#(goes and sulks in the corner) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cumironi · 9 months ago

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I CAN F☆CK TREAT YOU BETTER g. satoru

☆ sum. you and gojo were all alone, no geto around, just the two of you— all alone, in the bed, kissing, make out under the glisten of the dim lights, under the blanket.

warning. established relationship au, fem! reader, pet names, nipple-plāy, unprotected sēx, gojo is jealous because you love geto’s broodiness, i need thissssss

there is one thing about you that your two boyfriends never get used to, even though you’ve spent years dating: whenever one of them goes on a mission for a few days and it’s just you with one of them, you become a different person. you’re more clingy, more affectionate, more romantic and sweet, making them fall in love with you all over again.

just like right now, you were laying on your side, face to face with gojo. it was just the two of you for a few days before geto had to leave for a mission, which meant you both had a lot of time to enjoy each other’s company.

the two of you didn’t say anything, just looking into each other's eyes, your cheeks flushed against the soft pillow under the gentle blue light of the moon. the quiet moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his gaze held a mix of adoration and curiosity. it was in these moments that you felt the most connected, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

you reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek, marveling at the way his expression shifted, softening as he leaned into your touch. “you know, i could get used to this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo found himself lost in the depths of your eyes, captivated by their warmth and tenderness. he let out a soft sigh, his fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, relishing the sensation of closeness between the two of you.

he chuckled at your words, his hand moving from your arm to the side of your neck, his thumb tracing soft circles against your jawline. “you get so clingy when it’s just us,” he teased, a playful smirk on his lips. “are you complaining?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes.

“absolutely not,” he replied, his smirk widening as he shifted closer, the tips of both your noses just barely touching. his fingertips grazed the top of your cheekbone, his gaze never leaving yours.

“in fact, i quite like it,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “it’s like i get to see a side of you that’s meant just for me. and that’s a privilege i’m not gonna take for granted.” gojo’s eyes flicked over your face, studying the way the soft moonlight illuminated your features. the two of you were so close that he could see every small detail of your expression, each flutter of your eyelashes, each subtle shift in your expression.

he couldn’t help but be captivated by you, by the way you responded to his touch, by the way you looked at him with such open affection. he leaned in just a little bit closer, his breath fanning across your lips. “you know,” he began, a hint of teasing in his voice, “if suguru was here, i wouldn’t get to have you all to myself,” he finished, his hand moving to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek.

a small, almost possessive smile played at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer still, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours. “and i’m kinda selfish when it comes to you.”

you chuckle, feigning a pout as you replied teasingly, “well, you know, i can give just as much attention to one of you without the other sulking and pouting about it.” you mutter between your smile. the tip of your index finger poking his dimple.

gojo chuckled at your teasing, his smirk only growing wider. “oh really?” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “you’re telling me you could give us both equal attention without playing favorites?” he leaned into your touch, his dimple indenting a bit more as you poked it. “i’m pretty sure i’ve seen the way your eyes light up whenever suguru walks into a room. you’d always choose him over me.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, scrunching your nose playfully at his accusation. your fingers danced lightly over his chest, tickling him just faintly as you replied, “it’s not my fault that suguru is so dreamy and handsome and soft!” you flashed him a teasing grin, enjoying the way his expression shifted, a mix of amusement and mock jealousy. “i mean, can you blame me? he has that whole brooding look down to a science,” you added with a dramatic sigh.

gojo let out a mock gasp, pretending to be offended. “oh, so that’s how it is? you like geto more because he’s brooding and brooding is attractive?” he feigned a pout for a moment before his smirk returned, his hand moving down from your neck to rest on your hip, his fingers drumming against the skin. “well, you know what? i can brood too, you know. i can be serious and intense.” he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping another octave. “can geto do this?”

and before you could respond, gojo’s lips were on yours in a searing kiss. it was a possessive kiss, his hand gripping your hip tighter as his tongue flicked against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. he pressed into you, his body almost fully on top of yours as he deepened the kiss, his free hand finding its way into your hair, tangling among the strands.

he broke the kiss, but only to kiss down the side of your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. he sucked on your pulse point, his teeth grazing against it, his hand on your hip moving up your side to lightly brush against the underside of your breast.

gojo’s fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of your jawline as he pulls away, his touch sending shivers down your spine. he shift back onto his sides before continued to gaze at you with an intense, brooding look, his eyes locked onto yours.

“i can brood just as well as he can,” he said again, his voice still soft. “maybe even better. i just choose not to, because i think it’s more fun to make you laugh.” he leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “so, have i won you over yet? am i brooding enough for you?” a warm smile coloring his handsome face.

you couldn’t help but giggle at his faux broodiness, your heart fluttering at the way he was trying so hard to be serious and sexy.

you reached up a hand, cupping his cheek as you studied his expression, his sharp features framed by the moonlight. “oh, definitely,” you replied, your tone playful and lighthearted. “i don’t think i can handle that brooding stare of yours. it’s just too intense.” you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your thumb caressing the high line of his cheekbone.

“but,” you added, a sly smirk playing at your lips, “i might need a little more convincing. just to be sure.” your hand moves down from gojo’s cheek to his chest, your fingers brushing against the firm muscle hidden beneath his shirt. your touch is light, teasing, your fingertips tracing circles over his pecks.

“you know,” you continued, your voice lower now, “i think you’re being a bit too clothed for this little demonstration.” you glanced down, noting the way his shirt was still very much on, preventing you from fully appreciating his toned physique.

gojo’s eyes darkened at your words, a smirk tugging at his lips. “too clothed, huh?” he repeated, his hands immediately going to the hem of his shirt. he pulled it off in a swift, fluid motion, flinging it carelessly onto the floor. the moonlight illuminated the planes of his chest and abdomen, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

your eyes roamed shamelessly over the expanse of his bare torso, taking in the dips and curves of his muscles. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked, not by a long shot, but the sight of him like this always seemed to make your heart race. you reached out, your hand tracing a slow, languid path down his chest and stomach, following the sculpted ridges that disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers.

gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rich in his throat. “you like what you see, huh?” he teased, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pinning your hand to his chest. he shifted closer to you, his breath warm against your neck. “well,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “i think you’re being a bit too clothed as well.”

a shiver ran down your spine as gojo’s breath ghosted over your neck, his words sending a spark of anticipation through your body. you tilted your head, exposing more of your skin to his teasing touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in the feeling of his lips grazing against your ear.

“oh, am i?” you replied, your tone lilting with playful coyness. “i suppose you’ll have to do something about that then.” gojo smirked, taking the hint as he slowly pushed you back onto the bed, his body caging you in as he leaned over you.

his hands were everywhere, skating over your arms and your sides, skimming over the edges of your clothes, fingers tracing over every curve. he reached your shirt, his fingers catching on the hem. he tugged at it, pulling it up over your stomach and ribcage, revealing more and more of your skin.

he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, his mouth warm and soft against your skin. he moved lower, his hands sliding the rest of your shirt up and over your head, casting it to the side. his mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the slope of your breast, his teeth grazing over the fabric of your bra. he reached around your back, his fingers hooking into the hooks of your bra. dextrous fingers nimbly work to undo the fastening.

as gojo’s mouth and tongue lavished your body, his hands worked to free you from the confines of your bra. you arched your back, your breath coming in soft gasps, your body responding to his every touch. he was gentle but insistent, his fingers moving with practiced ease, like he had been doing this for years. he took his time, but not too much time, his hands slipping the straps off your arms.

gojo’s mouth was on your skin again, his lips and tongue exploring the newly exposed flesh of your chest and stomach. he moved lower, planting soft kisses along your stomach, each touch sending shivers of desire down your spine. his hands skimmed over the curve of your hips, his fingers hooking into the edges of your pants, his mouth still moving over your skin, his teeth lightly nipping and biting at the sensitive spots he knew drives you crazy.

one by one, he undid the buttons and zipper of your pants, his hands slipping them down over your hips, taking your panties down with them. they were tossed onto the floor without a thought, his hands quickly moving back up your legs, his touch light and teasing, dancing just shy of where you wanted them to be.

gojo’s hands glided over your legs, his touch a tantalizing combination of feather-light and firm. he was taking his time, prolonging the anticipation, his lips moving back up your body, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way up to your neck. his body was almost flush against yours, his arms bracketing your head, his weight bearing down just enough to keep you trapped under him.

you push yourself in your elbows, pushing gojo’s head away to meet his lips. your hand runs around his chest to his nape, brushing your fingers to his undercut. the kiss was slow, deliberate, no lust or hunger like you pour all of your love for him.

as your lips meet in a slow, loving kiss, gojo melts into it, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen the contact. he lets out a soft moan, the sound muffled by your mouth, his hand moving to cup the side of your jaw, his fingertips tracing gentle circles against your skin.

he tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours, his body pressing closer, his chest flush against yours. there’s a tenderness in the way he’s kissing you, an affectionate adoration that pours out from every fiber of his being.

gojo breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his eyes soft and sparkling in the dim moonlight. he traces his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek, his touch gentle and almost reverent. “you know,” he says, his voice quieter now, a hint of teasing still present in his tone, “you didn’t let me finish my demonstration.”

you chuckle, scrunching your nose out of a habit while you let your hand caressing his neck to his bare chest. “forget the demonstration, let’s just cuddle,” you murmur, “a naked one,” you added before giggling. gojo chuckled at your response, the sound deep and rich in his throat, his eyes sparkling with affection and amusement. he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side, pulling you close against him, your body molding against his.

his arms encircled you, pulling you tight against his chest, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your back. “i suppose a naked cuddle is an acceptable alternative,” he teased, his voice low and affectionate. he nuzzled against your hair, burying his face in your neck. “you’re such a distraction, you know.”

you shook your head with a soft chuckle, gently pushing gojo’s face away from your neck. “i wanna see your face,” you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze. your hand rested against his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin as you smiled warmly at him. “wanna see my boyfriend,” you said softly, taking in his face, appreciating the quiet intimacy.

gojo’s heart swelled at your words, a soft, almost shy smile spreading across his face. he leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression softening with each caress of your thumb against his skin.

“you’re such a sap,” he teased, his voice dripping with affection. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even tighter against him, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “i’m right here,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours. “right where you want me to be.”

you hummed softly, the sound barely audible as the two of you lay there, lost in each other’s gaze. the room was filled with a quiet, intimate stillness, your cheek flushed against the soft pillow, while gojo’s warm presence enveloped you completely.

gojo’s fingers traced patterns on your back as the two of you lay together, his eyes lazily tracing the contours of your face, his fingers dancing over the dip of your waist before moving up to trace your jawline. there was no rush, no urgency, just the slow, languid movement of his hands against your skin, the quiet rhythm of your breathing filling the room. he leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “you have no idea how much i love these moments with you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you hummed softly again, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you as gojo shifted slightly, settling onto his side to mirror your position. his cheek pressed into the pillow, and his bright blue eyes stayed fixed on yours, filled with that familiar mix of affection and playfulness.

your fingertips gently tugged a few strands of his hair behind his ear, then trailed across his scalp, eliciting a quiet sigh from him. your voice was barely audible as you murmured, “i love your eyes,” your thumb softly brushing over his temple.

a soft smile tugged at the corners of gojo’s lips as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the sensation of your fingers in his hair. he nuzzled against your hand, his cheek pressing firmly against your palm, his expression relaxing further. “do you now?” he replied, his tone lilting with teasing. “what is it about them that you love so much?” his eyes fluttered open, meeting yours once again, a sparkle of mischief in their depths.

you hummed in confirmation, your voice gentle as your fingertips continued to glide softly over his scalp. “it’s beautiful,” you whispered, your tone sincere. “like i’m looking at the open sky, like i’m drowning in a warm ocean. it’s warm… it’s like summer.”

your words left gojo momentarily stunned. his usually confident, playful demeanor faltered as he stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. nobody had ever told him they loved his eyes, not for anything other than the immense power they held. but here you were, speaking so simply, so earnestly, about them.

gojo was silent for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the honesty and vulnerability in your words, his mind struggling to process the raw emotion in your voice.

he exhaled slowly, a soft, shaky breath slipping past his lips. no one had ever described his eyes like that before. to everyone else, they were a tool, a symbol of power, a weapon. but to you, they were something beautiful, something warm and comforting. he reached up, his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path over your lips.

“you’re really something else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a mix of awe and tenderness. he shifted closer to you, his chest pressing against yours, his leg slipping between yours. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him, burying his face in your neck. “you always say the most unexpected things,” he continued, his lips skimming against your skin, his breath hot and warm against your collarbone. “and you always leave me speechless.”

you gently pushed him away, just enough to create a bit of space between you, your fingers lightly pressing against his chest. “no, no, no,” you murmured, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “come on, don’t do that. i wanna see you.”

your eyes searched his, wanting to keep that connection, to see the emotion that flickered across his face whenever you said something unexpected. your fingers found their way back to his jawline, tracing the contours of his face as you gave him a small, playful smile. “i don’t like it when you hide,” you added softly, your thumb grazing over his bottom lip.

as you gently pushed him back and your fingers traced his jawline, gojo chuckled softly, his smile a mix of amusement and affection. he leaned back just enough to let you see his face, his eyes tracing over every feature, drinking you in.

your words linger in his ears, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “i wasn’t hiding,” he protested, his tone lighthearted. “i was snuggling.” he couldn’t help but smile at your playfulness, his hand moving to caress your side, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip.

“you just make it so difficult to not bury my face in your neck,” he continued, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “every time you say things like that, it sets my heart racing, and all i want to do is get closer, closer, closer.”

he pulled you flush against him, his body molding to yours, his arms wrapping around you like a tight embrace. he buried his head in the crook of your neck again, pressing his lips against your skin, inhaling your scent.

you groaned softly in protest, your hands coming up to gently push at his chest again. “oh, come on,” you whined playfully, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. “i said i want to see your face, not have you hide in my neck.”

gojo chuckled again, the sound muffled against your neck as he buried his face deeper into the crook. he knew he was being petulant and stubborn, but he couldn’t help it. he loved being close to you, the feeling of your body against his, your scent filling his lungs. “but it’s so comfortable here,” he protested, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “and you smell so good. and you’re so warm.”

you tried to tilt his head up, your fingers threading through his hair, but gojo only chuckled, tightening his hold on you. “just a little longer,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, clearly enjoying how much you were trying to pull him away.

gojo was clearly enjoying your struggle, his arms unyielding as he held onto you with a smirk on his face. he nuzzled against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “just a little longer,” he repeated, his voice filled with faux innocence. “i’m not tired yet. and you'’e so warm and soft, it would be wasteful to not take advantage of it.”

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he was lying halfway on top of you, his body completely covering yours, his weight pushing you down into the softness of the bed. “besides,” he murmured, his lips skimming over your jawline. “i think you secretly like having me pressed against you like this.”

you groaned, feigning annoyance, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, pulling him closer. “don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, your lips brushing against his ear, though the smile on your face betrayed your playful mood. as you glanced down at his bare form, your eyes caught sight of his rear, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. without thinking, your hands slid down his back, and before he could react, you grabbed a handful of his cheeks, giving them a playful squeeze.

gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth at your unexpected squeeze. he let out a yelp, the sound a mix of surprise and mild outrage. “hey!” he protested, lifting his head and looking down at you with amused indignation. “warn a guy next time!” he exclaimed through a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he shifted slightly, his body moving into a more comfortable position atop yours, a playful smirk spreading across his lips.

you burst into laughter, unable to contain your amusement. “it’s not my fault!” you teased, still chuckling. “it was just there, looking at me.” you punctuated your words with another playful taps on his rear, the sound light but cheeky.

gojo rolled his eyes, a mix of mock annoyance and amusement in his expression. he propped himself up on his arms, a sly smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “oh, so it’s my fault for having a perfectly shaped backside?” he teased, arching an eyebrow, his arms caging you in. “i think you’re just trying to cop a feel whenever you get the chance.”

you raised your eyebrows, a playful smirk on your face. “perfect?” you echoed, giving his ass another teasing squeeze. “more like flat! if i squeeze it, it feels like a bag of airbags!”you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of mock horror that crossed his face, and you leaned back against the pillows, clearly enjoying this banter. “seriously, baby, you need to work on that if you want to maintain your ‘perfect’ reputation!”

gojo’s eyes widened comically, his brows shooting up to his forehead. “airbags?!”he sputtered, his tone incredulous. “my ass is not bags of airbags, it's firm and toned and well-defined!” he feigned offense, a dramatic pout crossing his face as he pretended to be deeply wounded by your insult. “do you know how many squats i do? how many leg days i put in? this is an insult to my hard work and dedication!”

he leaned back, lifting his hips up so you could see the full expanse of his rear. “look at it! look at the muscle tone, the symmetry, the perfection,” he exclaimed, gesturing broadly. his tone was laced with playful sarcasm, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced down at you. “surely you’re not blind. you must see how flawlessly sculpted it is.”

you hummed thoughtfully as you looked at his rear, pretending to admire it. then, with a swift motion, you gave him a playful spank, laughing as you looked up at him. “yeah, flatass!” you teased, your voice light and filled with mischief.

gojo let out another exaggerated gasp, the sound filled with fake shock and indignation. he placed a hand over his heart, his expression one of mock hurt. “flatass?!” he exclaimed, feigning disbelief. “after all the hard work i put into sculpting this masterpiece? you wound me, babe. you truly wound me.” he leaned back down, his chest pressing against yours again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “i’ll have you know, my behind is a work of art. a masterpiece of the human form.”

he leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, his expression still one of mock outrage, though his eyes sparkled with mirth. “i think you need to show me some appreciation, apologize for that baseless disparagement of my very well-maintained behind,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

“baseless disparagement!?” gojo repeated, a hint of indignation in his voice. “i’ve never seen a more shameless display of disrespect. my backside deserves respect and admiration. and you, dear one, owe me payment for the slander you have inflicted upon it.”

he leaned down even closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his eyes darkened with desire. “and i demand a proper apology. a thorough, passionate one.” your heartbeat quickened at the low rumble of his voice, a shiver running down your spine as he hovered over you. his proximity and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief made it hard to resist.

“oh, is that so?” you replied, feigning mock ignorance. “and how exactly do you want me to express this appreciation? a kiss? a squeeze? too bad suguru wasn’t here to back me up.”

gojo chuckled, his eyes filled with laughter as he shifted slightly, his body pressing even closer to yours. “now now, no bringing up my best friend while we’re having an intimate moment. that's cheating.” he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “i think a sincere apology, one that involves your hands expressing their remorse, would suffice. and perhaps a few kisses, just to drive the point home, naturally.”

you raised your eyebrows, a playful smirk on your lips as you murmured, “yeah?” your fingers trailed slowly down his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. you reach lower, brushing your fingers to his happy trails and feeling his hardness pressing against your thigh.

you leaned in closer, your voice teasingly soft. “and what exactly do you want from me, oh great master of the flat ass?” your hand continued to explore, relishing the way his body reacted to your touch, eager to see how far you'd push this playful moment.

gojo chuckled again, his breath hot against your neck as he felt your fingers trailing down his chest, his body responding to your touch instinctively. he shifted slightly, arching his back as your fingers moved lower, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he felt your touch on his happy trail.

he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear again, his voice a deep, rumbling murmur. “i want you to show your appreciation, darling. show me just how much you admire this apparent ’flat ass’ of mine.”

you murmured softly in his ear, your breath warm against his skin, “oh, i can definitely do that.” your lips brushed lightly against the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

with a sly smile, you pulled the cover over the both of you, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of the blanket. gojo chuckled, his grin widening as he realized your playful intent. “hiding, huh?” he teased, his voice low and amused as the blanket enveloped your naked both, creating a cozy cocoon around your entwined bodies. “i like where this is going.”

gojo’s heart raced as the blanket enveloped you both, his body instantly warmed by the close proximity of yours. he could feel your skin against his, your breath on his neck, the playful anticipation thrumming through his veins. he chuckled again, his smile matching your own as his hands roamed, exploring the curves of your body beneath the cover. “i can see where this is headed, naughty girl,” he teased, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

he leaned in, his lips finding your neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin there. his hands continued to roam, his touch a tantalizing mixture of firm and gentle as they explored your body with a possessive quality.

he shifted his position slightly, his body settling between your legs, his weight pressing against you as he hovered above you, the cover hiding your bodies from view. “you sure know how to play dirty,” he murmured, his voice filled with mischief and desire.

your arms wrapped around his broad shoulder, pulling him impossibly close to your naked body, his body curling around yours. a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his chest brushing against yours.

“hiding? me? never.” you teased, his voice filled with amusement as you let out a soft moan. “just creating a little private sanctuary for us, away from the judgmental eyes of the world." you leaned in, breathe warmly against his shoulder, your teeth gently nipping at his shoulder. “just the two of us and this cozy blanket cocoon. just the two of us, no suguru. us.”

gojo grinned, his teeth nipping back at your shoulder, a playful growl escaping his throat. “a private sanctuary, hm?” he mused, his voice low and sultry as his hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you closer into his embrace. “well then, i suppose we should make the most of our privacy.”

his lips trailed lower, kissing along your collarbone before planting a series of kisses across your chest, each one landing with more pressure than the last. he suckled gently on your nipple, teasing the hardened peak with his tongue, his hands still holding onto your hips firmly. “and don’t worry about suguru,” he whispered huskily, his voice vibrating against your skin. “i promise not to tell.”

the sensation of gojo’s mouth on your skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your toes curl underneath the covers. a soft gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back onto the pillow as he lavished attention on your breasts.

“mmm...” you hummed, arching your back slightly, pushing your chest further into his mouth. “that’s exactly what i was hoping for.” your hands moved down to his waist, slipping under the covers to explore the contours of his strong, toned body. your fingers traced the lines of muscle, feeling the ridges and dips of his abdomen, before eventually reaching lower, towards his throbbing member.

gojo’s eyes darkened with lust as he felt your fingers trail down his stomach, inching closer to his aching erection. a low groan rumbled in his chest, his hips involuntarily bucking up into your touch.

“careful now, naughty girl,” he warned, his voice thick with desire. “you’re playing with fire.” despite his words, he didn't stop you, instead, guiding your hand to wrap around his hard length, his breath hitching as your fingers closed around him.

he began to move, thrusting into your grip as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts, alternating between sucking and biting the tender flesh. his free hand slid down to join yours, helping to pump himself in time with your strokes. “fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw hunger and need.

the sound of his voice, laced with desire, sent another wave of heat rushing through your body. your grip tightened around his cock, stroking him slowly, deliberately, wanting to draw out every moan and gasp from his lips.

“you’re so hard...” you purred, leaning up to capture his lips in a searing kiss. your tongue danced with his, the taste of him filling your senses. you broke the kiss, panting heavily, your cheeks flushed with arousal. your eyes lock with his blue eyes, glow slightly under the cover.

gojo’s eyes glowed faintly beneath the cover, a sign of his growing excitement. his breathing became heavier, his muscles tensing as your skilled hand worked his shaft. he kissed you back fiercely, his tongue dominating yours, claiming your mouth as his own.

“hard for you,” he breathed when the kiss broke, his voice rough with need. “always so fucking hard for you.” he pushed your hand away suddenly, pinning both of your wrists above your head with one large hand. he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock nudging your slick folds. “tell me you want it,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

your breath hitched as he positioned himself at your entrance, your body quivering with anticipation. you arched your hips upwards, seeking more contact, craving the feel of him inside you.

“i want it,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, “i want you, baby. i want you, slow and gentle, i want to savor you, making love to me.”

your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him closer, silently begging him to fill you completely. your fingers curled into the sheets above you, your nails digging into the fabric as you waited for him to take you, to claim you as his own. your eyes bored into his, reflecting the same intense hunger that burned within them. your hand cupping his cheek gently, full of adoration and tenderness.

gojo’s expression softened at your words, his eyes shining with a mix of love and desire. he leaned into your touch, pressing a tender kiss to your palm before releasing your wrists and settling his weight on top of you.

“slow and gentle,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “anything for you, my love.” he captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he slowly pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you inch by delicious inch. a low groan tore from his throat at the feeling of your tight warmth enveloping him, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

when he opened them again, they were filled with adoration and devotion, mirroring the emotions swirling in your own gaze. he began to move, his thrusts measured and controlled, taking his time to savor every moment of your union.

the sensation of being filled by him, slowly and deeply, was overwhelming. your body trembled with pleasure, your inner walls clenching around his cock as he moved within you.

“baby..” you whimpered, your head thrown back in ecstasy. your hands roamed over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the ripple and flex beneath your fingertips. each stroke, each movement, brought you closer to the edge. you could see the love in his eyes, the care and concern reflected there, even amidst the lust and desire. it made your heart swell, made you love him even more.

“don’t stop...” you pleaded, your voice ragged with need, forehead pressed against his.

gojo’s pace remained steady, his movements deliberate and sensual, driven by the desperation to please you. he reveled in the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him, the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips.

“never, my love,” he vowed, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “i’ll never stop loving you, never stop wanting you.”

he captured your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your whimpers and pleas as he continued to make slow, passionate love to you. his free hand found its way to your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple between his fingers, adding an extra layer of stimulation to the already intense sensations.

the dual sensations of his cock moving inside you and his fingers teasing your nipples had you teetering on the brink of climax but not quite yet. your moans grew ragged, more urgent, your hips rising to meet his thrusts as you chased the impending orgasm but you try to hold yourself, wanting the moment last longer.

“i love you, satoru,” you cried out, breaking the kiss to gasp for air. your nails dug into his back, marking him as your own.

the air was thick from the lack of oxygen, filled with breathless moan, whimper and whining. it was quite dark, only the light illuminating from a slight gap. the two of you couldn’t stop whispering sweet nothing into each other’s ear.

“my love...” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. “my beautiful, perfect love...” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

gojo’s grip on your breast tightened as he felt your body begin to tense, signaling your approaching climax. he increased the pressure on your sensitive nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. “i love you too, my beautiful girl,” he growled, his voice husky with desire.

“keep it slow, baby, want it slow, let me hold you for a moment,” you whisper, nose nuzzling against his sweaty cheek. your arm wraps around his broad shoulder while your other hand holds his bicep.

gojo’s movements slowed even further, becoming almost languid as he savored the intimate moment with you. he rested his forehead against yours, their noses touching, sharing ragged breaths.

“forever, my love,” he promised, his voice a low rumble. “i’ll hold you forever if that’s what you want.” his hand slid down to cradle your hip, pulling you impossibly closer, their bodies melding together in a perfect fusion of flesh and soul.

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his words and the sheer intensity of the connection between you. you nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

in this quiet, suspended moment, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side, hand in hand, hearts entwined. the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the beauty and power of your love.

gojo brushed away the tears that escaped, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he gazed into your eyes. “my beautiful, tearful angel,” he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips. “you're everything to me, now and always.”

he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a tender, loving kiss, pouring all his devotion and adoration into the gentle press of his lips against yours. in this perfect, peaceful instant, wrapped in each other’s arms, you both knew that your bond was unbreakable, a love that would endure through eternity.

your lips moved softly against his, returning the tender kiss with equal affection. your fingers intertwined with his, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. a sense of contentment washed over you, filling you with warmth and happiness. you felt safe, loved, cherished— exactly where you belonged. “love you, satoru,” you murmured against his mouth, the words barely audible over the pounding of your hearts. “forever and always.”

your tears dried up, replaced by a warm, radiant smile. your lips parted under his, welcoming the soft, affectionate kiss. you ran your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, holding him close. “i’m yours, completely,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with so much love and commitment. your heart is beating faster, matching with his cock throbbing inside you.

gojo’s heart swelled with love and gratitude at your declaration, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “and i’m yours, my darling,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “for all eternity.”

he returned your kiss with renewed passion, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring every inch of your warmth. his free hand roamed over your curves, mapping the contours of your body as if committing them to memory. “mine,” he growled possessively, his teeth grazing your lower lip. “all mine, now and forever.”

his hips began to move again, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency as the need for release became too great to ignore. he set a relentless pace, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes, determined to bring you both to the heights of ecstasy once more.

your body arched off the bed, responding eagerly to his movements. your nails dug into his back, leaving marks of ownership as you clung to him. the pleasure was building within you, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap.

“i’m yours,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desire, “yours... —keep moving like that baby, my boy..” you moan, skating your fingers to his nape and putting a pressure there with your fingers.

the room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, mixed with your cries of pleasure and gojo’s guttural groans. your breasts bounced rhythmically with each of his thrusts, nipples hardening even further under his touch.

“that’s it, my love,” gojo panted, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure. “take all of me, every inch.” he could feel your walls fluttering around his shaft, signaling your impending climax. he redoubled his efforts, angling his hips to hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust, determined to send you hurtling over the edge.

“come for me, my beautiful girl,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “let go, i’ve got you.”

one hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. the added stimulation proved to be your undoing, and with a keening cry, you came undone beneath him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

your vision went white as the pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave of pure bliss radiating from your core. you screamed his name, your voice raw and hoarse, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

“satoru! baby, fuuuck!” you groan, feeling your inner walls clench around his hard cock. your whole body trembled and shook, overcome by the intense sensations coursing through you. you felt gojo’s cock twitch inside you, growing even harder as your walls contracted around him. you knew he was close, teetering on the brink of his own release. “cum for me baby, let me feel your love.”

gojo grunted, his hips jerking as he felt your walls clamping down on him. “fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, his body shuddering with the effort of holding back. his grip tightened on your hips, digging his fingers into your flesh as he pistoned in and out of you. he could feel his climax approaching, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to sweep him away.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,“ he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “i’m gonna fill you up, my sweet girl. take all of me.”

you moaned loudly as gojo’s cock throbbed inside you, his hot cum filling you up. you clenched your muscles around his cock, milking him for everything he had. your body was still trembling from your own orgasm, but you managed to keep yourself upright as gojo emptied himself inside you. “so good... so fucking good.”

gojo collapsed onto you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. “damn, you’re incredible,” he muttered, planting kisses along your neck and shoulder. he held you close, his large frame wrapping protectively around you like a cocoon. “i love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection.

he stayed buried inside you, not yet ready to separate their joined forms. the afterglow of their lovemaking enveloped them, making the room seem warmer, softer. you cuddled closer to gojo, your body still tingling from the intensity of your orgasms. you felt satisfied, complete, in a way that nothing else could give you.

“i love you too, satoru,” you murmured, your voice just as soft as his. “more than anything else.” you felt gojo's seed starting to leak out of you, trickling down your thighs and the bed below.

you pull the blanket off you both and take a deep breath, “finally, i can breath.”

gojo chuckled as you finally pulled back the cover, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, his arms wrapped around your waist. “you were getting all hot and bothered under there, weren’t you, my little sauna?” he teased, a playful grin on his face.

he glanced down, his eyes tracing the path of his seed leaking out of you, and he couldn't help a soft sigh escaped him. “damn, that’s a sight,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction. he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against your neck, his hands caressing your skin. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice laced with affection. “so damn perfect.”

you chuckle, frowning a little with his choice of nickname. “my little sauna? what an odd nickname you’ve got there,“ you tease, voice light and full of amusement. your sweaty arms find gojo’s broad shoulder and draw him closer, skin-to-skin with your chest.

gojo chuckled at your comment, enjoying the lighthearted banter between you two. “hey, i think it's a good nickname,” he retorted, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “it suits you, what with all that heat and wetness you generate.”

he let you pull him closer, relishing the feel of your skin against his, the sweat making your bodies slick and sticky. his arms encircled your waist, holding you close as he settled against you, his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, his breath warm against your skin.

“mmm, you smell good,” he murmured, his nose buried in your hair. you hummed softly at his comment, a teasing smile spreading across your face. “that’s just the smell of sex,” you replied playfully, your voice laced with mischief.

gojo chuckled again, his lips curving into a boyish grin as he nuzzled your hair. “well, i’m not complaining,” he responded, his voice low and suggestive.

he shifted his position slightly, his body shifting closer to yours as he continued to hold you close. his hand moved to the small of your back, gently tracing small circles with his fingertips. “and i think you smell even better than usual,” he murmured, his lips finding their way to your neck again, his tongue tracing a path down your throat.

you pushed gojo’s face away from your neck, turning to lay face to face with him. your hands cupped his cheeks, your gaze steady and sincere as you looked into his eyes.

“but i love the sex, it feels good, slow and gentle,” you confessed softly, a warm smile gracing your lips. your thumb leaving stars on his blushing cheeks, “i love feeling your skin on mine. it's different from the sex we used to have. just you and me, no suguru, just us. it’s such a nice feeling.”

gojo’s expression softened as he looked into your eyes, his own filling with tenderness. he reached up to hold your hands, keeping them against his cheeks. “yeah, it is,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “it’s different, more intimate, more...real. it’s just us, no distractions, no one else but us. and i love it too. love feeling you close, feeling our bodies touch, feeling completely connected to you.“

he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching yours. “being with you like this, it’s like coming home.”

he paused for a moment, taking in the feel of your skin against his, the warmth of your touch. “you know, this is my favorite part,” he confessed quietly.

he shifted his position slightly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you even closer. “after we finish, just lying here, holding you, feeling your skin on mine. it’s like...i don’t know, like being in another world or something.” he traced gentle circles on your skin with his fingertips, his touch light and comforting.

you hummed softly, still smiling at his words. “i feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice warm. “it's not that i don't enjoy our time together as three, because i really do. but sometimes, having a moment just with one of you feels completely different.”

you paused, glancing at him mischievously, decided to ruin the moment, “but, you know, i can't wait for you to go on a mission so i can have more time like this with suguru.”

spending time with one of them feels uniquely special compared to the moments you share as a trio. when it’s just the two of you, there’s an intimacy that wraps around you like a warm blanket—every shared glance and touch deepens your connection in ways that sometimes get lost in the dynamic of three. it’s in those quiet moments, just you and him, where you can truly let your guard down and fully be yourselves.

it’s not that you don’t enjoy the moments with all three of you; they’re filled with laughter, camaraderie, and shared adventures. but there’s something profoundly satisfying about having one-on-one time. you can dive into deeper conversations, explore vulnerabilities, and create an atmosphere where you both feel entirely seen and cherished.

you know they understand this need for balance, too, even without words. the subtle way they look at you when it’s just the two of you speaks volumes, a silent acknowledgment of this shared desire for deeper connection. it's these moments that make your bond stronger, allowing each of you to appreciate the unique qualities the other brings to the relationship.

gojo chuckled at your playful remark about suguru, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“oh, so that’s how it is, eh?” he retorted, feigning mock offense. “you’re eager to kick me out on a mission so you can have more alone time with my dearest friend.” he squeezed your hips possessively, his grip firm and possessive. “maybe i’ll deliberately drag my feet on my next assignment then.”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered in a low, teasing tone. “can’t have you spending too much quality time with suguru, now can i? i need to maintain my status as the favorite, after all.” he nibbled at your earlobe gently, his teeth grazing your skin. “i can’t have him stealing your heart, sweetheart. i’ll have to make sure you don’t forget about me.“

you let out a soft laugh, feigning a dramatic gasp as you pulled back slightly to look into gojo’s eyes. “oh please, suguru already stole my heart ages ago,” you teased, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

“but don’t worry,” you added with a wink, “there’s plenty of room for two favorites. besides, you know my heart has a soft spot just for you, too.” you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling away, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “but you’ll have to work a little harder to keep that title, won’t you?”

gojo chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of playful challenge and affection. he wrapped his arms more firmly around your waist, pulling you against him.

“oh, i know you’re just trying to rile me up, you little tease,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of mock annoyance. “but i’m not gonna let suguru steal you away that easily. you’re mine, remember?” he tilted your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline, his blue eyes holding yours captured. “i’ll do whatever it takes to keep that title, you bet your sweet ass i will.”

“oh you do, do you?”

gojo’s smirk grew wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “oh, absolutely,” he confirmed, his voice laced with confidence. “i’ll show you just how serious i am about keeping my title, my little sweet heart.”

he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. “i’ll work extra hard to make sure you never even think about suguru while we’re together. all your attention will be on me, and me alone. you won’t even have a chance to miss him.”

gojo’s hands roamed over your skin, his touch possessive as he pulled you even closer, their bodies touching just about everywhere.

“i’ll make sure you'l’re so enthralled by me, so completely captivated, that you won’t even remember what your dear other boyfriend looks like,” he murmured, his voice a low growl against your ear. “you’ll be too busy relishing in the feeling of my touch, the sound of my voice, the heat of my body.”

#jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #anime smut

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yuquinzel · 1 year ago

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atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#ATSUMU IS ME ME IS ATSUMU #suddenly remember everything i did to impress my crush LMAO never again #if i had a dollar for everytime i wrote “atsumu”#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu drabble #haikyuu drabble

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teddybeartoji · 9 months ago

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18: mdni; fem!reader

toji fucking you with his fat tip....

laid there under him, you can do nothing more than to just let him toy with you – one of his hands is resting on your hip, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb while the other on his rock hard cock, pumping it at a leisurely pace. he spreads the precum that leaks from his tip and rubs it all over himself and the simple act has you squirming. his scarred lips are pulled into a smirk and his cheeks are adorned with a deep flush, his green eyes now darker than ever as he tries to burn the scene that’s unfolding in front of him into his memory.

biting down onto your own finger, you try to be patient but it’s so, so hard when he’s looking at you like that. with that hungry look in his eyes. a bead of sweat trickles down the side of his head but he doesn’t bother to wipe it. there are teeth marks all over his neck, hickeys and lipstick stains all blending together into a beautiful masterpiece for him to admire tomorrow morning.

“c’mon… ”

he meets your pleading gaze and the corners of his lips pull even further back. he tuts under his breath while sliding his cock between your folds, coating it in your slick and mixing it with his precum. “no manners whatsoever… ”

“please.”

the speed of your answer makes his chest swell with pride. you wriggle your hips in hopes of convincing him to finally put it in, but all he does is give your thigh a squeeze.

he doesn’t give you what you want, no matter how sweet you sound.

every little sound that tumbles from your wobbling lip goes straight to his cock and toji realizes that this just might be the hardest he’s ever been. his balls are so fucking full and he can’t wait to fill you up like you deserve, but the sight of you being all disheveled and flustered is way too good for him to just fuck you. he needs to push you a little, he needs to play with you a little.

pressing your hip back into the mattress, toji leans over your body to place a haste kiss to the corner of your lips and chuckles when you chase after him. cute.

with his hand wrapped around his cock, he lines himself up with the entrance of your sopping cunt and takes a mental picture of your face the second he pushes in an inch. the way your back arches off the bed, the way you crane your head back to give him the perfect view of your neck. clutching onto the sheets below you with one hand, you try to even out your breathing. very fucking cute.

but he presses in only enough to watch your tight little hole to swallow the tip of his cock.

no more, no less.

he groans at the way your cunt around him, all desperate and needy, begging for him to push in further.

“pl– please… ” he feels your fingers wrapping around his wrist, your nails digging into his skin at the immense pleasure running through your body. “more, toji, more.”

with a smile, he pulls out.

your eyes shoot open and you raise your head from the pillow, confusion painted all over your pretty face. toji just laughs, his voice raspier than usual.

“you’re so impatient, hm?”

at his teasing tone, you throw your head back again and puff out your chest with a small pout on your lips. “and you’re so fucking mean.”

toji loves it when you bite back.

so, he grants you another kiss – this time to the joint of your exposed neck, right to your pulse point. his dick ghosts over your clit when he lowers himself down onto you and you let out a hushed little gasp. you tug at the dark hairs at his nape and lean up into him the second you feel his lips against your skin.

but continuing on with his ‘mean’ streak, he doesn’t stay there for as long as you’d hoped. whining when he pulls back away, you try to keep him there with you with your arms still hooked around his neck. but you’re too weak, already too fucked out from his mind games and it takes almost no effort for him to escape your grasp. the quiet laugh he lets out makes you want to sulk even more, it makes you want to hide under the covers – there’s a witty remark somewhere on your tongue, still finding its way when toji grabs onto your limp hand and brings it to his mouth, only to teasingly bite at your fingers.

his hips jerk forward as if they have a mind of their own and his dick twitches almost painfully when he sees you jut out your lip; with your eyebrows scrunched and your eyes low, toji compares you to an angry little kitten. he has to fight the urge to bury you below him again, the desire to kiss you all over so strong that he almost forgets his aching cock and his full balls.

almost.

“aw… well, aren’t ya just adorable… ”

his words come out like a coo and you try to yank your hand out of his grasp but to no avail – he keeps you there, big fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist as he stares at you. it’s hard not to feel shy under his gaze, despite all of the years you’ve spent together, and now he’s not letting you hide away either – completely bare and awaiting, toji can’t help but admire all of you. from your eyes to your neck, from your tits to your now precum coated tummy, he loves everything he’s seeing. he can’t get enough of you—

of his darling, of his best girl.

with just one move, toji pushes past your folds again and sinks his leaking tip into the warmth of your cunt once more. you moan in harmony, your voices mingling together as you melt into each other. toji lets your wrist slip from his grasp but he doesn’t let you go entirely – he intertwines your fingers and then rests your linked hands against your middle, smoothly giving himself a bit more leverage to play with you as he wishes while still holding onto you, while still being sweet to you.

he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out and sees your hole clenching around nothing – she weeps for him, she cries for him, pleading for more and more and more. and toji can’t refuse her, he can’t refuse you, so just as before, he pushes in his fat tip and nothing more.

it’s not enough, but the sensation is something akin to tickling and you can’t ignore the way it’s making you feel. your back arches off the bed again, only for toji to push you back down onto the mattress and there’s this weird pressure growing in your lower tummy even though he’s not even fully in. it feels good and you hate to admit it. you do want more – you want nothing more than for him to just fill you up, to feel his heavy balls against your ass but your thoughts and wishes get all tangled up in your head as he keeps doing it over and over again.

in and out, in and out – toji’s addicted to the way you feel around him. his tip is so fucking sensitive and your tight and warm walls are far from helping him keep his sanity. he listens to you mewl and cry out his name, but he has no intention of stopping this.

“fuck– ”

every time he moves, the slick sound coming from where you’re connected reaches your ears and you feel your body burn. it’s filthy, it’s fucking obscene – it’s ridiculous how wet you are from this. you dig your nails into toji’s hand and he raises his gaze from your pussy to look at your face instead. a layer of sheen coats your skin and toji’s tongue darts out to lick over his lips on instinct;

“does it feel good, baby, hm?” he looks like an animal, feral and hungry, with the way he’s staring at you. grinning widely when you give him a faint nod, he spits down onto your cunt and starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. your eyes roll back into your head and your lips part in a silent moan as the sudden wave of pleasure rips through you.

it hits you embarrassingly fast and incredibly strong, and toji has to use both of his hands to hold you steady as you squirm under him. his eyes grow wide at the sight of you writhing, amazed that he managed to pull such a reaction with so ‘little’ effort but it’s not like he’s doing any better – as your orgasm takes over your body, you clench around him so hard that toji can’t help but push in another inch. his hips stutter and his teeth sink down into his lips almost hard enough to draw blood. but he doesn’t stop.

he can’t stop.

so, with the added inch, he fucks you through your high. his thrusts get more desperate, his breathing grows even quicker and he’s left panting like a dog above you. never having let go of your hand, he now presses it into the mattress right next to your head while the other grabs onto your waist – his hold on you is bruising and it feels way too fucking good.

“wait, toji– i, can’t… ”

suddenly, you feel overwhelmed; with tears brimming at your lash line, you feel the weird band in your stomach tighten and tighten. your words get stuck in your throat as toji sinks further into you, his fat cock bullying its way into your sensitive cunt like it’s made for it. “no– it’s too much!”

toji lets out a breathy chuckle.

“‘too much’?” he teases while pushing in even deeper. “thought ya wanted more, doll?”

the slick sounds coming from in between you are something out of a porno, filthy and messy, and toji’s obsessed. his own hands shake as he holds himself above you and when he finally feels his thighs ghosting against yours, his lips pull into a wicked grin.

with one last thrust, toji bottoms out fully and his balls press against your ass just as you dreamed before. you’re sure you can feel him in your fucking lungs and it’s so fucking much. tojo gives your hand a squeeze and rolls his hips into yours before pulling back out and slamming them back down.

the whole bed shakes under you; the headboard smashes against the wall in the same rhythm as toji pounds into you but you’re already too blissed out to be worrying about the complaints you’ll surely receive in the morning. and it’s not even that he’s fucking you fast – he’s fucking you hard. there’s so much want behind his every move that you’re unable to think about anything else other than him.

him, him, him—

“look at me.”

your teary eyes meet his dark green ones and your second orgasm comes crashing down on you harder than the last. just like before, it hits you so suddenly that you don’t even have the time to warn him. but toji knew – he knows your body better than you do and he knows exactly what buttons to push and what words to use to have you unraveling under him.

feeling you gush around him a second time is more than enough for toji to finally let himself follow you into that state of pure ecstasy; he drops closer to you and buries his face into the crook of your neck with a loud groan as he paints your insides white.

pumping you full, just like you deserve, his fat balls twitch as toji gives you his all. the remaining energy drains from his tired body as the seconds pass and he doesn’t even try to keep himself up any longer; slumping against you, toji rests almost all of his weight on top of you with a lazy grin on his face. your sweaty bodies stick together, chests rubbing together as you both try to catch your breaths.

craning your neck a little, you press a kiss to toji’s head and mirror his lazy smile when you feel him snaking his arms around your middle. you don't even try to move, knowing that you'll be stuck there under him for a while. not that you'd even want to leave...

why would you when you can listen to your beloved snore right there on top of you like a big bear after fucking your brains out? with your hand in his damp hair, it's easy for him to let his eyes fall shut, his heartbeat calming down as he melts into you.

cute.

#tip fucking is so fucking hot please you guys we need to talk more abt ittttt:(((((((((((#toji #wtf mickey can write #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen

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viaxslz · 2 months ago

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͏ ͏ . ˙˖ ͏ ͏᱖ ͏ ͏ WHEN YOU DON'T KISS THEM ꒰´ ꒳ ` ꒱♡

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: kissing, fluffy fluff, they’re hella dramatic, pet names, not proofread :P

CHAN

Confused puppy mode activated. He blinks at you like you’ve just told him you hate puppies and sunshine. “Wait… you don’t wanna kiss me? Like. Right now?” He immediately checks his breath. Sniffs his shirt. *“Did I do something?” When you teasingly shake your head and walk away, he dramatically collapses onto the couch like he’s in a K-drama. “So this is what heartbreak feels like…” Literally pouts for the next ten minutes. Will not stop staring at your lips. Once it goes on for that long he Starts offering kisses to inanimate objects. “Okay fine, I’ll kiss this pillow instead. It never betrays me.” Bonus: the second you kiss him later, he perks up like nothing ever happened. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” Smug and clingy for the next hour. You’ve created a monster.

MINHO

Immediately squints at you like you just challenged his entire existence. “...You must be joking.” Proceeds to act like you just committed a crime against the state of Minho. Fake gasp. “After everything I’ve done for you? Dramatically flops onto the bed, face down. Mumbles something about betrayal and ungrateful partners. Ten seconds later, peeks up: “Was it my eyeliner? Be honest.” Lowkey offended, highkey teasing. Will start threatening your plushies. “If you don’t kiss me in five seconds, Mr. Bunbun gets it.” Refuses to let you live in peace until you give in. Starts hovering near you with his cheek out like: “You could fix this right now. Just saying.” If you still don’t kiss him, he pouts and goes quiet for a whole… five minutes. Then casually brushes his fingers against yours and mutters, “...You’re lucky I like you.”

CHANGBIN

Visibly malfunctions. Stares at you like his world just crumbled. “Huh?? You’re joking. That was a joke, right?” Looks around like he’s on a hidden camera show. “Did I not flex enough today? Is that why?” Pulls out his phone, turns the front camera on. Stares at himself. “No way someone this cute is getting rejected right now.” Dramatic™ but clingy: follows you around the room, hands behind his back like a lost duckling. “I’m not saying I’m upset. But my heart? Yeah, it’s broken.” Tries puppy eyes. Then arms-crossed-pouting. Then both. If you keep refusing just to tease him, he gasps and goes: “Wow. Betrayal. This is worse than when Felix ate my last dumpling.” Eventually sulks in a corner… until you sneak a kiss on his cheek. Perks up immediately: “You still love me. I knew it.”

HYUNJIN

Gasp. Actual gasp. Like hand-to-chest, Shakespeare-level shock. “You’re refusing me? Me?? The most kissable man alive?” Stares at you in disbelief like you just said you don’t like art or dogs. Immediately gets extra dramatic. leans against a wall like he’s in a tragic romance movie. “So this is what unrequited love feels like…” Paces around the room dramatically whispering, “Why? Why me?” May or may not fake faint into your arms. “I’m going to write poetry about this betrayal.” Pulls out his sketchbook and scribbles something that looks suspiciously like a broken heart with your name in it. BUT the moment you offer a kiss later, he puts the drama on hold so fast. “Oh? You’ve come to your senses? I forgive you.” (Still makes you kiss him three times to make up for the heartbreak.)

HAN

Instantly gasps like he’s been shot. “WHAT DID I DO?! Tell me right now. I can change.” Drops to his knees in the middle of the room. “Is it because I ate your last snack? I’ll buy you ten more. Just please kiss me.” Dramatic? Yes. Clingy? Also yes. Starts listing reasons why he deserves a kiss. “I’m cute. I’m loyal. I only cried twice this week.” 100% will try to trick you into kissing him. “Hey, what’s that on your cheek?” When you turn to face him he puckers his lips. When you still refuse, he fake-wipes a tear. “This is worse than that time my mom forgot to pack my juice box.” Crawls under a blanket burrito-style and mutters, “I’m going to disappear from society.” …until you give him a kiss and he immediately pops up like, “Okay I’m healed. You’re forgiven. Let’s make out.”

FELIX

At first, he thinks you didn’t hear him. “Wait, love… did you… did you miss the part where I asked for a kiss?” You say no. He gasps. Visibly stunned. Looks personally victimized. Places a hand on his chest like, “my freckles are crying right now.” Looks up at you with the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “But I baked you cookies last week…” Might dramatically flop onto the floor with zero warning. “This is the end. This is how I go. KISSLESS.” Starts muttering in his deep voice: “No more sunlight. No more hope. Just vibes and heartbreak.” Will start offering you bribes: “One kiss = one Aussie accent moment.” If you give in, he lights up like the sun. “YAY! I mean… ahem thank you, my love.” If you don’t, he pouts and writes “RIP me” in your notes app.

SEUNGMIN

You say no and he just blinks at you. “Okay.” Totally calm. Deadpan. Turns back to his phone. You think he doesn’t care. He’s so chill it’s suspicious. But five minutes later, you realize… He’s suddenly so petty. “No, I’m not sharing my fries. People who withhold kisses don’t get fries.” Starts fake-laughing at memes on his phone louder than usual. “Wow. This meme gave me more affection than SOME people. Keeps glancing at you, unimpressed. “You had one job.” If you try to kiss him later to make up for it, he leans back with raised brows. “Ohhh, so now you want to kiss me?” Acts like he’s in negotiations. “I’ll consider it… for a price.” But one kiss and he melts instantly. “Okay fine. I guess I am cute enough to forgive.”

JEONGIN

Freezes. Just freezes. “Wait. Are you serious?” Squints at you like you just said you don’t like baby bread. “Do you know what you’re missing out on?” gestures to his own face “Premium. Kissable. Visuals.” At first, he acts like he’s too cool to care. “Tch. Whatever. I didn’t want one anyway.” Five minutes later: “I could’ve been kissed… but nooo… someone had to be heartless.” Starts sending you dramatic selfies captioned: “Unkissed. Unloved. Unbothered.” Tries to guilt trip you with his pouty face. “Even Seungmin would kiss me right now.” Eventually starts following you around whispering “kiss me kiss me kiss me” like a cursed ringtone. When you finally kiss him? “Took you long enough.” But his smile is so big he gives himself away in two seconds.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #bang chan fluff #changbin fluff #lee know fluff #felix fluff #seungmin fluff #jeongin fluff #hyunjin fluff #han fluff

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osarina · 5 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit.

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now.

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second.

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies.

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.”

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.”

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?”

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck.

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.”

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy.

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out.

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone.

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room.

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive.

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks.

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his.

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his.

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens.

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?”

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet.

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it.

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs smut

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yujisdreamgirl · 4 months ago

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husband!nanami who was prepared for valentines day one month ahead. everything was planned considerately and perfectly. he has the whole day organised, from waking up to bedtime.

so, when you told him you were assigned a mission on valentines day, it was like looking at a wet puppy. he tries to conceal his disappointment, saying he understands, but deep down you know he’ll be sulking all week. it’s not like he created a whole itinerary for the day or nothing..

on february 14th, regardless of the whole missions shenanigans though, he still made the most out of treating you like royalty which means at least he got to tick some stuff off his list.

breakfast in bed? check. waking you up by kissing and hugging you? check. shower together and get ready for the day? triple check.

you make your way to the door, the wet puppy following your every step. he stands in front of you with a sullen smile, holding your waist so delicately you couldn’t help but chuckle.

your hands reach for his cheeks, going on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the lips. once you pull away, he leans forward trying to catch your lips again. you giggle into the kiss, wrapping your arms around the taller man’s neck.

“hey, don’t be too sad. i’ll be back before you know it.” he sighs, a really deep and heavy one. “i had this whole day planned out..” he hugs your waist and buries his face into your shoulder—you had him in an absolute chokehold.

“i know, baby.. i promise i’ll take down those curses and yell the fact that i have a husband to go home to!” he couldn’t help but chuckle at that. he finally pulls back, but still doesn’t let go of your hands.

“stay safe.” you smile, leaning in to give him one last kiss. once you were out the door, he goes back to your shared bed and sobs into his pillow. (he’ll never admit that to you)

—

whilst you were out being badass and fighting curses, nanami on the other hand spent the day cleaning the house and preparing the bedroom. he was glad you told him about your unavailability on valentines day a week before as it gave him time to buy necessities for an even better place to come home to.

he’s got everything prepared: balloons, roses, candles, and the whole bunch of gifts he bought last month in secret! he sets the bedroom up, lighting the candles, sprinkling the rose petals everywhere, blowing up the balloons and having the basket of gifts in the middle of the bed and his handwritten letter within it.

once you got home, you noticed your husband’s lack of response to your holler. you roam around the living room and the kitchen confused as to why the lights were off, until you reached the bedroom to a nanami kento wearing a bathrobe and the whole room decked out in loving tones. you smiled widely at your husband’s antics, totally not expecting the whole shebang. he stands up and walks over to you, taking your hands in his.

“kento, this is.. you didn’t have to..” you didn’t even realise tear drops falling down your cheeks until he reached out and wiped them away. “of course i had to. you’re my wife,” he holds your face in his palms, placing a kiss on your lips.

he lead you to the bed, encouraging you to look through the basket of gifts. it was all filled with stuff you recently talked about, from trinkets to expensive items—small objects but meaningful ones. with a loving letter to top it all off, and you swear you’re the luckiest woman in the world.

you hug him tightly and hold his face to kiss his lips. “i love you” he says. “hold that thought,” he looks at you confused as you scramble to your walk in closet, heading to the corner and taking out a small box.

“i have a gift for you too.” nanami raises his eyebrow, taking the small box in his hands. you look at him with an excited look, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. once he opened it, he felt his heart practically leap with joy.

a positive pregnancy test.

nanami looks at you, his eyes wide and a smile creeping up his lips. “honey, you’re..” you practically scream the obvious: “we’re having a baby!”

nanami puts the box aside and hugs you, tears spilling out of his eyes. “this.. is the best gift i’ve ever received. you’re going to be an amazing mother.” you pull back and smile at him, “and you’ll be an amazing dad.”

he caresses your cheek, looking into you with eyes that hold the galaxy. “that means no more going on missions, okay?” you giggle, “i’ll be fine for a few more weeks..” his eyebrows furrow and his lips pout, “no. absolutely not.” you shake your head and smile, finally giving into his request.

you both lay on the bed with his arms wrapped around your torso as you sink your face his chest. he cradles your head and kisses your forehead, “i love you, honey. happy valentines day.”

another year of being alone on valentines day but hey at least i got tumblr to keep me company🫶

#yujisdreamgirl ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#divider by roseraris #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk kento #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento imagine #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk fluff #kento fluff #kento x reader

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letteremi · 18 days ago

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Just like Chet

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru and you have been friends since high school, and boy, it's been tough being his friend. can't he just see that you've been here all along?

cw: suggestive themes (16+), alcohol, and swearing

genre/tropes/etc: friends to lovers (are they lovers? no, worse), university au, unrequited love (idiots), mutual pining, golden boy! satoru, sukuna as plot device (soz), angst, angst no comfort, alcohol!, will they-won't they, miscommunication (sorryyyyyyy), in denial, suguru and shoko and gojo and friend group yippee

wc: 5.8 k

an: not proofread xx running on 2 hrs of sleep and redbull my head IS going to explode but that's okay! I kinda wanted to make it longer actually.

Hope you enjoyy!!

Credit goes to @bronzewasp for the divider!

You weren’t that girl — the kind who pouted, sulked, or let her stomach twist just because a boy didn’t look her way. Not in a million years, or so you told yourself. You didn’t get jealous. Especially not because of Gojo Satoru.

Not even when fangirls swarm him the second he passes the gates of your university. Not when they easily pried you away from him — a manicured hand yanking you back, saccharinely sweet perfume like poison in your throat.

“I’ll see you after lectures,” you’d say, but you’d always avert his gaze, and he’d flash a grin your way, and then you would part ways. You would keep your head straight, and your eyes forward, refusing to look back at him.

You’d meet up with him later, by the basketball courts. You always got there first, and you’d always set your backpack down at the uppermost left corner.

He’d swagger in ten minutes late, backpack slung on his left shoulder like clockwork, Suguru drifting behind with his hands in his pockets.

He’d hop up to where you were, chat your ear off for 20 minutes, with Suguru’s interjections — ‘and then Yaga actually threw his bag at me’ — ‘well, can you blame him?’

The hollering whoops and ‘hey man’ of the rest of the basketball team would echo into the gym, signalling the end of your conversation. Without a second look, Gojo would jump up from his squeaky seat, shoes creaking underneath him as he launched onto the wax-coated floors.

“You always come early, huh?” Suguru would murmur. Not teasing. Just observing. Then he would turn, waving a casual goodbye, with a knowing gleam in his eyes. You never responded. Didn’t trust your voice to come out steady. If you had looked a little closer into his eyes, maybe you’d see the pity in them too.

When they both left you, you’d turn to your laptop. You’d type furiously — not an essay, not anything — just noise to drown out Suguru’s voice replaying in your mind. He had said what was so obvious, but what Satoru had always failed to notice. Or maybe he had — and just didn’t care. Didn’t want to trespass into the unspoken.

You envied him — Satoru. The heights in which he soared, the freedom he had to act so natural, to just float between people. Jealousy always creeps in like a cat amongst the shadows. A bitter little voice reminding you that he could turn to anyone, while you only ever turned to him. He belonged to the world, while you stayed in the outskirts. It was fine, really. You didn’t need the spotlight, you were happy without the attention. The twinge of envy calls you a liar.

He was someone who called the shots, took control of his own future. And you were always just someone waiting in the stands.

Sometimes you’d turn your gaze towards the court — watching the motions of the players, awed by their fluidity and speed. And sometimes, when you found them, Satoru’s gaze would already be fixed upon you — blue eyes pinned you in place, shameless, electric, like he wanted to be caught staring.

Your fingers would still, a light pink dusted your cheeks. He’d wink as he scored another point, stuck his tongue out for good measure.

He’d jog up the stands, his hair damp with sweat, curling at his temples, and snatch your water bottle. After he drank all your water — ‘there are perfectly working water taps just outside the gym, idiot’, exasperated and teasing, Satoru would laugh and recount the game, animatedly gesturing, while you listened attentively.

And without fail, you had to always bite your tongue. Always had to physically stop yourself from saying the words that came to you as easy as breathing. It was easy to love Satoru Gojo.

Too easy.

The carpeted floor of the library is shaking, thundering even. The scratching of pen on paper ceases, the staccato of keyboards stops. People are looking up from their work — some startled, some annoyed. Stomach dropping to your toes, you grimace. There could only be one person coming your way. These days, you don't really want to see him. Too consumed with the thought of studying (and him), or whatnot.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like thinking about Satoru. Just, that he sprung into your mind uninvited. Going to study today? I should probably invite Satoru… Walking past a store, and seeing a mug with a digimon on it? Satoru would love that for his birthday…Passing couples on the street? Your heart clenches, saying the thoughts that you didn’t want to think.

Shaking your head, you pull your laptop closer like it’s a shield from the Satoru-shaped distraction. Crossing your legs, you sip some matcha before diving straight back into trying to get through slope stability analysis. Why, oh why did you choose to study civil engineering?

A large palm slams onto the table, scattering your pens and sending your papers flying. Craning your neck, you find yourself face to face with the one and only Satoru. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, a playful pout on his lips. Lips pursed, your gut twists. Guilty.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, the picture of innocence. “You’re imagining things.”

“Ah! She’s manipulative, too!” He gasps dramatically, the back of his hand flying to his forehead. Just as quickly, he drops his palm and surges forward like an overeager dog.

You could catch the flecks of midnight blue in his eyes. Could see the light freckles scattered across his face. Shoes digging into the carpet, you try to scooch backwards. Unfortunately, your chair doesn’t glide gently across the floor as you had hoped, sticking to the carpet like glue. Instead, it just tilts on its back legs. Awkward.

Okay, new plan. Arms stretched overhead, you yawn, back curving like a cat’s. A smooth move (not) to put some distance between your faces. The side-eye he gave you let you know he saw right through you, the playful pout of his lips said something else.

A dramatic sigh fills the air. “Well… I’ll forgive you for being the worst friend ever if you go out with me tonight,” he says.

With him?

You stare back at him, confused.

“Suguru and Shoko said that they wouldn’t come if you didn’t either,” Satoru hums, “Besides, I miss you—”

What?

“ —no one else can keep up with me on the dance floor,” exasperation and defeat in his voice, though the teasing lilt never leaves.

“I don’t really have a choice then, do I?” You breathe out, not even realising you had stopped.

His eyebrows knit together as he leans in again — ever invasive, eyes sparkling. “I’m glad you see things my way,” laughing, “Stay at least this far—” Satoru gestures with both hands, “ — away from me though, so you don’t scare away any cute girls.”

“Ew I’d be standing way further back than that,” you retort. Lie.

With a roll of his eyes, he’s off like a gust of wind. As soon as he had come, Satoru was gone. The only indication that he had been there was the lingering scent of his citrus cologne. And you, with your ears hot and pink.

Your vanity is a warzone, your foundation brush teeters precariously on its edge, mascara wand missing its tube and drying out by the second, and three half-used highlighters glittering like cute little bombs. Where is that lip gloss? Did you leave it in the last purse, or was it hiding in one of those drawers….

Grumbling, you settle for a lip tint that makes your eyes pop. Your room matches your table, clothes littered on the floor and on the bed — messes made, casualties of indecision, torn between loose, flowy, or short, and form-fitting.

Your reflection stares back at you as you step back from your mirror — makeup done. Fingers raking against the smooth material clinging to your skin, you gnaw at your lip. Maybe it’s not too late to change into something more casual…

You take one last glance in the mirror. Lip tint, lashes, dress that may or may not be a mistake. It’ll do. It has to. Time is running out, starting over would be pointless.

He picks you up at eight fifteen. Well, technically, Suguru picks you up at eight fifteen. Satoru is the one hollering your name and heralding your arrival, his head jutting out the backseat window with glee.

The setting sun paints his face in a wash of warm oranges and pinks, and his dark sunglasses sit perfectly upon his nose — completing his party outfit, if you could call it that. As you make your way to the car, you clock his shirt — unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up, showing off his muscles like he’s modelling for Vogue. What a whore, you think affectionately, giggling to yourself.

As you draw closer, Shoko pops up behind Satoru’s massive head, from the far right of the backseat. “Who’s this babe, and can she give me her number?” she wolf whistles, clapping like you’re walking a runway.

You do a little spin in your tight dress that hugs you in all the right places, heels clacking against the cement. Eyes rolling affectionately, you blow a kiss to the brunette. She catches it, shooting you a lascivious wink in return.

“You can have my number, and anything else you want,” you flirt back, pulling the door open with a grin.

“Isn’t Sugu so mean? He wouldn’t let me be passenger princess,” Satoru whines as you settle into the front seat. “Said I’d make him crash! Unbelievable…”

“That’s because you keep messing up his console, idiot,” Shoko sighs, “How can anyone drive when you’re being annoying?”

“Are we ready to go?” Suguru finally speaks up from the driver’s seat, while adjusting the radio.

You grin, “I’m six strawberry shots in,” Satoru laughs at your admission, “Let’s do this — before I start regretting this dress. And everything else.”

Giggling like madmen, like co-conspirators, you and Satoru had long abandoned your friends for a corner of the bar. The blunt edge of the bar counter dug into your back, but your three? five? eight? Shots dulled the pain. Loud and exhilarating, the heavy beat of the song echoed with your rhythmic heartbeat. Though, with the way Satoru was caging you with his body, toned arms pressing onto either side of yours, you couldn’t be sure which was louder.

“Toru, you don’t have to do that, you know,” you whisper-shout in his ear. It was the only way he’d be able to hear you over the party-goers.

“What? And have the crowd sweep you away? Who else is going to laugh at my jokes, huh?” he shoots back. A thrill raced through your body, electrifying. He means he wants you with him then, right?

“Fine. Better you feeling all those sweaty bodies than me,” you tease. Your lips were beginning to ache from how much you’d been smiling. His body heat radiates onto you, soaking you with his warmth, your face so, so red. Here, you could pretend that he was yours. You could blame your feather light touches on the alcohol. You figure that someone like him, so endlessly touchy, wouldn’t mind. It was all in good fun.

You sweep your eyes around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of Shoko’s shiny bracelets, or Suguru’s silver piercings. A pair of red eyes — sharp, hungry —- catches yours several times, your heartbeat stutters each time. Shaking your head, you turn back to Satoru, teasing him.

Mid-laugh, Satoru lazily turns around, glancing over his shoulder, breaking eye contact. He stills — you feel it, painfully close to you — his laugh dies down, his mouth hangs open.

“Hey.” A pretty girl with glossy eyes, glossier cherry lips, and long, silky hair had her pointer finger still raised trepidatiously above his broad, angular shoulder. She looks exactly like one of the models he’s always gushing about.

With a jolt, his back straightens up, like someone had electrocuted him into having good posture. It’s like he’s tingling with a nervous excitement. You watch as his calloused fingers rake through his snowy hair, breathing life into his messy looks. Like he’s trying to impress her. His warmth dissipates from your side.

He is beautiful. So beautiful. Fuck.

You should leave. Just because he was a friend you maybe didn’t think of like a friend, didn’t mean you had to also rob him of this opportunity.

“You’re handsome,” she drags a manicured finger down his chest, leaving rippled fabric in its wake. “Buy me a drink?”

Ahem. You awkwardly clear your throat. Surprise flits across her features, as if she just realised that you were there. I mean, fair, you were standing next to the Gojo Satoru.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry, are you together?” Her hands flew to her face, mouth open in a perfect ‘o’, distress present in her pretty eyes.

“No, no,” your laugh comes out strained. “We’re just friends. He’s all yours.”

As you glance up at him, you swear you see a flash of hurt in his eyes, the slightest twitch of his lips. Just as quickly, he beams back at you, all smiles. Were you imagining things? No, probably just wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” Satoru affirms, “I’m all yours.” He locks eyes with her, cocking his head flirtatiously. You swear you hear your heart break.

You need to go. And you need another drink.

You excuse yourself, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. A pair of eyes, hot and heavy, follow you through the sea of bodies as you push through. Your heart sank with every step, twisting into something so, so ugly. You didn’t have any right to him. You didn’t have any right to feel this way. So why did you?.

You were right, it was sticky and sweaty. But it was sure as hell better than watching your best friend put the moves on another girl.

You whip your head back to look at them, hair flying, earrings stinging. The warm, overheard lights cast a reverent glow on them. The angular lines of his face were soft, and his ears were pink. Intense concentration etched in his beautiful eyes, something that you’ve only ever seen when you glance at him during physics lectures. But it was directed to her. It was clear. He was captivated.

“Owch,” A voice rips you out of your thoughts. You turn back, tearing your eyes away from them. Oh. The crimson gaze from before.

“Hey, gorgeous. Your hair, uh,” he points to the right side of his face, rubs his jaw a little with a small pout.

Guilt courses through your veins. Frantic, you grab his left shoulder (it was a lot firmer than you expected), “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I swear...” Your gaze drifts down to his arm, following the dark ink spiralling along down to his wrist.

The corners of his lips tug into a shit-eating smirk, exposing fanged canines that bit against the plush of his lips.

“You’re not forgiven, doll. Unless…” He leans in, voice husky and low, “You let me buy you a drink.”

Well. You are at a club. And, he is hot. And you did not want to think about Satoru right now.

“Make that seven, and we have a deal,” you purr. Screw Satoru, screw feelings. You squeeze his firm shoulder, your other hand reaching to brush the side of his thigh.

His smirk grows wider, and his hand finds its way to the small of your back.

“Sukuna’s got you,” he whispers, with a nip of your ear.

You don’t know how many drinks you’ve had.

At some point, the alcohol stopped feeling like devastation, and more so like liquid melatonin. Satoru hadn’t looked at you all night. Still enraptured with his nice, new girl — all cherry lips and no history. You, on the other hand, are a loser. Fifty seven times. Fifty seven times that you stole a glance at him, and fifty seven times he didn’t look back. It was like you didn’t exist in his world, invisible to the one person you thought saw you most. You felt like a sulky bobblehead, and the lights spun with each movement you made. You shifted slightly, turning your heavy head towards the bartender. One more drink couldn’t hurt.

“It’ll definitely hurt, missy.” Sukuna laughed, the sound dying as his drink reached his lips. Had you said that aloud?

A low grumble left your lips, and you turned to pout at the man. He’d had as many drinks as you had, but with the easy way he made conversation with the bartender, and the effortless way in which he’d just said anemone (how does that come up in conversation anyway?), you’d never have guessed.

Sukuna’s easy grin never faltered. He carried himself like a man who knew the world would bend to his every command. His comfort was all shadows — dark, fleeting, yet, it shielded you from the worst of your ache.

“You sure you want to keep going?” Low, dangerous.

Your stomach tightened, too willing to just let go.

Though your head was heavy, your feet felt as light as air. Floating your way to the lounge, you collapsed on the couch.

You feel so dizzy, your eyelids fluttering shut. You just want to go to sleep. At home. Crawl into bed. Disappear for a while.

A large hand wraps around your shoulders, pulling your head onto his chest with little resistance while supporting your back. Sukuna strokes your hair, and you feel the faint pressure of his rings against your scalp. Even the booming techno music isn’t enough to wake you up, you’re just so done. You snuggle into Sukuna’s chest; in your defence, it’s the best pillow you have right now. The tacky leather of the couch sticks to the back of your thighs, your dress riding dangerously high. Your eyes flutter shut, and Sukuna’s coarse fingers trail to your mid-thigh, drawing comforting circles — grounding you. You shiver. Sukuna watches you carefully, stilling his fingers and pulling back. You should let him, but you wrap a hand around his, tugging him back to your thigh.

Self-hatred devours you. You hate yourself for being so easy to comfort. For reaching for the nearest warmth when the one you really want doesn’t even care if you’re by his side. For all your pride, you’re really nothing without his attention.

The smell of Satoru’s cologne lingers on you. But the smell is fading, replaced by the smell of nicotine and sin.

Maybe you just need someone to want you right now.

Maybe you just want Satoru to look this way, just once.

Guilt coils in your gut, but you’re too tired to fight it.

All you know right now is that your head is throbbing. That his hands are warm. And that in this moment, you can pretend it’s him. Pretend you’re wanted.

The comforting motion begins once again, and you let out a pretty sigh. Sukuna smirks.

Across the bar, Satoru Gojo is seething. If he were a cartoon, steam would be shooting from his ears. His narrowed eyes are locked onto your form, cuddled into some guy’s side. Did you like him? Was that your type? Should he get tattoos? Would that make you finally see him? You nuzzle closer, and his heart twists. Wait, is that his hand on your thigh? His jaw locks so tightly he wonders if he’ll still have teeth by the end of the night.

Did you even know this guy? Were you safe? It didn’t seem like he was trying to pull anything — not yet, anyway. Satoru closes his eyes. Reminds himself to drop his shoulders. Reminds himself to unclench his jaw. Tells himself to shrug it off. Relax, she knows how to take care of herself. It’s not the first time you had gone out drinking, and it’s not the first time he’s seen you shamelessly batting your eyelashes at a hottie to get a free drink. He thinks it's resourceful, actually, and it’s so funny to watch you swindle them when he’s the one pulling you into the taxi at the end of the night.

This time is different though. He’s never seen you cling onto someone like this before, with your cheeks flushed, your delicate hands sprawled across both your laps. It hits him like a well aimed punch of betrayal, but he knows that’s not fair.

He was the one who abandoned you first, choosing to talk to that girl, and not you. He knew it was wrong, it felt like it was against his very being. Satoru just wanted to see how you’d react. He hoped you’d pull him closer, claiming your spot next to him. Needed to hear jealousy oozing from your words. Was desperate for an indication, any sign, that your heart raced as traitorously as his did when he was next to you.

He thought he could keep you at arm’s length. Indulge in the brightness of your laughter, your sass as you teased him relentlessly, admire your thoughtfulness. Flirt with you, because you both knew it was a joke (it wasn’t for him. It was never a joke for him). Pull you close, like proximity could make up for his refusal to admit to his feelings. And now some knock-off delinquent with discount tattoos and an unoriginal smirk was putting the moves on the girl he wants so badly.

Your jewelry catches the emerald hued light of the dance floor, glinting at him from across the room. You’ve opened your eyes, and you’re scanning the room like you’re mentally parting the sea of people to find him. Satoru adjusts his posture, rolling his shoulders back, tilting his chin slightly upwards — can’t blame a man for knowing his angles; can’t blame a man for needing to look irresistible. Just before your eyes land on his, the man you’re with lifts your chin, saying something low against your ear. Your eyes widen. That’s it, he’s coming over.

His heart is already halfway across the room; his body just follows.

Sukuna’s telling you that someone is staring daggers at him right now. That they kind of look like they want to obliterate him on the spot for being with you.

Bitterness in your throat, it’s like the tiredness in your eyes has been replaced with venom. There is no one in this room that feels that way about you.

You wished otherwise. But that was the truth, a bitter pill you had been trying to swallow all night. It’s cruel, you think. How he keeps giving you hope. Taking it away the next second. Or maybe you’re just angry that you believe him every single time.

You’re trying to glare down at him through your lower lashes — which proves difficult when you’re practically slumped onto his body. With a huff, you rise to your (wobbly) feet.

Much better — now you can scold him for playing with your sad, tired heart.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you lean down to really give him a piece of your mind.

Heels and alcohol don’t mix though. Your balance tips all at once. Head lurches past your feet. Fuck.

Your hands fly out in front of you. Muscles tense in anticipation, you’re waiting for the thud, to feel Sukuna’s body under yours (but not in the way he expected tonight to go..). It never comes.

A warm arm wraps itself around your waist. Strong, familiar.

“Hey Princess, don’t you go falling for someone that’s not me.” Oh. You knew that teasing tone. Could pick it out of a room of overlapping conversations easily. Your body begs to melt into the sharp outline of his, but you’re still feeling petty, so you stay stiff, resisting the pull that is him.

“Hey,” Satoru calls your name again, low and coaxing, “It’s hometime.”

You tilt your head sideways, quizzical, looking up through your eyelashes at the white haired man. “Oh. Gojo.”

The name is foreign, tastes wrong on your tongue. Too distant.

“Gojo?”

Satoru’s voice comes out strangled. He hasn’t been Gojo to you since before high school. Short, and sharp, his breaths are haggard against your ear. The thud of his racing heartbeat against your back. The ever tightening grip of his soft hands, hard on your skin. His forearm gently pulls your body closer. It's still not close enough.

“It’s Satoru to you,” he murmurs.

Scrunching your nose, “Okay fine,” you sigh, clearly not budging, “I want to stay with Kuna though. Kuna’s comfy…you’re exhausting.” You’re aiming to kill.

Sukuna raises a brow, dimples showing, and the corner of his mouth twitching as if to say try me. But he lounges back on the leather like it's his throne, challenging Satoru to challenge your drunken rambling.

Words cannot describe the sheer disbelief on Satoru’s face. His beautiful features are contorted dramatically — eyebrows shooting into his messy fringe, mouth partially open like he wants to say ew, and he’s no longer breathing.

“Um no you don’t and no he isn’t,” He’s gentle, but there’s no mistaking the sharpness of his tone. His hands are trembling, like he’s one second away from breaking. “Come on, you’re wasted. We’re going home. Now.” He wraps a hand around your forearm and puppets it into a limp wave. “Bye, Kuna. Thanks for your…help.” Satoru’s clipped tone isn’t fooling anyone.

It’s automatic, it’s out of your control, the way you immediately slump against his frame. And Satoru can’t help the way he feels when you finally surrender to him.

Satoru has to drag you into the taxi. Click goes the seatbelt, as Satoru nimbly belts you up — his silky hair brushing against your face like a feather duster. The muscle of his arm contracts, moves against your waist, your stomach, as he shoves you inside— you can’t help it, it tickles, and giggles bubble up your throat, filling the silence of the cab.

Wait.

You’re supposed to be wallowing in your self pity right now. And ignoring him.

You cross your legs towards the window (decidedly away from Satoru), and you whip your face in the same direction.

Huff.

Petulant? Yes. Did you care? No. You wanted so desperately to make him feel like he was losing you, just this once.

Just like you’ve always felt.

His stare bores into the back of your head, the whole ride back to your apartment.

You stomp ahead of him, heels clacking loudly as you ascend the stairs, pushing open the front door with force — leaving it unlocked for him, you know he’s following anyway. You hope he’s following.

Satoru trails behind you, arms crossed, tense, footsteps silent. Ears pick up on his fumbling with his keyring, finding the vibrant, hot pink spare you gave him, and locking the door with a click. A chord of shame, guilt, satisfaction, rips through you. You’re ashamed that you want him here, after the show you put on in the club. Sheepish, that you acted in that way. You didn’t even want Sukuna that bad anyway. Satisfied, that in spite of that, he’s here. He’s here.

You’ve moved into the bathroom, sighing into your reflection, as you lean onto the sink. You pump oil cleanser onto your palm, rubbing furiously into your skin, like it’d scrub tonight’s events from your memory. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Foundation-tinted water spirals down the sink. Still, you reach for the makeup remover—like it could erase the night.

“Hey, can I come in?”

Satoru.

A sigh. “Sure.”

His figure moves into your peripheral vision, a hand holding scrunched up silky pajamas, the other tucked into his pants pocket. He’s half-hidden by the wooden door frame, like he doesn’t want to be seen by your anger-clouded stare. He’s looking downwards, to the side, eyelids lowered.

He walks over, sets the pajamas by the sink. His eyes follow the way you rub at your eyelids, makeup remover soaked cotton pad in one hand. The mascara just won’t lift.

Satoru grabs the cotton, pries the makeup remover from your hands. “Just let me help,” voice low, and soft, “Promise it won’t hurt.”

He’s already taken the remover. You sigh, stilling. “Fine.” The hum of the bathroom fans permeates the silence. You close your eyes, letting him press the liquid soaked material against your eyelashes.

You let your eyes flutter open when he finally pulls back, the cotton pad now darkened with the last of your stubborn mascara. He holds it up like a trophy, grinning at first — until he sees your face, properly sees it, like the act of cleaning away the makeup stripped away your armour too.

You're bare now. In more ways than one. And he knows it.

“I’ll go warm up your bed,” he mumbles, like it’s something casual. Like the weight in his gaze didn’t make your knees want to give out.

You nod, wordless.

When you step into your room, it’s dimly lit — just the soft golden hue of your bedside lamp casting shadows along the walls. The sheets are pulled back on your side. And Satoru’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, his back to you, elbows resting on his thighs like the weight of the day has finally gotten to him too.

The door creaks behind you as you step inside, slowly. Your legs feel heavy. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the ache of everything you’ve left unsaid.

You get in bed without a word. Pull the blankets up to your chest. Big hands tug at the corners of your blankets, tucking them under the mattress. The silence thickens.

It’s like he’s wrapping a towel around a feisty cat, with how hard he's tucked you into your sheets. Featherlight, his palm cups your jaw as his thumb brushes at the corner of your lower lashes. It lingers for a touch too long, like he’s savouring being so close, so intimate. You both feel it, the line he’s toeing. Your pulse stutters, leaning into his touch before he removes his hand, brandishing a smudge of black on his fingertip.

“Leftover eyeliner.” Satoru says, voice casual, and distant. But you catch how his hand flexes, twitches. He stands back up, eyes darting to the corner of your room, averting eye contact. Oh, right. You’re reading too much into his actions. He didn’t like you. Any decent person would do this for you, for anyone. You weren’t special.

Warm tears pool in your eyes, and silent rivers run down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, pretty girl, why are you crying?” He says, voice laced with panic, movements frantic above you. Thud. He drops to his knees, cupping your alcohol-flushed face with both frigid palms. His silver eyebrows draw together, skin creasing in the middle.

You bring your own hand to his face, pressing firmly between his eyebrows, smoothing out the furrow. “It’s nothing. ‘s not like you care.”

“I care about you,” Satoru mumbles, looking deep into your eyes, “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Do…you like me?”

“You’re really doing this?” He questions, fingers carding through his hair — like he was annoyed, frustrated, at you even, for disrupting the illusion of friendship you had. The expression melts off his face, when he notices the trembling of your lips, the springing of fresh tears.

His hands reach for you, but you’re flinching away like he’s just struck you.

“Right. Of course.” You flick your eyes from his stunned face — mouth still agape, like he’s still processing — to the alarm clock by your bedside.

Satoru got you the alarm clock on your bedside table, after your phone alarm failed one too many times. He had complained that he looked like a loser in Calculus III; sitting all by his lonesome, looking like an abandoned puppy with how he turned to look at each person who entered the lecture room.

Don’t ever leave me alone again, he’d pouted, smacking the air out of your lungs.

The memories run rampantly through your mind as you silently grieved the loss of your relationship, fists clenched, fingernails digging into your palm — desperately trying to replace the ache in your heart with the physical sting. They clung to you like a second-skin, every detail vivid, bright, in the quiet darkness of your room.

You blinked, head roughly tossing from side to side, like you could physically catapult the memories, the experiences, Satoru, from your mind — desperate to halt the flood of emotions threatening to drown you.

You were done. You had to be done.

The boy next to you is a statue, head hung low, like he wants to say something, anything, but can’t.

You turn toward him, your heart pounding as you break the silence. Hands trembling, shaking. “We can’t be friends anymore,” breath hitching, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, faltering at the edges with hurt, as your voice wavered.

Your lungs felt like they were being crushed, your mind reeling, but it was too late to take it back. You had drawn the line, and you weren’t going to cross it ever again. For your sake.

“Wait what–” Satoru starts, but you press a finger against his lips, “Just…can you kiss me? Then you can go.”

He’s kissed plenty, only to ghost them the next day. The least he could do was offer you the same kindness, no?

His brain is short-circuiting, his mouth agape. Something wild flares in his widened eyes. His gaze flickers to yours, like he was trying to piece it out, but the puzzle didn’t make sense no matter how he arranged the parts.

You’re rolling over, hands reaching out to his face. Tender, and soft, you thumb at the sharpness of his jaw. He shudders at the feeling, muscles relaxing, leaning into your touch. His breath hitches as you draw impossibly closer.

“You’re drunk, we can’t–,” his breath ghosts over your own, puffy lips. Hesitation heavy in his voice.

You don’t give him the chance to finish, edging closer, lips hovering just shy of his. Breaths mingling, noses tilting, heartbeat thundering. Every part of you aching for something that you couldn’t have, would never have.

You pull back, just a fraction. Meeting his eyes — radiantly sapphire, an abyss you’d gladly fall into over and over again — filled with so many unsaid words.

“Right.” You draw in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” voice barely a whisper. The weight of his rejection hanging in the air between you, the hurt searing your soul.

You slump back to your pillow, and you turn away from him. You let him go.

You hear the creaking of the floorboards, the rustle of his clothes, as he rises from beside you. Each movement is so slow, so painfully slow. Leave already, you want to scream.

The door doesn’t close right away. You can hear him standing in the hallway — a breath held, a presence refusing to vanish. And then, finally, the soft click. Silence.

Cause that’s what he’s always done. Leave.

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x reader angst #gojo x y/n #angst #letteremi

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kxsagi · 11 days ago

Note

HEYYYY I JUST CAME HERE TO SAY THAT I LOVE YOUR WORKS!! And also, are perhaps a fan of f1? If you are, can you please make a blue lock boys x f1 driver!reader? I think it’s a cool crossover and I haven’t seen a lot of them in the blue lock fandom so it would be nice to have new contents💗

“𝐯𝐚 𝐯𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐦”

a/n: THANK YOU BABES!!!

i'm not a serious fan, but i do think that F1 is cool as hell and i would def be down to see the movie!

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, and barou shoei

isagi yoichi

isagi’s already obsessed with reading plays, so the moment he saw you overtaking two cars on a rainy track at 300 km/h, he short-circuited.

“did you see how she predicted that corner?? she didn’t even brake. she’s literally– oh my gosh i’m in love with her.”

he’s your biggest cheerleader. he wears your merch to blue lock practice. he made his own "driver! you x isagi" twitter account and keeps replying “W” under every race win post.

he tries to relate by talking about how football also requires good reflexes and team strategy… but you once let him sit in your simulator and he crashed in 0.4 seconds.

“yoichi, there’s a wall, don’t–” BOOM

refuses to let you drive him anywhere but gets incredibly flustered when you call him “slowpoke.”

“i’m not slow! you’re just– you’re literally trained for this!!”

when you bring him to a race for the first time, he wore noise-cancelling headphones, sunscreen, and packed three bottles of water. boy was acting like he was going to war.

itoshi rin

rin swears he doesn’t care, but he has your race schedule memorized down to the millisecond.

“you’re racing in monaco this week, right? i checked the weather. track’s gonna be tricky. don’t fuck it up.”

he says that with his arms crossed, standing outside your trailer with a bag full of fresh fruit and electrolyte drinks.

jealous of your car. not in a weird way, just bitter. “why does she talk to the car like that. i swear i heard her say ‘good girl.’”

you offered to take him for a lap once and he glared at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

secretly goes insane when he sees you in your race suit. he pretends not to look, but his eye twitches.

if anyone tries to flirt with you on the grid, rin is immediately in silent death glare mode.

“are they your engineer or something?” “that’s the FIA president.” “okay. and?”

itoshi sae

sae fell for you the moment you told a reporter to “grow a pair” when they asked if racing as a woman was “too dangerous.”

has a very dry but deeply supportive boyfriend style. posts one photo of you on his story like “podium again. cool.”

but he’s literally watching the livestream, checking your sector times, and texting your team principal like “she needs new tires. tell her.”

when he visits the paddock, everyone’s scared of him. it’s giving silent, rich, bored, and disgusted by most people.

you once threw your helmet in rage after a DNF and he simply picked it up, handed you a water bottle, and said: “you’ll destroy them next week. now stop sulking.”

secretly wants to kiss you after every race, but acts like he’s too cool for PDA.

when you crash for the first time (even if it’s minor), he FLIES out of his seat and almost decks a camera guy on his way to the medical center.

nagi seishiro

“woah, you drive go-karts for a living? sick.” “… it’s formula 1, sei.”

doesn’t know what’s going on most of the time, but loves tagging along because the seats are comfy and you keep winning.

he finds the speed kind of fun… until you take him drifting in a parking lot at night.

“okay i’m gonna throw up. i saw my soul leave my body.”

nags you to buy him team jackets in every color. now he’s got the full outfit: oversized jacket, hat, lanyard, and even a custom “NAGI” headset.

he once got bored during qualifying and fell asleep in the hospitality suite. woke up when you won pole and went: “yay, good job, babe.”

his phone background is you mid-race with your visor down. you asked him why and he went: “you look like a cool villain. i like it. run me over, next?”

mikage reo

THE MOST SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND EVER. he’s literally built to be a paddock husband.

walks around the grid with a rolex, sunglasses, and a laminated pass with “DRIVER GUEST - REO MIKAGE” like it’s the met gala.

screams when you overtake someone. leaps up in celebration like he just won the world cup.

“SHE’S P1! SHE’S P1, BABY, LET’S GOOOO!!!”

once tried to bribe your race engineer to let him wear your helmet for “just one picture.”

owns every possible merch item with your face on it. mousepads. pillows. tote bags. even a personalized coffee mug that says “#1 DRIVER GIRLFRIEND.”

he is so down bad every time you take your gloves off.

“how are your hands so hot when you just drove for 2 hours straight. what the hell. marry me.”

already planning a rich people wedding at a racetrack. he’s dead serious.

shidou ryusei

“babe. listen. let me ride on top of the car. just once. just while it’s moving. i need the rush.”

absolute menace in the paddock. he’s not allowed to touch anything anymore after he once tried to rev the engine mid-setup.

he finds everything about you so hot. the danger. the speed. the fact that you can do donuts in a $20 million car.

“yo that crash was INSANE– wait, you’re okay right? good. now that crash was SICK.”

wears your race suit around the house. nothing else.

makes out with you after every race like it’s the end of the world. doesn’t care who’s watching.

he yells your name from the grandstands. not even cheers. just: “I’M GONNA PROPOSE IF YOU WIN THIS!!!”

and when you do win, he’s already climbing over fences like a madman.

kaiser michael

he thinks you’re a goddess.

he first saw you doing a victory burnout and now refuses to shut up about it.

“do you know how fucking cool you are? i should be the one asking for your autograph.”

ultra cocky boyfriend energy but he melts when you call him your “pit crew” after a long race.

“pit crew? i’d change your tires with my teeth.”

literally flexes you like a trophy. has you as his lockscreen, home screen, and contact photo. your name in his phone is “speed demon 🏎️❤️”

gets super into the sport. buys your whole team dinner when you win. roasts rival drivers.

“that guy behind you? yeah. he’s shaking. peed himself probably.”

you let him sit in your car once and he wouldn’t get out. said “i live here now.”

karasu tabito

okay so karasu is OBSESSED.

he is a strategy nerd and immediately starts watching all your onboard footage, analyzing your corner exits like it's his life mission.

“babe, you’re literally the queen of late braking. who taught you that? marry me.”

wears a team jacket with your number embroidered on the sleeve. brags about you to everyone.

“oh yeah my girl drives 350 km/h for a living. no biggie. she could probably drift better than you walk.”

flirts with you while you're driving. always.

“focus on the road,” you say.

“oh i am, baby. especially when you’re in the driver's seat.”

you once did donuts in a parking lot while he stood in the middle hyping you up with his phone camera.

top commenter on all your socials: “she fast AND hot??? how is this legal???”

barou shoei

he thought you were insane. like clinically insane.

“why the hell would you drive that fast for that long. on purpose.”

barou is a control freak and hates the idea of not being in charge, so the first time he sat shotgun while you were driving he nearly screamed.

he clutched the seat. he held onto the door. he made you swear on your life not to drift again.

“I SAID TURN LEFT, NOT LAUNCH INTO ORBIT–”

but he deeply respects your work ethic and competitiveness.

says stuff like “don’t let those bastards pass you” while tying your gloves for you pre-race.

and when you win? he goes feral.

doesn’t even celebrate, just pulls you into his arms and says “that’s my girl.”

also the only one who glares at paparazzi until they get scared and run.

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

Text

A Thought™️ that I had yesterday after watching those AITA videos and babbling in the discord:

(This is also babble to be clear. I’ve been writing this throughout the morning so it might be a bit incoherent)

The 141 is shopping for a new team member, someone to round out their four person squad into five. They have a dozen candidates, pick one that looks promising, and transfer him over under the military equivalent of “probationary” status.

Pretty quickly they decide his personality alone might not make him a good fit but whatever, if he’s good at his job, they’ll suck it up. The “alpha male” posturing bullshit is kind of amusing in the meantime at least.

Well, first mission comes and goes. The guy isn’t too bad, honestly — apart from almost picking a fight with Gaz. Skills-wise he’s as advertised, so he gets to stay a bit longer while the 141 decides if they can stand him.

Post successful mission, though, they go out for drinks at the guy’s insistence. He invites his girlfriend — who he dragged along with him — to the bar to meet his new squad. (Because he thinks there’s no way they’re not making him a permanent teammate.)

And the 141 may be barely tolerant of him, but they decide almost instantly that they adore his girlfriend. She’s incredibly charming and bubbly, doesn’t even blink at Ghost’s mask. One of the first things she does is thank them for the opportunity they’re giving her boyfriend and for keeping him alive.

Which is about the time the real issue starts.

The boyfriend says some rubbish about “an alpha doesn’t need protecting, he does the protecting. He looks out for his pack.”

And you smile a bit awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and try to usher the conversation along.

It doesn’t take long for him to quickly fall out of what little favor he accrued. You’re a bright spot in their group, laughing and chatting with them all like you’ve known them for years. Incredibly sensitive to asking any hard questions and sort of forcing the conversation through the weird patches where your boyfriend interjects with some inane comment.

Eventually, your boyfriend gets sick of your chattering and tells you to fetch them more drinks. Soap instantly sits up, saying you don’t have to do that, but you gently wave him off. Chirp that you don’t mind doing it as a thank you for their service, and weave into the crowd.

The table goes uncomfortable quiet — apart from your boyfriend, who makes some ghastly comment about how you have a pretty face but an annoying laugh. When you get back, drinks expertly balanced in your hands, Ghost goes out of his way to drop puns that get you giggling like mad.

As the night ticks later, and your boyfriend gets drunker, he reaches the point you always dread.

“Garrick, le’s arm wrestle.”

“Baby, I don’t think that’s…”

“This is between us men.”

You groan a bit and sit back. Gaz looks befuddled but shrugs and agrees. It’s not even a contest; your boyfriend’s arm is flat to the table in all of ten seconds. Flustered, your boyfriend demands a rematch. And when he loses again, scoffs and demands a go with Soap.

You practically sink deeper and deeper into your seat before the secondhand embarrassment starts to weigh and you have to excuse yourself to the restroom. When you get back, the impromptu arm wrestling seems to be over, though your boyfriend is sulking in his corner of the booth.

When you gingerly slide back in, Price nudges you with his calf.

“Would you like a go, luv?”

You grin and shake your head. “I don’t fancy a broken wrist, Captain.”

“C’mon luv, you might surprise yourself,” he teases and you can’t resist the playful glint in his eye.

So you lock your thumb around his, elbow on the table, and push. And his arm incrementally goes down… down… down…

“Well would you look at that,” he muses.

You burst into laughter, flattered and endeared by his indulgence.

“That tough, eh?” Soap muses, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s see it, then.”

So you roll your eyes, fully expecting to get trounced. But just like with Price, he starts to relent when you put up resistance, making a show of straining and panting as he “loses.” When you’ve won, you finally play into the joke.

“Serves you right,” you tease.

By your side, you hear your boyfriend huff derisively. “Oh, come on.”

Before your fun can be ruined, though, Ghost is offering you his hand, dark eyes sparkling. You bite your lip, but it doesn’t hide your grin as you accept the unspoken challenge. His hand is huge around yours, but shockingly gentle. He goes down easiest of all, whistling in amazement.

“Look’it that, you’re a pro,” he says, “think we should all be buying you a drink.”

“She doesn’t drink,” your boyfriend interjects.

You huff and settle back into the booth. “Maybe some other time, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Count on it.”

You get into an argument with your boyfriend that night. He thinks you were “challenging his dominance” and “stirring the pot,” trying to sew discord and strife amongst the men to get them fighting over you. He says something about being the alpha of the group and that he would win but it’s insulting to him as your “provider” that you would question his authority.

He’s tipsy as he says it though, working himself up. You just follow the usual routine of soothing, reassuring, simpering — and then considering leaving when he’s finally asleep. But you’re far from home, don’t have the means to leave, and besides, you won’t be finding any support from your family on this front so…

Well, it’s not so bad, you remind yourself. He can be an asshole, but so can you and it takes two to fight. Besides, he only gets really bad when he’s been drinking and that’s only once a week? 1 out of 7 isn’t a bad ratio.

—

The 141 pretty much collectively decide that they adore you though. You get regularly invited to team outings, wherein your boyfriend keeps challenging (and losing) arm wrestling, while the boys coax you into “winning.”

They’ve also become rather adamant that you don’t bring them drinks anymore.

“You’re not our personal beer wench, yeah? We’re able to get our own pints,” Gaz soothes.

Your boyfriend chuckles and shakes his head, imparts his “wisdom” that it’s a female’s job to serve her man and his friends. As a sign of respect or something. You know it’s not an argument worth having and just sip at your drink in silence.

But you love going out with them. Love knowing the men keeping your boyfriend alive and they’re a good bunch. Respectful and funny and disciplined — you’re kind of hoping they snap your boyfriend out of this weird “alpha male” phase he’s been going through. On the other hand, you’re thrilled to be making something like friends. Sure, your boyfriend has made it clear that the 141 are his friends, but they’re always so conscious of keeping you involved and comfortable.

Then one night your boyfriend mentions what a “good little cook” you are and that instantly has all the boys perking up. Smiling, you offer to host during the Saturday League matches. They gleefully accept over your boyfriend’s protests about other men in his territory or something like that.

But when they do come over they’re horrified by the unspoken expectations. You tell them to sit, that you’ll bring them all drinks, with snacks on the way. They’ll be having none of it.

Ghost helps you with drinks, Gaz chops the veggies for snacks (and dinner). Soap pops in to keep you company while you babysit simmering pots. Price helps to tidy as you go, despite you’re fussing that he really doesn’t need to, he should be enjoying the games!

They end up spending more time with you in the kitchen than out in the den with their own teammate. You barely notice, swept up in the busy currents of playing hostess. When your boyfriend shouts that he needs another beer, you come back to find Price getting plates and utensils for dinner. It’s so thoughtful you could cry.

Even worse is when they help you clean up afterwards. Each of them taking and clearing their own plates. Soap on washing big dishes, Gaz on drying. Ghost is packing up leftovers. Price is turning over the dishwasher, asking you where dishes go and tutting when you insist you should be helping.

All the while, your boyfriend stands in the doorway telling you all the ways you could improve the meal next time. And how you definitely ate too much for your body size, etc.

He only stops when Price makes a pointed comment about standing around looking pretty.

When they leave, they each sweep you up in a hug and drop a kiss on your cheek, praising your home and cooking and hosting. Soap promises that he’ll get you a little souvenir on their next mission as a thank you.

And sure enough, three weeks later, the boys are coming by. Except your boyfriend is nowhere to be found — out with some other guys from the base that he says he hit it off with. The 141 insist that he agreed to a football watch again, the empty headed muppet.

And of course you’re not going to turn them away! They’ve brought you flowers, a little matryoshka set from their last mission, chocolates and wine. Not one of them is empty handed.

“Do you even like the game?” Gaz asks as you put it on.

“My favorite team isn’t playing until tomorrow but I don’t mind watching,” you answer, shrugging.

But somehow no football is watched at all. Instead they convince you to tell them your top three favorite movies, then claim none of them have ever seen any of them and they have to watch all of them.

Which is how your boyfriend finds his whole team enjoying a little movie marathon with you. You’re on the ground with Johnny (it’s Johnny now, for you) doing his eyebrows. Gaz is braiding your hair. Ghost (Simon) is sharing a bowl of candies with you. You’re sat against Price’s shins, the captain sitting in your boyfriend’s chair, lounging like a king.

When you welcome him back, telling him the boys are staying the night, he tries to throw a fit about it. How dare you let four strange men stay alone with you?! You calmly remind him that he promised he’d be home by 11 and it’s already nearly 1. And besides, he trusts them with his life, you’re allowed to trust them to be polite in your own home.

With all four of his teammates watching, tense and nearly hostile, he mutters something about being tired and storms off to bed. You end up falling asleep on the couch with ghost despite yourself.

And your boyfriend becomes absolutely haunted by his team’s (is it even his team? It feels more like yours!) affection for you.

They always invite you out even if he doesn’t plan to invite you. (When did you get any of their numbers?! Never mind Ghost’s. He doesn’t even have Ghost’s number.)

They stop by the flat constantly, sometimes dropping in. Other times staying for hours. Soap tells him that they’re all one big family; that includes you. (“Alright then why don’t we go hang out with one of your girlfriends?!” He had an actual nightmare about the laughter that gets him.)

And the fucking gifts. It’s not just soap bringing you things anymore. It’s all of them. Magnets, mugs, sweets, pretty rocks. Just garbage to your boyfriend but you treat it all like treasure. They’ve even got you sending them on hunts for specific things. Something blue, something with nuts, something with the flag.

Then there’s the base.

They bring you on one day — Price picks you up, the boys greet you at the barracks with coffee and breakfast. You’re put into a big 141 hoodie that says “Riley” on the back and toured around. You’re supposed to be “surprising” your boyfriend, but he’s busy with recruits and generally seems uninterested in being around you.

Not to worry though, the 141 is happy to show you a good time around base! Gaz and Johnny walk you through one of the obstacle courses, Simon lets you sit on his back for pushups during the last of his workout. Price takes you to the range and shows you the basics of shooting, then lets you catnap through the adrenaline drop in his office.

Your boyfriend only bothers to find you when Johnny and Simon are teaching you basic self-defense. Your boyfriend scoffs that you’re plenty protected by him, but you point out that he’s away too often to be of any real help — at which point Johnny tags you and bolts before your boyfriend can get all up in arms.

You only recognize that this little hurdle in your relationship has become a chasm when something happens. A big argument with your parents over the phone — you barely even remember what about. But instead of calling your boyfriend afterwards, your first call is to Gaz. (Because you know he’s the most likely to be free and paying attention to his phone.) You’re almost shocked when he picks up on the second ring. Your boyfriend has never answered on the first call.

When you try to explain through poorly-restrained tears, he coos at you to find a warm coffee shop and that they’ll be right there. “They” ends up being him and Johnny, since Simon and Price are locked up in an important meeting. They buy you hot chocolate and pastries while you vent to them, and end up leaving feeling better for once.

But you can’t break up with your boyfriend. Because if you do, the 141 will surely stop hanging out with you, and you value their company enough to put up with it.

At least until you come home one day to find all your little gifts gone. When you ask through a tight throat where everything is, your boyfriend says he was just making space. That you’ve been complaining that you two need a bigger flat, but now he’s solved the problem without wasting money.

You actually raise your voice for once, throwing an entire fit because this. This is the last straw. You storm into your bedroom, slam and lock the door, and call the 141.

A small part of you expects they’ll take his side or something. But nope. Simon soothes you on the other end, that the whole squad will be there in fifteen and to pack your stuff.

You do so while Price takes over and keeps you level. Reminds you of essentials to pack and explains that you’ll be coming to stay at his place, since he’s got off-base housing. It’ll be quiet and cozy and safe while you recover.

Five minutes away, they promise to be right there and end the call.

You could absolutely scream when your boyfriend — ex boyfriend — starts banging on the door. Demanding that you open the door to him. That you’re being over dramatic and blowing everything out of proportion. Using the “your emotional and irrational” line that you’ve heard a thousand times and are just about sick of.

Your heart stutters with relief when you hear the knocking at the apartment door, confused silence as your ex goes to see who it is. You take that moment to slip out, packed suitcase in hand.

You startle a bit at some commotion, round the corner to see your ex’s shirt bunched up in Johnny’s fists, looking ready kill him. No one seems inclined to pull him away; neither are you.

“How are you holding up, luv?” Gaz asks gently as Simon takes your bag.

“Been better,” you admit, sniffling as Price wraps you up in a hug.

“It was just things, luv,” he soothes, “we’ll get you a million more, if you like.”

You pull back to give him a miserable look. “But they were my things and they didn’t have to go anywhere. He just threw them out.”

Johnny snarls something out, but Gaz is already ushering you out the door. You tell your family about the break up through text and then shut off your phone, bundled into the backseat of an SUV with Gaz in the backseat. Price is in the front, all of you waiting for Simon and Johnny to come down.

“What now?” you ask quietly.

“Well, about time we cut that knob loose,” Price muses. “But that’s not your problem anymore.”

“Oh…

“And you, luv.” He looks at you through the rear view. “You get whatever you want.”

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #polycule #poly 141 #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl

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