’t want to be lonely without you either,” you’re kissing him gently, feeling sleep tug at you as the desire to stay awake and be with him every second you can fights it. “We will figure something out. I know it.”

“We will. I’ll lock you in chains to the bed-”

“Wait now.”

He’s smiling abashedly, but your eyes narrow. “You think I really would!?”

“I don’t know, you look devious!” He’s tickling you then, it’s all too perfect, every bit of this night, as the two of you try to be in the moment, but also dread the moment you’ll have to part, wondering just how the fuck you’ll make it work.

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[rafayelspearldrop]

Brooklyn Baby

art in the banner is by @e0308r on X

pairings - dad's best friend! Satoru x F! reader

summary - you've got the opportunity of a lifetime for an audition for Julliard, your dream, but there's just one problem, the hotel in New York has booked your room and has nothing available. Good news, your dad's best friend Satoru Gojo shows up and offers you to stay in his suite since he's in town on business. But there's two big problems - one, you've wanted him since you can remember, and two, he can't stand how fucking pretty you are. He can't want you - and nothing can come from it - imagine what your dad Suguru would do if anything ever happened between you!? So nothing will happen - right?

warnings- MDNI- taboo tropes, age gap (Satoru is 41, reader is 22) reader is Suguru's daughter, forbidden relationships, obsessive Satoru, mutual pining, sexual tension, explicit smut and light angst- this chap - masturbation (Satoru) a fuck ton of tension, reader having a lifelong crush on him, mentions of past relationships, self loathing as they both want each other, drinking and kissing -WC- 8.3k

This will be three parts! comments/rbs appreciated if you enjoy!

part two>>> (coming soon)

part one

Satoru Gojo has never had his cock twitch from just looking at someone's back, not even your ass - though fuck that was nice - but something about the bare back in the slinky little dress was fucking him mentally. The gentle curve of your spine, a little birth mark along your shoulder blades has him - a man who's in his early forties and very experienced - leaking precum.

The fuck was that?

He clears his mind, blinking a bit then, he's checking into his favorite suite as he does every couple of months for various business events that he has to attend. Running the Gojo corporation is a never ending list of bullshit he's got to do, and events and speeches were just one of the many.

He sighs as he takes in the immaculate bustling lobby, trying to divert his attention from this girl's back and look like some creep when he's literally Satoru Gojo. He brushes his silken white locks back, walking up to the tall counter then with an easy smile, as the three receptionists rush to him, and leave the girl with the pretty spine behind.

"I can wait my turn, no worries ladies." He winks and they all swoon, and when you hear that voice, you know it's him.

"Gojo?" Satoru blinks at the familiar voice, turning to his side to look down at -

Suguru Geto's only daughter.

Fuck.

He swallows just a bit nervous, how does he explain he just leaked pre looking at his best friend's daughter's spine exactly!? About the ways he would have to explain how your instagram photos haunt him at night, and how he can't help but have glimpses of you in your bikini when he cums.

There's a big reason he's avoided Suguru as of late, and that's because he can't handle how beautiful you are - it's like you fucking just do something, and he refuses to accept it or acknowledge it consciously. Now you're smiling up at him, before you come over and hug him tightly around the waist, your breasts pressed against him.

It takes everything not to either shove you off or give in and pick you up and prop you right on this fucking counter. It's some miracle he just pats your back instead - your bare pretty back that he shouldn't touch because it makes it worse.

"Hey sweetheart, what're you doing in town?" He manages to act normal, putting on an easy smile as he sees now your eyes glimmering with tears. "What's wrong?"

"They gave my room away, and I have the audition for Julliard this week! Everything is booked except shit way out of my price range. I don't wanna bug dad about it." He sighs then, remembering Suguru telling him about your opportunity, he'd been so proud every time he watched you play piano.

It's originally why he followed your IG, but whatever happened your junior year of college made you start posting those damn pictures in your bikini or slutty little outfits. He shoves that all back, focusing on your worry, and then eyes one of the receptionists, backing away from you just a bit.

Not like your scent hasn't already filled his senses.

You're important to him, just like Suguru is, and he'll not let his dumb fucking thoughts ruin your opportunities. "Surely there's a room available, I'll pay."

"You can't do that! It's too much." You're a flustered mess, as he flashes that pretty smile of his that makes your tummy clench.

"It's nothing," he pats your head and smiles down at you, and you try to ignore just how fucking good Satoru Gojo looks then. Try to ignore his cologne in your senses, ignore how the man just gets more attractive every fucking year, a little crinkle on the sides of each eye the only lines on his face.

You have been trying to ignore your crush on your dad's best friend for as long as you can remember - fuck they're so close too, and you hoped it was some childhood idolization. But as a twenty two year old woman, it's as bad as fucking day one - worse maybe, when you study the way his hands move as he speaks, long fingers that give you the worst thoughts you wish would go away.

"Nothing at all open but the presidential suite you said?" He asks softly, you're still too close to him, fucking up his senses, as the receptionist frowns, clacking away at her keyboard.

"They just booked the last one online, Mr. Gojo."

"Shit, then..." He eyes you, blue eyes glinting as he takes in your distraught, pretty little face.

He can compose himself, can't he, hasn't he always?

"She'll stay with me, give her a key card," you hug him once more, he's chuckling and pecking a kiss on your head. "You're clingy still, remember you always were."

"Maybe, oh Gojo, thank you! I didn't wanna have to ask dad for money..." You're independent, Satoru loves that about you, Suguru is well to do - not rich like Satoru, but well off. But he's mentioned you never ask for a thing.

"No worries, the room is huge, we won't even be near each other much." He's pressing the button to the elevator soon once you all get checked in, and the silver automatic doors close, leaving you two alone, nothing but the soft sounds of your breaths and stupid elevator music.

And there's just one problem.

Satoru Gojo can't help but picture pressing you against those elevator walls, sinking to his knees and slipping up your slutty black dress, the one where he can so clearly see your breasts rise and fall, a nipple daring to slip out. Can't help but picture fucking you better than surely any of your dumb little college boys could.

He can't think that way.

He hastily tugs off his jacket, laying it over your shoulders as the elevator dings on each floor.

"Thanks, it's a little chilly." You say softly, tugging his jacket close on you, he exhales in a mix of relief and hot desire at how good you look in his armani suit jacket. "You're a life saver, really."

"It's nothing, kid."

"Kid! I'm not a kid." Your pout earns his chuckle, the two of you walk through the halls, decked with cream colored walls and fancy paintings, it's fancier than even you were used to. He presses the card against the hotel door and it opens, and that's when you both realize just how alone you were.

Satoru had been a part of your life for all you can remember, him and your dad would go off on the silliest adventures, and your dad’s other best friend Shoko would watch you at times. You don’t remember your mom that much anymore, she has been gone since you were young, and Satoru and Suguru had always been inseparable, especially since she left.

Satoru had taught you how to swim, Suguru had taught you how to shoot a gun, Satoru taught you how to throw a ball into a hoop, and Suguru taught you how to hit one with a bat. Every time he came to visit during the summers, you’d be so excited, he always had some new gift and an easy smile.

Until you got older.

You remember the first time he brought over one of his girlfriends, she was beautiful, and you’d still been young, hopelessly staring in the mirror at yourself after, wondering if you’d ever be pretty like that. And when he came for your high school graduation with another girl on his arm, when he told you that you looked beautiful and bought you the necklace you still wear today?

You’d been insanely jealous.

You try to explain it away as being eighteen, you were still a baby then, and the crush had been raging. So badly you found yourself comparing every boy you dated to the man Satoru was, and every single one fell hopelessly short. You both get settled, taking in the opulent surroundings, it’s surely big enough he’s right, there’s an entire other room, a kitchen, spacious furniture and beds.

Satoru sets down the luggage, as he eyes you in his suit, and you start taking some of your things out. It’s quiet, the sense of unease filling the two of you as you both busy yourselves, little friendly smiles are the only passages between you as you two live in your own minds.

“You can take a shower first,” he offers softly a bit later, slipping that tie down just a bit to loosen it, and then rolling up his sleeves, revealing those muscled forearms, light blue veins wrapping up them from his wrists. Your mouth goes dry as you look at them, while he slips off his silver rolex, smiling at you a bit. “Do you want me to hog all the hot water instead?”

“Huh? Oh…” you blink a bit, it’s not like you’ve never been with anyone, never seen a man naked, but Satoru’s forearms were taking you the fuck out.

He is effortless with his little movements, he must do this almost every day, freeing himself from the confines of his perfect facade, the buttoned up business man who you’ve never seen in the same suit twice. You’re sure he wears them again, it’s just you haven’t seen him enough to have ever caught it, the only thing you’ve noticed is he wears the same cufflinks.

The ones you saved to buy him when you were in high school, storing up all your extra funds where you worked as a waitress to purchase them for his birthday. You eye them now as you still hold the jacket close, fingers brushing along the bright blue sapphire of one of them. You’d walked by a jeweler in the mall with your friends and thought they matched just one shade of his eyes.

“You still wear these?” You ask softly, his attention goes to your little fingers brushing over the gem carefully, and he nods a bit. “Why? Aren’t they kind of not up to your… standard?”

“They’re my favorite, and they weren’t cheap either,” he walks up then, touching the other one, his nearness fucking your senses. “I remember you buying them, I think it was my thirty-sixth birthday. I was having some existential crisis and they really cheered me up.”

“You, a crisis? No way,” he hums a bit, gently tugging the cuff links out now, one by one, setting them next to his Rolex on a little black glass tray he’d brought along with him, the lights catch them and make them glimmer prismatically. “You were young though, still are.”

“Yeah no, I’ll be forty one in December, yuck.” You laugh with him, shaking your head then.

“That is not ‘yuck’ or old, you and dad are super young. Dad was always like the youngest at any parent event, shit usually the only dad altogether. I remember him going to Moms and Muffins.”

“Yes, you put bows in his hair, he showed me.” You both laugh then, Satoru stands against the dresser, his mind racing then.

He can’t want you like this, and it has to stop, the way he keeps thinking of having you naked and his jacket splayed under you, if you could stop looking at him like that!? Your lips parted, your pretty eyes lidded, making him tortured by the thoughts of fucking you so good they roll back, so good you drool. He’s clenching his hands into fists at the thought, almost twenty years between you.

Maybe if he keeps saying the number, it’ll fucking matter, the fact that he’s never even been with a girl ten years younger, Satoru just wasn’t a man to do that. He enjoyed intellect, experience, someone who got his references and shitty jokes - but the problem was you did check all those boxes. You’ve been kicking his ass at chess since he could remember, you laughed at all his dumb jokes.

You were a brilliant girl with your life ahead of you, you’re right, he’s not ‘old’ but he just is ‘older’ than you. Having already had a divorce and two broken engagements, he also was tired of trying, he’d settled on some regular girls for sex and focused on business fully now. Something a young Satoru who hated his parents and the Gojo name altogether would gasp at.

“You’re not old, you look my age you know.” You break his thoughts up, he chuckles a bit at that, before sucking in a breath, when you walk closer, slipping his jacket off to hand it to him.

“Yeah, genetics and Korean skincare products.” You giggle, as he keeps his eyes affixed on your face, not the strap that’s fallen down the gentle slope of your shoulder, he takes the jacket instead, your fingers brushing against each other for the briefest moment.

“Well, they work, I don’t think you’ve ever changed. I hope I look super hot when I’m your age.”

“You will, you already are beautiful…” He trails off, your eyes meet then, as he realizes what he said, and the tone he said it. He smiles to break the tension. “Thank god you don’t look like your dad.”

“Oh whatever! He’s pretty, you know.”

“Psh, okay.” He rolls his blue eyes, and you both laugh then.

“Thank you, that’s nice of you Satoru.” When you say his first name it’s like testing it, you’ve always called him Gojo, aside from when you made him birthday cards, and you’d write Satoru on them.

“Not being nice, you know you’re a gorgeous girl.” He’s clearing his throat now, looking away as he hangs his jacket up, next to the other suits he’d brought, smoothing it out.

“It’s kinda nice to hear from the Satoru Gojo.”

“Uh huh, flattery will get you everywhere.” He pats your head then, ruffling up your hair, you blow a thick strand off your brow. “You go take a shower.”

“Yeah, thank you again.” You smile and head into the bathroom, finally leaving Satoru to exhale in relief after he glimpses your back again, like pure torture, he’s curious just how the fuck he’ll handle a week alone with you.

Hopefully a room would open up or something by then.

The sounds of hot water pounding on the tiles below fills the room now, mixed with some light singing echoing from the bathroom, he can’t help but smile a bit at how pretty your voice is. If anyone should get into Julliard, it’s surely you, talented and just a natural at everything, the sound fills the room and ignites something in him he’d rather not think of.

Comfy, homey, it’s how you make him feel, and maybe that’s worse than wanting to bend you over the bed, worse than wanting to lift you and slip you against that shower wall. Much, much scarier than the thoughts of filling you up with so much cum your tummy is full of him, watching his fucking cock bulge that tummy as he’d make sure your cunt was ruined for anyone.

No, homey and comfy were worse by far, they were things he absolutely never thought before, even during his marriage - and what a disaster that was. Women all wanted him for his looks, his money, what he could do for them, but no one really knew him deep down, just the facade he’s tired of putting on.

Picturing you naked in the shower is his fucking downfall, picturing your pretty body with water dripping down it, his cock is hard by the mental images, he scowls down at it. He’s just in his slacks now, putting up his dress shirt, luckily this suite always had good hot water and pressure, it’s why it was one of his favorites, and he could surely use a shower.

Jerk off in there to act normal.

He’s like some pathetic teenager around you rather than a grown man, and it irritates him to no end. He hears your singing stop after a bit, as he is typing some notes for tomorrow’s presentation on his laptop, slipping on his glasses to see the screen just a little better, when he sees you from the corner of his eye, wrapped in a soft terry cloth towel.

He almost whimpers at the sight, clenching his teeth together to focus on the screen as you walk out. “Okay I feel a million times better.”

He looks up then, and it’s his downfall, as he has to see the way the towel is tied right at your breasts, pushed up and glistening, skin dewy and flushed from the shower, making him want to kiss every inch. “I bet, the plane ride was a long one.”

“It was, for sure, and then to get a ride to the hotel was hard, I’m not used to a city this big,” you’re adorable with your little pout, your own gaze taking in his bare chest then, like a caress. “I failed my drivers test again by the way.”

“Again? Shit,” he’s snorting in laughter, even as you cross your arms and glare just a bit, you play along with the motions, but your gaze can’t rip itself away from his chiseled body. “Do I gotta teach you?”

“Do you drive anywhere, Gojo?”

“Hush.” You giggle at his own glare, he looks too fucking hot in those glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his body shifting a bit to face you now.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless constantly, Satoru had helped you swim after all, and Gojo and your dad were always taking you to the beach. You’d always known how perfect he was, sculpted within an inch of his life, lean defined muscles that begged for your fingertips to brush across them, lines and shadows cast as the bathroom light filters into the now dim room.

You wish you felt bad about how badly you want him, but you only feel bad it can never happen, feel bad he couldn’t have been your first, like you’d dreamed over and over, until you knew it couldn’t happen. It wasn’t like Gojo ever saw you that way, the times you think he looked at you as more than a ‘kid’ you feel it was just your imagination.

You feel this man could fuck, you just feel it.

But no, stuck with losers who couldn’t care less if you cum - in fact, the last guy you fucked asked if you did after not touching you more than a minute and cumming pathetically quick in a condom. You’d smiled and said ‘of course’, making him grin and kiss you all happy, and that’s about the time you just gave up on ever liking sex either, too far in your fucking delusions.

It wasn’t a healthy desire, or okay, but usually with Gojo not seeing you much, and you having moved out of your dad’s, it was better. It was just elusive memories and fantasies that you could lose sight of, you could focus on school and your music, focus on your dream — but part of you wanted him in the front row.

“You’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t dry your hair,” he teases, standing then, you watch how his muscles flex as he moves, with ease, his long legs making strides so close to you now, when he touches your damp strands with a sigh. “Wasn’t there a blow dryer in there?”

“There is, but I needed to grab some clothes first- ah!” Your towel threatens to fall then, you gasp, but Satoru’s got it bunched together in a fist quicker than you can blink, bringing you right against him.

The only sounds in that moment are your breaths, and your heart pounding in your ears, when your eyes lock together, and you see the way they dilate, almost black in that moment. Your own hand comes over his balled fist, when he leans down, and for some insane fucking moment you picture it - a kiss from him, from Satoru Gojo, his glossy lips and how they’d feel.

Something you wrote about in endless diaries, it can never happen, it would never happen, he’s making sure you’re not naked if anything, you have to remember it, have to hold back. You smile nervously then, hoping the shower will explain away the flush of your cheeks in front of him, as you take the towel from his hold, holding it together now.

“Thanks, I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s fine,” his voice is darker, huskier than you’ve ever heard it, making your thighs press together, still slick from the water, in need. “I’ll go take one now.”

“Yes,” he stomps away quickly, leaving you to catch your breath, looking in the mirror over the dresser at how badly his nearness affected you. Your own eyes are so dilated you can’t see your iris anymore.

Soon, Satoru’s leaning against the tile wall, stroking his cock in the hot shower, his eyes fluttering shut in a mix of self loathing and need. He has had you pop up in his mind the past couple years, when he’s hitting a girl from the back with your hair color, when he’s fucking one in a spoon position, and her tits are about your size, he’s shoved them all away though.

He’s never jerked off to you specifically, but there’s no denying it, he’s jerking his thick, veiny cock to his best friend’s daughter in the other room. He feels filthy, as filthy as the sick thoughts he has, of making sure he fucked you so good you’d never even look at one of your stupid college boys again. Showing you what cumming really is, because he’s sure no one has done it right.

You’d be so pretty full of him, leaking his cum for him to shove it back inside your cunt, fuck he’d stock up on plan bs if he could do it every night, if he could watch it pour from your perfect pussy. He hasn’t even seen it, but he just knows it’s as beautiful as the rest of you is, god even your thighs in that towel had him leaking more pre, so hard it hurts.

His tip, usually a blushing pink, is now a mean red with how badly it’s been stuck in this fucking state, he hisses a bit as he runs his fingers along it. He’s picturing it all, that towel falling at your feet, and him slipping his hands across that dewy skin, sucking on that delicate neck he’d like his hand around. It’s pathetic, really, he is better than this surely, but he can’t not touch it.

He’s jerking it faster, fisting his long, curved cock, when the fucking door opens, and he tenses, glaring into the shower curtain that thankfully covered him. “I forgot my phone in here, sorry Gojo.”

“Ah, no, it’s f-fine…” he’s sick, he’s sure of it, jerking it even while you’re in there, in fact knowing you’re there has him feeling closer to cumming, hoping you don’t notice the sounds of his fist on his cock.

“Is there still hot water?” You tease, swiping a little bit of the condensation left on your phone with a towel, already wearing your little shorts and a crop top.

“Yeah, plenty, you didn’t hog too much.”

“See!”

“You left strands of your hair on the wall though.”

“Shit, it fell out!” He laughs softly, as if he’s not still stroking it, and you sigh a little bit then. “All right, I’ll leave you to it.”

Why do you fucking think of offering to jump right back in there? Why do you hesitate, wondering just how perfect he looks under that spray? You shut the door gently with a click that echoes, resting your back against it and shutting your eyes, sighing.

You’re already so stressed about the Julliard audition, the last thing you need is this pounding in your head, an impossible fantasy.

When you’re snuggled up in the main bed out in the entryway, Satoru comes out with a towel slung on his hips to grab his clothes, you can’t help but eye the white happy trail, the little v cuts on either side of his hips begging for your tongue on them. You tug your blanket up a little bit, avoiding the sight of the tenting in his towel, and how badly you’re curious about it.

“Feel better?” You tease, he smiles and nods a bit, grabbing his boxers then, hesitating as he realizes he didn’t bring shit else to sleep in.

“Much better.” He’s gone back to the bathroom, you’re exhaling and leaned back, head on the plush leather headboard, fingers tapping in the rhythm you’ll practice tomorrow, focusing.

He finds you like that when he’s back out, sitting down on one of the chairs to tap back at his keyboard once more, and your lips are pursed, fingers tapping along the red silk comforters. You’re beautiful like that, lost in your own world, surely composing some masterpiece only you can hear, a beauty that tugs at his chest.

It’d be one thing if you were just hot, but to be truly beautiful seemed one of life's meanest jokes to him.

Your phone rings, your eyes open and you catch sight of him. “Shit, you saw me like that?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, ya gonna get that?” You look at your phone on the nightstand, tugging off the covers just to make him hard again.

Do you wear clothes!? Or just scraps?

“It’s dad!” You’re giggling, picking up the phone, legs dangling high off the floor as he tries not to imagine slipping his fingers across them. “Hey dad!”

“Hey sweetie, you didn’t check in with me, how’s my girl?” Your dads voice instantly makes you miss him, you two are as close as you can be, and you wish he could be here, but he’s out of the country stuck right now because of some stupid customs issue with a pet he and his new girlfriend bought.

She was actually cool as fuck, but you don’t know if your dad really will ever get over mom, though you’d love to see him happy.

“Wishing you were here,” you say, hearing him sigh over the phone.

“I know, shit, I think we should be able to fly out in the next couple days but I’ll miss the audition for sure.”

“Ugh! I’m okay though, actually… Satoru is here.”

“Satoru? Shit, put me on speaker,” you bounce up then, making your tits jiggle as you hop down, Satoru almost chokes when you run up and stand right next to him, popping on the speaker. “He’s here!”

“Satoru, what’re you doing there?” Suguru’s voice is friendly, relieved even. Thank god he can’t sense the dumb fucking thoughts in his head.

“I was actually staying here for business, when the hotel booked her room, so I offered her to just stay in the suite with me.”

“He saved me!”

“Psh.” He’s chuckling as you smile, leaning across his table a bit, tank top slipping off your fucking shoulder, as if the straps were mocking him.

He sure couldn’t stare at your tits while he talks to your dad!?

“Thank you, Satoru, I feel so much better that you’re there with her,” he almost laughs at that, because he sure the fuck wouldn’t want himself around, with what’s brewing in his mind. “I worried about her alone in the city.”

“Dad, I'm a big girl now, you know.” You’re pouting too fucking cute, Satoru can’t drag his mind off your plush lips for a moment as Suguru speaks.

“You’re still my little girl, anyway I am glad it worked out. By the time I even get back you’ll be in Julliard!”

“You have too much faith in me,” your voice is quiet now, and Satoru puts his hand over yours, smiling at you, earning your little smile back.

“She’ll kill it.”

“Exactly, see we both believe in you.” You tear up a bit, sniffling now, it’s been months since you saw either of them.

“I miss you so much.”

“Aw, me too baby, I’ll be home soon okay?” You sniffle as Satoru caresses the back of your hand. “Take good care of her for me, Satoru.”

“I will.” You hang up the phone then, the exhaustion of the flight and your self doubt creeping in, Satoru tugs you close then, hugging you gently as you’re between his thighs, and your arms wrap his neck.

“Hey, hey, you’ll do great. He’ll be back soon,” you’re taking several breaths, burying your face against his neck as the tears fall, and his big hand splays the small of your back, so warm and soothing. “It’s okay.”

“I missed you too.” You say it softly, like a secret, making Satoru pause, his hand still gently running up and down your back.

“Missed me, why?” You just shake your head, hugging him tighter, as his blood rushes to places he wishes it fucking wouldn’t. “Miss me teasing you?”

“Maybe I do,” you pull back, and Satoru swipes your tears, streaking down your pretty cheeks. “You haven’t visited in a long time.”

“Yeah, I know…” He can’t admit why, he eyes your tears still falling, your glassy eyes, it’s too intimate then, too close, your lips a breath away. “I guess work got the best of me, and my nasty break up.”

“She was a bitch.” He snorts in laughter then, swiping more tears as you stand there between his long legs, like you belong there. “I didn’t like her.”

“You didn’t, huh? She was pretty bitchy, it took a lot for me to get her out of the house. I think I considered an exterminator.” You both laugh then, before he realizes he’s still cupping your face. “Why didn’t you like her? She played nice pretty well to others.”

“She wasn’t in love with you enough,” he pauses at your observation, tilting his head, the lights catch the lavender hue on his hair that falls over his brow, still a little damp, the scent of shampoo filling your nostrils. “She didn’t look at you enough, notice you enough. So I decided I didn’t like her.”

“I see, you’re pretty observant huh?” You shrug a shoulder, hand on his wrist now, your thumb brushing over the veins that dance along it. “She wasn’t in love with me, more the idea of being a Gojo I suppose.”

“Well I’m glad she’s gone. I haven’t liked any of your girlfriends.” He laughs now, but you’re dead serious.

“None of them? Now that’s silly, some of them weren’t that bad.”

“Hmm, nope they all sucked.” He’s laughing harder, his hands finally falling, but one of them remains in yours, he looks down at it then, at how small your hand is compared to his. “You deserve someone that really loves you.”

“Yeah, well, I think I give up.”

“What now?”

“Yeah, I’m ancient.”

“Shut up!” You shove at him, he’s chuckling more but you’re very serious. “Stop saying that. I won’t be old at forty.”

“No, you won’t be able to drive then either.”

“Excuse me!?” He’s grinning as you smack playfully, until you smile and sniffle a bit. “You’re such a jerk!”

“Thought I deserve all this love, what now?” His hands found their way to your hips, as he leans forward, before he can think about it, and you suck in your breath, your heart hammering as he pulls back, realizing how natural it felt.

“You do, but you also deserve a few smacks.” You stop his hands before they leave your waist, and he stares right at them, before the gaze drifts to your nipples, glaringly apparent in your top. “Satoru…”

“You should get some sleep,” he barely manages to speak, standing then, towering over you. Your head falls back when he brushes a strand back behind your ear, leaning over to press a friendly kiss on your head, the one that you’d die if it slipped lower. “I’ll have a car ready to bring you in the morning, okay?”

“You’re the best, Satoru, thank you.”

You keep saying it - Satoru - like you’re testing it on your tongue, and it’s never ending hell to hear it, but he plasters on a smile, patting your head like he always does and walking into the room off to the side. Thankful for the privacy and distance, he shuts the heavy cream door and rests his head against it.

He can barely handle looking at you, inhaling your scent, feeling your skin against him, but you saying he deserved love fucked him up completely. He swallows that down, grabbing a water out of the little fridge in there, swallowing it in needy gulps, before finally laying in the bed, forcing himself to fall asleep.

*****

“Good morning, sweets,” Satoru’s bright and cheery as he comes inside the room with two bags full of donuts, muffins and treats, along with two cups of coffee in a carrier. He’s already fully dressed in his suit, looking like a million bucks, so pretty with his smile as bright light filters in the floor to ceiling windows. “You need to eat.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” You yawn and stand, stretching just a bit, when he sees your tit is precariously close to falling out. He flushes and averts his eyes, when you bounce over to him. “You’re so sweet!”

“It’s nothing, all included. You need something in your system so you don’t get shaky,” his thoughtfulness chokes you up for a moment, you just stare at him with a muffin hovering in your hand. “Want a different flavor? I can go grab more.”

“No, no it’s… you remember me getting shaky?”

“Yeah, you were shaking insane at that pool party last year because you were silly and didn’t eat, knowing we were out in the sun all day.” He taps your nose, as you giggle and peel the wrapper. “Bad girl.”

Jesus fuck, does he not know what that does!?

You stare at him, he’s smirking just a bit like maybe he does fucking know, but then he gets to sipping on his sweet coffee, sighing as it hits his tastebuds. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember a lot of shit I guess,” he shrugs a broad shoulder, taking a donut and starting to devour the sweets, you can’t help but smile as you nibble on your muffin, and he’s sucking on his thumb to lap up icing. “What is it, brat?”

“Brat!? Hey now,” he’s licking his other finger, your body responds almost violently at the sight, picturing the most obscene fucking things. Like him licking you off him instead. You hastily look away, blushing, god is that all you do around this man now? “No, just how you keep that body perfect and eat more than Goku.”

“No one eats more than Goku,” you giggle again at that, as he laughs softly, now tearing into a chocolate chip muffin. “Genetics and working out I guess.”

“You have won the gene pool, this will go to my hips.”

“Nice hips,” he trails off then, clearing his throat, and your tummy clenches as his eyes dart across your body. “I mean to say… you can eat a muffin, you look great, okay?”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You smile and do just that, taking another bite, as the tension in the suite grows with every fucking breath, until you can’t breathe, not with how he looked at you just now.

It has to be your fantasy brain again, he was probably being nice, he’s always been supportive and sweet, someone you could come to. It’s you who is the problem, who can’t stop thinking of fucking your dad’s best friend, something he would never forgive either of you for. Something that will never happen.

You have a huge opportunity, you have to focus.

“Tell me you brought something like… not as… revealing for this? Or do I need to buy you an outfit?” You laugh a bit then, and his thin brows lower. “I’m serious.”

“Are you saying I dress slutty!?”

“What!? No… just very revealing.”

“Maybe you are old.”

“What now!?” You’re biting your lip to stop laughing as he stands up, and you find your back pressed against the table, his arms on either side of you. “Do I look old to you?”

“No, you’re the one that says it silly! You’re old fashioned.” You shove at his chest and he smirks a bit.

“I am not old fashioned, but you do have something professional, yes? I don’t mind taking you shopping.”

The visions flash then, shopping with Satoru, on his fucking arm, god it’s too much, you look down a bit nervously, at his neck, the tie just a bit askew. You fix it carefully, watching his adam’s apple bob up and down. “I have something professional, I’ll put it on and show you.”

He eases back and you come out a few minutes later, a pretty white dress shirt and a cute little bow tie, along with a black little skirt and suspenders, you look fucking adorable. He can’t help but melt a bit as he sees you do a little twirl, black tights and pretty black heels finishing it off.

“Now that’s perfect, you look…” Beautiful, fucking beautiful. “You look like you’re going to nail this.”

“Yay! Thank you!” You kiss his cheek and smile against it, on your tiptoes, a hand over his jacket, burning his skin. “I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be, you’re going to do amazing. Are you ready to get going? I have to leave a little early for this meeting and the traffic is terrible here.”

“I’m ready!”

Satoru’s in the back with you on his phone, talking to this person and then that person, negotiating a multi million dollar deal while you’re tapping your fingers, an ear bud in with the three songs on rotation that you’ll be performing. You keep tapping them, shutting your eyes, lips murmuring the notes silently. You don’t realize your thigh is shaking until his huge hand covers it.

“You’re a nervous wreck,” his fingers press gently right above your knee, you’re taking several breaths, eyes locking with his as the car stalls through the heavy traffic, slowing to a crawl. “How much are you gonna jiggle it?”

“A lot,” he’s rolling his eyes now, hand falling off, and you instantly miss its warmth, its presence. “I’m gonna fail it.”

“Don’t go in with that attitude, stop that.” He frowns at you, eyes hiding behind those dark shades, just a hint of blue shimmering as they slip down his straight nose a bit. “You’ll do great.”

“Right…”

You wish Satoru was right.

You’re so nervous, so stuck on your insane desires and thoughts, that you keep missing keys you would never. You’re such a fucking mess, every time you hit a sharp key the sickness sinks in deeper, until you’re fucking it all up. You try to save face, the judges are shocked considering all the references on your lists, all the videos that have gone viral of you.

You can’t perform for shit today, and you’re shaking and sobbing by the end of it, heart sinking as you realize what has happened. Instead of waiting for Satoru, you’re walking blocks until you find the nearest bar, and drinking until you’re a mess, all while you picture the disappointment.

All your life living for this dream, for what. What was any of it for?

A few guys are hitting on you as you sit alone at the bar, you let them buy you drinks, but you don’t speak to them, hardly notice as one of them whispers something in your ear and hands you his info, as another touches your back. You barely remember texting Satoru where you are later on, when he was heading to get you from his meeting.

He’s furious when he does walk into the bar, it’s filled with college people probably partying for the summer, he walks through hoards of them when he sees you, two men on either side of you as you down a shot. You’re not smiling or enjoying yourself, he feels the upset from across the bar, your shoulders slumped when one of them dares to touch your back.

He loses any control he’s had, losing it all for the frustration you’ve just put him through, an enigmatic - ‘i’m getting drunk’ and nothing the fuck else at five pm. He’s stomping right over, clearing his throat and getting the two men’s attention, both trying to shoot their shot at a girl who shouldn’t give them the time of fucking day.

He says your name, and you turn to him, skin flushed and eyes glassy, clearly drunk as fuck. He just hopes you had the good sense to only take drinks from the bartender rather than these creeps, as he snatches you right off the barstool, and you almost lose your balance.

“Who’s this, baby?” One asks, Satoru narrows his eyes at the fuck boy.

“It’s Satoru,” you’re hiccuping then, swaying even though you’re not even moving, about to fall if he doesn’t catch you. “Satoru Gojo.”

“Come have another, we can hit a party,” the other says, and you just bury your face against Satoru’s chest, as he carefully holds you.

“She’s going home.” Satoru’s words ring through your drunk ass brain, he lays a tip for you on the table, snatching up your bag and wrapping an arm around your waist, leading you out into the cool night air.

You’re sobbing when he gets to the sidewalk, concerning him to no fucking end, the sun is setting as he guides you gently into the back of the sleek black car, isntantly grabbing a bottle of water from the cooler installed. He twists it open and tilts your chin up gently.

“Drink some water, yeah?” You shake your head, and he scowls. “I said drink some fucking water.”

“Okay, dad.”

“I’m not your fucking dad,” his voice is clipped and harsh then, your eyes try to focus on his angry, handsome face, he swirls just a bit as you let him put the water to your lips. “Drink.”

You do as he says, swallowing greedily then, body craving anything other than the endless shots you’ve just fed it - nothing but a muffin this morning in your body to soak it up. He sighs as he eyes you, unreadable in his gaze, slipping a thumb over your chin as a little bit falls along your chin, before snapping the cap back on.

“Celebrating like this is dangerous, you could have been taken advantage of by those douche bags.”

“Celebrating!” You’re laughing then, until you’re crying, a whole fucking mess as he watches you, swallowing the tightness in his throat. Celebrating, what a joke that was, he looks at you in concern, brows lowering now, the sky is dimming outside, darkening the seat as you try to breathe, try to focus.

“Will you just tell me what’s wrong, what’s going on?” He asks quietly, you sigh then, looking at him, as he gently cups your face.

“I fucking failed, Satoru.”

“What now!?”

“I fucked up, I ruined it.” You’re sobbing again, he holds you against him, as your hands ball his jacket into your fists, tears soaking the expensive material, he exhales and shakes his head. “I did, I did all of this to just fuck it up, dad’s gonna be so d-dissapointed… and you are…”

“Fuck this, I’ll go demand a redo.”

“You can’t!” You pull back and look up at him, the alcohol warming your body, spreading as he’s right near you. “Satoru they will never.”

“The fuck they won’t, you’ve never seen me negotiate shit, have you?” He raises a brow, you swipe at your tears, lip trembling.

“You can’t just fix it for me.”

“I can give you another chance, okay? I’ll meet with them tomorrow, you’ll find I can be very convincing, yeah?” You sigh then, nodding as he brushes back some of your hair. “You’re a mess, ya know?”

“I know.” He frowns contemplatively, as you lean closer, he can taste the liquor on your breath, as your eyes dart to his lips, and the tension coils in your tummy. “You think you can really talk to them?”

“Of course I can, but you better be ready this time. I’ll come watch you, would that help?” You nod then, so quickly it makes you just a little dizzy. “All right then, just let me work my magic.”

You love him.

Fuck you almost say it, the alcohol threatening to loosen your tongue, but you swallow instead, a hand on his chest, and his own eyes lower, snowy lashes casting shadows over those baby blues, the proximity making you both heat up in that moment. He pulls back just a bit, realizing how precarious the moment is, he needs to comfort you, not fucking kiss you, or worse.

Especially drunk off your ass.

“You need more water-” You’ve pressed your lips on his before he can finish his sentence, too far gone to hold back, to stop the motion, pulling back just a bit to look up at him.

He says nothing, eyes wide, and you would apologize if you cared enough to, if you felt bad enough about it, but in that moment it’s all you want, to kiss him, even if it’s only once. You lean back a bit, you want to form the apology you don’t mean on your lips, form it into words, as it’s so silent in the back of that car, all you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears.

“Sorry,” he scoffs then, eyes narrowing, hand slipping into the nape of your neck, tugging your hair just enough to make your head fall back.

“You’re not sorry, are you?” You smile, you can’t help it, you’re too drunk to lie to him.

“Kind of sorry,” he tightens his hand, tugging at the delicate strands of hair, you’re whining out, the sound fucking him completely. “Satoru…”

“You’re forgetting this, okay?” You nod then, understanding him, when he slams his lips on yours, the release so fucking good he can’t stand it, drinking in your cries as your arms wrap his neck.

He’s lost then, letting himself have one moment, where he devours your mouth with his practiced tongue, where his other hand slips up your thigh, up your hip, to your ribcage, brushing right under your breasts. You’re clinging to him, closer and closer, until you’re straddling him, even as he shoves at your hips, you roll them, whining out when you feel him.

“Fuck, you’re a brat…” he’s huffing, biting back a moan as he feels your heat, soaking wet even against your tights, pressing you down for just a moment to torture himself, kissing you deeper, hungrier. It’s messy and desperate, you’re kissing him sloppy, saliva dripping, as you roll your hips against him.

“Please…” He wants to give you it, fuck he wants you to have all of him, but he yanks you off him, holding you up by your hips, kissing you one more time.

“No more, you’re drunk and… this is a terrible fucking idea.” He sits you right next to him, you’re dizzy and breathless. “Forget that happened.”

“Right, sure Satoru.” You glare at him, he glares right back, leaning over and hating himself, he wanted to rip your fucking tights at the crotch, slip his fingers inside your wet cunt, stretch you out on him.

Shit that can never, ever happen.

“You’re upset and drunk, and I’m fucking stupid.”

“You’re not-”

“Drink.” He orders, and you do just that, he’s back to being caring and distant, as you ache for him, more and more as the water sobers you up just a bit.

He’s helping you up into bed later, he puts your hair up off your neck carefully in a pony tail, he makes you eat food that he orders. The alcohol has lost its effects mostly as you lay in bed, and he’s typing over on his laptop, the glasses looking unfairly handsome on his face as you study him.

“Will you really help me get another chance?” You ask softly, his eyes catch you across the room.

“Of course I will, but it’ll be up to you to show them what you can do, show them how good you are. Okay?” You nod then, snuggling against the pillow, eyes drifting shut, neither of you mention the kiss, neither of you breathe a word even close to insinuating it happened.

“Thank you, Satoru. Good night.” You murmur, he sighs, nodding then.

“Good night.” His clicking of the keys drifts you off to sleep, the vivid images behind your eyes of him overtaking your mind, wondering if it was all some fucking drunk fever dream.

But it wasn’t.

When later he closes the laptop and brushes your hair back, studying you for a moment, he tries to make a promise to himself - that it will never happen again, he’ll never let his control slip like that. Even if all he can think of now is slipping into bed next to you and holding you against him, he shoves it all down, going back to his room, and staring at the ceiling.

What had he been thinking?

He can’t feel this way.

He shuts his eyes, failing to sleep as he knows you’re in the next room, while you dream the filthiest things about your dad’s best friend.

tags- @valentinegab3 @vinnababy @sakisworld @satorupied @lolliibunny @coralbae @lnette04 @delightfulstay @zephyairies @flowerymenendez @yomama2089 @chocoyanchan @hargun-s @ic-slxt @lovelytwixx @lily-bisque @sirencholia @etosh0e @yesdere @luciferlikesducks @frankoceanfan9911 @sukunaslilsocks @dientesdefresa @maah-sama @amesenseii @lem-hhn @keiiate @ttrinity @monster-effer @coffinboy666 @neliislost @thequeenofcurses @inzanekillian @gojoswaterbottle @melotter @buckturd @artbligh @msniks @shibataimu @macchianikato @neohoestechnology @levislug @trsh-kitty @satsattoru @erisfayred @gh0stgirl333 @silverfangmarks @smashlyn89 @hwngez

[rafayelspearldrop]

[nsfw!] sylus eating you out

stayed up all night and smoked the whole liquid from my vape but it was worth it, i think

[rafayelspearldrop]

BLOSSOM FRAGRANCE !

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 In which you changed your perfume, and it goes so well with your natural scent it drives Sylus, Rafayel, and Caleb insane. Note: specified type of perfume on Caleb's part.

𓂃 . 𐑞 Masterlist ˖ ࣪ . ‹3

𓂃 . 𐑞 Sylus ︶ ⟢

Sylus didn't think much of the change at the beginning. He thought you had changed your shampoo, and the scent wasn't distinctive enough to take away his attention from your eyes and your touch.

It wasn't until you leaned in to take the controller of the tv, was when he noticed.

He took just an inhale, his eyes opening just a tad wider without his permission and before he knew it, he had buried his face on the nape of your neck, taking in your scent with what looked like eagerness.

“You smell absolutely delectable,” he rasped, wrapping his arms around you and causing you to gasp as he turned you around on his lap, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Sy?!”

A firm nibble on the skin had you squealing and blushing. “Stop that!”

“You're ruining me.”

“I'm not doing anything!”

Sylus tongue darted out to lick the red irritated mark of his nibble, and you should not have felt like melting at his actions. You went rigid on his lap, eyes blown wide with anticipation and desire, before you blinked the haze away.

“Behave yourself,” you grumbled, lunching your hand to his silver hair.

Sylus laughed that deep laugh of his. “You'll have to keep your distance then, kitten. That is...”

He touched his forehead with yours, red eyes smouldering.

“...If you want me to act civil.”

[Name].exe has stopped working.

𓂃 . 𐑞 Rafayel ︶ ⟢

Rafayel noticed immediately. How could he not, when the scent reminded him so much of everything that he cherished?

He was sketching as usual when you came in and perched on his lap, wrapping your arms around him in a much needed hug. You were quiet, so Rafayel took this as a sign to just comfort you instead of tackling into the familiar banter with you.

He let down the sketchpad and his pen to wrap his arms around you, bringing you into a steadier and warmer embrace. You only clung to him tighter, and finally breathed out a sigh of relief.

Rafayel kissed your cheek, and that goddamned scent enveloped him whole. His lips lingered on you as he took you in.

“Rough day?” he asked, blinking away the daze that entered his vision. Now it was not the time to get excited.

“Rough week,” you countered, pulling back to kiss his own cheek. “How was your day?”

“Better now that you're here,” he nuzzled into the place behind your ear, inhaling deeply the addictive scent. “This scent... are you trying to seduce me, cutie?”

You giggled tiredly, your spirits soaring with his affection. “You like it? I ran out of my usual perfume and bought a new one for a change.”

He hummed. “I love it, it smells like you.”

“Like me?”

“Like you,” he whispered softly in devotion.

𓂃 . 𐑞 Caleb ︶ ⟢

He imagined how you'd smell from the moment you bought the fragrance bottle.

Maybe Caleb was bias. He adores everything that has to do with apples, it was his favourite fruit after all, his favourite flavour, favourite scent even (after yours). He knew the combination between both would be the cause of his demise, and he wasn't entirely wrong.

“I think it smells really good!” you smelled the fragrance, your eyes lighting up. “I liked the orange one too though...”

They both smelled amazing on you, but...

“You can get the apple one,” he not-so-subtly hinted as he passed the perfume on your hands. “Cheaper too, so you can save some extra money for a treat.”

It was, in fact, not cheaper.

“You think so?” you sprayed some on your neck and the back of your hand. “Isn't it too sweet?”

Caleb smirked down at you, leaning behind you to bite down on your ear. “Just enough to eat.”

You gasped.

And that was when you realised your random shopping spree was, in actuality, very much intentional.

　𓂃 . 𐑞 © 2025 fawnslatte. ︶ ⟢

[rafayelspearldrop]

rafayel's lemurian behavior hc's!!

cw.: NSFW. 1.8k w. raf is mentioned more like a scary sea creature than like a pretty merman, this might have some ooc content for lemurians, mentions of sex, heat, raf has two dicks... ops... mentions of oviposition. not really monsterfucking but i'll tag it just in case.

note: "bloom will you ever shut the fuck up about lemurians? no. no i will not.

He's overprotective. Lemurians, as social as they are around their own species, can be quite territorial when it comes to their mates. Rafayel is all over you as soon as he views something as a threat. Thomas greeting you at an art exhibition? There’s a hand slipping to your waist and he glares at his manager over your shoulder. The poor college student that works at the cafe you two like smiled at you while you ordered your favorite drink? He’s clinging and nuzzling to you with a pout. A stray cat meowed at you for more pets? Oh he might as well pass out.

He showers you with gifts. Rafayel is obsessed with you alright. This is also related to how jelly he can get! Someone hit on you? You wake up with a pretty box with some kind of new jewelry by the door of your apartment. And they’re always one of a kind, too. No one’ll ever wear the same pair of earrings, bracelet, anklet you do, Rafayel commissions it all from the best jewelers he knows.

^ This is a very personal hc but i think that before you entered Rafayel’s life, he lowkey hated the fact his tears turned into pearls for the simple fact it can get messy and it was harder to hide his shame and weakness. After you showed so much interest in them though, Rafayel didn’t bother to kick the shiny pearls under the couch or bed or throw them away. In fact, he starts to collect them in tiny bottles and makes jewelry out of it. His favorite is the anklet he gifted you, a simple silver chain with two tiny pearls as pendants.

He's constantly nuzzling you. Lemurians have amazing senses even out of water and his sense of smell wouldn’t be any different. Rafayel LOVES the way you smell naturally. No cologne, no lotion. Just your skin. If you two are cuddling, he’s 100% with his head buried on your neck while breathing deeply and drowning on the scent. Lemurians are super touchy with their mates so just let him be and he’ll be overjoyed. You can even hear a happy chirp or two escaping him if you pay enough attention.

He insists on dragging you to the ocean. There are two things Rafayel adores– you and soaking underwater. If you agree to spend some quality time with him on the open ocean, he is overjoyed. You’re terrified of deep waters? Don’t worry!! Trust him!! He’ll help you float around, webbed hands always ghosting your waist and lower back to ground and comfort you while he swims under you happily. 

His true form is comically huge. I’m talking about like. 7 feet. He loooooves to wrap himself around you like a snake and keep you close like you’re his personal heater. OR! He floats on his back and lets you lie on top of him like a seal and its baby. You just look so tiny compared to him… he can’t help but want some snuggles.

Still on the anatomy topic, his skin is inhumanely pale. Living in the deep, there isn’t much sunlight nor does he need it so he is naturally very pale. It’s more like… kind of translucent, you can’t see his organs like some fish but you can clearly see his bluish veins. His teeth are super sharp and strong, too. Biologically, it’s for hunting, since it helps with cracking clams and other stuff open. Nowadays? He just torments you with them, of course! I believe Rafayel is a biter. A soft one, but he definitely nips on your skin if he’s upset or wants your attention.

^ Since i mentioned his teeth, it’s also valid to mention his mouth is also huge. It looks normal when he has it closed or when he’s talking but once he yawns, your eyes jump open. A thin membrane, where his cheeks would be, stretches his mouth much further than what would be considered natural and makes his shiny teeth noticeable. If it’s hard to visualize, think of it as the buccal flap some reptiles have!

He gives you his scales. Once, when you two were at the beach, you complimented how they looked under the sunset light, the purples and blues shining against the last bits of natural light beautifully, without much thought. Poor you just didn’t know this is a way of courting in lemurian culture and ohhhhh Rafayel’s brain MELTED. He couldn’t even react, stupid fish just nodded and looked away with a shy pout.

^ After that, he regularly gives you the older scales that shed from his tail. Please keep them all safe somewhere, it makes his stomach flip with joy. 

He hisses. Not at you, never, but you’ve caught his pupils turning into slits and a snake like hiss coming out of his mouth while he’s on the phone with a random collector once or twice now. 

He has a terrible temper during his heat. Lemurians go into heat in early spring, when the waters are slightly warmer, and Rafayel is no exception. The week before the heat actually kicks in, he’s super stressed. He gets petty, gives Thomas an attitude and threatens to burn his whole studio down and then, as soon as you’re by his side, his eyes are already spilling delicate pearls. His skin is hot and sweaty like it usually is during ebb day and all he wants is to soak in his tub or sea.

Which leads to the next topic! Can’t find him in his studio? Call his name at the beach! He’s curled onto his own tail underwater all hot and bothered but he’ll come crawling for you in a second… and drag you with him. Don’t know how to swim? And who said you’re leaving his grasp? Can’t hold your breath? Just kiss him! He just needs you close and it’s not like you can move anyway. His tail wraps around your legs like a predator ready to strike and he is babbling in lemurian while nuzzling on your cheek and chirping.

He courts you! During the week before his heat, his gifts are even more overwhelming. Oh look! He just finished a portrait of you! And here’s a new pair of pearl earrings, please use it. Don’t forget the delicate necklace with his initials. Oh and- you get the point. Underwater though? He will blow bubbles to make you laugh and sing you the sweetest lemurian love songs. You’re already his, he knows that, but his instincts act quicker than what his brain can think right now. It’s cute, really. He acts all confident and pretends he has some self control left in his body just so you can clap and praise him.

Some think lemurians have venom glands, but it is a myth! Lemurian mating is mostly romantic and they are bound to a mate for a lifetime, it’s not just with the intention of reproducing. So, they don’t have the need to hold down or paralyze their mates completely. That doesn’t mean you’re safe from his sharp teeth, though. He can hardly think for himself, have some mercy. Rafayel just needs a trigger to sink his teeth on your shoulder blade. You smell good? Bite. You barely have time to struggle and scold him before he’s already lapping at your bloody skin as an apology.

As for his actual heat, if you really insist, he’ll have sex with you in his studio– doesn’t matter where. But if you don’t mind and trust him, please, please, let him have his way with you in the water. He’s too desperate to breathe the land’s sticky and heavy air. Asks you a million times if you’re actually sure and that he can’t really hold back once you let him touch you. And if you consent? Say goodbye to rational Raf.

Now, i want to mention his anatomy once again to clear a few things up. His tail has a slit where his cock, in his human form, would be. The scales around it are softer, slimy and the slit produces a LOT of slick when he’s aroused. And where are his cocks? Inside, of course! Dooooon’t be shy, finger him for a bit and his cocks will come out in a second, standing tall and proud against his lower stomach.

^ Lemurians have hemipenis. Some animals have double reproductive organs for the sake of their species, if one of them is damaged, there’s still the other one for breeding. Lemurians, on the other hand, have a ‘smaller’ dick that’s more human looking and is used for pleasure and penetrative sex, while the other, found under the first one, is bigger, longer, ridged and it’s exclusively for breeding and burying his eggs inside you.

^ His ‘human’ cock isn’t exactly small, honestly, nothing about Rafayel’s true form is. I’d say it’s close to 7.68 inches (19,5 cm) when fully hard. It’s really pretty too! Just looks like his human form dick, maybe the base is kinda bluish and there are a few soft scales here and there but that’s it. Now, about the other one…it’s big. 12.5 inches (31 cm) okay… don’t worry though. He produces so much slick it won’t hurt much. I wouldn’t say it is pretty, it’s… uncommon! Interesting! But not pretty. It’s tinted in a nice deep blue that gets lighter on the tip and the base is pretty scaly. Not only is it big but it is very thick too. It’s an ovipositor, it has to have enough space for his eggs without squeezing them too much. 

^ Since i mentioned eggs, it’s good to mention that i don’t think they’re big… It does cause some discomfort at first because your womb will consider it as foreign body once they all snug inside you but I don't think it’s enough to cause pain. The shells are squishy, slimy and translucent and they’re the size of a date. Around 3-6 eggs i think… though not all of them are fertilized.

^ And on the fertilized eggs topic, I don't think Rafayel is able to actually impregnate you in this form. Your body just isn’t made to bear eggs and conclude the fertilization process. He does like to try though! And it’s not like his dumbed down brain can process any of this right now. Also, don’t worry, the eggs will come out of you naturally. After a few days without getting any nutrients, they turn into mush inside you and come out of you mixed with your discharge. 

^ That does not mean Rafayel can’t get you pregnant though! If you actually want children, his human form works just fine.

After his heat, which usually lasts a week, he is super clingy. He knows you’re not pregnant and doesn’t need this much doting but he’s just so happy you put up with all his needs. He showers you, lets you rest, kisses any and all bruises and bites he may have left… anything for his bride.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)