#ALL I WANT IS TO HUG HER AND KISS HER AND GIVE HER EVERY LITTLE BIT OF LOVE I HAVE IN ME💞💟🌹💮🌹🌷🏵🌼💙💘💙��💚💞💚💝💟❣🌹🌼🌹🏵⚢🌹⚢🌹👭

[lvl109]

sugar and stars

gojo satoru. ᝬ fem!reader.

summary.ᐟ you reconnect with your ex when you return to your small town for your high school reunion after what seemed like a lifetime of events. seeing him again only unravels everything you thought you knew.

tee says.ᐟ hello hello! first of all, congratulations to daya (@spearofheaven) for reaching one billion followers! thank you so much for letting me be a part of the jjk vs the world event! also thank u again to phybear for betaing for me... again... love you dearly. ♡

your initial relationship with satoru could be described as puppy love. he was the first boy you ever seriously liked, so he took many of your firsts. first real boyfriend, first kiss, first movie date, first i love you. the first person to see your naked body and run his hands over your curves with enough reverence to make you cry. he'd kissed your tears with crystalline shards of his own and you were certain you were in love with him. and you didn't doubt his love for he with you because he treated you like you were someone worth holding close.

even when outside talk thought the two of you wouldn't last, you didn't listen. the two of you stuck by each other all throughout high school and were even voted best couple for prom. it was perfect. he was perfect. a promise ring to seal the deal before the two of you set off to college cemented your beliefs. he was in love with you, and you him. in your mind then, clouded by his warmth and sweet kisses that left you breathless, nothing could have ever driven the two of you apart.

so how did it get to this? resenting the small apartment you'd called home, sticking out long library hours and even longer shifts to avoid the brooding weight of a conversation you didn't think you were ready for. the long swooping kisses he'd give you at the front door every morning shortened to just a chaste peck to your forehead… and that was even on days he remembered.

somehow, he'd always remember your favorite. from a quaint shop managed by an elderly woman who loved him like a son. a cold order of brown sugar milk tea was the beacon of light you clung to like a moth to flame.

deep down, you knew it was stress. university was a whole different ballpark than high school and the brunt of your sudden adult responsibilities had hit the two of you hard. trivial things like dishes left in the sink would explode into arguments about slacking off and the uneven distribution of help to fermented resentment and guilt masked as both pride and stubbornness. there are days where you don't speak to each other and days where you want the grip of his hugs seared into your skin for the rest of your life.

you talk to shoko about it. all she does is look at you with slight pity. you swallow the burn of shame in the face of her own loving relationship and put the mask of a loving girlfriend back on. because you love him. you do.

against your better judgment and to the surprise of those close to you, the both of you push on and get married. graduate college the year before the small wedding. it's happier, for a little bit. the title of husband suits him. the rings sparkle like twin stars in the mornings you share on your short honeymoon. you get his clinginess and the weight of his affection back tenfold and your soul sings in response. you move into a slightly bigger place in the city and try to rebuild your lives again. and it's good. you try and mend the broken threads of your growing tapestry to the best of your ability.

but the dead weight drags across the floor plan with you. a shackle tethered to your foot.

a once coveted declaration of love had turned stale over the three years you were married. you held out for as long as you could, but it was eating at you. and you could it was eating him, too. no amount of promises whispered into your shoulder at night could fix that.

what surprises you is how well he took it. you never did like seeing him cry, but it was necessary. you were young. naive. you have love for him, but you needed time from him. and him, from you. the fact that he had quietly agreed and wished you well told you that he had drawn to the same conclusion you had.

you sleep in each other's arms that night. he doesn't whisper any apologies this time. and when you return from work the next day, him and his things are gone. the divorce is finalized over the rest of the month. quietly. amicably. you keep the apartment, the ring, and the memories. and a cold cup of your favorite drink.

it takes ten years for you to work around the ghost of him. you have a few boyfriends. you can admit that. you fucked around for a little bit to try and forget him. but, as if to remind you of the weight in your chest, the sheets still smelled like him weeks after putting them into the wash. maybe it was your brain playing tricks on you. the sting of accidentally setting out a mug in his favorite color next to yours has dulled over the years.

you do well at your job. you make friends, rise in the ranks, discover things about yourself, and truly turn a new page. the bags under your eyes are a little less visible. you go out more. make plans with people and follow through with them. you laugh, you cry, and you love. you grow. the person you are without satoru gojo is one you come to love without him.

you think about him sometimes. wonder if he's as happy as you are with the development of yourself sans him. the thought of him doesn't weigh heavy in your chest anymore. the ring doesn't burn against the memory of his promise to you.

forever and ever, i'm yours to keep.

shoko calls about a reunion. a small meet up at a bar not too far from your high school. some classmates from back then gathering to catch up later in the month. it makes you hesitate. would you fall back into old habits around him? would the growth mean nothing and he was just the same person you'd said goodbye to ten years ago?

"he asks about you, you know." shoko picks up your call on the first ring. "in case you were wondering."

a soft puff of air leaves your lips as a faint laugh. "we're all friends. i'm not surprised. the… divorce rocked everyone else just as hard."

it had. you'd never heard shoko threaten medical malpractice against someone so casually. your friend group was small and talk was bound to happen over the decade you hadn't seen him. "i'm glad he's doing well."

shoko hums offhandedly. "it's bottomless drinks tonight. you'll find out the scope of his real feelings soon enough."

now your laugh is wary. "if it's bad…"

"you don't get to skip this one." her voice is sharp just as it is cutting and it makes you wince. "plus, a conversation would do you two well." then a low mumble you're absolutely sure she intended for you to hear, "and he misses you."

you don't know how to process that information. you swipe through your calendar and clear your schedule anyway.

your high school friends are so much different now. wedding rings gleam in low lighting, different haircuts, different styles that come with age and growing into your own skin. the host—your tutor from freshman year, you realize—even has kids of her own. you nurse a drink of your own and laugh in between hugs and conversations pick up just as if you'd seen them yesterday.

suguru bumps into your shoulder later into the night. long hair swept back, posture still slouched with someone who grew to be comfortable in their own skin. a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips when you make eye contact and your brows raise.

"suguru." surprise coats your tone with laughter, disbelieving even when you lean in with a hug that affirms his realness to you. "oh, wow. you don't look like shit anymore."

shoko snorts and he rolls his eyes in good nature. "you're not too bad yourself. how's life been treating you?"

"i don't feel the urge to take a running leap out of the window that much anymore, so there's that."

the three of you raise your drinks in toast. "here's to making it past thirty," shoko drawls around a plume of smoke. "may fourty grant all of us a fucking break."

it's fun. healing, a bit. you're not the only one who changed. but you've mellowed out. not nearly as high strung as college made you feel. you're surrounded by the people who love you and have always loved you even if you couldn't see it. even if it meant being apart for so long. even if it meant..

you see a flash of white in your peripheral vision. a laugh that sound like a heartbeat you know like your own. your body turns as if tuned to a frequency only you could here, setting your drink down on a nearby table.

"going outside for some air," you mumble offhandedly. you don't stick around to wait for a response.

your feet lead you to the back of the building and down a clearing, lampposts illuminating your path. a large clearing of grass that melds into thick trees that stretch into the night sky. the air is crisp and smells faintly of earth and the sweetness of your drink lingers on your tongue. the old dirt road is still trusty under the soles of your feet after so long. you reminisce over nights spent sneaking away from your responsibilities and shushing stray giggles smothered by bigger hands and smile a bit, fond.

you find the old swing set your teacher tied to a tree branch to give your class a semblance of a normal life. memories flood back when you take a seat, gently swaying back and forth. shared lunches on the field, running on the track field, tossing graduation caps in the air surrounded by the backdrop of flowers and wooded beyond.

his presence is felt before you even see him. still tethered together despite all these years spent apart.

"is this swing taken?"

time has softened him. glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, white hair still tousled like he'd just run his hands through it. your gazes meet and his smile softens to something more personal.

it takes a moment but you motion for the other swing silently. he sits down, drops a plastic takeout bag near his feet. the wind whistles between the two of you as you toy with the cuff of your sweater.

"you look good. better." he exhales a bit, warping space around his voice. "the best i've seen you in a while."

words are still stuck in your throat. the ring burns a lot brighter near him, hanging from the chain around your neck hidden underneath your shirt. twin heartbeats against your chest. you can't bring yourself to ask him if he still wears it on his person, too. you never could bring yourself to put it away.

he moves forward, a hand extended towards you. "got your favorite."

your head snaps up, inhaling sharply when a gleam catches your attention. your chest squeezes with the casual offering, blinking in surprise when the scent of sugar hits your nose. silver glistens in the moonlight. a breath slips past your lips. "oh."

you take the cup. cold seeps up your palm the same way a sudden wave of nostalgia nestles between your bones. the bridge of your nose burns with the telltale sign of tears.

"what if i don't like this anymore?" you can't look at him again, certain you'd truly leave your safe haven with tear-stained cheeks. what if meeting him again spirals into something you couldn't come back from? "we haven't spoken in ten years. we're not the same anymore."

satoru's swing stills next to you. the party goes on behind you, faint hollers and cheers in the distance. stars twinkles above your head as your only witness. the wasn't just a high school reunion anymore. it was a test to see if your healing was real. if the ache was still present even after the illusion of laying it to rest over the past decade.

"it would have been worth the seconds of conversation." an offering. to rebuild your shared promise from the ground up, maybe. it's just as uncertain as the thoughts swirling within your head. but.

"you kept the ring," you murmur after a beat. satoru musters a small grin that borders on sheepishness. "why?"

"i needed something to hold on to." he admits quietly. "when you left—when we separated. it undid me. the ring was proof you once existed under the same sky as me."

you toy with your own chain. a nervous habit picked. it draws his own gaze that shifts when realization breaks across his features like a new dawn.

"i'm not here to ask you to pick up where we left off. though i could very well get on my knees a beg if you asked me to."

you let out an amused scoff and he smile brightens. "but," he continues, "if i could see you again... i would like that very much."

but. you take the drink. take his comfort and offered sugar and the weight of his kindness. it unburdens your shoulders a bit.

[nomoredying]

i got you babe i came from x ambessa tag

Can I request wife ambessa headcanons

wife!ambessa x reader

she’s so fine, thank you, headcanons

wife!ambessa who can’t fall asleep until she knows you’re safe. even if she returns from war exhausted, armor dented, skin covered in cuts — she’ll wash up, wrap around you like a fortress, and only then does her breathing slow. she sleeps heavy only when she can feel your warmth beneath her palm.

wife!ambessa who wakes up at the tiniest noise during the night, but relaxes instantly if it’s you moving around. if she sees that you’re moving in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, ambessa pulls you closer. if you manage to slip out of her hug and she doesn’t find you near the bed, she returns to bed when you do.

wife!ambessa who loves marking you. not just hickeys, but hand-shaped bruises on your thighs, teeth marks on your shoulder, the faint line of her rings pressed into your skin from when she held your face too tight while kissing you. you’re her battlefield in a way no one else is allowed to witness.

wife!ambessa who takes her time with you like she does with sharpening her blades. she’s patient, thorough, deliberate — her hands are rough, strong, overwhelming, but her touch is slow, as if savoring every sound that leaves your lips. she believes if she can conquer entire kingdoms, she can conquer every inch of you.

wife!ambessa who’s sometimes genuinely confused when you prefer flowers over gold.

wife!ambessa who can’t fall asleep until she knows you’re safe. even if she returns from war exhausted, armor dented, skin covered in cuts — she’ll wash up, wrap around you, and only then does her breathing slow. she sleeps heavy only when she can feel your warmth beneath her palm.

wife!ambessa who thinks of marriage as a pact of absolute, undeniable loyalty in all aspects: political, physical, spiritual. she’ll stand by your side no matter what, if you stand by hers. 

wife!ambessa who has no concept of moderation when it comes to providing. if you mention you’re cold, she returns with three new fur cloaks, pelts stacked on the bed, and a fire already blazing. if you say you like a certain fruit, suddenly a caravan of it appears at your door. one night you scold her for it: “ambessa, I don’t need all this, I just need you.” for once she doesn’t have a sharp retort. she just looks at you for a long moment,“I was not raised to give love with words. so I give it in what I can carry.”

wife!ambessa who secretly melts under your touch. when you drag your fingers over her scars, she goes utterly still. when you massage the knots in her shoulders, she groans low, head falling back like she’s surrendering to you alone.

wife!ambessa who eats sparingly by herself, but with you she finishes everything you put on her plate. she’s not picky, but if you cooked, she treats every dish like a feast.

wife!ambessa who cannot sit still in a quiet room unless she’s touching you. if you’re reading, she’ll stretch out across the floor near your chair. if you’re sewing, she’ll sit on the bench with her knee pressed against yours. if you’re writing, she’ll loom behind you, chin propped on your shoulder, watching the page. she won’t admit it, but she hates silence unless you’re filling it.

wife!ambessa who makes a point of returning home with something small from every journey — a carved trinket, a coin, a feather. not for the item itself, but because ambessa wants you to know that she’s always thinking about you. over time, the house fills with little tokens, reminders that you are woven into all her battles.

taglist: @fruitfulfashion

[punksyeet]

- happy birthday babies <3

plot: just moments into jey’s 40th birthday, the sweetest gift he could ever ask for arrives.

warnings: slight mature language & cutesy fluff! ᯓᡣ𐭩

A/N: thank you to @mrsfatu08 for the request! 💌

been putting it off for a bit due to writer’s block, but today felt like the perfect time to finally get it done. enjoy! 🫶🏼

———————————————————————————————

“that’s it mama,��� josh mutters, his voice just above a whisper, pressing occasional kisses deep into my hair. “in and out. you’re doin’ amazing.”

i nod, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

“you’re doing a wonderful job mrs. fatu,” the head nurse, melissa, reassures me. “just keep breathing.”

i nod again, my chest tightening with every jolt of pain through my body.

moments that feel like hours later, the pain finally dies down, allowing me to lay back and breathe a sigh of relief.

“that was the worst one yet,” i announce breathlessly, rubbing my bump. “i-is she almost here?”

the past nine months have been hell on earth.

from the general struggle of carrying this kid, to the insane mood swings, to the even more insane cravings.

i just want it all over with.

melissa nods, smiling softly. “just like you, baby girl wants out of there real bad. and she will be soon.”

i chuckle lightly, watching josh as he leans down.

“she’s a warrior like her mama,” he compliments in between kisses to my belly.

i smile, running my fingers through his curls. “more like a future wrestler like her papa. this girl is super kicking the hell outta me!”

he laughs and presses a sweet kiss my cheek.

“alright you two,” the nurse interrupts between laughs. “i’m gonna go check on a patient next door and then we’ll run some more tests in a little while. holler if you need me.”

“will do doc,” josh replies, quickly nodding with a smile.

we both thank her sweetly and she heads out the door, closing it behind her.

i sigh, sinking my head deeper into the hospital pillows and looking up at the ceiling.

out of the corner of my eye, i see josh take a seat on a chair next to me.

soon enough, i feel his warm hand back on mine, lacing our fingers together.

“you alright, baby?” he asks, softly pushing strands of sweaty hair away from my forehead.

i look over, immediately getting lost in his eyes. “which one?”

he smirks, tilting his head. “i think that baby is doing just fine. i was talking to my first one.”

i smile, puckering my lips to the side to prevent a belly laugh. “tired….and sore.”

he gives me an empathetic smile, stroking my cheek lightly. “we only got a little while left, mama. you heard doc. baby girl is itching to get outta there.”

i nod, looking back up, my eyes automatically being drawn to the digital clock hanging on the wall.

11:47pm. 13 minutes until josh’s birthday. the big 40.

a few moments of silence take over before i speak again.

“i just wish she’d hurry. it’s almost your big day.”

he smiles, shaking his head. “that shit is the least of our worries right now, bae. ima be 40 for the next 365 days. baby girl is only gonna be born once.”

i look back over and nod, guilt still running through my veins.

josh already shares a birthday with his brother jon.

and though they’re inseparable, i know that sharing quite literally everything growing up, especially a day that’s supposed to be all about you, was one of their biggest pet peeves.

and though he’s all grown up now, i wouldn’t wanna take even more attention away from him by giving birth to our daughter on the same day as well.

“hey,” he mutters, snapping me out of my thoughts. “i don’t care if this baby comes in five minutes or five hours. ima be happy either way, you hear me?”

he cups my face and i immediately lean into his touch, kissing his palm.

he smiles and leans in, pressing his lips to mine.

i kiss back running my fingers through his thick curls before pulling him into a hug.

“i love you,” he mutters against my neck, pressing even more kisses there. “we gon’ be good. i promise.”

“i know,” i reply, holding him close and inhaling his comforting scent. “i love you more.”

———————————————————————————————

everything happened so fast.

by midnight, there was no signs of anything.

just me, josh, and our baby girl kicking away celebrating her papa turning 40.

but by 12:05…

“we need one more big push, mama!” one of the nurses yell from between my legs. “i can see her!”

i can’t see which one it is, nor do i care.

i just need this baby out of me.

“breathe baby,” josh reminds me every so often, stroking my hand with his thumb. “she’s coming.”

i take a deep breath and push with every single fiber of strength left in me.

the room goes white.

those last seconds of peace and quiet feel like ongoing hours.

until finally. finally i hear her.

her cries. her screams. her wails.

her.

my daughter.

“happy birthday baby!” melissa cheers quietly, wrapping her up in hospital blanket. “come meet your mama!”

tears pour out of my eyes as she places our daughter in my arms.

“h-hi baby girl,” i greet her breathlessly, pressing kisses to her tiny but oh-so-perfect head.

she sobs into my chest, her tiny hand immediately clenching around my finger.

holy shit.

i’m a mother.

———————————————————————————————

i watch on as josh interacts with our daughter, pressing pillow soft kisses to her hair.

“she’s so beautiful,” he coos, admiring her features with a sniffle. “we really made that.”

i smile, letting out a breathless laugh before wiping his fresh tears with my thumb. “hell yeah we did, daddy.”

he turns to me and we share a kiss before he turns back to her.

“all this hair came from you i can tell you that much,” i say, gently twisting her tiny, dark curls with my index finger.

he chuckles, rubbing the back of her head with his thumb. “at least she got something from me. this gorgeous face is all you, bae.”

i blush, kissing his bare shoulder.

as if baby can understand, she lets out a giggle, causing us both to gasp like it’s the coolest thing we’ve ever seen.

“that’s your smile,” we say to each other in unison, sharing a look and laughing afterwards.

he presses another kiss to each of our temples before i speak up again.

“have you texted jon yet?” i ask, tracing the tribal patterns on his shoulder.

every year at midnight, my husband and his twin brother tell each other happy birthday.

from what i’ve heard in stories, they’ve been doing it since they could talk.

whether it was when they were five and shared one room in their tiny little house in pensacola, or during college, knocking on each other’s dorm rooms once the clock struck twelve.

he stops in his tracks and looks over. “mama, you’re a genius.”

i tilt my head in confusion as he hands over the baby and reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone.

———————————————————————————————

“everyone’s knocked out, huh?” melissa whispers, coming into the room after softly knocking on the door.

i chuckle softly, nodding. “yep. too much partying i guess.”

she smiles, coming over to refill the pitcher on my nightstand with ice water. “and how are you feeling?”

i sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. “like i just gave birth.”

she smiles and watches as i look over and josh and our daughter sleeping peacefully next to me. “but this view makes it all worth it.”

happy birthday, babies. <3

tags: @uceyliyahh @christinabae @bebesobrielo @biancasreign @myamericannightmare @partypoison00 @li-da-savage @cafeluvs @tribalchief2112 @isabella-2025 @chasssssworld @wrestlingprincess80 @amethyst09 @luvrgirl4roman @mamis-girly @skyesthebomb @mselenalovebug @moxley99 @wooahmiri @romanreignshairdresser @fearlesschimera @esposadomd @voidstiles18 @bloodlineslut @sharmelasworld @caralinda0914 @justazzi @trippiexlove @chocobuttabaybee @fafomama @gabriella-15 ♡

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[calmcoldevening]

Hi, can you make one where a female reader has spots on her skin that look like a cow? Please, I love your stories 🤗❤️

(\_/)

( °^°)

( >❤️ )

Otis Driftwood

• Otis looks at your spots with surprise and interest, finding them mesmerizingly beautiful. As an artist, he sees you as an incredible work of art. He runs his fingers over your spots, as if trying to solve a mystical puzzle. He is captivated by your beauty, perhaps the reason why you survived and became his muse.

• He does not allow anyone to touch you. You are his precious possession, and he will not allow anyone's dirty hands to touch you, even in this house. Otis is always by your side, wherever you go. He protects you. Especially from extremely interested victims. Anyone who gets too close to you will say goodbye to their life.

• Otis has a certain fetish for your spots, which look like chaotic drops of blood. He will kiss every spot, especially those hidden under your clothes. It is a map that only he can read, his treasure.

• If someone dares to laugh at you or comment on your spots in a bad way, Otis will give them a designer "paint job." Their bodies will be covered in red spots from their own guts.

• Otis likes to compare you to the moon, which also inspires him. You're like this beautiful sky with cute craters. And since we're all made of leftover star dust, it's kind of true. You're a whole universe. His own, unique universe.

Thomas Hewitt

• Thomas has been an outcast all his life, so when he meets you, he sees that you're different, you're special. That's what attracts him to you.

• If you're self-conscious about your spots, Thomas will give you his shirts and some of his sweatshirts. His large clothing easily covers most of his skin. Of course, he doesn't want you to hide your beautiful feature, but if it makes you feel better, he doesn't mind. After all, he also hides his face under a mask. But when you're alone, he kisses every inch of your body, trying to show you how beautiful you are.

• He loves touching your spots, kissing them, and caressing them. They are incredibly adorable to him, and it makes you special. When he surrounds your patterns, he finds solace. It's like a rosary for him.

• If anyone dares to speak ill of your spots, Tommy will go into kill mode. One day, Hoyt tried to say something, but Lyuda stopped him in time. If it had been a little longer, Thomas would have taken a chainsaw.

• Thomas likes to bathe you in the bathroom and gently rub soap on your spots, as if he were cleaning his treasure. You usually sleep with him either in one of his big shirts (yes, a sign of ownership, baby) or in a short sundress that reveals all your magical spots.

Jennifer Check

• In a world where everyone strives for a perfect tan and plumped lips, you were a breath of fresh air, and Jennifer was immediately drawn to your unique appearance. You were simply delightful, and she immediately wanted to befriend you, or perhaps even more than that. She simply hoped that you would agree. "My spotted princess. The most beautiful girl in the universe!"

• Anyone who looks at you the wrong way will forget their own name. If it's a girl, Jennifer will drive her to the point where she'll just transfer to another school, and if it's a guy, she'll just eat him up. And she'll be even more beautiful for you, right?

• She loves going shopping with you and finding clothes that perfectly accentuate your spots. And she wouldn't mind giving you the perfect makeup that will make you look like a true fairy. Jennifer doesn't mind having spots either, as long as they're from your hickeys or your lips.

• Jennifer loves all your spots, but she has certain favorites that she kisses most often. Usually when you're hugging. And she also kisses them "for good luck" before an important event or exam. Because her cute, beautiful girlfriend brings good luck.

• Jennifer is obsessed with her beauty and all that, and she's really insecure. But you... you're perfect, the complete opposite. And she loves the contrast. And she's confident enough to prove it to you, because you're perfect.

[thedilfydoctorshow]

Bad Idea Right?

Summary: How was Trinity supposed to know that the cute vet student that saved her cat's life was her bosses daughter???

Pairing: Robby'sdaughter!reader x Trinity Santos

Warnings: smut (sloppy lesbian sex, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring)

Notes: While Dr Robby may be white, this author is not. The character in the story is meant to be biracial - though never explicitly stated. Character descriptions are meant to be vague though all my writings are meant to be poc!reader

You met Trinity at work, her panicked roomate bringing in their cat - Felony, 4 year old orange male, lethargic and vomiting. You try not to let your panic show when you do your assement and your initial fears are confirmed.

"When was the last time he urinated?" you ask.

"I-I-"

That's when she burst through the door.

"Huckleberry what the fuck happened?"

"Sorry, Trinity, I just- I came home, and he wasn't moving."

"Excuse me," you interrupt, "When was the last time he urinated."

"I don't know," the guy, Huckleberry? surley that was not his real name, said looking with you with wide worried eyes.

"Nothing in the litterbox last night and I clean it every night," the girl, Trinity, says as she bites her lip in anxiety.

"Okay so it's definetly a uninary blockage. It's very common in boy cats, has he had one before?"

She shakes her head, "Is he going to be okay? We're doctors you can use medical terms."

Fuck. Human doctors and nurses didn't tend to make easy patients, often assuming that their knowledge was 100% applicable to their animals. There was a lot of overlap, sure, but there was a reason vets don't treat humans and vice versa. You'd know, you'd seen your own father insist your cat was not "galivanting around" the neighbourhood so she couldn't have feline herpes - feline herpes is a respiratory disease that most cats contract from thier mother during birth.

"Okay so a blockage this bad may require surgery. We're going to take him back and put him under anesthsia him right away, and place a urinary catheter and that will allow the urine to drain and get rid of the toxic build up of electrolityes and toxins."

"Surgery? He can't just pass them on his own?"

"Unfortunately it's not quite like humans. The uethra in male cats is very long and narrow, which is what causes the blockages to happen. But, like I said this is very common so we know exactly what to do."

"Okay, okay," she nods, "Take him, do whatever you need to."

"Alright," you smile as you gently pick up Felony in your arms, "a vet tech will be by soon with the consent forms for you and to answer any more questions."

"You did great in there," Your supervising vet says when you've walked into the back room, "So good, in fact, I think that you're ready to intubate this one."

"Really?" you perk up, so far you'd only done sutures and other minor procedures.

"Yup, we'll even get Emma to take a video of you so your dad can watch it and be proud of his little girl."

"Dad!" you yell when you enter kitchen, "hello, fluffbutt."

"Why do you yell at me, but you're so nice to the cat," he says as rounds the corner

"Sorry, daddy, I thought you were upstairs," you give him a hug before you set your stuff on the counter.

"How was your day, sweetheart," he kisses your cheek, you scrunch your face as his beard hairs tickle your face.

"So good!" you say pulling your phone out of your pocket, "Guess what I did today?"

"Don't tell me it about any euthanasias."

"I would not be excited about those," you pull up the video, "Guess who learned how to intubate! Dr. Sherwood made sure to get a video because she knew you'd want to see it."

He watches, a proud smile creeping on his face, "Look at how stable your hands are, I was shaking so bad the first time I intubated that I dropped the tube twice."

"I figured you'd disown me if I messed it up so I made sure I got it right. How was your day?"

He groans, "One of my residents coudln't come in because of a family emergency so we were short handed."

"Ugh, I'm sorry, daddy, but I picked up some cheesecake from that bakery close to the clinic," you say pointing to the box on the counter, "caramel pecan."

"Why didn't you lead with that?"

Felony had to stay a few days for monitoring, and you're there when Trinity comes to pick him up.

"Oh my god he looks so much better," she says when she sees him in the kennel, "Did you do the surgery?"

"Oh no," you say, giving Felony a chin scratch as he purrs in Trinity's arms, "I'm a vet student - 3rd year - so I assisted but it'll be a while until I can do the procedure myself."

"Oh so do you do a residency after you're finished then? I'm in my second year of mine."

"No it's not mandatory like it is with humans but I'm kind of enjoying it here at the emergency vet so I might do one to specialize but I'm not sure yet," you don't say it aloud but you know the pull to the high stakes of emergency medicine is a genetic trait. You wanted to hate it when you started, but there was nothing like the high of a good save.

You chat a bit longer with Trinity as you help her collect her things and go over Felony's care instructions. Just as she's about to leave she turns back to you.

"I hope this isn't overstepping but I'd love to get a coffee with you."

You fell hard for Trinity.

You'd had attraction to women before, but never really put any thought into it. You'd been on dates with guys in the past, enjoyed them even, and but it was different with Trinity. She was surprisingly attentive, and had a secret soft side that you enjoyed exposing.

For your first date she'd picked a coffeshop that was near your clinic, bought you a croissant and a drink and you'd talked until the cafe was ready to close hours later. She didn't tell you what her specialty was - you didn't ask.

The conversation flowed easily, as if you'd known each other for years.

"So this lady comes in saying her dog was throwing up like crazy, we do the x-rays find an obstruction in the small intestine and get consent for surgery. Mind you, owner of this dog is like this very posh old British lady okay. We open this poor dog up and it's a bright red thong, probably expensive too. And I'm like okay grandma good for you geting your freak on at your age I hope my sex life is good when I'm that old. Anyways, we get back to her and show her the thong right. This woman looks my instructor in the eyes and tells her she has never worn a thong in her life."

Trinity's jaw falls open, "No! What did you say to her?"

"Just started going over post op care instructions, we didn't know what else to say."

"So how did Felony get his name?"

"Oh I got him from one of my friends who found a stray cat that was pregnant. They originally named her BE - short for breaking and entering, because she broke into their house and decided she lived there. Then one day they came home from work and the cat had four kittens and they kept the crime names so I have Felony and Arson. Our other friend has GTA - Grand Theft Auto, and Aggy - Aggrivated Assault."

"The light switch in the kitchen stops working I'm like I'll call the landlord because that's their fucking job. But, Huckleberry's all 'no need to bother them I can do it' but then I catch this man unscrewing the switch and going in with a pair of metal pliers without turning off the breakers first."

"Oh my god," you laugh, convering your face with your hand, "and this man made it through med school?"

"Apparently they just let anyone graduate these days."

At the end of the date you'd asked Trinity if she wanted to go for a second one.

The second date turned into a third date, and the third into a fourth. Afterwords you'd invited her into your house. Your dad was gone away with Uncle Jack to the cabin, he wouldn't be home all week and Trinity didn't start work again until the weekend.

"You're such a gentleman," you joke as she walks you to your front door.

"I was raised with manners m'lady," she makes a big show of bending at her waist and kissing your hand.

You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips are soft, no scratch of stubble like the men you've done this with before. She pushes you against your front door, cupping your jaw with one hand.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask, biting your lip anxiously.

"Yeah-uh," she clears her thoat, "Yeah if you want me to I'd love that."

"Just so you know, I've never done this before," you turn around and fumble with your keys and the lock so you don't have to look her in the eyes, "If that's a deal breaker that's okay."

"What like you're a virgin?"

"No, no, I've had sex but only with men before," you finally get the door open and step inside, "So I don't know if you're like a gold star lesbian or somethi-"

She cuts you off with another kiss, pushing you all the way into the foyer and closing it with her leg.

"That "gold star" shit is bullshit. I don't care about your past all I care about is that you want to be here with me, right now."

You nod against her lips.

You lead her down the stairs to your room in the basement, stopping only to say hello to Kitty whose curled up in a ball on her cat tree, snoozing happily.

"Is this the famous Kitty I've heard so much about."

Kitty gives her a sleepy meow before rolling over and to ask for belly rubs.

"Oh she's trying to trap me," Trinity coos, intelligently keeping her hands in the safe zone.

"Oh yeah, don't listen to her she'll bunny kick the shit out of your arms, I've got the scars to prove it."

One quick handwash later and Trinity has you laid out in your bed, door closed so Kitty does not witness any scandalous behaviour.

She's on top of you, your hands tangled in her hair as she kisses you slowly, letting her hands run along the sides of your body, creeping under your shirt. It slides up with her, exposing more and more skin before she pulls away long enough to get it over your head.

"This is cute," she murmurs against your skin, lightly snapping the strap of your lacy lavender bra lightly against your shoulder. She's found the sensitive spot behind your ear that you like, "You wear this for me?"

You nod, "Was hoping you'd want to come in tonight."

"Matching set?"

"Why dont you find out for yourself."

She lets out a soft groan, "Tease."

And then her hands are pulling down the waistband of your skirt. You lift your hips, helping her shimmy them down your legs and then you're lying underneath her in your matching bra and thong, shivering under her gaze.

"If you keep looking at me like that I'm going to get self concious."

"Sorry, baby," she says, crawling back over you, "Was just enjoying the view. You're so pretty."

And then she continues where she left off, kissing your neck, sucking a mark into your pulse point.

You groan, "I'm low on concealer."

"Good. Want everyone to know you're mine."

You start pawing at her shirt, wanting it to come off. She obliges, leaving her in a plain black bra and her jeans. You run your hands over her back, finding her bra clasp and undoing it with ease.

"You sneak!" she teases when the straps fall down her arms, "You said you haven't dones this before."

Your eyes are drawn to her breasts, swaying freely, you kind of understand why men are the way that they are now, "I also have boobs you know."

"The first time I tried to take off someone else's bra I sat there for like 10 minutes."

You pout, "Don't talk about your other lovers or else I'm going to get jealous."

She bites your protuding lip before she soothes it with a kiss, "Okay okay. Lucky for you I'll do anything you ask me to."

"Prove it. Take off your pants, I don't wanna be the only one naked."

"You're not even naked," she grumbles but backs off so she can undo her belt.

"Whose fault is that?" You squeeze your thighs togther when she kicks them onto the floor, heat flooding your core.

And then her hands are reaching behind you, trying and failing to unclasp your bra.

"Haven't you done this before?" you tease, mimicing her earlier words.

"Shut up," she's flushed, face turning a deeper red the longer she's unable to undo it. Feeling only a little bit of pity, you reach behind her and do it yourself, "Fuck, sorry."

"Don't be, it's endearing," You reach up and give her a peck on her check, warm with embarassment under your lips, "You look cute when you're flustered."

You add your bra to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor and fall back against the bed, revelling in the way Trinty's eyes seem to be glued to your breasts.

She leans in, kissing your sternum before she turns her attention to your left breast, sucking your nipple while palming the other in her hand. You let out a moan as she teases you.

"Feels good, Trin."

Her legs are settled between yours. You raise your legs up to wrap them around her waist, pulling her closer, bucking against her to try and get some friction.

"My girl is so needy," she teases, "Can't even let me take my time."

She moves one of her hands to your hips, pressing it down against the bed.

"Please Trin," you whine.

"Please what? Use your words, baby."

"Wanna cum, been thinking about it all night."

"Good girl," she coos, spreading your legs apart with hers, "Keep these open for me, kay?"

You nod, pulling her up for another kiss. Her hand starts on the outside of your thigh, and she takes her sweet time guiding it to where you really want. She strokes your clit through your soaked panties, the lace of the thong scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck, baby, you're dripping."

You nod against her lips, "All for you."

She rubs a circle on your clit, catching your moans with her mouth. You lift your hips in an attempt to urge her on, but she keeps her lazy pace, slowly driving you crazy with each languid movement, still barred by the thin stretch of fabric.

Finally, she yanks your panties down your legs, before returning to her previous spot, making full contact with your throbbing clit. Her hands glide through your slit with ease, teasing your entrance but not actually entering you.

"This okay, baby?" her voice is a hoarse whisper in your ear.

"Y-yeah, Trin, want you so bad."

Her first finger slides in, slowly pumping inside of you a few times before she adds a second on. You moan, working your hips in rythm.

"More," you pant. She's gone back to kissing your neck which makes you feel a little light headed.

"More? So greedy," but she inserts the third. This time the heel of her hand presses up against your clit giving you the stimulation you need. Her fingers curl upward and you scream out.

"Close, Trin," you pant, "Keep doing that."

She listens, continuing her actions and letting you rock your hips into her hand. You bring one hand up to play with your breast, rolling your nipple in your hand as you get closer and closer.

"Can feel you baby," she says, "You're sucking my fingers into you. Cum all over my hand."

You do. You moan out her name when you do, melting into the matress as Trinity works you through your orgasm. You don't even have a minute to compose yourself before she trails kisses all the way down your torso, spreads your legs open, and devours you. You can't think, you're only aware of the way she's sucking on your clit. You feel her lapping at your pussy like you're the last meal she'll ever have.

"Taste so good," she moans.

Then she's got her fingers back in you, crooked inside you as she attches her mouth back to your clit. You reach down and run a hand through her hair, nails scratching at her scalp as she continues her actions. Your walls spasm around her fingers involuntarily.

"W-wanna cum, again, Trin."

"Cum for me, baby."

And for the second time that night you call our her name as you tumble over the edge. She doesn't let up this time either, instead fucking you her fingers as you ride out your high, pussy thrusting against her face.

When she finally does let up her face the glisten on her face is obscene in the low light of your bedroom.

"That was good?" She says with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes, lightly kick her head in jest, "Like you couldn't tell."

She crawls back up your body and presses her lips to yours once more. You can taste yourself on her tongue - you don't hate it.

"When I left my house today I looked at my strap on and decided to leave it at home because I didn't want to be presumptious. I've never regretted a decision more."

You laugh, "If you didn't live so far I would say go get it. Or tell -what do you call him - huckleberry - to bring it here."

"He doesn't have a car otherwise I would have when you invited me in."

You laugh and then in for another kiss. It's then you realize Trinity is still wearing her underwear, and more importantly she hasn't cum yet.

"Oh my god you must think I'm like totally selfish," you say when you pull away, "Let me get you off too. Tell me what to do."

Trinity laughs, "Relax. We popped your lesbian cherry, I just wanted to make sure you felt good."

"I felt great, but it's not fair I should return -"

She cuts you off with another kiss, "Calm down. I'm not an annoying straight man. We don't need to keep a tally of orgasms."

"No, but I should at least get you off once tonight. Unless you didn't enjoy this and you don't want to-"

She gets up again, readjusts her postition so she's sitting on your pelvis. She takes your hand and guides it under the waistband of her panties, in between her folds. It's the first time you're touching a vagina that's not yours, it's an interesting feeling. She's warm and wet, your fingers glide through with ease.

"Feel that?" you nod, "Eating you out did that to me. You don't have to worry that I didn't enjoy it."

You move your fingers around experimentally, "Can I…"

"Maybe next time, baby," She removes your hand and hers, finally takes her panties off, "Tonight is about you. But if you insist on making me cum there's something else we can do."

She adjusts her legs, straddling your hips before hooking your left one over her hip. You groan when you realize she's left a trail of her arousal on your other thigh.

Trinity chuckles when she realizes what you're looking at, "Yeah baby, that's what you do to me."

She moves forward until her pussy is hovering over yours. Her fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. And then she rocks against you, dragging a moan out of both of you. She does that a few more times before she stops.

"Keep going," you plead.

"Give me a second, sweetheart, gonna make it better for both of us," she reaches down to where your bodies are conjoined, pulling back the hood of your clit before starting back up again.

"Fuck" you moan, gripping the sheets.

"So wet, baby," She murmers, "Just slipping all over me."

You can feel every throb between you. You're still sensitive from earlier, boardering on too much.

"Feel good?"

"Y-yeah, Trin, so so good."

"Good for me too. You're so fucking perfet."

She speeds up, grinding faster and harder. You feel like you're on fire, so overstimulated, and yet you want more. Her steady pace starts to faulter, you know she's close. Her name falls from your lips like a mantra as you buck up to meet her thrusts.

"Know you got one more for me, baby," she grunts.

Your head falls back against thet pillows as you cum again. Trinity keeps going until she follows you, cumming with a shout. Her hips still against yours, you can feel the throb in her pussy as she catches her breath. You make grabby hands at her and she gets the message, falling next you in the bed and pulling you close.

"So have I successfully turned you off of ever sleeping with a man again?"

You laugh, "Is that what you were doing?"

"I take my vow of lesbianism very seriously."

"Maybe," you hum, "But I fear if I were to ever meet Sidney Crosby and he said he wanted to sleep with me I would jump his bones."

Her nose scrunches, "Ew. Guys who play hockey are like the worst."

"I know," you had experience, "but I watched him get drafted to the penguins in 2005 and I watched him lift 3 cups in my city. I will be in love with him until I die."

"I suppose I can let that slide."

Trinity wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. The sheets are still warm so you must not have left long ago. There's a hoodie on the bed that has a sticky with her name on it and a note:

Trinity <3

Making breakfast upstairs. Come up if you wake up before I'm done

The hoodie is too big - hits her mid thigh - but it's better than being too small so she zips it up and heads up the stairs.

"Good morning," you say with a smile. Kitty is on the barstool, patiently waiting for the can in your hand, "Sleep well."

"Yeah for some reason I was super tired," she jokes, "someone kept me up late."

"Hope it was worth it," you wink.

"Very."

You give Kitty her bowl before grabbing a vial from the fridge.

"How long have you been up?"

"Not long," you respond, pulling out a syringe from the cabnets, "Usually Kitty will wake me up but I was so exhausted I slept through her meowing. So I'm giving her her insulin and then taking I'll start making breakfast. Omletes or pancakes?"

"Ooo pancackes, please."

"How did I know you were going to say that."

On your second date the two of you ordered desert to split. You'd gotten up to use the bathroom and while you were gone and Trinity had eaten basically the whole thing by the time you came back. She'd felt guilty and apologized over and over again until the replacement desert came and blamed her massive sweet tooth.

"I'm still so embarassed about that. I didn't even realize I ate it all."

"You don't have to be," you laugh, "you got me a replacement so I really don't care."

Trinity looks around the kitchen for the first time. Open concept layout, expensive marble counters, one of those fancy taps with a touch sensor.

"You live with your parents right? Your dad's not gonna come down and chase me out with a shot gun is he."

"Just my dad yeah, my mom passed when I was a teenager. And no. He's on a lake trip with his friend."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that."

You shrug, "It's been 10 years, life moves on."

"So you and your dad are close," she asks. Given the fact that you still live with him and you've mentioned him a few times during your dates she figures that you probably have a better relationship with your parents and she does.

"Yeah, we are. I would have moved out after college but I'm concerned about him being on his own. I don't want him to be lonely."

You start up on the pancakes and Trinity notices a baby picture of you hanging on the wall.

"Oh is this you? You were so small and cute."

You smile when you realize which one she's looking at, your mom and you at the beach wearing matching sun hats, "Yeah that's my mom."

"You look exactly like her," Trinity says, squinting at the picture.

"Yup that's what everyone says. I joke that my dad's genes just rolled over and died when I was born."

Trinity looks at the other pictures. There's pictures of you at various stages of your life; one of you as a kid in smiling at the camera in your #87 Crosby jersey, one of you holding Kitty, a pair of yellow eyes floating in your hand as you cradle her dark fluffy body to your body, the one in the middle being a picture of you at your college graduation wearing a cute white dress standing next to your fath-

Fuck. The other pictures confirm it.

She just slept with her bosses daughter.

Trinity's heart skips a beat.

"Hey, um, what was your last name again?"

Your brow furrows, "Well at work I go by, (Y/L/N), because my mom never changed her last name and it makes me feel closer to her, but legally its Robinavitch. Why?"

That explains why she didn't immediately recognize Dr. Robinavitch's very unique last name at the clinic. And you do look exactly like your mother, not a single one of your features reminds her of the man she spends 12 hours a day with. She should have known when you told her about your diabetic cat named Kitty - she's heard Dana make fun of him for naming his cat Kitty so many times, she's even joined in once or twice.

She suddenly realizes the reason why the hoodie is so long is because it's probably because it belongs to him. She's standing in Dr. Robby's house, wearing his hoodie, eating his food, after fucking his daughter. Lowkey, she wants to give herself a pat on the back, but she's suddenly worried about whether or not she's going to lose her job.

"So um, little problem," Trinity says, "I think your dad is my boss."

Your head snaps up, "You're in emergency medicine?"

"I didn't say that before?"

"If I knew you were an emergency medicine resident don't you think I would have asked if you worked with my dad."

"You're sure he's not gonna come home and find me here right now?"

You check your phone, nails clacking on the screen, "No, his location is still at the cabin. He's there with Jack. If they come home early one of them will text me."

"Is he going to be mad? About us? Does he know that you like girls?"

"I didn't even know that I liked girls until I met you, I doubt it'll be an issue though. And I mean, I don't know how he'd feel about me dating one of his residents. You know Mateo, the nurse, well one time when I was there he asked me out in front of dad 'cause he didn't realize who I was and dad just grabbed his shoulder and told him to find a new case."

"Mateo asked you out?"

"That's the part of the story you're latching on to?"

"You're right, sorry, more important things like whether or not I'll be fired for sleeping with my bosses daughter," except Trinity can't help herself, "Did you say yes?"

"Yes to what?"

"To Mateo."

"And what if I did?" you walk up to her, "you jealous?"

"Has a man ever made you cum as many times as I did last night?"

"Maybe I just haven't the right one yet."

Trinity smashes her lips into yours, pushing you back until your back hits the fridge. You return it with the same passion, groaning into her mouth as she wedges one leg between your thighs.

She was so going to get fired for fucking her bosses daughter on his kitchen floor.

[paperbacksinner]

Luigi with reader who’s insecure about her high sex drive

Little drabble, lmk if you want more/different with this

Tags: @iinfinitelimits, @mangobabygirl, @mangionesdaisy, @poohkie90, @mrs-cactus69, @bbyelle12, @soulsmangione

———

You were embarrassed to even bring it up. You’d been pacing your apartment for twenty minutes, chewing your lip raw, wondering if it was better to just keep quiet and try to… rein yourself in. But Luigi noticed. Of course he noticed. He always noticed when something was eating at you.

“Babe,” he said gently, setting his book down when you flopped onto the couch beside him with a sigh. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

You hesitated, tugging at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s stupid.”

“Not stupid if it’s makin’ you sad,” he countered softly. “Tell me.”

You exhaled, heart hammering. “It’s just… I feel like I want you too much. Like, all the time. I don’t wanna annoy you or— or make you think I’m needy or something.” The words tumbled out, cheeks burning.

Luigi blinked, then scooted closer, brows furrowing. “Wait, that’s what you’ve been worried about?”

You nodded quickly, hugging your knees. “I feel… broken, kinda. Like I can’t turn it off. And I don’t want you to think I’m some—”

“Stop,” Luigi cut in, reaching out to tip your chin up so you’d look at him. His touch was warm, steady. “You are not broken. And you’re not annoying me. Do you know how good it feels to be wanted like that? To know my girl’s thinkin’ about me, cravin’ me, wantin’ me close?” His voice dipped, rougher now, like the thought alone stirred something in him.

Your lips parted. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You never gotta hold back with me. If you want me—tell me. If you need me—take me. Doesn’t matter if it’s morning, or the middle of the night, or three times in a day.” He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “I’ll give it to you every time. Happily.”

The knot in your chest loosened all at once, a shaky laugh escaping you. But Luigi wasn’t finished—he tugged you into his lap, hands roaming your back, voice low and certain against your skin.

“Your sex drive doesn’t scare me, baby. It turns me on. Makes me feel like I’m doing something right. And I love the thought of being the one who can take care of it. Of you.”

You melted into him, the shame replaced with warmth—and an ache you didn’t feel like hiding anymore. And when you kissed him, needy and eager, Luigi only smiled against your mouth, pulling you closer like he was determined to prove every word true.

[procrastinationaccount]

Something about these two touching each other's necks

The move from an immediate deadly threat that isn't followed through to its conclusion, to a perceived threat actually/also meant as a protective gesture, to Gideon willingly giving herself over to pain in order to protect Harrow. The fact that the strangulation was their last skin-to-skin contact for years, and they effectively slowly work their way back up to it. One-way trip to No Town, indeed.

[fushitoru]

seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader

summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!

warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)

a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)

general masterlist

“Pleaseeeee,” Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. It’s almost comical how he—head of the biggest clan in Jujutsu—is leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. “Will you come with me?”

The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. “Satoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.” You’re both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.

Mind you, you’re the more rational one between you and Satoru—in fact, most of the people who know you would agree that you’re a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threats—powerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.

At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. “Pleeeease,” he drags out, practically whining. “I have separation anxiety.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for him—hours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. “I don’t know, Satoru…” you murmur, hesitating.

But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. “Don’t make me go in there alone!” he says, his voice muffled. “You have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. I’m already one step away from wanting to kill them all.”

A sigh escapes you as you realize he’s not letting up. And while you’re reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinion—one of the few he truly values—might actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. “Alright, alright,” you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene." 

His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that you’re not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white he’s smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in. 

As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, who’s shifting the gear. “Put the divider up.”

“O-Okay, Gojo-san.” A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husband’s voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.

“Satoru!” you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows you’re always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“My pretty wife,” he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. “So pretty, so supportive.”

Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. “Satoru, we shouldn’t be doing this here. We need to discuss what to sa—”

“Fuck that,” he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.

“No, but—”

His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. “Baby, you know I value what you have to say,” and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, “but I wanna listen to something else.”

He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. “Satoru,” you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.

“Yea, that’s what I wanna hear,” he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your panties’ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. “My good girl.”

As he’s touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure you’re in and you’re desperately praying to God Ijichi can’t hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. You’re just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoru’s dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. It’s like he’s devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers. 

Between kisses, you try to get out a “Satoru—mmph,” smooch, “we shouldn’t be—mm” smooch, “shouldn’t be doing this here!” 

“What,” he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fucker’s trying to toy with you, knows what he’s doing is mischievous. “I can’t touch my wife?”

Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. “We’re here, Satoru we need to go—-” As you’re trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.

Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.

With his oh-so-irritating eyes—the same ones that you spent despising in your early school years—he looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didn’t bump your head against the car’s ceiling. “Let’s go and deal with those hags, my love.”

To be honest, you don’t really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. He’s on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as you’re about to take a seat next to Gojo—being mindful of your kimono so you don’t flash any of these old bastards—one of them speaks up. 

“Gojo-sama, why is this woman here?”

You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoru’s jaw clenched. But right as he’s about to say something, you cut in for him. “This woman,” and you smile, deceptively sweet, “is the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.” You don’t need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until you’re basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.

Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukuna’s vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under. 

Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, “What is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.”

In your life, you’ve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husband’s charm. Satoru knows what he’s doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck. 

a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorry 

The indecency of all of it—-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, that’s my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?—-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that you’d only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoru’s hands start rubbing your fold. It’s a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless. 

It’s just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?”

“I hate you,” you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoru’s circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoru’s arms engulfing you as you’re forced to take whatever touches he’s giving you under the table. 

“She’s so loud,” he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond. 

A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. “Gojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.”

Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. “Can’t my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone else’s in this room, after all,” he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. “Besides,” and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, “weren’t you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?” 

At this point, you’ve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“But guess what,” and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, “we can solve that problem right here, right now.” He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.

It seems that no one’s seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojo’s suggestion was. “It is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!” one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage. 

Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. “Then don’t bring it up all the time, old man.” Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so he’s running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. “Actually, what about this? You all haven’t witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?” He smirks. “What about witnessing the heir-making next time?”

general masterlist

a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3

[rottingpink]

work wife

cw. cheating, semi public sex, highly immoral behavior, power dynamics, smut.

⤷p! link

synopsis. his wife has been noticing the drastic improvements in his mood these days. the reason? she has no clue!

an. reposted bc it flopped...

masterlist navigation

he's been coming home in better spirits these days. his wife notices it the moment he walks in. his shoulders aren't as hunched, the faint shadows under his eyes have softened, and there's a steady rhythm to his steps that wasn't there before. he looks healthier, yes, but also quieter. less interested in everything. the way he used to greet his wife upon coming home with long hugs and affectionate kisses has shrunk down to quick pecks. on some days, just cheek kisses and head pats you'd give to a child or a friend. 

you're the one he's been letting get dangerously close lately. his cute little intern who shadows his every move, learning the ropes but also testing the edges. everyone murmurs half-jealous, half-incredulous that you're his work wife. though you've caught wind of the gossip, you don't correct them.

your bond started slow, innocuous. a shared laugh after shitty clients had left, long eye contact, little touches, like when you were helping him sort a stack of files and your fingers brushed over one another. then, a shoulder leaning into his as you crowd together over the same laptop screen. then, wanting to test how far boundaries would go, you pecked his cheek after he complimented you on a job well done, but his head turned last second and your lips brushed.

you'd apologized profusely, extremely anxious about his reaction, but instead of being upset, he offered you the gentlest kiss on your lips to settle your nerves. a return of the favor.

then, little kisses everyday. simply affectionate, normal between people as close as the two of you. it's meant to be quick, harmless; but they're the kind that send a pulse through your whole body.  every time it happens, it feels like you're stealing something, a secret he's letting you in on, and maybe he doesn't even realize he's doing it. 

or maybe he does.

the front desk hums with the quiet chatter of speculation. a cluster of your of your coworkers, the sales guy, the HR people, tech support; they're all gathered to talk about the two of you. periodically, their eyes flick towards the boss' office where you and he disappear for long stretches.

"have you noticed how he's been taking his ring off lately?" whispers a secretary, young, glossy nails, huge crush on the boss. her voice carries quietly enough to sound like idle office gossip, but sharp enough to be resentful. she's jealous of you. "leaves it on his desk, or sometimes on the conference table... and doesn't seem to care."

one of the HR guys snorts derisively. "yeah. i've caught him fiddling with it all the time, like he's deep in thought. and it's always when the intern's talking to him, too. so odd."

the secretary woman snorts, leaning in to the group. "i'm sure i can guess why. have you seen her? buttons undone, pencil skirts so tight i'm surprised she can bend over without everything being visible. and she's always strutting around beside him and giggling like a cheap whore. she's practically throwing herself at him."

"trashy. no wonder she's his favorite."

another person chimes in, glancing toward the direction you'd both gone. "where the hell are the two of them anyway?"

your cheek presses flat to the table, your skirt pushed up, panties shoved aside carelessly. your boss wedges every inch of his fat cock in you slow and steady.

this is the only part where he takes his time, because he can't ruin your poor, sweet little hole with his girth by slamming in all at once. when he manages to push inside you to the hilt (albeit with some resistance on your end; apparently being soaked from flirting and hanging off him all morning still isn't enough to bottom out all at once), he grunts softly and gathers saliva in his mouth, spitting down onto where his cock enters your pussy. he needs it as sloppy and wet as possible.

you whine, wanting to turn back to look at him, but you're too focused on not moaning like a whore at the biiiiiiiig stretch of him inside you.

"look at that," he huffs out, dragging his cock halfway out before shoving it back in harder this time, making the table creak. "squeezing that hard and i haven't even fucked you yet."

his palm settles heavy between your shoulder blades, pressing you down flat so your ass stays tipped high, cunt helplessly wrapped around him, twitching every time he drags that thick cock out and thrusts back in deep.

"oh my-fuck!" you squeak against the table, nails scratching weakly onto the wood in an attempt to regather your bearings. you feel so absurdly full and unaccustomed to a size like this. no matter how many times you take it, you feel like a fucking virgin, squirming and trying to run away from dick. not that he lets you, though. he's holding you down so firmly that you don't move an inch out of the position he put you in. "boss- sir, s-slow down please,"

"stay down." he orders.

your body jerks each time he fucks into you, and your breath comes out ragged and panted as you let out weak little moans and curses each time he hits too deep inside you. "i'm t-trying," you pant out weakly. you shove your hand over your mouth to try and stay quiet when he shoves into you a little too rough, but he hears how you fall apart regardless. hears the wet slap of his cock sinking into you. "pathetic," he mutters, leaning in again to whisper into your ear. this new position makes him push into you even deeper, his balls pushed up right against your entrance. "bent over in a copy room with your mouth shut and your cunt dripping on the floor."

you bite your lip hard to ensure you keep quiet, but it's proving to be nearly impossible with how hard he's pounding into your soaked cunt.

his hand snakes down to your pussy and reaches the spot where you're stretched wide around him; where he's buried all the way to the base and your slick is dripping down his balls. he presses his thumb into the sensitive skin where your folds meet his cock, pushing your swollen pussy lips open just enough to watch how you clench back around him on instinct.

"greedy -ah, damn- little hole," he mutters, more to himself than you. "so fucking sloppy. you should be embarrassed." you can tell even though he's patronizing you that he's close. his cock throbs inside you consistently, and his thrusts are getting slower, harder, and sloppier. your ass bounces with each thrust and your pussy's talking more than you, letting out nasty squelches as he fills you.

your eyes roll back when he grinds in again, "oh-mmmff...please, please, don't stop, feels s'good, i can't," you slur, your hips try to jerk away from the intensity of it. doesn't work. he follows you wherever you go, pushing deeper, deeper, until you're trembling.

"please," you beg again. he simply slides a hand under you in response, fingers zeroing in on your clit with an unerring precision that makes you cry out as your pussy clamps down tight around him. your orgasm hits hard and fast, watery cum oozing out of you in splurts and coating his cock. he groans when he feels you squeeze around him, hips stuttering.

"squeezing me too tight, can't move." he chokes, cock spasming inside you. if you don't quit clamping on him, he's going to breed you. but he can't. it's far too risky. so he shoves you down and gives your thigh a pinch so you squeal and loosen up, and he's grateful because any longer and you'd be stuffed with his load.

he pulls out just before he finishes, giving himself just two rough, milking strokes, before he finishes all over your ass in multiple thick, creamy globs.

his cum paints your skin in slow, heavy ropes. you flinch when the first strand hits your lower back, but he grabs your hips again, thumb digging into the soft curve just above your thigh, keeping you still as he pumps the rest out onto your ass. he lets out a low groan through clenched teeth, trying not to be too loud, but it's fucking hard.

you're both breathing hard. your cunt's still pulsing, clenching around nothing now as trickles of his cum slide down your skin. he watches it for a beat too long, thumb brushing over the mess before dragging the tip of his cock through it again.

[tojbnuy]

mini part 4 for gojo day 🧁 next part will probably be the finale. thank you for showing best friend toru so much love even tho he is fairly toxic. art by @ _3aem on twt!! part one part two part three

warnings: a very vague birthday bj, some feelings? MDNI

birthdayboybestfriend!satoru who waits with his phone in his hand ignoring all his other messages and skipping to your contact because he knows you’ll say it at bang on midnight. he is then smiling so hard at his phone suguru actually gets worried.

bestfriend!satoru who obviously has party of the century going on at his place. being the star boy he is, he is soaking up the attention. however he has been dyingggg for your arrival, he makes sure to tell every girl that approaches him that he is booked and busy for today.

bestfriend!satoru who tackles you into a massive hug when he sees you and picks you up just to make sure everyone else sees this. you’re wearing white (his favourite) and he knows for a fact you did that on purpose.

bestfriend!satoru who disregards everyone else’s presents for the time being so he can give you and your presents his full attention. unfortunately he is nosy and had scrolled through your google tab last week so he already knew what two of them were going to be.

bestfriend!satoru who (staying true to character) asks you for a birthday kiss. ‘can i have my last present now baby?’ and then he’s pressed up against you and his familiar taste is all you can take in. ‘toru people can see us’ ‘let them see baby’

bestfriend!satoru who wraps your ponytail around his fist whilst you’re talking. sometimes even pulling you back a bit so he can take a long inhale at your neck.

bestfriend!satoru who is actually very annoyed that he got a hot tub because now there were multiple gawking at you. suguru even wolf whistles at you at one point just to rile him up and he got a mouthful of tub water because of it.

bestfriend!satoru who catches you whispering to suguru and finds he definitely does not like the look of that. you had a worried expression which he made a mental note of to ask suguru about later.

bestfriend!satoru who casually gropes at your chest. (you allow him of course) (however you put an end to it when his fingers start to creep into the material of the lace covering your breasts.) (there were simply too many people present but satoru was content with just holding your tit) (stressball >__<)

bestfriend!satoru who makes his closest friends go round the tub and say what they like about him most. suguru is the only one who gives him a slightly heartfelt message, sukuna calls him ugly, toji calls him an airhead, nanami says he is ‘special’ (whatever that means?), shoko says he makes her want to smoke. and then it’s your turn and gojo actually tears up at your beautiful words. your voice and your eyes staring only ever at him saying that he is your person and you really do think he the strongest individual you know. (then he grabs your face and kisses you and the crowd boos until he stops)

bestfriend!satoru who is dead set on you staying with him for the night. ‘you’re not gonna cuddle your best friend on his birthday?’ and how could you everrrr say no to that.

bestfriend!satoru who has his head on your chest, you hands running through his hair and scratching at your scalp. his thighs are covering yours and he lazily kisses at your collarbone. the tension in the room is thick. you can both feel it. it was simply a game of who would move first. satoru knew you wouldn’t, always the more timid and shy one of the two so he took it upon himself to drag his fingers across the waistband of your shorts. ‘wait toru we can’t i’m, i’m your friend?’ god you were too sweet for this earth. ‘it’s okay baby. we don’t have to, but no one’s gonna know. just us.’ and he litters even more feather light kisses to the spot right below your ear until you were letting out soft little sighs. ‘then. then i want to do it, yk since it’s your birthday.’ he knew you weren’t the most conventional best friends but this, this was further than anything you’d ever done before. and he was on cloud nine.

bestfriend!satoru who was now realizing that he had never experienced true joy before this moment. before he had felt your velvet soft lips wrapped around his tip. your tongue licking at his crown so softly, so sweetly. he’s always been a moaner but now he had no shame in the sounds that were leaving him. ‘that’s it baby, just like that. that’s my girl’.

bestfriend!satoru who was a head pusher. he let you set the pace in the beginning but he was growing desperate, something he hadn’t experienced before. your little mewls as he holds you in place right at the base of his dick. your nose nestled against the faint hairs there, and your tears dropping directly into his skin. he had given you the chance to move but being the amazing best friend that you were you swallowed everything he gave you, even opened wide and let him take a look, that to make sure. ‘fuck baby that was the best gift ever’

bestfriend!satoru who snores like a truck directly into your ears and grinds his hips into your thighs whilst he sleeps.

(bsf!gojo will be returning soon!! and i’ll be adding everyone who asked to the taglist! thank u for showing him so much love :))

taglist : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @sukuxna0 @suechii @whozeurdaddy @purp1eha1o @greensunflowerjuna @jjkysnk @tibibibi123 @missthatgirl @macchiatoast @adanfore @namjooningera @jaeminsmilk @tojicvmslut @hachichann

[fayesarchive]

— °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REMINDER

summary: you take a girls trip to Miami with your best-friend. Eren gets jealous from a story he saw, and when you get home, he reminds you who you belong to—with dick.

wc: 2.9k

cw: eren yeager x black!fem reader, established relationship, smut (mdni), rough, jealousy, creampie, dom!eren, possessiveness, slight degradation, choking, overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), eren is a lil toxic, raw sex (use protection), use of “papa/pa”, use of n-word (by reader), use of ma/mama

MIAMI, FL 🌴

You’ve been away almost a week now, finally giving in to your long-time best friend, Zayla’s, pressure and booking a girls trip to Miami, just to get away from what y’all were used to.

Eren wasn’t too happy about it, he sulked and pouted around your shared penthouse as he overheard you two planning it, but you were grown—he’d live.

The trip had been the most fun you’ve had in a while: the sun out, free drinks, music, and skin kissed by salt and sun. You finally felt free from the life you were used to, trying new things, going to new places. But then, that one night—when y’all ended up at a random ass club downtown—changed the whole vibe for the rest of the trip.

Saturday, July 20th — 11:12PM

Zayla was drunk asf, her story catching everything it didn’t need to catch. In one clip, you were posted up in a booth, talking to some random guy you just met. He made you laugh and was actually polite and sweet. It was harmless, until your phone dinged in your hand.

Eren❤️: Who’s that all up on you in the back of Zayla story?

Eren❤️: When you gon’ stop playing with me lil girl?

You blinked, once, twice, growing annoyed.

You: what are you talking about ‘ren ??

Eren❤️: You know what I’m talking about.

Eren❤️: You think you can be friendly just because I’m not there to make it obvious you mine?

You frowned. This nigga was really trying to ruin your night.

You quickly switched tabs to Instagram and checked Zayla’s story. Sure enough, there you were—tight black 2 piece hugging every inch of you, makeup glowing, smile bright and wide. And yeah, the guy you were chopping it up with leaned in just close enough to get Eren’s blood boiling, Eren was already on edge when you left so this was enough to tip him over.

You: eren, he’s just my friend. you doing too much.

You: i told you already you had nothing to worry about.

Eren❤️: Apparently you lied.

Eren❤️: You know I don’t like you wearing that little shit when I’m not with you anyway.

Eren❤️: That’s not even one of the outfits you showed me when you were packing.

Eren❤️: I don’t want you around him no more. You know that he about to try and take you home. I hate when you try to play dumb.

Read 11:34PM

He knows you despise when you’re accused of lying and doing shit you not. You didn’t answer. You just locked your phone and stared at the club lights with a pout while your drink sat untouched. Zayla stumbled next to you, loud and slurring, “Girl get up! What you doing? Let’s take a shot!”

You put your phone on Do Not Disturb and forced a smile as you got up.

⸻

Meanwhile, Eren sat in his hotboxed car outside your shared penthouse, blowing smoke through his nose, thumb tapping at the screen as he saw in real-time you reading it and the purple letters popping up at the bottom of the screen saying that you went on DND.

Eren❤️: This what we on? Ok.

He’d been trying to calm himself down for hours now. The weed helped. Barely.

You didn’t reply.

Didn’t call like you usually would at the end of the night.

Didn’t even send a dry, annoyingly formal, reply like you would do when you’re upset.

But occasionally, you’d open the messages he sent you, he knew you saw them. That’s the only way he knew you were okay and wasn’t going crazier than he already was.

He sent one more the day you were supposed to fly back.

Eren❤️: Let me know when you land mama

No read.

No reply.

Just the straight silence he hated.

⸻

Monday, July 22 — 7:58PM

Your flight landed late, and you ordered an Uber instead of telling him to pick you up. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to see him yet, you hated when he does this. You hadn’t answered a single text he sent you in the last 24 hours. You just needed to think.

But when you stepped into the dim penthouse, suitcase wheels echoing across the marble floor, the soft smell of weed and his cologne hit you at the same time as you open the door.

He was home.

You sighed, sliding your yeezy slides off, not even surprised when he appeared from the hallway, just stared at him blankly—sweatpants slung low, his long brown hair in that half-up-half-down that you loved (he knew that), gold chain that you got him for his birthday hanging on his bare chest, eyes low and tired but locked straight on you. The sight of him made your thighs press together, he looked so damn good but you couldn’t give in.

Eren stood there for a moment slowly looking you up and down. “You really wasn’t gon’ call me when you landed?”

You rolled your eyes as you set your suitcase to the side, voice too calm. “I didn’t feel like it.” you shrugged.

He scoffed, stepping closer. “So you just gon’ act like you wasn’t out there ignoring me for two days? Letting some random dude get all up in your space like I’m not the one who puts you in your place? Like you don’t belong to me?”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked up at him “You done?”

“Hell no,” he muttered, reaching for your waist. “You had me out here sick.”

You tried to move past him, avoiding eye contact, but he caught your hand. He tugged you into him. His lips brushed your neck, slow and deliberate.

“I was jealous,” he admitted, voice low. “You smiling in some dude’s face like that? Wearing shit you ain’t even show me? You knew what you was doing.”

You sighed looking up into his eyes, softening just a little. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you pa.. I was just having fun.”

Your bag hit the floor with a soft thud.

“I’m the only fun you need,” he mumbled as he takes your hand his way to sit on the couch. “C’mere mama.” He pat his lap, inviting you to sit on him.

His large hands moved up and down your thighs as you straddled him. His hands were moving dangerously close to your clothed cunt as he eyes you as if he was studying your body, he finally made eye contact.

“You was out there forgetting who you belong to? Huh?” he wrapped his tatted hand around your neck, pulling you towards him and dragging his tongue slow down the sensitive spot on your neck.

“N-no, Papa, I know m’yours.” you breathed, as he lifted your baby tee up. You were braless, your pierced nipples exposed to the cool air of the penthouse as he groped your soft mounds while you start to grind your clothed clit onto him. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, your body knew you were still horny for him.

“That’s what I thought.”

He broke contact with your neck and leaned back onto the couch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with heat. “Tryna act like you mad at me… but grinding on me like this as soon as you get back.”

You rocked your hips slowly, thin fabric of your leggings grinding on his half-hard bulge, biting your lip, trying not to let your moans escape too easily.

Eren smirked.

“Don’t get quiet now. You had all that attitude in Miami.” He grabbed a fistful of your ass and bounced you harder onto his bulge. “You was talkin’ shit like you weren’t moaning my name the morning you left.” His smiled became wider as he used a high pitched voice to imitate you, “Papa Im gonna miss you and this dick so much,” he mocks. You hid your face in his neck, ears heating up in embarrassment, “P-papa, Stop! You finna make me nut again!” He continues with a wide grin across his face.

You whimper, nails digging into his chest. “Stop Eren.” you whine into his neck.

“Yeah, now you remember.”

He groans as his hands became greedy, sliding under your lace underwear and leggings, rough palms gripping your bare ass making you grind down harder. You gasped as you felt how rock hard he is under you, thick and pulsing as he feels your clothed folds grinding up and down his hard-on.

He suddenly stood up with his hands under your thighs, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist like its a second nature, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as he carries you down the hall. You feel his cold chain pressing on your breast as he keeps kissing and biting your neck.

“You wanna play like you single wearing that tiny shit?” He muttered in your ear, voice low and rumbling. “Smiling in another dude face like he can make you feel like I can? Thats real cute.” Sarcasm laced thick in his tone as he nods his head.

“I wasn’t—“ before you can get another sentence out he throws you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress and before you can sit up, his hand wrapped around your ankle, yanking you to the edge of the bed, pulling your leggings and lace thong down in one swift movement. Your thighs slightly trembled as the cold air hit your now soaked cunt.

“You think he can make you nut on his dick like I do? Tell me, ma.” He whispers against your ear as he runs his middle finger up and down your sensitive nub, making you gasp and clench around nothing. “You think he would’ve known what to do to you? He wouldn’t have lasted 2 minutes.”

His voice was like gravel, fingers still teasing your slick folds before suddenly sliding two thick digits deep into your heat, making you cry out and arch your back off the bed, your hands trying to move yourself up the bed to get away from his long, thick, fingers.

“Nah, don’t run now. You was talkin’ all that shit, remember?” he grunted, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your body lock up. “Im not “doin’ too much” again, Am I?”

You grabbed at the sheets, legs already starting to tremble as his fingers curled moving in a ‘come here’ motion, pressing up to your sensitive spongy spot, his thumb pressing hard against your clit in tight, dirty circles. You were soaked, the sound of your arousal wet and messy between your thighs.

“E-eren—Mmmm!” you whined, hips bucking up into his hand as you grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him out of you.

“Hand.” he demanded, making you let go.

He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean with a satisfied groan.

You didn’t even have time to breathe before he yanked your legs over his shoulders and dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, tongue diving into your cunt with no warning, no patience. He devoured you like a man starved—like this is what he lived for. He starts gripping your thighs to keep you still as he dragged his tongue up and down your folds, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard.

Your fingers tangled in his hair instantly. “P-papa, please—oh my god—” You bit your lip as an attempt to quiet your moans. He roughly slapped your thigh making you whimper.

“Let that shit out.” he growled between licks. “I wanna hear you.”

You were already shaking, moaning loud as his tongue fucked into you deep, nose pressed against your clit as he moved his head side to side, making your eyes roll back.

You came hard, thighs squeezing around his head, body jolting as you sobbed out his name.

But he didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, messily, until your body was twitching and tears brimmed at your waterline. He pulled back, lips and chin soaked in you.

Smirking at your teary eyes and the pout of your lips as he stood, dragging his sweatpants down to free his thick, heavy cock—veins prominent, tip flushed, already dripping pre-cum.

You stared, lip trembling, chest rising and falling fast.

He flipped you onto your stomach like it was nothing and yanked your ass up into the air. You tried to crawl up the bed to get away from him,“Nah, you gon’ take this. You gon’ remember who own this pussy.”

And with one slow, punishing stroke—he bottomed out inside you.

You choked on a moan, hands gripping the sheets so tight you thought your freshly done acrylic nails were gonna break. The stretch was deep, almost painful, but it was exactly what you've been unknowingly craving all week. Eren was thick, and he didn't ease into it-he filled you in one hard stroke, balls pressing against your soaked folds as he bottomed out.

"Thaaat's it," he groaned behind you, holding your hips tight as your walls clenched around him. "This what you needed, huh baby?” He coo’d, “Had to go act out just to remember who fuckin' owns this pussy."

"E-eren, please.." you whimpered, your voice barely audible through the gasps he fucked out of you.

"Nah," he growled, snapping his hips into you again, slow but deep, making you feel every inch, vein, and the curve.

"That’s not my name."

"Papa! Fuck-s'too deep-" your voice cracked as your body rocked forward with each thrust. Toes curling as his heavy balls slapped against your clit.

He gripped the back of your neck and pushed your head down onto the mattress, muffling your loud moans.

“What I tell you about allat cussing mama? Y’know I don’t like that shit.”

His hips slam into you harder, the loud sound of slapping skin, moans, and your soaked pussy bouncing off the walls of the shared bedroom.

His fingers snaked between your legs circling your sensitive, swollen, pearl making you squeal.

“I know baby,” fake sympathy dripping from his tone, “you’re taking me so good.”

Your body was jelly, mouth open in a silent scream as your orgasm snuck up fast, overwhelming you. You clenched hard around him, crying out, "'m cumming—!"

“I feel you mama, Let that shit go for me.” he grunted, thrust growing brutal and sloppy. “F-fuck, you’re squeezing the fuck outta me.”

Your body spasmed under him, juices dripping down your thighs as you came hard around him , legs shaking. But he didn't slow down.

"Fuckin' missed this pussy," he growled, pulling out just to flip you onto your back. "Look at me while I nut in you."

He rubs his sensitive tip onto your swollen clit before he pushed back in, half-lidded green orbs locked with your teary brown eyes, both of you panting. Your breast bouncing in sync with his thrust. His chain swung between you, tapping your chest with every brutal thrust. His jaw clenched, brows furrowed, breath ragged.

He shoved 2 of his digits into your mouth, pressing against your tongue to make you louder as you moaned against his fingers.

“Y-you look so pretty after you cum mama. Fuck—“ he groans after he stares at your fucked-out face, eyes low, tears staining your cheeks, drool dripping down your cheek, lips swollen and shiny from you biting them and drooling all over yourself.

“Let me see that face when I fill you up," he hissed through gritted teeth, and with one final thrust, he groaned-deep, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. He thrust a few more times causing him to let out a small whimper before collapsing on top of you.

Warmth flooded your core, and you whimpered as you felt every twitch of his cock inside you, his forehead resting your neck as he was still inside you.

Eren stayed there, buried deep, catching his breath against your neck as his cum leaked out around his cock, onto the comforter, warm and sticky between your thighs.

Your legs were still trembling, chest heaving, your voice gone from how loud you were screaming. You could feel your heartbeats sync up as you guys’ breathing went back to normal, his weight grounding you, holding you still like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

Then, without warning, he pulled out with a soft groan, you whine at the movement— your body twitching at the sudden emptiness. He looked down at the mess between your thighs, then dragged two fingers through it, making you buck your hips up—smirking at the sight of his cum mixed with yours.

“You did so good f’me baby,” he murmured, tapping your overstimulated clit with those same fingers, making you jolt and whine

He stood up, walked to the bathroom to get a warm wet towel, your legs still up in the air waiting for him to wipe you down. He came back and wiped you down as he leaned down to brushed his lips against your swollen ones, giving you a soft, sloppy, open mouth kisses.

You whimpered in between the kisses as you felt the soft fabric of the towel semi-roughly rubbing against your sensitive clit, legs twitching, trying to close around his hand.

“Eren…” you whine as you grab his hand wiping you down, “be gentle.” He smirks as he leans over to give you another soft kiss. “M’sorry, mama.”

He breaks from this kiss and goes down to kiss the marks on your neck he left behind, “Dont ignore me for that long again though.” he mutters against your neck as he pulls your underwear back up, giving your ass 2 light taps before walking back in the bathroom.

© fayesarchive — do not repost, reupload, or copy my work. reblogs are appreciated :)

(a/n): ending was lowk rushed—i wrote this at 3am and got tired LOL

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 1:52

Ok, so maybe Bakugou’s daughter often clung to him like a stubborn little barnacle. Chubby arms were looped tightly around his neck, and her puffy cheek was pressed warm against his shoulder. Legs kicked every now and then—tiny, impatient stomps in the air—but she refused to let go, despite being fully awake and heavy as hell.

“She’s like a furnace,” he muttered as he paced around the living room barefoot, a coffee mug half-finished and abandoned on the side table. “My back’s sweatin’, baby. You’re gettin’ heavy.”

“No down,” Kusami mumbled into his neck.

Her voice was muffled but firm, like a warning. A threat.

No doubt his kid. No DNA test needed.

Bakugou huffed, adjusting her so her weight settled better in his arms. “You’ve been up here for forty minutes. I’m not a damn tree branch.”

“No down!” she said again, louder this time, squirming and gripping tighter as if he was really going to drop her right that second.

Across the room, you stood at the kitchen counter, drying the last of Kusami’s snack bowls. You turned slowly, your expression already halfway between exasperation and amusement. “Katsuki…”

Bakugou ignored your tone completely. He tilted his head down to press a kiss into the messy tuft of Kusami’s hair, which still smelled faintly like baby shampoo and maple syrup from breakfast. “I gotta put you down, Gremlin,” he said in a singsong voice, the one he knew she hated. “Daddy’s arms are gonna fall off. Kusami goes on the floor. Boom—splat!”

Immediately, Kusami’s eyes went wide. Her bottom lip trembled. “Nooooo,” she cried, voice cracking as her whole body tensed against him. Dammit. How dare babies learn emotional manipulation at such a young age?

Bakugou smirked.

“Katsuki!” you called from the kitchen, stepping around the counter with a damp towel in your hand and a glare in your eyes. “You know that makes her cry!”

“I ain’t doin’ anything!” he defended with a guilty grin as Kusami started sniffling, her arms squeezing his neck like a python’s. “I didn’t actually put her down!”

“Yeah, but you said it like you meant it!”

“It’s called buildin’ resilience.”

You sighed as you crossed the living room toward him. “It’s called emotional terrorism.”

Kusami’s tiny voice cracked again. “Daaaadyyyyy…”

“Aw, come on, baby,” he cooed, rubbing her back. “You know Daddy’s messin’ with you.”

She let out a whimper and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Then, with a trembling voice soaked in betrayal, she mumbled, “No floor…”

Bakugou sighed and rocked her gently from side to side. “Okay, okay. No floor. You win.”

You stood in front of him now, towel in hand, your expression softening as you looked at your daughter’s blotchy red face squished against your husband’s shoulder.

You dabbed at Kusami’s cheeks. “You’re mean, Katsuki.”

“She’s gotta learn sarcasm somehow,” he muttered, kissing Kusami’s temple again.

“She’s two.”

“She’s smart,” he said simply. “She knew I was kiddin’.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re lucky she’s obsessed with you. If I said the same thing to her, she’d scream like I kicked her puppy.”

Bakugou grinned. “That’s ‘cause I’m the favorite.”

You raised a brow, stepping closer so your arm brushed against his, your voice low and teasing. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite too.”

He gave you that smug, crooked smile of his—the one that always got under your skin in the best way. “I know.”

Kusami let out another tired, hiccupy breath, and you reached up to smooth your daughter’s hair. “Hey, Ku-mi,” you said sweetly. “You wanna sit with Mommy for a bit? Give Daddy a break?”

“No…” Kusami croaked. “Daddy…”

“She doesn’t wanna let go,” Bakugou said, all faux regret as he nuzzled his nose into her hair. “I’m irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now.

He shifted Kusami again, bouncing her a little. “You know, I wasn’t this clingy when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, because you were a demon who didn’t want hugs or help or baths.”

“I was independent.”

“You were feral,” you countered, laughing softly.

Bakugou shrugged. “And now I’m a softie with my baby girl.”

You leaned your head against his arm and looked up at him fondly. “Yeah. You really are.”

He glanced down at you, then at the sleepy, sniffling little girl still attached to him like a leech. “She’s got me wrapped around her damn finger.”

“You’re the one who tied the knot yourself,” you teased, reaching out to gently stroke Kusami’s cheek.

Your daughter’s eyes were closing again, her hands now lazily tangled in the collar of Bakugou’s shirt. She sniffled one more time but didn’t cry. Instead, she sighed and leaned her full weight into her father’s chest, completely surrendered to his warmth.

“She’s gonna grow up and never wanna cuddle me like this again,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You heard the rare wistfulness in his voice and smiled.

“So enjoy it,” you told him. “Don’t scare her with the floor every time you’re tired.”

“I wasn’t tired,” he grumbled, rubbing her back again. “I was just messin’ with her. It’s funny.”

You gave him a pointed look, stepping behind him so you could wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind as he held your daughter.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re being an ass.”

“I am cute.”

“Debatable.”

He snorted and leaned his head back a little, resting it against yours.

Kusami’s breathing evened out again, finally drifting off in his arms as you held onto both of them—your husband, who acted tough but melted the second your daughter whimpered, and your baby girl, who trusted him more than anything in the world.

Bakugou looked down at her peaceful little face.

“…Still not puttin’ her down,” he murmured.

Your voice was soft behind him.

“I know.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[plaidcowboy]

meeting ma and pa kent

( synopsis ) — after dating for a little under a year, clark finally brings you to smallville to meet his parents. request can be found here!

( warnings ) — just playful suggestion at the end, nothing happens.

It was… terrifying at first, the idea of meeting Clark’s parents. The two of you had been seeing each other for just under a year, and while that wasn’t exactly short, it also didn’t feel long enough. Was it too soon? Too late? You weren’t sure. Especially now that the two of you had just moved in together. Things were getting serious.

The moment came quietly, as most important ones do. You were curled up with Clark on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder, his hand comfortably splayed over your thigh. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention. Clark leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hey, baby?” he murmured.

You looked up at him, brows raised. That’s when he said it. “I want to take you to Smallville. Want you to meet my parents.”

And with the way he looked at you.. soft, hopeful, completely in love, there was no possible answer except, “Of course, Clark. That sounds really fun.” You even kissed him after. But inside? Your stomach had dropped.

Because these weren’t just any parents. They weren’t city dwelling socialites or friends of friends you could charm over a glass of wine. They were Kansas parents. Farm people. Real deal, salt of the earth types. You didn’t share the same cues, the same culture, the same pace. And more than that… they raised Superman. The world’s most powerful man. Their opinion mattered a lot. And that made it all the more intimidating.

When you finally pulled up to the Kent family farm, Clark was already dressed in his dirt stained jeans and a soft white t shirt that looked straight out of a Levi’s ad. He leaned across the seat, kissed your temple, and gave your thigh a reassuring pat.

“You ready?”

You thought you were. You were wrong.

The moment you stepped inside, Martha was already wiping her hands on a dishtowel, beaming as she came to greet you. “So you’re the lucky one we’ve been hearing about!” she smiled before pulling you straight into a warm hug. Behind her, Jonathan stood quietly, offering a welcoming nod and a kind smile.

Eventually, you all gathered around the dinner table, Clark beside you, his parents across. The meal was simple, comforting: meatloaf, buttery mashed potatoes, and green beans. The kind of food that made the house smell like memories.

Martha asked questions, not pushy, just curious, warm in that particular way mothers from the Midwest can be.

“How did you two meet?”

“Does he treat you right? He better. You just say the word if he ever gives you trouble.”

“What do you do for work? Any hobbies?”

“You think you’ll stay in the city forever?”

Jonathan didn’t say much, letting Martha lead the conversation. He mostly listened, his eyes occasionally flicking to Clark. And every time he saw how Clark looked at you, with complete, unfiltered affection, Jonathan’s expression would soften. At one point, he interrupted Martha with a quiet, “You must be someone special, if Clark finally brought someone home.”

After dinner, the four of you stepped out onto the porch to watch the sun dip beneath the fields. You and Clark sat on the porch swing, Jonathan in his rocking chair, and Martha brought out slices of cherry pie for everyone. The evening ended with Jonathan sharing old stories, like how Clark used to sneak out of bed to sleep in the barn with the calves, or how he once stole Martha’s whiskey ‘thinking it was apple juice’.

It was lovely. And surprisingly easy.

When the moon rose and the night settled in, Martha and Jonathan stayed in the living room, curled together watching some home renovation show. You and Clark made your way to his childhood bedroom. You looked around with a smile, your eyes catching on the old posters and memorabilia from a life long before Superman.

Clark sat at the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots, then glanced back at you with a small smirk.

“Not what you expected?”

“Not at all,” you laughed. “The Mighty Crabjoys, really?” you teased, pointing to a crinkled band poster on the wall.

“That’s not what I meant, baby.” He stood and walked over to you, brushing a piece of hair from your face, his touch soft. “My parents… What did you think?”

“They’re lovely, Clark,” you whispered. “I can really see where you come from in both of them.”

His face lit up with the kind of smile that made your chest achein the best way. “That means a lot,” he murmured, before kissing you sweetly. Then he grinned, boyish and smug. “You’re getting lucky tonight.”

Your jaw dropped. “Clark! This is your parents’ house—”

He just grinned wider, pulling back the plaid duvet to reveal… Mighty Crabjoys sheets, “You’re blessed just to be sleeping on these.”

You laughed, loud and unfiltered. “You are so corny!”

“Hey, little Clark loved these sheets!”

And later that night, when the house was still and Clark was asleep beside you, you laid there in his arms, fingers gently combing through his hair. That’s when it truly hit you.

They weren’t just Clark’s parents. They were the quiet, steady foundation of everything he is. Meeting them didn’t just bring you closer to Clark, it helped you understand him. His gentleness. His patience. His strength.

And now, you were part of it.

( tags ) — @pittsick @dumbbandpoetic @alvi-alvi-alvi @jordiemeow @hrtfilm @ryyvkkr @freddyfazblair @cryptic-doe @summerwriting @eeveedream @cestdommage @ohyouluckysaint @weeeeeeeeeeeezle @matildavol6 @fishie-baby-apple @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @plutosbearr @purple-1995 @i-wanna-be-your-muse @bbsaeko @rexthanatos @kaorisakamotofan @piatosniathenie @angelicp0etry @lacelottie @hailmary-yramliah @allhailbuckybarnes @mollymal @biancasisstuff @hoforfictionalmen-andwomen @atpeacee [to be added]

[adiadagaki]

| obsessive!satoru hates you having a job

Why?

That is his main question. His net worth is in the billions, he has old money, the type passed on through generations of ridiculous wealth. Money has never been an issue, never will be, so imagine his displeasure when you insist on remaining employed.

If you worked at home, Satoru could deal with it, hell he would probably encourage it. He wants you to need him, course he does, but he also doesn’t want you bored. Bored means you’ll search for excitement outside of his arms, that he can’t have.

But actual work? The type you have to leave the house for, smile kindly at others, clear other peoples dirty plates?

He bought you a custom Porsche for your birthday you don’t need to do such things for money.

No matter how hard he pushed on it though, you refused, claiming it was the one thing you could never give up because it was something for yourself.

“C’mon Toru, you’ve known about this shift all week.” Yeah, it was his least favourite shift. 5pm until 11pm. What sick individual decided they were suitable working hours, especially for you, his pretty little girlfriend.

“Call in sick. Pleaseeeee sweets. Your boyfriend is in desperate need of cuddles after a day of being the strongest.” Smushing his cheek against your stomach, he listed five ways he could burn down your workplace while making it look like an accident in his head.

Coaxing him off you was no easy task and you were almost late from his clingy habits.

Satoru, on the other hand, had decided enough was enough. That pesky job had torn you from his arms one too many times and he wouldn’t stand for it anymore.

Dialling up the number he waited until someone answered, his jaw ticking with every ring. “Hello? Jenna speaking.”

“Hello Jenna, I’m gunna need you to grab your manager real quick.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Just go get him, yeah?” Impatience packed his tone, his control slipping. All he wanted was his beautiful girlfriend in his arms, was that so much to ask?

Apparently so.

“Hello?”

“Hiya, I need you to sack (y/n) immediately.” The man down the line blubbered, unsure how to react to such a preposterous request, never mind the fact you were one of his best members of staff.

To your manager, the notion wasn’t appealing.

“I’m sorry but-”

“Listen, I get it, she is irreplaceable, but that is why I need her at home with me. Does five grand sound good enough to weaken your morals?”

Silence. Very loud silence.

“Not enough huh? How about 10?”

Long story short, the man was not as strong hearted as some may believe, and you were already on your way home. Of course, he was tracking you on your phone, watching with a heaviness in his chest only you could ease.

The minutes dragged, comparable to hours as he watched the door knowing any second you would slink inside.

The jingling of keys stole his breath, his leg bouncing in anticipation.

“Why are you back so soon sweets?” He called over his shoulder, trying his best to appear nonchalant and concerned.

“I was laid off because of staff cutbacks.” Your voice was heavy with emotion and he almost felt bad for putting his beautiful girlfriend through such an upsetting ordeal.

Almost.

“What? How could they have let you go sweets? You were their best member of staff.” That he didn’t have to lie about.

Embracing you in a hug, he kissed the top of your head over and over, comforting you in your moment of need.

Soon you quietened down, your eyes a little puffy but other than that you were OK, something Satoru craved to see. You, healthy and happy, with him.

Nuzzling his nose into your hair, he let out a pathetic little noise of content, rocking you gently to soothe you while simultaneously satisfying his urges.

Satoru had never claimed to be a good man, but he was a man in love, and he would sacrifice the world to have you in his arms, even if that meant stealing the last fraction of your old life.

[rinsnumber1fan]

When they accidently hit you...

Includes: rin itoshi, sae itoshi, isagi yoichi, Michael kaiser

Itoshi Rin:

He was just looking for his book that he left on the top shelf, just to make sure that you don't steal it and hide it to annoy him.

You stood right by his side where he had his arm stretched all the way up to the top shelf on his room to find the book. "Rin, I feel like eating some Chinese food today-" you said, fidgeting as you stood by his side.

He gave you a side long glance and grabbed the book, and when he tried to put his arms back to his side, his elbow hit your face.

His eyes widened immidiently and he panicked, "a-are you okay?!" He said, looking down at you who covered your face and winced in pain.

Rin quickly looked to his left and right as if something were to appear and he quickly stepped back, "I'll go get you some-" you grab his hand, "that was... amazing."

Rin blinked..

"What?" He asked as if hoping you didn't mean what you said.

You pulled your hand away from your nose which felt broken because of his elbow, "that was... amazing, do it again." You said with a slight head tilt.

"You.. want me to- to.. hit you..?" He asked as if in confusion.

"Yeah but like really mean it!"

"Nope, no. I'm not doing this-"

He tried to run away and you captured him. Hugging him from behind, "I always knew getting hit by you would be amazing-" his cheeks turn red and he almost dies.

Itoshi sae:

Sae was at a party and he was allowed to bring one person and he bought you the only one he could tolerate.

Sae stood in the main area filled with glitter and RGB lights trying not to interact but these girls were making it pretty difficult for him..

You stood by his side trying your best to be professional while a bunch of girls throw themselves at him bacically.

The blonde twirls her hair, "so you're good at working with balls huh? Me too... kinda.." she tilts her head. It didn't take a genius to recognize what she was trying to say. You kept your mouth zipped but then a few other girls join in.

"Did you know im the shortest girl in this party?"

"I heard you like athletic women! Well I can play with balls too."

Your eye visibly twitched. Sae didn't really say anything just stared off in space with an irritated frown on his face.

But when he feels one of the girls resting her head on his shoulder,

He feels disgusting.

He puts a hand on that woman's head and pushes her off of him harshly.

"Don't you ever fucking dare to-" he immidiently regrets it, noticing the person he just pushed was you.

You looked up at him and he paused and froze for a moment his eyes remained wide, "im sorry- i- didnt-" you licked your bottom lip. "Uh no.. sorry I shouldve.. considered you were already overwhelmed by the-" he grabs your face gently and plants a kiss on your forehead.

"If I ever do that ever again, just kill me, okay?" Sae says, looking at you dead in the eye but more emotion than he's ever shown before.

He's just that scared of hurting someone he loves.

Michael Kaiser:

"Okay and how many times do I have to explain it for your dumb little brain to understand that-" "HEY IM NOT DUMB!" You shouted as kaiser sighed, glancing at all the notebooks and books scattered over your desk.

"You want tutoring, and I'm giving you tutoring. so, stop being lazy and hurry up and solve it." He pressed the pen against the paper roughly.

You pouted and reluctantly grab the pen from his hands, starting to solve the whole problem. "I've been at it for five hours-" "just five hours? I practice soccer for 15 hours every day."

You blinked at the man.

"There's no way you actually-"

"Shut it-"

You obliged and continued.

You got the same problem wrong after like three tries and once again now.

Kaisers brow twitched, "how many times do I have to-" he accidently held your arm a bit too tightly, losing control of his anger.

You winced in pain.

He paused for a moment and quickly let go, he didn't apologize though. Not untill you pouted and your voice was wobbling and your eyes had tears in them. Kaiser sighed in annoyance, or feigning annoyance "are you kidding.. me..?" He glanced at you and for a moment felt a pang in his heart.

"You hurt me!" You announced, although it didn't hurt at all you just wanted to make a show because you loved making kaiser feel bad.

"I didn't even do it that hard!! Okay.. fine.. I'm sorry.." He murmured, grabbing your hand in his and planting a kiss over your knuckles. "Pretty?" He tilts his head and you pouted, only to kiss his cheek back

And then give him the best head ever later.

Isagi yoichi:

Isagi was alone, or so he thought. Watching a movie late at night, a horror one thinking he needed a change, and then you sneaked up behind him. You placed a hand on his shoulders and shouted "BOO!"

The moment his hand collided with your face you knew it was over.

He slapped rhe shit out of you and threw you down to the floor.

Leaving a red print on your cheek.

"Oh my God! You scared the life out of me!! A-are you okay?!" Isagi yelled as he glanced at you on the floor.

You totally deserved it but isagi wasn't the type to admit that.

You lift yout head slowly and smile at him with blood running down your nose. "OH MY GOD!! IM TAKING YOU TO THE HOSPITAL!!!" He grabs you and runs.

"I-isagi wait!! Its no- I'm fine!!"

And you had to get nose surgery after that.

Happy ending

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[coupsalchemy]

Touch

Summary - The one where your love language is physical touch, and your boyfriend hates touch.

Tags: Lee Jihoon x (dramatic) f.reader, fluff, established relationship au

Warnings: none for now

Word Count: 2.5k

A's Note: I love this kind of themes as my love language is also touch. I am going to write more of this since I can't get enough of it. Click here for part 2.

The table gets rowdier, the drinks sloshes out of the glasses, chopsticks clanking against the steel bowls and plates. To confess you are a little disappointed. You poke the meat on your bowl of rice with the chopsticks, resting your cheek on your propped up palm. 

Jihyun, your friend, realises the distress consuming you gives a nudge to your knee. “It’s okay.” 

You nod, eating the meat, watching your boyfriend from the corner of your eye. Jihoon is diligently chewing on his food, eyes on his friends who are singing and dancing. Your relation with him sprouted one month ago, shy confessions exchanged at a corner table in diner. What you thought a love confession would end with a fiery kiss, at least at your flat if not for the wonky diner, but he just dropped you home with a soft smile and a good night.  

Jihoon isn’t big on physical touch or sweet words—the exact opposite to you. Opposites attract, they do, you were pulled in for his calm demeanour and handling issues with chill where you would be wreaking havoc for even a minor disruption. What they don’t say is that extreme opposites also can’t gel well. 

Soonyoung, one of his friends,  stumbles towards your boyfriend looping his arm around his shoulder only to get shoved off. He just laughs off at his friend’s disgust, and swallows him in a hug. He skips away before Jihoon can kill him with chopsticks. 

You avert your eyes to your friend who nods in compassion. You lean your cheek on her shoulder, kicking the floor under the table. He is supposed to sit beside you and not away. He is supposed to be holding your hand and you shouldn’t be seeking support from your friend. You should be kissing and not be scared of getting shoved away. 

A sigh escapes your lips watching your man, he is fucking hot. The cat eyes are sharp enough to catch every single movement, his pink lips are your favourite out of all, if only you could get a minute with them. His column of neck haunts your dreams leaving you gasping for air. His broad and thick shoulders, and his chest are the root cause of your despair. So close yet so far. 

His gaze flits from his friends’ mischief to yours. You feel your heart in your throat getting pink under his attention. He watches your friend patting your head as you nuzzle closer into her. 

“Do you want some alcohol?” She whispers in your ear to make sure you hear her over the Dokyeom’s high pitch voice. 

You muffle a no, sadness taking over you as Jihoon is back to his phone, typing away. Just in case, like with a tiny little hope you check your phone to see his messages. None. An ache starts in your chest, it’s familiar to you as you recognise it from the time you had a one sided crush on him, and watching him converse with other girls (no smile, short answers but still). 

“Need to pee.” You inform your friend before retrieving yourself from her warm embrace and bee line to the washroom. 

You look into the mirror hung over the sink, washing your hands, mumbling some encouraging words and affirming yourself that he still likes you or else why would you two are still dating? He wouldn’t have invited you at all to this dinner, even if it was supposed to be your first date kind of thing. 

You open the door once you dry off your hands and stumble a step watching Jihoon leaning against a wall scrolling on his phone. You turn around to go back into the washroom before you catch yourself and remember he is your boyfriend. 

At the click of the door Jihoon looks up from his phone, a small smile on his lips. “Done?” 

You nod, confused. “You can go in,” you move aside, giving him space to use the washroom. 

“Nah,” he pockets his phone, “let’s go.” 

He is already walking ahead not even looking back at you to see if you are coming or not. The restaurant is getting busier, all the tables are occupied with waiters and customers walking everywhere. You follow behind him, admiring his work outfit, black trouser pants and white button up shirt, sitting perfectly on his body outlining his definite shape. 

A tipsy man in his fifties is laughing and talking to himself is going on his way to what you assume to be the washroom when he suddenly barks out a laugh, crashing into—Jihoon. 

Jihoon is before you even before that man can knock into you. You blink at the tipsy man mumbling an apology to Jihoon and Jihoon giving a curt nod. He looks over his shoulder, “okay?”

You hum, crushing down the need to lace your arms around his waist and hide from the world behind his broad shoulders. He leads you to the table, his hands in his pockets, the long black hair strands swaying slightly with his authoritative steps.

You squeal inside, oh god why god, he is so sexy. 

He sits on his chair and you dejectedly occupy the empty chair beside your friend. The night is spent with disappointment and the need to feel his warmth. 

—

If you agree to Jihoon’s invitation one more time you will just fling yourself out of the window. The karaoke’s dancing lights mess with your head, Soonyoung’s melodic voice goes beyond sometimes with his enthusiasm, your ears aching. Jihyun is again at your side, offering comfort while Jihoon sat on the opposite side bench. 

“Why does he invite me to all of this and not talk?” You whisper-yell to your best friend. “Maybe I should just go home.” 

She gives you an aw, my poor baby expression and pats your head. To drool more at your boyfriend’s biceps and firm chest under his office shirt, you look in his direction again. Only, he is missing at his spot. Your heart sinks to your stomach, did he leave? 

“Jihoon isn’t—” you pause midway, your mind stops processing when he, the man of your thoughts, sits next to you, shoving a drunk Dokyeom aside. 

Jihoon smiles at you, his eyes doing that cat thing again. Not only sending your mind into a ruckus but also messing with your heart. His subtle scent infiltrates your senses, you lick your lips dropping your head to your lap. 

Jihyun, a traitor under the ruse of a friend, exits towards the washroom. You are nervous, the ac is on full blast, you were feeling cold just seconds prior and now your neck is sweaty. You wanted, no, needed, his attention, and when he is sitting next to you fulfilling your wish you are as good as a scaredy cat. 

Jihoon relaxes, stretching his legs and resting his arm on the ledge of the couch and around your shoulder. His arm brushing your skin whenever you fidget in your seat. You suck in a deep breath, butterflies swarming in your stomach at the proximity, and messing with your head. 

Soonyoung is belting out a sad song like he is fresh out of a break up, while his girlfriend claps to the beat with starry eyes. Jihoon and you listen to whatever crap his friend circle is sprouting, pretending to be attentive to their drunken words and laughter when, in reality, you are aware of Jihoon’s finger tapping on the soft cushion, his fingers brushing your shoulder. 

It is driving you to hell and beyond as you are big on giving and receiving love in physical form. And it’s the thing that had you going crazy from being unable to hold onto your boyfriend. 

Jihoon has a small smile watching Dokyeom choking on a snack. Sadistic. Your stomach flutters. God, you need to get yourself checked. Dokyeom finally gets to breathe, looking at everyone with wide eyes and a hand on his neck. 

You laugh, finding the whole ordeal entertaining, momentarily distracting from your troubles. Dokyeom chokes again, now on water sputtering it everywhere and you squeal, holding your stomach laughing your ass off, curling into the man beside you. 

The stiffness underneath you has you stilling. You sneak a look at Jihoon, his lips are pursed into a thin line. An acidic taste sours your mouth, you mumble a sorry before you seperate yourself from him and maintain some space between you two. 

Jihoon hates touch, you have seen how he shoves his friends away, how he walks with his hands folded and sees that no one is in his personal bubble. For fucks sake, he didn’t even kiss you, you being his girlfriend, the one who has every right (with consent) to touch, feel and hold. 

Jihyun comes back from her washroom, frowning seeing the two of you sitting away from each other. She takes a seat on the other side of the room trying to give you the space and privacy you were craving with your boyfriend. 

Now you aren’t sure if you want to be with him, not after how he reacted, his subtle rejection hurts. You make a move to go to your friend, Jihoon grabs your wrist. “Sit down.” 

You frown. He adds, “please.” 

He pats the space next to him telling you to sit with him. The strobe lights ache your head, the loud music and your friend circle’s loudness twists your stomach. Everyone’s having fun, except you. You are circling around Jihoon, throwing yourself in what ifs, and the fear of how you might accidentally cross your line. You did in the spur of the moment, something you couldn’t control, and you have seen the line between his eyebrows, and the press of his lips. The same distaste he has shown many times, but not to you. This isn’t how you planned your future with him. 

Jihoon, perceptive of your moods and their meanings, leans into your ear whispering, “why did you want to leave?”

You clamp your hands together, knuckles pressed white, a shaky breath escaping your lips. You have to do it, you have to end this, you can’t continue living this way. “Jihoon,” you suck in a shaky breath, “we don’t match.” You gesture between you two with your finger, “we are so different.” 

The unimpressed press of his lips is back, and you are scared. The cat eyes are sharp, observing each twitch in your face, the unshed tears, and he stands up, holding your hand. Surprised, you gaze at the contact, his firm grip on you shakes up the resolution in your heart. This is Jihoon, how can you go on living without him? 

“Let’s go somewhere calm. Super song isn’t the right bgm for our scene.” Jihoon casually leads you outside, checking left and right, choosing to go right, and passing through the other loud karaoke rooms. In search of a quiet place, Jihoon is wandering, taking his time to find a place without people, and on the other side, you are stuck at watching how his hand slips from your wrist and slowly intertwines with your fingers, as if it fits only there, surrounded by you. 

Did Jihoon initiate contact before? You are talking of ending your relationship and he is whistling while opening a broom closet. Jihoon is unpredictable. He closes the door behind you, darkness engulfing you both. He doesn’t turn on the light, and your eyes adjust to the darkness. The closet is tiny, Jihoon is resting on the opposite wall, and his body brushes against you whenever he moves. 

“Why can’t we work out?” Jihoon asks, moving around to get you two comfortable, filling the dark room with the rustling of his dress shirt.

You lick your dry lips, snapping out of how firm his chest feels against yours. “We just don’t. You shouldn’t meet someone like me,” you throw your hand up, accidentally hitting his chest. God, what is he hiding in there? “You should go out and meet someone who is, who is prim and proper and someone that doesn’t have their mind full of filth.” You gasp, covering your mouth, shocked at yourself and the damn slippery mouth of yours.  

Jihoon kills you with his silence. You groan, clutching your hair. This is the reason you shouldn’t communicate in person instead of sending a well framed and overthought text message. You should just blame the closeness, his hands next to your waist, leaning against your side of the wall instead of his’. How can one sane woman think in this situation? 

“Since the reason is out, I’ll out myself.” You nervously chuckle to yourself. “Bye, Jihoon.” You think of giving a ninety degree bow, and realize you’ll probably headbutt him. You end with an awkward wave of hand. 

“Bring your ass back here.” His words sent a shiver down your body. What?

You look over your shoulder, “what?”

He holds your shirt, pulling you back into his chest. “Where are you going?” His lips on your ear makes you grab onto his arm that’s around your waist. 

“To like,” you whack your brain to formulate a good answer, “throw myself onto the road, and kiss the road as I go flying,” your mind, as expected, stopped working the moment Jihoon gives a tiny kiss on your ear followed by a low chuckle. 

“I don’t want you to die,” the sudden saint to sinister Jihoon has you electrocuted, “I need to see you, be with you,” he grabs your waist slamming you back to him as you try to escape his arms, “touch you, and have filthy thoughts whenever I see you.” 

You gasp, nails digging into his arm, “Jihoon,” you whimper, his lips drags across your neck, baring his teeth at the spot your shoulder meets neck, sinking his canines softly, but not quite biting. “You-you don’t like touch!” 

He detaches his mouth, you whine turning around to look at him. “I don't? I didn’t know that.” 

“You shove people away, you are ready to murder Soonyoung even if he breathes in your direction!” You flail your arms, “even a few minutes back when I was laughing and was all over you, you, like, glared at me. I can’t take it, I hate it when someone rejects my touch.” 

“Ah,” he says, “is that why you wanted to break up.” 

You nod, hitting his chin with your nose in the process. “Ah, it hurts.”

Jihoon sighs, “you could have talked it out with me instead of like breaking up with me.” 

You pout, “how can I?” 

“I am not big on physical touch,” he agrees, “and probably hate it when someone comes near me,” you take a step back but he pulls you into him, “but that doesn't mean I hate it with you. I never hated your touch, but instead,” he falters.

“Instead?” You ask with a bated breath. 

“I crave it.” Jihoon slowly leads you to the wall, caging you between his arms, “when you were laughing, and were all over me, I was shocked,” his finger traces your face, from your temple to your chin slowly, ticklish. “I may not express it explicitly but I want only you to be in my space.” 

His lips brush over yours, “no one else.” He presses them over your lips, wet and warm against your cold ones. You gasp, clutching onto his shirt, crumpling the fabric, his body is on yours, feeling all the hard ridges and the muscle. 

“So I worried for nothing?”

“Yes.” He crashes his lips on yours.