#Just ignore his too small nose and too big head

[acewithapaintbrush]

Everytime I decide to draw some Encanto I somehow end up with these two being all lovely with each other...

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: pantie stealing and sniffing, masturbation, Simon has a crush on you, kinda softie! Simon

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who felt guilt pooling in his chest as he fisted his leaking cock violently, a pair of your pink frilly thongs that he pinched from laundry basket in you house was pressed against his nose, inhaling lungfuls of your soury scent. Bright blush covered his normally pale cheeks, honey-coloured eyes rolling back as Riley’s back arched, series of low groans and stifled moans slipping past his lips as hot cum shot out of his overstimulated cock, landing in small puddles on his pubic and tummy.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who could barely look you in the eyes the whole next week out of sheer shame and embarrassment, brushing you off whenever you tried talking to him. You pouted, not getting such wanted attention from your older brother’s broody best friend, just clicking your tongue as he openly ignored you, finally giving up and turning around on your heels, marching off to your room, snacks and mug of tea in your hands. If only you could see Simon’s eyes lingering longingly on the soft slope of your ass, trying to burn the image in his brain, you small booty shorts doing nothing to hide delicious plumpness of it.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who clenched his teeth tightly, breathing deeply through his nose to try and control himself as you sat on an arm of the armchair he was settled in, drunkenly babbling about some new movie you’ve been meaning to watch. He desperately tried not to look at your tits as you leant against the back of that damned armchair, your chest poking out of the deep cut of your crop top barely ten centimetres away from Simon’s head, basically inviting him to bury his face in beautiful softness of your boobs. But he just gripped his beer tighter, looking strictly in front of him and nodding absentmindedly at your words, subtly shuffling his hoody down to hide a growing tent in his pants.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon on whom you can always count. You need a drive back home after going out for drinks? He’s grabbing his car keys and telling you he’ll be there in a few minutes. Some weirdo has been bothering you at work/uni? Simon is discreetly asking bastard’s name as to not rise any suspicions in you, just to have a little friendly chat with him a bit later, making sure to break duchebag’s nose so he doesn’t stick it into your business anymore. There’s something off with your car and you need to get it fixed? How good that Simon is a handyman, bringing your car back to life not worse than any mechanic would (and he’s definitely not flexing his stupidly big biceps while doing it).

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who knew better than to make a move on you. He knew you liked him, and he liked you too (more like was totally obsessed). But he valued his best friend too much, knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t appreciate it if Simon fucked his little sister.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who realised that he was absolutely, utterly, totally fucked as he watched you and your older brother roughhousing around the kitchen, bickering and play-fighting - your smile was so bright and warm, making him feel hot like sun in the middle of August, your loud laughter made his chest buzz with something soft and Riley felt as if he was about to pass out because of the flow of softness he felt for you that moment. Soon your eyes met his, mischievous smirk curled your pretty lips as you threw a pillow at him, surely dragging Simon into your little brawl, creating a huge mess for which all three of you will surely get a good scolding from your mom.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who tried to distance himself from you because you deserved more than him. He genuinely did try to ignore all your soft smiles and fleeting touches, the way you batted you pretty eyelashes as you listened to him explaining something to you or the way you would nibble on your bottom lip as your eyes wandered up and down his torso as he wore one of his compression shirts. Simon did try his best to save you from himself, but all of his resolve vanished completely and utterly the moment you got brave enough to stand to your tippy toes and press a tentative kiss to his chapped lips.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who scooped you up in his arms, giving you no chance to escape as he deepened the kiss, moaning quietly into your mouth as you let his tongue in, greedy hands roaming up and down your body, feeling all the curves and dips of it - just like he dreamt of doing past few years. Simon barely registered pressing you against the wall, meaty forearms boxing you as his torso pressed against yours, grinding his boner against your tummy, goosebumps running up his spine as he felt your small arms gripping on his sides, pressing him closer to yourself.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who broke off your kiss, a silver strand of saliva connected your lips as he gazed deeply in your eyes, blush on your face made him feel warm and proud. He pressed his lips against your forehead, nosing at your hair and inhaling sweet scent of your shampoo. Withdrawing back for just a few centimetres he muttered in his raspy breathy voice “Go out with me”

Likes, reblogs and comment are highly appreciated, give writers some love!🩷 I’m thinking about making part 2, let me know what you think<3

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … TOJI FUSHIGURO TAKES A LIE DETECTOR TEST… 9.6M VIEWS

꩜ actor!toji (& implied actor toji x actress/actor reader)

⤷ synopsis: toji thought this lie detector test was going to be a breeze. he was a little mistaken.

sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, toji & reader are secretly together, toji lying!

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

⪩　 　  ₊　    🍪 　 　✧ 　 　⁺

“i ain’t nervous,” toji claims, cracking his neck and smirking as the crew members attach the needed equipment to his body, “i ain’t no liar either. so i got nothing to worry about here.”

“i sure hope that’s true, mr.fushiguro.” the polygraph examiner replies slyly.

“are you ready, toji fushiguro?” the interviewer asks.

“yeah, i am,” toji claps, “hurry up and get started.”

“is your name toji fushiguro?”

“yes my name is toji fushiguro.” he looks to the polygraph examiner. “it is, right?”

the woman simply stares at him.

“..alright then…”

the interviews asks another question. “are you about to take a polygraph exam?”

“yes, yes and yes, now give me the real questions!”

TOJI FUSHIGURO TELLS THE TRUTH

YOUR CAREER

“we’re going to start with the category of your career.”

toji nods and looks to the examiner. “how ‘m i doing?”

“you’re very calm, nothing unusual yet.”

“hm.”

the interview begins to speak. “one of your most popular roles as an actor was when you played Frank Castle in the Netflix series, “The Punisher”. some would say this is when you became a heartthrob. do you think is this true?”

toji sighs and shakes his head. “nah-”

“LIE.” the polygraph examiner calls out.

toji raises his hand. “…because, i was already a heartthrob before alla that.” he smiles, looking proud of himself. his answer is met with silence.

“ok.” says the interviewer and goes onto the next question. “do you face a lot of pressure being a heartthrob?”

“nope.” toji answers easily. “i’m just that kinda guy. i ain’t gotta try too hard for much, especially not ‘being hot’.”

he looks at the examiner.

“he’s telling the truth.” she states. she almost seems disappointed by the fact.

“see?” toji says, folding his arms, “as i said, ‘got nothin’ to lie about.”

“in the punisher,” the interviewer starts, ignoring toji’s cocky replies, “do you wear a muscle suit to look bigger than you actually are?”

toji throws his back, cackles echoing around the small room. “fuck no!” he gestures to…his whole body, “‘it look like i need a muscle suit? ‘didn’t even know that shit was a thing… i’m big enough without any of that stuff.” he shrugs, looking into the camera. “i think we can all see that.”

the examiner nods curtly. “..he is telling the truth.”

“do you workout often?” asks the interviewer.

toji scoffs. “i thought i’d get good questions..but yeah, yeah i do workout.”

“would you consider yourself fit?”

“yep. ‘hundred percent.”

“would you consider yourself fitter than,” the interviewer slides a photo of the actor gojo satoru towards toji, “this man?”

“pfft-” toji chortles. “oh, ohh yeah. easily. he’s like..” he looks for the correct words, “a little boy. are we kidding?”

he looks to the examiner and then to the interviewer.

“he is being truthful..again.”

toji smirks at the camera, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. “toji never lies.”

POP CULTURE

“this year, you were named “The Most Sexiest Man Alive” by People Magazine. do you believe you’re sexier than this man, 2022’s sexiest man, nanami kento?” the interviewer slides another photo, this time of the actor nanami kento.

toji looks at the photo for a second, before scoffing a little. “oh yeah. definitely. ‘guy just has a permanent frown on his face. he ain’t ugly but he could smile a little, y’know?”

“what about this ‘guy’, 2021’s most sexiest man alive, ryomen sukuna?” the interviewer also slides a picture of him to toji.

toji strokes his chin. “heh..yeah..yeah i would say so..this guy..he ain’t ugly either but..theres this energy about him..”

“what energy would that be, toji fushiguro?”

“the energy of a fuckin’ mass murderer that’s what!” he laughs at his own joke, looking at the picture of this ‘ryomen sukuna’, who is glaring into his soul through the image. “yeahh, i’d say i’m more attractive than him. just.. just a little.” he holds two fingers close together emphasis. “jesus christ, that’s one scary looking fuck.”

the examiner inspects the polygraph and looks towards toji and the interviewer. “he has been telling the truth.”

“yeah.” toji nods, exhaling through his mouth and sliding the pictures away from himself. “‘course i am.”

LOVE LIFE

toji had been doing well so far, but the category of ‘love life’ would be his downfall.

“do you want to get married in the future?”

“yeah, yeah i do.”

the examiner nods.

“have you ever been in love?”

“..yes.” toji responds, thinking about his past for a second.

the examiner nods again.

“are you in love right now?”

toji pauses for the first time in the whole test. he takes a deep breath. “no. yeah, no. ‘m not.”

the examiner raises an eyebrow at the results. “questionable.”

“oh, c’mon.” toji groans, rolling his eyes.

“is there someone you’re in love with?”

“nope. nobody at all.” he interlinks his fingers, tapping them against each other. “..nobody at all..”

“questionable. again.” the examiner states, pointedly looking at toji.

toji sighs. “oh, brother…”

“did you happen to meet this person..on set?”

“no, ‘cause there is no person?” toji says firmly.

“again.” the examiner says. “questionable.”

“christ…”

the interviewer asks another question. “do you believe in love at first sight?”

toji huffs. “no, that’s just two people who wanna fuck.”

“i see. then,” the interviewer takes out three pictures, all of them being people who he has worked with on set, including you.

“are you in love with any of these people?”

toji gulps, hesitating for a split second, his eyes focused on your picture. “nope. not oneeee bit.”

“LIE.” the examiner shouts excitedly, happy to have finally caught toji out on lying. she rings the negative buzzer repeatedly. “lie!”

“‘you serious?” he asks incredulously, looking between the interviewer and the examiner. “listen, maybe it was just my heart murmur or somethin’ like that,” he looks to side, cheeks rosy and shifts in his seat a little, “i-i don’t-”

“those are the last of our questions.” the interviewer says to toji, smiling knowingly. “thank you for taking part in our lie detector test.”

toji grumbles.

౨ৎ

tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000

a/n: this was longer than i planned 🤥

[moon7jay]

Taste (l.hs)

Warnings : cum eating, smut, heeseung is a munch, pure filth

Wc : 2.8k

"Let me push my face between your legs baby, this is torture"

your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment at your boyfriend's incessant whining.

Heeseung had been going at it for days. It started with the both of you making out for the very first time with your tongues and the moment he sucked your tongue into his mouth, he was groaning

"fuck you taste so good, bet you taste even sweeter down there baby" he had whispered, hands caressing your thighs desperately as if wanting to dive in between them right then and there.

You had shied away from his touch back then and refused. Too conscious of yourself. But you didn't have a clue that your boyfriend was going to be so dedicated to his cause cuz it had been literal days and you were hoping he would forget about it but here he was. Begging you to let him taste you, yet again.

You ignored him and continued to make your coffee, hoping he would catch the hint and drop it

"How long do u want me to jerk off to your panties? "

the spoon fell from your hands and clattered in the sink loudly, your mouth gaping wide open at his blunt and vulgar words. You turned around to face him, your ears burning red, mouth floundering for words as you processed the new information.

He watched your flustered form and chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow while he approached you slowly, trapping you against the kitchen counter, his bigger frame covering yours

"What? you think I'm joking? " He asked and you stayed quiet. Too stunned to speak.

It wasn't that you and heeseung hadn't done anything at all in the physical department. If kissing was something then you had done a lot of it. He would grope your chest and sometimes suck on your titties for hours, other times he would suck on your toes, always leaving an uncomfortable feeling between your legs.

That was all tho, that was all you both had done together when it came to intimacy. That's why learning that your boyfriend jerked off to you was something you hadn't thought about even in your wildest dreams.

He leaned his body closer to yours, face inches from your red and flustered one

"Have to lick on them multiple times just to get a speck of your taste baby" He whispered and your face was on fire, the tingling in between your legs making you squirm

"H-heeseung" You whispered, hands coming up to push him away while you looked anywhere but his face, too shy and embarrassed.

He was having none of it tho, big hands coming up to grab your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen before, the intensity making a shiver run down your spine

"Help a man out yeah? you Just need to open your pretty legs and let me taste that pussy" He groaned

A gasp escaped your lips when you felt him grabbing your hips and hoisting your body up on the counter, settling in between your legs

"wanna tongue fuck you" he panted, running his hands up and down your exposed thighs, your shorts riding up from his rough movements. The way he was groping your body along with his filthy words had your head reeling. Your breath was becoming heavy and you felt wet. You were definitely wet down there. The delicious tingling intensifying in between your legs.

Your small fist hit against his chest once to gain his attention and his eyes were instantly on your face

"w-what if it's not pretty o-or doesn't smell nice" You questioned, finally letting your anxiety out in the open.

Heeseung leaned into you to kiss along your neck making you squirm, a whine building up in your throat at being touched so wontonly

"trust me baby I know you have the prettiest fucking pussy and you smell like fucking heaven, just had my nose buried in your pink lace a few hours ago in the shower" he mumbled and you gasped out loud at his words, trying to push him away

"heeseung what the fuck?? I wore it last night! It was unwashed!"

He grinned and groped your ass, pulling you closer to himself and at the edge of the counter "yeah baby I know, that extra flavor made me cum so fucking hard" He whispered over your lips before pulling you into a dirty kiss. His tongue tasting your hot mouth lewdly.

You felt mortified, suddenly overcome by an embarrassing heat filling up your lower region at his dirty confession and even though you wanted to protest and push him away, the feeling of his hands groping your body so desperately had you giving in

"o-okay just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do? " you confessed, embarassed and shy under his probing gaze.

Instantly he was gathering you up in his arms, bridal style , making you squeal

"what are you doing!"

But it seemed like he had stopped listening after you said okay. The only word that mattered.

It took his long ass legs a few strides to reach your bedroom and throw you onto the bed making you bounce slightly

You watched in awe as he hurriedly took off his pants, palming himself over his boxers, the bulge was big and visible making your mouth water and thighs clench.

"Just lay back and make pretty noises for me while I feast yeah? That's all you gotta do" he groaned, squeezing his bulge a little too tight

"fuck, even the thought of having you in my mouth is getting me so fucking excited" He panted.

The next thing you know, he was climbing on the bed to settle between your legs, parting them harshly, his heavy breaths falling on your inner thighs, hands impatiently tugging on your shorts, pulling them down your smooth legs.

Once they were off, it was just your panties separating his hungry mouth and your pussy. His eyes were hooded as he watched how soaked your core was, how wet and messy it was in anticipation of his tongue.

He ran an inquisitive finger over your slit from above your panties, just to get a feel of you and see how sensitive you really were

You gasped and moaned at his prodding finger touching you through your clothed core, watching how a shit eating grin took over his face upon feeling the height of your desire, his fingers drenched in your juices.

He was instantly pulling back and taking his fingers into his mouth, eyes falling shut and a moan ripping through his chest at your taste, hips bucking on their own. Fuck yeah. He needed to get his tongue down there before he exploded.

The sound of your panties being ripped apart had you squirming and moaning his name, legs falling open in invitation, you were beyond worked up now

His eyes bore into your bare pussy, tongue coming out to lick on his lower lip as he crawled closer to your fuck hole

You were embarassed, the way he was looking at your exposed sex making your ears turn red, what was he thinking?

His eyes flicked from your pussy to your red face a few times and he cursed

"So fucking sexy baby gonna make this pussy cum on my tongue so fucking hard" He growled and dived straight between your legs, his lips capturing your clit, sucking harshly on it

Your legs closed around his head at the sudden sensation and you screamed. It was too much, the stimulation on your sensitive clit was too much but you didn't want him to stop, the feeling of his mouth felt unfamiliar but needed. You needed it.

He groaned , rubbing his tongue over your swollen clit in eight figures, small cries leaving your lips at his desperation, hands coming down to tangle in his hairs, pulling him into you

"oh myy-" You squealed when he was moving down and penetrating your pussy with his tongue, flickering it inside your cunt.

His fingers dug into your thighs to open them further and get deeper into your folds, moving his tongue back and forth, slithering it inside your walls, slurping your juices

You thrashed and moaned, his name falling from your lips like a mantra but nothing could stop him now, his face was squished against your cunt, nose pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing back and forth on it to provide additional stimulation

It was too much, you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach.

You pulled his head closer to your pussy and he moaned, sending vibrations through you, the juices were now leaking at an embarrassing amount from your cunt

"fuck baby give it to me, taste so fucking good wanna taste your fucking cum" he panted pulling away, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he watched the way your back arched upon the intrusion on his long fingers inside your needy core

Your noises were becoming incoherent, eyes droopy and rolling back in your head upon feeling the way his fingers were fucking your pussy

"such a needy fucking cunt, so fucking creamy baby" he groaned and took your clit into his mouth again.

The combined assault of his tongue and fingers pushed you closer to your edge, hips thrusting up into his mouth, unaware of the way Heeseung's hips were grinding into the sheets to find some relief for his weeping cock.

He spit on your pussy and slurped on your juices again, rolling his tongue to mix your juices with his saliva, spread it around your gaping hole and sucking all of the mess back into his mouth, moaning into your folds.

He moved his fingers in and out rapidly, making a scream rip through your chest

"p-please please please"

"Yeah baby? fucking cum on my face let me taste that cum, come on fucking cum" he groaned, eyes fixed on your face and hips rutting against the bed to chase his own high

"Oh my g- Your voice cut into a high pitched pornographic moan as the knot in your stomach snapped and you came all over his mouth and fingers, hips bucking into his eager mouth.

Heeseung dived shamelessly into your juices to slurp and suck in your cum, groaning and rutting faster into the bed, cursing and panting in desire.

You were still riding your high when he was getting up urgently, pulling his boxers down and jerking his cock off on your pussy, his warm cum splattered all over your abused hole

"fuck yeah, shit baby so good" he moaned, his eyes rolling back, emptying his balls on your pussy, rubbing himself raw, letting hot lust and pleasure wash over his body. His face was wet from your pussy juices, the sight being so hot you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning.

When both of your breathing calmed down, he looked back at your pussy and groaned at the sight of his cum all over your stomach, hole and thighs.

He was diving down again to collect his cum mixed with your juices on his tongue and crawling up your body to pull you into a messy kiss. Exchanging your bodily fluids and tasting each other's cum lewdly, sucking on each other's tongue, groaning in carnal lust

The combined taste of each other in your mouths was so nasty it was starting to get you both hot again, his hips subtly grinding against your pussy while you wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him further into your mouth, not getting enough of his taste

"M-More" You moaned into his mouth and he cursed, reaching down with his fingers and collecting more of the splattered cum on your stomach and pussy, pushing the fingers into your Hungry mouth, watching with lust filled eyes how you sucked on them like a whore

"I wanna put my dick inside" he pants and you nod aggressively, moaning around his fingers at the mere thought of having him in you

"Yeah? your pussy is craving it too isn't it? hungry for sex? " He asked grinding his hips into your core, his bare cock rubbing into your bare pussy, coating itself in warm pussy juices

You nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist, showing him your eagerness for sex, bucking your hips up

"Fuck this , gonna pound your cunt" he cursed and thrusted inside your awaiting hole in one go, a sharp scream falling from your lips while his mouth fell open in a silent moan of relief and satisfaction

His brows furrowed and he started thrusting into your wet gummy walls without waiting for you to adjust. You cried in pleasure and pain, his size too big that it was tearing through your womb but the way his cockhead was nudging against your cervix had your eyes rolling back in pleasure

"fuck baby, fuck" he panted above you, his body sweaty, shirt hanging haphazardly over his frame, the only focus being your tight pussy gripping his cock.

His eyes bore into yours, faces inches apart while his balls slapped against your ass, hips snapping mercilessly, in and out. In and out.

The juices were squelching, you could feel your orgasm at the tip of your tongue and by the way his hips were stuttering, you knew he could too, your bodies running on pure lust and desire for sex. The heat reaching a fever pitch.

Your groins snapped against each other lewdly, your mouths open, wanting to kiss but everything felt so good you both couldn't help but moan into each other's mouth instead, not kissing but not wanting to pull away

"Mhmnnk fuuck gonna cum so much in this cunt" he groaned into your mouth huskily, his sweat dripping down onto your face.

Your nails dug into his neck, hips bucking up continuously and rapidly, meeting his every thrust halfway, chasing and chasing that high until both of you were moaning into each other's mouths, cumming together, making a mess all over the bed, hips still moving to ride out the primal feeling for longer.

Pleasurable sighs of satisfaction left your lips when he grinded into your heat again, his dick still hard inside of you

His spent body fell on yours and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, hips moving in you a few more times before he was pulling out of you and laying on your side, panting heavily.

You looked down and saw how hard his dick still was, nibbling on your bottom lip worriedly, did you not satisfy him?

"fuck" his voice pulled you out of your trance and you watched in awe as he took his cock into his palm and started jerking himself off

You sat up on your elbow and just watched, feeling hot, eyes running over his sweaty body and how his stomach clenched when he thrusted into his fist

"keep watching how I beat my meat for you baby, just keeping fucking watching I'm so close" He groaned and you looked at his face. His eyes were hooded and ran all over you with wanton desire as he bucked into his fist, the sight so hot it was making you light headed

"god you drive me crazy, gonna cum so hard again, gonna cum so much, gonna fucking-he moaned, his neck stretching back, his adam's apple bobbing harshly as his hips stilled and spasmed, hot white cum squirting out of his cock, covering his stomach and palms while he jerked himself off to completion. His dick slowly deflating.

He panted harshly and you rubbed his bicep to help him calm his breathing. You couldn't believe you had just had sex with your boyfriend for the very first time and it was so fucking hot. You had taken a total of 3 dicks in your whole life and to say that heeseung's dick was the only one to introduce you to pleasure would be an understatement.

As his breathing calmed down, he looked at you and grinned, pulling you closer to his body, caressing your sides softly "how was that?" He asked and you blushed, feeling shy all of a sudden

"So good hee" You mumbled and he chuckled, finding you adorable

"Yeah? wanna do it again? " he asked and you gasped, hitting his chest

"We just had sex, won't it be too much?" You asked, unsure.

He chuckled and fisted his dick, which was suspiciously getting hard again, hissing in overstimulation

"There's no such thing as too much sex baby, we do it whenever we want, as many fucking times as we want, as long as we fucking want" he whispered and turned you over, capturing your lips into his mouth, ready to take you again.

a/n : I'm going to disappear after posting this cuz I have exams this whole month, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[just-jordie-things]

kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game.  Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going.  It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own? 

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them.  Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day.  Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate.  Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to.  (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain.  They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time.  They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games.  Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?” 

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear.  His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to.  It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends.  He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype.  (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye.  She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more.  “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said.  It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game.  He didn’t need to know that part.  “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard.  (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.  “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking.  Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring.  Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen.  (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time.  She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again.  Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action.  However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen.  The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them.  It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes.  Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts.  This was like a dream come true.  The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval.  He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n).  Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n).  His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?” 

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko.  It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face.  And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens.  The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in.  Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone.  He scowled back at her.  She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands.  He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention.  He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors.  She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field.  “You wanna go after him? Be my guest” 

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters.  “What even happened?” 

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off.  “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?” 

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea.  A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off.  Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves.  It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next. 

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands.  Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively.  Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks.  “You’re totally not pouting right now.  C’mon just fess up.  What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting.  My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats.  “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?” 

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically.  (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!” 

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor.  (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her.  “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested.  “You’re mad about a kiss?” 

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear.  Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing.  Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up.  And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-” 

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?” 

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away.  (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality.  “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-” 

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was.  He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular.  He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what.  It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away.  “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.  I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?” 

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight.  The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up.  He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of.  Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back.  “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-” 

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly.  She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades.  She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face.  “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked” 

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically.  “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!” 

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested.  “I know there’s not any cameras… but…” 

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?” 

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head.  He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.  

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his.  Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away.  She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating.  She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes.  It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead.  He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose.  “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?” 

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats.  As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[mystellenia]

ellie's reaction to big boobs ୨ৎ

summary: you come over to ellie's late at night, your intentions clear as day in your eyes.

content: answer to this req!! established relationship but yall havent done the freaky yet. a little bit of sub!ellie kinda, also kinda needy!ellie, fingering, nipple sucking, groping, basically it

notes: here's the small boob version!! i have never dragged on a fic like i did for this. pissing me off fr. bedtime now yayy honkkkk mimimimimimi

(wc 1.5k)

okay so having big boobs isn't exactly something that goes unnoticed, and trust me, ellie NOTICED. she is such a tits girl. you always noticed how her gaze lingered in, honestly, any top you wore. fitted, loose, tight, baggy, low cut—she dont give af 😇 always thinks she's so sly with it, too, just to be caught every single time. she's so silly. 

obviously, she didn't wanna rush your first time together, but boy did she want to. whenever you guys cuddled, she so badly wanted to palm one, just to hold it or work it under her fingers. and don't get me started on when you guys were chest to chest??? it's all she would think about: her tits being so close to yours, your nipples just two layers away from kissing hers. 

so when you both were on the phone getting ready for bed and you asked her if you could come over, she said yes with HASTEEEEE. it was 11 pm—why else would you come over? i mean, she didn't wanna get her hopes up, but she did take a quick shower while you were on the way over. 

and then she heard three knocks from the front door. 

you stood at the top step to ellie's apartment, the slight chill prickling your arms, but it didn't affect you much because of the heat that ran through your body. 

your arm fell back to your side after knocking, checking your phone for the time. 11:11 pm, it read. you laughed to yourself about the lucky time, with it being 11:11. maybe you would get lucky. 

ellie approached the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole—she was expecting you, anyway. what she was not expecting was to open the door and see you standing in what you were in: black sweatpants and a grey spaghetti strap tank top, looking molded to your body. she felt lightheaded at the outline of your breasts in the tank top, so tight to your skin she swore she could see the print of each hair on your body through it. 

she then looked up to find you staring at her with low lids, the faintest of smiles playing your lips.  

"you gonna let me in, or just keep staring at me?" you teased, pushing past her when she couldn't respond out of surprise. 

ellie came back to her senses and shut the door, locking it behind her back to finally address you. "hi, baby," she says, walking over to you on the couch to kiss your head. 

in place of a response, you hum, lacing your fingers with hers. 

ellie soon grows suspicious of your quietude, smiling and squinting her eyes at you. 

"baby, are you okay?" she prods, her eyebrows drawn together in playful skepticism. "you're so quiet right now." 

you ignore her and lean into her chest, wrapping your arms around her neck and brushing your lips over hers. her smile drops quickly, her lips parting and eyes moving down to your lips. 

"do you still want me to talk now?" you murmur against her mouth, her eyes now almost fully closed. 

it's ellie who leans forward and connects your lips, immediately moaning into your mouth. you swing your leg over hers, moving on top to straddle her. her hands swiftly find your lower back and push your tank top up a little, sprawling her hands against the freed skin. your skin prickles with goosebumps as she brushes it, her cold hands making you shiver and arch into her to escape them. 

ellie abruptly pulls back and rests her forehead against your cheekbone, looking down at your boobs squished up against hers and the cleavage coming from the action. 

you notice where her eyes rest and nudge her head with your nose, grabbing her attention. "el," you breathe, "you know you can touch them." 

she glances up at you. "what?" she pants. 

you place your hand over hers and guide it to your chest, palming your hand over hers on your left boob. "like this," you guide. 

her eyes watch your skin under her hand, slightly unfocused and glazed over. you make her hand squeeze your boob, leaning into her neck to place wet, open-mouthed kisses near her ear, hearing her contently sigh. 

you lean back, causing ellie to promptly pull her hand into her lap. your hands move to roll your tank top up to your sternum and reveal your braless chest, your tits bouncing slightly at the freedom. she almost starts salivating, her throat bobbing as she thickly swallows and then exhales heavily through her mouth. 

she lifts her hand to palm your right breast and pulls back, simply watching your flesh move under her fingers with a slack jaw and eyes nearly closed. your head lulls to the side, and you close your eyes and bite your lip to try and stay quiet. 

she suddenly gains confidence, licking her lips and moving her free hand out of her lap. she traces the waistband of your sweatpants, asking you a quiet "can i?" in permission. she does not, however, give you any time to prepare—she only grants the time it takes for her to quickly swipe her fingers through you to get them wet before smoothly plunging them into you, taking you by surprise and making you scoot back a little to escape the initial intrusion. she looks up at you, smiling evilly at your little gasps and whines. 

your reactions make her cocky, and while she starts to thrust her fingers in you, she asks, "how does that feel?" keeping her eyes on you. while she normally would be nervous about her inexperience, she doesn't care much for your response in this moment—she knows she's making you feel good, so instead she gives a smug smile when you rapidly nod your head. 

she abruptly pulls her fingers out and sits back on her haunches, her sticky fingers resting on her thigh. "take your underwear off. i wanna see." 

you obey, lifting your hips to push your underwear down your thighs. she just watches, her eyes locking onto the string of arousal connecting your puffy core to your underwear. the second it's fully off, she returns her hand to your cunt and reinserts her fingers, groaning at the feel of you clenching around her. 

"ellie..." you moan, your eyes threatening to close. "wait, let me- i wanna make you feel good, too," you breathe, thumbing the drawstring of her sleep shorts between your thumb and index fingers. 

her eyes snap up to yours, pupils blown with lust as she nods. "yeah- yes." 

her movements slow down as she watches you untie the bow of her shorts, slipping them off her legs all while her fingers remain inside you. pushing her boy shorts over her butt and off her legs, you examine her pussy, soaked and glistening for you. 

despite your own weakness from her fingers working in between your legs, you trace small circles on her clit and push one finger in her, watching as her mouth opens more as you speed up. 

ellie's free hand loops around your back, pushing you close to her as her lips unexpectedly wrap around your peaked nipple, making you arch deeper into her mouth. you moan at the sensation, and ellie clamps around your finger, the only noises heard in the bedroom being lewd. 

you both grow closer to your climaxes, her continuing to lick and suck at your nipples as you begin jackhammering into her core. while her thighs tighten around your wrist, your hips buck and grind into her fingers, both of you greedily following the pleasure. 

ellie's movements get sloppy, her lips starting to drift from your nipple to your sternum. she cums around your fingers with a breathy cry of your name, the sound and sight alone enough to make you cum with her.

ellie sloppily lunges towards you and locks your lips in a messy kiss. you thrash against each other, a symphony of pleas and moans ending in the other's mouth. 

taking a moment to regain your senses, you both lay motionless with your chests heaving, fingers still swallowed up. 

you pull your fingers out, ellie soon following suit and wincing at the loss. you pull your tank top back down, and ellie climbs up next to you and lays on her side, looking at your profile.  

"jesus christ," she pants, throwing her arm over her eyes and laughing wearily. you laugh with her, rolling onto your side to face her. 

"i'm so tired. can we just sleep?" you ask. 

"god, yes." 

ellie pulls you into her chest, pulling the blanket up and over your bodies, your naked legs tangling under the sheets. 

just when you thought ellie had fallen asleep, you feel her chest vibrate with words.  

"i wanted to taste you so bad that whole time," she murmurs, sighing dramatically. "wasted opportunity." 

"just do it tomorrow," you reply. 

"oh, hell yeah." 

@picklesarenice69

I’M FREE I FINISHED THIS HOORAYYYY

her slutty little behind an that slutty little shirt and those slutty little ears (hiiii) and her slutty little wrists she needs to be arrested

fun fact the little frog stuffy divider yeah i have the frog her name is Margaret and she has a pink scarf 🧣

---

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[celesteleoves]

“IM SORRY, I DIDNT MEAN IT.”

.ೃ࿐ GOJO SATORU X fem!reader

summary: satoru comes home tired and exhausted, so exhausted he lets words slip that he didn’t mean.

warnings: gojo yells at reader but doesn’t do anything otherwise, reader cries a bit, profanities, reader thinks gojo is going to get aggressive (he never would), angst at the start and fluff at the end!

a/n: first jjk drabble, cut me some slack pls 🧎‍♀️ —

he never got angry, he never let his frustrations out on others, he was always composed and energetic.

that’s how you would describe your boyfriend satoru gojo, he was cheerful and always lightened up your household in seconds the moment he entered it and when he left, it felt empty.

you knew how it is in the sorcerer world: hard, exhausting, draining, frustrating, and sometimes enjoyable. but satoru always pushed through how exhausted he felt and gave you a big smile when he got home.

but today, gojo would be too tired to keep up a cheerful front and was just exhausted. he was so drained from the countless missions he’s had this week he was bound to snap at one point.

you prayed he wouldn’t snap at you, though.

bustling around you and gojos shared kitchen, you made his favourite meal and desert, happily making it in hopes it’ll cheer up your tired lover.

you finished making his favourites and were about to call him to see when he’d be home when the front door opened, shutting with a click of a lock and the sound of gojos keys clanking as he threw them on a nearby surface.

“satoru! you’re home just in time.” your soft voice normally would’ve had satoru jumping off the walls but everything was off today. satoru hater how he was feeling.

he was irked at everything, he even snapped on nanami which left the blonde staring at the white haired man in shock as gojo stood up and walked away from the other sorcerer.

“yeah.” gojo lazily mumbled as he shoved past you, walking towards your fridge and getting himself a cup of water.

frowning, you ignored his actions and began talking about the meal you made as gojo added ice to his glass of water.

stop talking, just stop. gojo let out a quiet groan as you happily talked about your day. too bad he couldn’t reciprocate your energy, he was so angry at everything.

his lanky body moved towards your dining room table, flopping down on one of the chairs as he spread his legs to feel comfortable. placing the cup down, he held the bridge of his nose as you practically yelled to him about dinner from the kitchen.

you hadn’t noticed how aggravated he seemed with your voice and instead continued making a plate of food for him while telling him facts about your day and who you had seen while visiting jujustu tech, only to not find him there (he was on a mission, AGAIN).

“and so, i made your favourite! i know you really like this dish and these are your favourite sweets, so i bought some of those and…”

your voice was blaring in gojos head as you walked over to him, holding his plate in your hands with a smile on your face.

his eyes were worn out, sullen and dark as they stared at you from his hands.

he couldn’t handle this, he was going to snap.

“can you just fuck off already? just… shut up!” he growled, his words taking extra long for you to register as you began to stutter, small tears forming at your waterline as you blinked at gojo.

gojo looked up at you after noticing the silence, only to see you shaking. the plate of food in your hands looked as if it was about to tip over and create a mess on the floor. the plate of food YOU made just for HIM.

your boyfriends eyes widened as he watched you clumsily place his plate down infront of him and back away from his sitting form.

“i- um, im sorry, satoru. i’ll give you space.” you mumbled as you tried to hold in your emotions. your actions showed you felt fear, you were scared of him in this moment because he did not look like your satoru.

satorus eyes widened as he felt his heart drop. did he seriously just do that? why would he do that? why did he yell at you like that when all you were trying to do was be there for him and keep him filled with joy during tough times like these.

he watched you sway and shake as you walked away, his legs moving quicker than he expected as he hugged you from behind.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” satoru whispered into your neck as his arms latched around your waist.

you froze, turning around and looking at your exhausted boyfriend clearly.

he looked so tired, so drained you almost didn’t recognize him. you scolded yourself internally for not noticing it sooner.

your heart softened at the sight of your first and last lover crumbling in your arms as he apologized profusely.

“shh, it’s okay ‘toru. i shouldn’t have been all over you when you needed space.”

“no, i should’ve let you. i need you more than ever.”

his voice shook as he spoke, looking up at you while scanning your face. you looked so gorgeous, so pretty for him today and he felt awful that he didn’t tell you that as soon as he stepped foot through the door.

“it’s okay, baby. i get it.” you smiled at him as he let a soft smile grow on his lips that were in a frown.

“lookin’ so stunning today, sweets. you’re amazing.” he grinned at you as you jokingly rolled your eyes.

“thank you, i know.” you teased him as he pulled you into a kiss, slow and lovingly before beginning to tell you about everything that happened with him this week.

you both sat at your dining room table as you occasionally fed satoru his food and added onto his words while he talked about missions, his students, and more.

you two loved eachother, and no matter how stressed out or drained you are; you made a deal to always be there for eachother, no hiding anything.

.ೃ࿐

please leave tips, requests, or anything of the sort! i’m open to any requests or suggestions 🤍 enjoy babes.

[chososdiscordkitten]

I'm Stuck!

artist: yunonoai on twt

Synopsis: Gojo buys new washing machines nd chooses a shitty placement for em ⸜( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: smut, implied reader is thicker than a snicker, established relationship, teasing, r gets stuck between a wall nd said machines, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (f), a sprinkle of manhandling, he refuses to admit he's wrong, cream pie

(a.n) if u wanna see what I picture- look at this

MDNI

When you first moved in with Gojo, you became all too aware of the fact that he was very particular about his design choices. Almost all your suggestions were vetoed the minute you would offer them.

And when the cheap washing machines that came with his apartment broke; You saw this as an opportunity to control at least one room in the now-shared apartment.

You stood beside Satoru in the laundry room- eyeing the small space and telling him, “If you put them here,” referencing the back wall of the rectangle room, “-it’ll feel more open.” you pointed at the wall. Looking at his pensive expression. 

Gojo was just petty enough to ignore your suggestion. Holding a measuring tape and looking at the 28-inch mark. “The website says they’re this big-” looking up at you as he measured. 

Even if you were kinda right- Satoru wanted to put the washer and dryer pair on the opposite side. Leaving only the entrance of the small room- and a small gap between the wall and the massive machines. 

You parted your lips- about to speak. Remembering the photo Satoru had shown you of the machines- far better and more modern than the old ones that opened at the top. 

These new ones had doors that opened outwards- and as you looked at the gap between where the machines would go, and where the wall was. You were sure they wouldn’t be able to open fully. 

But you held your tongue- knowing Satoru would mull it over for a few days before telling you that you were right. 

The space was small- sure. But you were sure it was enough space to fit through, and besides, how long would Satoru let those machines sit in the wrong place before calling someone to help switch their placement. 

On the day of delivery, Satoru looked at the machines as though they were his pride and joy, like he was the one who did all the washing in the house. 

The way the handymen looked at your idiot boyfriend was laugh-worthy. “They’ll go against that wall”, he instructed. 

You were sure the men struggled more in placing them where Satoru instructed than if they just flipped them and pushed them to the back wall. 

Satoru generously tipped them for their efforts, and once they left, you stood at the small doorway. Looking at the washing machines placed against the wall as though it were a laundromat.

“I hate saying it-” he clicked his tongue, leaning against the machine and looking at you smugly. “But I told you so~” 

You grinned- amused at how right he thought he was. You winced, “Do me a favor real quick-” fighting off the laugh about to rumble from your chest. “Open one of the doors.” 

Satoru furrowed his eyebrows at your request, dragging a hand down to the circular door. Smugly popping it open, only to hear it ding against the wall. You puffed a small laugh from your nose at how his face fell. 

“And..” you started, walking towards him and fwipping your hand up and down- guiding him to move. 

Stepping into the small gap between the machine and the wall with the door open, and letting a small giggle leave your lips as your thick thighs pressed against the metal. 

Satoru looked down at your hips that were flush against the machine- he measured how much space the machines took up. But Gojo didn’t account for the space you would need to do laundry properly. 

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder. Watching him pull his lips to the side, thinking up some snide remark about how he was still right. 

Even a week after having those machines in the most inconvenient place- Satoru refused to admit he was wrong. He refused to call the handymen back and have them move the machines where you told him to. 

You were more affected by his mistake than he was. Bothersome little doors that had hit you more times than you could count when they would bounce off the wall. 

And all the times you would feel your hips brush against the open machines- you would furrow your eyebrows. Recalling how petty he could be. 

Truth being- Satoru hadn’t called the handymen to fix the minor problem because when you first stepped into the small space of the laundry room- Seeing your thighs press against the machine made him hope you would get stuck one day. 

As though he had manifested it- the day came.

You were doing laundry per usual- struggling with the stupid doors and growing more and more irritated by the second. 

And when you thought you were finally finished- slamming the dryers door shut and hearing it whirr. 

You turned around to see a discarded sock on the ground, thinking nothing of it and stepping back into the small space- hips pressed against the slightly protruding door of the dryer. Picking up the sock with a small huff. 

Straightening back up and aiming to take a step back. Only to feel resistance from the wall- you tried shifting with even more strength. Only for the wall and machine to refuse to let you go. 

You looked to the machine- recalling all the times this very same scenario had happened. Wondering what went wrong this time. And seeing the clear plastic bubble-like door trap your hips. Add that with the bending- causing your hips to widen in the slightest. 

You sighed- frustrated that you had actually managed to get stuck in the small space. You tried a few more steps- a small wiggle, a aimed step back- nothing worked.

And wearing mini shorts- practically underwear that left your plush thighs exposed against the wall and the plastic door. Knowing it would only hurt if you pushed yourself out. 

You held the stupid black sock in your hand as you contemplated calling out to the idiot that waited for you in the living room. 

You shouted his name once- waiting a few seconds to see if he would come running to see what was wrong. 

Only Satoru was sat with a handful of unfolded socks in his lap, watching the show you normally watched together- so focused on the scene playing out before him. 

You closed your eyes- cringing at the cliche you were in. Calling his name once more- with more urgency and a gruff to it. That’s what pulled Satoru from his focus on the tv show. 

His hand reached for the remote and pressed pause- trying to determine if he was just imagining things or if you actually called out to him. 

And when you called out to him a third time, Satoru tossed the socks from his lap and ran to the laundry room. All the urgency in the world.

Worried you had seen a bug, or a home invasion- or every single dangerous thing he could picture happening. Running into the room asking you what was wro-

His lips parted in amazement once he saw your bottom trapped between the machine’s door and the wall. Staring at your exposed thighs and the crease of your ass.

“Don’t just stand there- go get some baby oil or something to get me ou-” Satoru reached a hand out to your bottom, causing you to silence your directions. His cheeks flushed and eyes glimmering full of the possibilities. 

Satoru sighed and smiled, looking up to the ceiling with closed eyes to thank the deity that had granted him his wish. 

Looking back down to your ass- slightly bent and you trying to reach a hand back to push him off, all but telling him again to go get something to help you out. 

But knowing your boyfriend and his peculiar tastes- this was brewing in his mind from the minute he saw your hips against the small space. 

“I prayed for this.” he whispered, earning a small ‘what?’ to leave your lips. 

Satoru placed both of his hands on your bottom, his long fingers sliding beneath the light fabric of your shorts. Softly groping at the skin and peaked his eyebrows. You only clenched your jaw and closed your eyes. 

Hearing the ramblings of the man behind you. “You should’ve just listened to me.” you scoffed, planting your hands on the wall in front of you as though Gojo was doing a body search, trailing his fingers down your clothed core. 

His eyes dimmed- watching the light goosebumps form on your skin, lightly pressing his fingers against the little mound beneath your shorts. Earning a small exhale laced with a whimper to leave your lips. His other hand groped firmly at your ass, enjoying the view below him. 

“No. I know now I was right not to listen to you.” Satoru grinned menacingly, watching your hips try to shift against the whirring machine next to you. 

The tips of his fingers against your clothed core making you let out a shivering huff. “You still want me to help you out?~” Gojo asked- too smug to be considered as a genuine offer.

Satoru made light circles on the little mound at the top of your cunt- shivers running down your thighs as you tried to muster the words. 

“You must’ve planned this-” he scoffed, trailing his fingers to the side of your shorts. A small damp spot formed on them, telling Gojo all he needed to know. “Prancing around all day wearing this-” 

You parted your mouth- feeling the cool air hit your dampening cunt that pulsed with every accusation he spouted at you. 

Satoru sucked his teeth- placing the tips of his fingers on your clit, causing a small gasp to fall from your throat. You let out a ragged breath, his fingers starting small circles against you. 

Trying to keep your legs from buckling at the slow pace Satoru held. A small ‘tsk’ left his lips, full of feigned disappointment. “Tryna tempt me allll day.” The smile evident in his tone. 

You only breathed a small whimper at his words- knowing it wasn’t true, but what state were you in to deny it? 

“M’pretty sure I saw your pretty pussy a handful of times~” he purred- fastening his pace in the slightest. 

Your breathing took up in pace- trying not to let out the small moans Satoru was pulling from you with every small circle he made against you. 

The bulge in Gojo’s bottoms grew with every little whimper you let out- his hard cock twitching beneath the fabric as soft moans left your lips, landing in his ears as harmonies.

“If you wanted me to fuck you that badly-” he hummed, quickening his fingers and hearing the low squelches coming from your cunt. Knees threatening to buckle as Satoru trailed the hand on your ass up your slightly arched back, pushing up the hem of your t-shirt. 

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” he cooed, watching your hands on the wall start to slip as your moans became louder, feeling Gojo’s hard bulge pressing against your ass. Desperate to get some kind of friction, whereas you- were desperate to finish. 

An orgasm so close it had one of your eyes shut and the other threatening to follow its movements- “You didn’t have to scheme up ways for me to fuck you.” he teased, trying to dig your fingers into the wall as Satoru watched you come undone, cunt clenching around nothing. 

Feeling your core pulse onto his fingertips, small shivering sighs leave your lungs as he works you down an orgasm. You steady your breathing- becoming more aware of Gojo’s bulge pressing onto your plump bottom. 

You clenched your teeth- Satoru’s fingers trailing from your clit down to the source of the slick that coated his digits. The other resting on your side to stabilize you. Wouldn’t want you to come unstuck too soon now. 

You were glad you were faced away from him- your vision bordering on going double and the heat rising to your cheeks just thinking about the cliche you were in. Thinking of how easily accessible you were to him at that moment. 

You started feeling his fingers dip into your entrance- too slow and far too eager to prep you. “Just-” you huffed, feeling his hand halt its movements. 

“Just. Fuck me.”

Quiet- but clear enough for Satoru to hear you. 

Huffed and urged as you said it- it made Satoru realize you were unwilling to go through his teasing prep- and in no possession of the patience needed for it. 

Gojo bit his lip slightly, being able to see the tenseness in your shoulders- it wasn’t about him having a good time anymore. No, your tone made it sound like he was depriving you of something.

Satoru wasted no more than a second in tucking the hem of his shirt between his pearly teeth- a smile on the corners of his lips as he watched you writhe. All but telling him to hurry with the puffs of frustration leaving your lips. 

Though his mouth was busy trying to hold his shirt up- his messied hand pulled from your cunt and landed on the band of his shorts, you could hear the muffled giggles of amusement leaving Gojo’s lips as he slapped the tip of his cock onto your ass. 

Leaky as he was, Gojo still wanted to hear the words from your lips. “Tellme-m’right” he spoke with clenched teeth- muffled and barely legible and in a smug tone. 

You scoffed- biting your lip and peaking up your eyebrows. Knowing Satoru is just petty enough to pull away from you and jack off till he spurt his mess onto your ass. “You were right.” you mumbled, earning Satoru to release the shirt from his teeth with a smile.

“What was that?” lightly tapping your entrance with his tip as your hands pressed onto the wall again- planted to stay upright. 

You sighed. “You were right, ‘toru-” you spoke clearly, earning an appeased hum from Satoru. 

Taking his hand from his base- quickly taking off his t-shirt and lining himself up with your cunt. The only thought in his mind was praising himself for what a good idea the machine’s placement was. 

The second he slowly pressed his tip past your entrance- both you and Gojo could feel the difference between when you would be prepped compared to now. 

Soft ringing in your ears as you let out a soft moan, a light sting pulsing in your cunt as he eased himself into you. 

And Gojo- he swore he could cum right then and there had it been up to him. His eyes threatened to fall back into a soft roll as a groan tried leaving his throat. Falling from his lips with the sound of a whimper laced in it.

Even if Satoru had slid inside of you countless times- it always made his go vision blurry. Never getting used to how warm and welcoming your cunt always felt against his cock. 

Satoru spouted a curse- mixed with a whimper as he held onto your ass, bracing himself as he felt your cunt suck him in. 

With clenched teeth- “S-so fuckin’ tight-” he gruffed- making sure to give you enough time to get used to the light sting before he pulled his cock from you. Hands gripping too harshly on the malleable skin of your ass. 

His cock felt a light breeze hit the skin lathered with your essence, wasting little time before thrusting back into you- setting a slow but deep pace. 

Shutting your eyes tight as Satoru’s thrusts caused your hips to move against the harsh plastic and the wall. 

A few more rolls of his hips were all you had to spare- “Satoru I’m gonna fall-” you huffed, feeling his hands grope at your ass firmly- some attempts to assure you that you wouldn’t. 

A light sheen of sweat formed on your thigh, causing you to actually start slipping with every little thrust Satoru rolled against you.

Though he was whining behind you, he could feel your hips start to give against the machine’s door. 

Gojo mustered all the strength he could, dragging his cock from you. Allowing his leaking tip to kiss your entrance ever so slightly as he gave a hard yank against your hips. 

Hearing a low grunt of relief as you felt yourself come loose-only for Satoru’s hands to move you to the free edge of the machine quickly, aligning himself up with your entrance again. 

Pressing his heaving chest against your back- bending you over as his head rested the crook of your neck. Clenching his teeth with a low whimper- your hands planted against the whirring machine- bracing for him to bottom out. 

Only Satoru planted a hand atop yours- grasping it lightly as he slid himself in slowly. 

A sharp exhale took the form of a whimper as it left Gojo’s lips, invading your ear as you raised yourself onto your tiptoes. Giving his cock a new angle, his flushed tip nudging your sweet spot. 

A choked moan left your lips, the hand on your ass rising to your neck. Pulling you back to his chest and forcing your back into a harsher arch. 

Satoru sped up his pace- barely pulling out and prodding the spongy gspot his cock curved into. Barely pulling his hips from your ass with frustrated whimpers leaving his lips. 

His hand mindlessly rising to the side of your face- your parted lips huffing out small whimpers welcoming his fingers. Hooking the digits that brought you to your first orgasm, onto the side of your mouth as he tried to keep a steady pace. 

You could feel he was still holding back- unknowing why he insisted on keeping a medium pace with his thrusts. You clenched your walls around him in the slightest- “F-faster ‘toru,” you huffed, slightly muffled from his fingers in your mouth- earning for his hips to halt and his hands to raise. 

Satoru gulped- his cheeks flushed and ears hot as his hands hooked onto the ditches of your elbows. Pulling your arms back in tandem with dragging his cock out.

Gojo knew that whenever you bark an order, you were giving him permission to do what every part of his brain was yelling at him to do. 

And as he felt the very tip of his cock reach the taut circle of your entrance- he clenched his teeth, inhaling before pushing himself in.

His thrusts were rough- too deep as your shoulder blades pressed against each other- clearer moans falling from your lips. Satoru’s forearms pulling you back with every harsh thrust- unpatterned and sloppy as he whined into your ear. 

Your calves started tingling from being raised on the tips of your toes. And almost as though Satoru heard you- he released one of your arms and reached down to your thigh. 

A smile took shape in a huff- “Up we go~” he grinned with a breathless tinge. 

Assisting you in resting it on the top of the machine, now easily at level with his rough hips. The foot on the ground barely touched the tile- half of your body on top of the machine as Satoru grabbed a handful of ass. Biting his lip as he looked down to your cunt linked with him. 

With every tenacious thrust Satoru rolled against you- he watched your ass bounce. 

And as though it was instinct, Gojo pulled his gripping hand from your ass and gave you a firm spank. 

You whimpered in response- shutting your eyes and muttering a strained, “Fffuck!” his hand soothing the warmth rising onto your bottom- clenching his teeth with muffled groans leaving his pursed lips. 

Your hands pressing onto the top of the machine as some sort of attempt to brace for Satoru’s quick drilling hips. Keeping yourself up on your forearms as his hand gripped the malleable skin of your ass. Groaning harsher and harsher as he felt his orgasm build in his tummy. 

Satoru knew you were close too- the moans you spewed were now shorter and more breathy. Your cunt twitching around him every other thrust- 

“Say m’right.” clenched teeth and a low tone as his thrusts became even more sloppy- bordering on raising himself from the ground from how harshly he was pushing you onto the machine. 

Gojo stopped his thrusts- nuzzling himself inside of you entirely. And staying still- knocking the air from your lungs with a gasp- “Say.” pulling his cock , “I’m.” a firm thrust, “Right.” urging you to with every deep thrust. 

You whimpered, knowing he was barely bumping his tip against your gspot on purpose. 

“You’re r-ri-” he continued his fast pace again- the words trying to make their way out of your lips. 

Satoru grunted with an amused smile- “I’m-” he sighed, “I’m what?” out of breath and edging himself.

You bit your lip, the knot in your stomach slowly slipping with every little thrust. 

Feeling his unforgiving hips nudge you closer and closer against the wall. Your jaw went slack-jawed as he refused to give you a second to answer. 

All it took was another firm spank to push you over an orgasm- cunt spasming around him as he grunted. Sudden tightness sucking him in with every pull he did. 

“You’re righ- fuck-” you moaned, “You’reright-” babbling as Satoru let out a breathy giggle. More than pleased with your mindless prattling. 

As Gojo succumbed to his own orgasm- you groaned lightly, feeling his seed coat your walls. Warmth filling your cunt as your eyes fluttered closed. 

Satoru rode himself down with slower thrusts, still reaching as deep as he could- but slowing them. 

Wincing softly as his tip got a shock of overstimulation, heavily breathing as he eased his hands from you. 

Leaning over your ass and placing his forehead onto the center of your shoulder blades. 

“Call the delivery men,” you breathed- sighing softly as Satoru rested himself atop you. “And tell them to move them.” you demanded- knowing that if they stayed the way they were now- more little instances like these would keep happening. 

Satoru huffed against your clothed spine. “You just said,” taking a breath and feeling his heart pound in his chest. “-that I was right?” keeping a teasing tone as you tried easing off the machine. 

Wondering how on earth Gojo managed to shift you from the floor to the top of the washer.

-

I luv him sm <3

[xbellaxcarolinax]

pls do virgin miguel o'hara w/ a huge cock and fucks both of u dumb 🥹

I hope this is what you meant, babe. Miguel might be ooc, idk, anyway, here ya go:

NSFW below the cut, minors DNI.

Nothing could have ever prepared you for this.

He's big—massive even. The head’s swollen, precome beading at the very tip. All that from a heavy makeout session.

You stared, almost fascinated, stunned into silence.

"...is it okay?" Miguel grunted, watching you carefully with nervous eyes. He was sitting rather uncomfortably at the edge of your bed, legs spread apart and briefs pooled around his ankles.

"Uhh…yeah," you sank to your knees in front of him, "just never seen one so...big." Miguel grew increasingly flustered at your words, even more so when you gripped him firmly in your hand, squeezing ever so slightly. His cock looked ridiculous in your small hands but that only fueled you to take up the challenge. You knew it'd hurt so good.

You bit your lip before devouring him, taking as much of him as you could. He choked, hand flying to grip your hair, and you were certain he’d take the lead and move you over his cock at the speed he desired, but he didn’t. His fingers were gentle, almost hesitant as he buried them within the strands.

It was your first time tasting him. You got lost in it, slobbering over the tip and down his shaft with the intention of taking him whole but he pushed you away, causing you to release him with a pop.

“Fuck, cariño,” Miguel panted, shaking his head, his dark hair damp with sweat, “I can’t—you can’t—it’s too much, I won’t last.”

You looked up at him with a teary gaze, wanting to make eye contact but he refused, content with turning his head to the side to look at the wall.

“Mig?” He ignored you, jaw clenched and nose flared as he fisted the sheets under him.

“Miguel,” you tried again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you stood. He ignored you still and you grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes, “what’s wrong?” You smoothed his hair away from his brow, hoping the action would soothe him. His eyes were lidded but he looked at you, brows arched.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed.

"I don't know what I'm doing." He muttered, shutting his eyes as soon as the words left his lips.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, pressing your lips to his forehead in a chaste kiss, "you’re supposed to sit and enjoy.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he sounded frustrated, his large hands falling to your hips, gripping you tightly, “I’ve…never done any of this before.” You paused, processing his words while stroking your thumbs over his high cheekbones. 

He’s never done this before? Had no one ever sucked his cock?

Did he mean…?

Oh. OH.

“You mean you’re a…?”

“Virgin. Yeah.” He finally said, dropping his into the plushness of your breasts. 

The last thing you assumed was that Miguel O’Hara was a virgin. The man was the very definition of confidence. You’ve seen how women acted around him. It never crossed your mind that he lacked any sexual encounters. But now it made sense. You’ve been dating Miguel for a few weeks and within those few weeks, you did nothing more than kiss like the world demanded it from you. That was fine; he was an excellent kisser.

Anytime it seemed like something more would come from the kissing, he’d stop, nipping it in the bud, saying he had work in the morning. He was a busy man and, well, that was that. You thought he never had much time for anything else.

But you understood now.

“Ahh Mig, nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said sweetly, brushing the tip of your nose with his, “we can stop if you want—”

“No!” He roared, bringing you down to his lap. You could feel his erection, hot and wet with your spit, pressing hard against your clothed core. You gasped, letting your hands fall to his shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, “Don’t wanna stop. Wanna feel you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, eyes fluttering as he nibbled your skin, “a-are you sure? If you’re not ready then—”

“I’m ready,” He growled, pressing his brow against yours, “just thought you should know, cariño. Don’t want to disappoint you.”

You rode him for what felt like hours, his giant cock slamming into where you needed him the most. You ached from the stretch of him, your cunt swollen and raw, gushing all over his length. He was a moaning mess, biting every surface of you he could: your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones, your breasts. He was insatiable, cumming within minutes of your pussy swallowing his cock. Refractory period non-existent. He’d go again and again and again till he painted you completely with his spend and you were too fucked out to speak.

Nope. He didn’t disappoint. Not even a little.

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Chapter I

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

Simon Riley and his pathetic efforts to get close to the new medic will earn him a scar or two

or

Simon Riley is crushing on an uninterested, tired medic.

''I don't mean to be rude, but I'm getting tired of seeing you here.'' Your blunt words are met with a quiet chuckle, the masked man looking up at you with pure amusement in his eyes.

'' 'M trying not to get injured, bird.'' Oh, but he isn't. He's actively getting injured just so he can drop by and get your help. It's stupid, really, how his obsession with you began. He thinks about the first time he saw you, standing right next to Price, an unamused expression as he went on and on about his team, telling you stories of their missions and time together and despite how bored you looked, your attention was solely on him.

He took that chance to look at you, to truly admire you, noticing the way you pull up your glasses every few minutes even when they're not sliding down your nose, the way your eyes were focused only on Price, paying attention to no one but him, legs crossed while sitting next to Price, your face resting on your hand.

''Clearly not trying hard enough.'' He can't help the way his cock twitches at your bored tone, the small frown on your lips just making him think how pretty you'd look with his cum all over your face— he shakes his head softly, trying to get his mind out of the gutter, focusing on the fast and professional work you're doing on his injured arm, pulling the skin back together with a beautifully done stitchwork.

''It's hard being out there.'' He tries to make conversation and all you can do is hum in acknowledgement, gaze focused on the way the needle digs into his skin, coming out of the other side just to be pulled back together with the thin, transparent thread.

''Y'know Gaz was hanging from a chopper by a bloody rope?'' He knows you're close to Gaz, he has seen you talk to him often, and so he tries to desperately make conversation again.

''Scared the shit out o' the old man.'' His efforts work as a small snicker escapes your lips, stopping working on his stitches as you collected yourself. You look up at him with an amused glint in your eyes, nodding your head. God, he has never seen something quite as beautiful.

''Cap told me about it. Poor guy had his whole waist bruised.'' You let out another small laugh before turning your attention back to the deep cut in his arm.

''If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're getting injured on purpose.'' His heart almost stops as your cold eyes look back up at his, an eyebrow raised, yet there's a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you notice his lack of response.

'' 'M not.'' Is all he can say, the knowing look you give him enough to make his blood boil, traveling all the way down to his throbbing cock, thankful for the black hoodie sprawled across his lap to prevent the blood from leaking into his jeans. You ignore all the... beige flags, knowing he's not stupid enough to actually get injured on purpose. You finish stitching him up, throwing away the tools used and the bloodied gloves.

''Keep the wound dry for 24 hours, if any of the stitches come off or the wound opens, come to me.'' You softly pat his shoulders, a small yawn escaping your lips as you look up at the clock on the wall; 0200.

''Tired?'' He asks sarcastically, earning him a way-too-hard pat on the shoulder. Simon woke you up at 2 in the morning, claiming his wound couldn't wait. It wasn't even as bad as he made it seem, though you appreciate your work with the TF141 more than you let on, so you decided to help him. It isn't the first time he wakes you up at outrageous hours, claiming to need help for things ranging from a pathetic paper cut to a gunshot wound. This time, his arm was the only thing affected, a cut big enough to need stitches.

''Very. Now get out.'' Your hand sneaks into the back of his uniform, tugging softly and he gets the message, standing up and allowing you to guide him out of your office like he's a child. He doesn't care if it's you.

''Goodnight, Simon.'' You can barely keep your eyes open and he feels a slight sense of guilt at keeping you up, knowing you'll have to be awake again in less than 3 hours.

''Night, Doc.''

[NEXT]

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[luveline]

Ok this isn’t Halloween but I would love to see a fic of the first time r spends the night at Aaron’s and she changes into her pj which r these super cute delicate tank and shorts set and Aaron goes crazy!! Like he’s a gentleman obvi (or trying hard to be) but he starts opening my flirting with her and she’s so confused bc usually he’s much more subtle

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

cw adult theme mdni

You don't bother changing in the bathroom. It's not an attempt to come onto him, though you're wondering if he might want that, but a realistic practice. If Aaron wants to be intimate with you tonight he's going to see much more of you than your bra.

He returns from the bathroom as you're pulling down your camisole. It's a simple pair of pyjamas but made of a more expensive fabric, the shorts bordering immodest and the camisole cupping your breasts with enough support that a quick glance in the mirror tells you what you'd wanted to know; you look cute. 

Aaron smiles at you, something unreadable in his expression. His brows lift ever so slightly. "Nice socks." 

"I get cold feet sometimes," you say, pressing your fuzzy heels together. 

"Yeah?" he asks, pushing his hair out of his face. "Me too." 

"What side do you sleep on?" you ask. 

"What side do you sleep on?" he asks back. "Go where you want." 

You pick a random side, too nervous to think about it in depth. The sheets are crisps to the touch and smell freshly laundered, soft against your naked legs. You feel a little like you're playing make believe all cleaned and washed yourself, your heart in your wrist as you squeeze it, watching him flick off the big light and cross the carpeted floor slowly. His room, his entire apartment, is smart but cosy, ambient lamp light and open space. 

"Do you wanna watch TV?" he asks, putting the remote in your lap as he shakes out the sheet and slips in next to you. His body heat is immediately felt. His knee brushes yours as he leans in. "Hold that button down." 

Despite what you'd said about cold feet, you're nervous and he runs warm; by the time you've found something to watch on TV he's sewn his arm through yours and you're practically running a temperature. You have to take your legs back out and lie atop the sheets. 

You pull a knee up. The shorts ease down. 

Aaron sinks into the bed with you, his head just a touch higher than your own. "I'm really happy you're here," he says. 

"I'm happy too," you say, turning your face to his. Nervous, sure, but this is a milestone for your new relationship you're ecstatic to achieve. 

Even if he doesn't have any seductive intention tonight, you're eager to spend the night in his arms. He's older (impossible to ignore), more gentlemanly as a consequence, and during the course of your relationship there have been more important things than sex, like establishing trust with one another, and making sure that your relationship could withstand his constant working. 

"I'm really happy," you say, lifting your chin and fireworks erupt in your chest as he leans down to meet you, kissing you gently. 

"Is this…" His hand trails to the soft of your stomach, pink brushing your thigh where it's hiked. "Your usual nighttime attire?" 

"This is the wanting my boyfriend to like it attire," you confess, because he already knows. Aaron knows everything. He could tell you where you bought them if you gave him long enough.

"Consider them true to form," he says, hand sliding like a heavy, hot weight across your stomach and leaving a worse heat behind. "You look amazing." 

"Yeah?" you ask. 

His lips skin your cheek. He nudges you with his nose to encourage your head back and kisses softly under the line of your jaw, "They're a little small," he says, kissing between whispers, "the shorts." 

"They're not tight," you whisper in turn. 

His hand falls to your thigh, spreading your legs a terrible inch as he tugs at the hem of your shorts. His fingertips dip under them a millimetre as he agrees, "No, they're not. Your top, though…" 

"It was a matching set. I couldn't choose–" 

"Do you have many like it?" he asks, pulling away, meeting your eyes with a charge you've only seen a handful of times. You know exactly what it means, your chest aching with want as his hand comes to rest at the top of your thigh. 

"Sure. Two or three." 

"That won't do." 

You're nervous, but he's your boyfriend. You know more about him than he might think even if you don't know him intimately yet, and his arduousness makes you laugh. He's always been such a gentleman —not many men would ask you to be their girlfriend with a pearl necklace, or invite you to stay the night via text rather than at the end of a date. You'd expected your first time together to be a come up for coffee situation, but he's never propositioned you that way. The text was a sweet surprise, an addition. 

Would you like to stay over after dinner on Friday? Let me know. Can't wait to see you either way. 

No matter what you want, Aaron wants that too. 

You turn into his lap and catch his lips with yours, his hand encroaching on the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

His lips part under yours and you take his face into your hands, a giving in if there ever were one, hoping it says everything you're too shy to admit aloud. No matter how much he clearly likes the shorts, he abandons your thigh and hugs your back to him instead, your chests pressed together until yours is heaving for air. 

"You're usually more subtle than this," you tease, breathless, good-natured. 

"You aren't usually wearing this," he says, his usually smooth voice roughened, "I'm losing my mind." 

"Well, we can't have that." 

He leans back in, laughing against your lips. When his hand works its way under your camisole, you think about where you can get more pyjamas like these ones considering he likes them so badly, but then his hand crawls higher and the thought leaves your mind for the time being. 

[kirbyskisses]

a thing i wrote in @14thcommander’s dms. no warnings; fem!reader + fluff. i’m in love with the emo boy/cutesy girl aesthetic.

i am once again thinking of childhood friends to lovers with megumi fushiguro

you’re a pudgy little thing at your kindergarten where everyone else is ignoring the spiky black haired boy sitting by himself on the bench with an uncaring expression.

your interest is piqued as he’s picked up by a lanky, white-haired man who carries a goofier, more youthful energy than any of the other parents.

you bravely trot up, little pastel boots splashing in the rain at the odd duo and call.

“hey wait! uhm… what was your name! fu…fushi-?” you try to remember his name from roll call and his dark eyes widen at your approach momentarily before drooping again.

“i’m fushiguro.”

“fu-shi-gu-ro, right!” you laugh, a bright gentle sound despite the gray day. “i like your doggy, fushiguro!”

that causes him and his guardian to pause, the white haired man crouching to you, incredibly blue eyes peering amicably over pitch black glasses.

“well now… you can see it huh? you’ve certainly got a lot of cursed energy for a kid so small. you know, you’re very special to see those?” he smiles and you grin back.

“yeah! i can see ‘im!” your bright eyes turn back to megumi, delighted. “can i pet him them?? pretty please!!”

megumi looks to gojo’s approving grin, then to you with a soft nod as your tiny form pats the white devil dog’s snout, a mess of giggles at its curious nose and teeth.

and then “fushiguro” becomes “megumin” and then “min-chan.”

min-chan who you have play dates with that evolve into study dates and training where he can never bring himself to actually lay a hit on you.

min-chan who frowns when you go home from school early with a cold, but blushes a subtle pink when he walks into his house and sees you getting your hair braided by his sister.

min-chan whose cheeks dust a light pink at the bright, ever-excited warmth of your smile as you explain - “your house was closer, so tsumiki-nee said to stay here rather than walk home sick!”

min-chan who’s a bit more of a hormonal tween now. his blush darkens when he sees you wearing his extra shirt to sleep in and hears you using his shower.

min-chan who finds out you’re being mocked or bullied for your interests in middle school and comes to you with bloodied knuckles as he walks you to the train station. he always walks you, every day.

“it’s not my blood.” he looks at the red staining his hands. “don’t look so worried. next time they bother you, just tell me…”

min-chan who is devoted to cheering you up.

min-chan who listens you talk about whatever manga boy it is your simping over or whatever new album you’ve torrented onto your ipod. he only gives soft nods and the occasional smile but you know he’s listening diligently.

and min-chan who bites his lips and mutters “it’s not a big deal” anytime you congratulate him on taming a new shadow curse.

min-chan who mumbles “hold on tight,” red in the face when you wrap around him to ride nue for the first time.

min-chan who hides that his new phone has you – cradling one of his smaller shadow frogs – as his wallpaper.

min-chan who frowns his gojo perpetually pokes his cheek - teasing that his “girlfriend” really is getting stronger and he needs to catch up if he wants to keep the “tough emo boyfie” act up.

min-chan whose eyes widen when you call him “megumi” - thanking him for everything and handing him a box of cookies for gojo-san, the day you move away. you’re strong enough to master your family’s technique back in their home country.

so now he’s megumi.

megumi who nods tersely as your cute voice chides “don’t get into too many fights okay? and hug the puppies twice as much for me!”

megumi who doesn’t stop thinking about how your lips feel against his cheek for days.

megumi who wants to text, but his head nags that he’d only be an annoyance to your training - maybe it’s better he just leaves you alone. besides, curses are getting stronger and tsumiki has fallen ill - he has enough to worry about.

megumi fushiguro, high school student, who bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as gojo drags him, nobara and itadori along to pick up the last first year of the bunch.

fushiguro who rolls his eyes as the two question what the new addition will be like.

and his breath hitches, seeing a form in a familiar blue uniform. a form dripping in a controlled yet powerful cursed aura, down the street.

with cute cartoon dog pins and a handful of shojo manga, the teen rushes up and calls out. the voice is deeper given the passing years but no less exuberant and familiar.

“gojo-san!! over here!!”

megumi, who feels like a kid again, flushed cheeks and surprised eyes as gojo swings you around with a laugh and you attentively compliment nobara’s lipstick and listen to itadori’s ever-goofy introduction.

“i’m into girls like jennifer lawrence.” he says with not an ounce of shame, megumi still reeling at hearing you say your name with the same friendly laugh you did all those years ago.

“… and i’m into guys like — min-chan!!”

your eyes land on him and the rest of you soon follows, swallowing his taller form whole in a tight hug that knocks him to the sidewalk.

you don’t pay a single iota of attention to the onlookers or to the surprised expressions on each of your classmates instead just letting them watch as you cup his cheeks and squeal.

“it’s been sooooo long! you got bigger - did the puppies get bigger too?! got any new animals? gojo-san got a new blindfold isn’t it cool? hey, how come you didn’t call me or tell me tsumiki-nee is sick - i would have come sooner to help! did you hear i might become a first grade sorcerer this year? how come you never called or wrote?! you’re so rude… but i forgive because i missed you so much!! doesn’t my uniform look cute?!”

you spit out in rapid succession, pinching his cheeks.

megumi who doesn’t have time nor evidence to deny it this time when gojo calls you his “girlfriend” in front of an utterly shocked yuuji and nobara. who only takes a deep, shaky breath to regain his normal deadpan expression.

his other two classmates’ jaws drop farther when he replies without a hitch.

“i’m 175 centimeters now. yes the dogs are bigger. i have rabbits, a serpent and an elephant now. his new blindfold is fine but it makes him no less annoying. i didn’t want to bother you, i’m proud of you for you raise in grade…” he pauses and only then looks away with another deep breath, red on his cheeks.

“thank you for forgiving me…i missed you too…and you do look very cute in your uniform.”

because he’s megumi - the one who acts disinterested to everyone but as always hears every word you say.

megumi, your childhood friend, who doesn’t so much as blink, expression bored at yuuji and nobara’s horrified surprise or gojo’s teasing grin.

he just keeps holding you, sat there on the sidewalk as you nuzzle your cheeks to his like an overly-affectionate kitten happy to have your “min-chan” back. <3

[loveshotzz]

Soooo, I keep wanting to read a smutty blurb/fic on Steve alternating between soft/gentle and hard/fast on female reader during doggy. I’d write it myself but I get too turned on to finish (the story anyway ayyyooo!)

hi bb! i saw your post and it had set my brain into motion and then when i saw you popped it in my requests I got so excited. needed to write something a lil dirty after all the fluff. i hope you like it! ♥️

wc: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, cream pie, spanking, steve’s a little cocky and we’re a little needy.

Steve’s hands keep a tight grip on the soft curve of your hips, the whites of his knuckles showing under tan skin. He’s mesmerized by the dip of your back when it curves to meet his thrust, the fat of your ass rippling against the tops of his hairy thighs.

“So pretty baby, god - so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans forward, big hands leaving your hips to press down on the mattress next to yours, somehow pushing in deeper, punching a soft gasp from you while your fingers curl tight in the sheets.

Slick skin against slick skin, the sound of how wet you are is almost obscene as it mixes with each of his grunts that fill the quiet of your bedroom. Every slow drag of his cock against the velvet vice grip of your walls has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. His fat tip hitting that spot just right every time.

He keeps his pace slow, each roll of his hips precise in their mission to make you come undone for the second time tonight. The strand of hair he’s always pushing back drips sweat against his forehead while his lips ghost wet kisses along your shoulder blades.

“That where you want me?” He breathes hot against your ear with another short pump, obsessed with the small whine it gets him.

“uh huh” is all you manage to get out when he does it again.

“So good at takin’ all of me honey, always -fuck” he twitches when your walls squeeze at his praise,”always takin’ it all.”

His thrusts stay deep, slow, pointed and the coil that’s been tightening in your gut for what feels like hours starts to get painful. The need for more makes your hips push back before they circle, your arousal coating the dark patch of hair that frames what you’re begging for. Tightening your walls with purpose to antagonize him, the moan he gives you has your lips twist in a smirk.

“What? Am I not giving you enough?” He whispers when he regains control.

The tip of his nose trails along the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning down your neck before he lifts himself back onto his haunches, his hands grabbing greedy at your sides. squeezing, massaging.

Your legs shake when he stretches you out in a different way, your cheek hitting the mattress while your hips push up to try and take more. It was his favorite getting you like this. desperate.

One of his hand drops between your thighs, the pads of his fingers playing messy with your clit while the other restablishes a bruising hold on your plush curves. A soft chuckle leaving him when you gasp at the new sensation, teetering the edge of overstimulation.

“I asked you a question honey, it’s rude not to answer.” He pulls almost all the way out, making you dangerously close to feeling empty before he snaps his hips burying himself to the hilt. He ignores your cry and the way you almost rip the sheets off the mattress, asking again.

“Am I not giving you enough? You gonna tell me what you want?”

The palm of his hand cracks down against the side of your ass, the jiggle of it making him lick his lips. Your walls flutter, pulling him deeper when he rubs the sore spot, grabbing and squeezing at the soft fat to get a better look at how you drip for him.

“f-faster, please” you manage to squeak when his fingers between your legs start moving in more determined circle eights.

“Such a needy girl” He pulls all the way out this time, replacing his fingers on your clit with his leaking tip. He rubs it against your bundle of nerves, your slick making it slide easily from side to side with pointed pressure. It makes your jaw drop, eyes closing tight as you nod in agreement, your hips starting to rock against him with your orgasm dangerously close like this.

It doesn’t take Steve long to notice, his own release begging to come out with yours but he wants to be buried inside you first.

“Not yet.” He tutts, taking the attention from your clit with him, lining back up at your entrance. “Need you to do it on my dick baby, I wanna feel it.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, not that there was one when he stretches you back out again. It stings in a way that has your eyes watering when he’s half way in, your toes curling when his pelvic bone meets your ass cheeks completely buried, almost bullying your cervix.

“Fuck! - Steve!” You pant trying to adjust to his size again, but he barely gives you any recovery time before he’s setting a brutal pace.

“Just giving you what you want honey, this is what you wanted right?” He taunts between gritted teeth, his eyes threatening to hit the back of his skull when you start to meet his thrusts. Insatiable.

The sound of skin slapping against skin battles with the sticky mess of your arousal as he keeps pounding into you, pulling your cheeks apart to watch how you coat him creamy white. You’re close, he can feel it.

“Need you to be a good girl and cum for me.” He grunts, his long fingers finding their way back to your bundle of nerves making you clench hard around him. “Yeah baby, just like that. Come on, I know you wanna give it to me.”

The grip on your hip becomes iron tight as he drives into you relentlessly, the box springs of your mattress squeak while your head board smacks against the wall with each harsh thrust.

“I’m- I’m gonna - god” you moan loudly when he finds the perfect speed between his fingers and the quick rolls of his hips, the coil tightening to it’s limit finally snapping making you see white.

His name comes out in a scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, bringing him to the brink with you. His body goes rigid, cock twitching deep inside of you. A guttural moan escapes somewhere from his chest when he paints your insides, your walls squeezing him so tight it threatens to push him out. He keeps the hold on your hips, making you take all of what he’s giving you before he finally collapses on your back, completely spent.

He leaves sloppy kisses anywhere he can reach, your shoulders, your spine, the back of your neck. Droplets of sweat drip onto your heated skin from his forehead, as he slowly pulls out wincing when he’s finally free. Flopping down on his back after, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his chest. He lips feather light on both your cheeks, your nose, and then finally your mouth, chuckling out of breath when you whine puckering for more. His needy girl.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, light bondage, alcohol, misogyny/chauvinism

fem reader

You didn't know such a normal guy could turn out to be so insane. 

But thinking about it, you realized his actions had always seemed a bit too timed. As though he’d practiced – the awkward smile, the sorry laugh, the small apologies, even the blush, and those giddy puppy eyes – creating the perfect disarming cute goof you’d never possibly find threatening even in the slightest despite him being a tank of a man.

He'd been so sweet – so boyfriendly and kind. 

His behavior was just disturbing now. Acting normal with you – ignoring how he’d tied your wrists up too tight...

The room was dim – moody, with the movie playing loud in front. He had his heavy arm resting around your shoulders with your body placed snugly into his side – uncomfortably so. He’d duct-taped your mouth shut a while ago after he’d grown tired of your crying – having stuffed one of his socks in there first.

He gripped a sixth or seventh beercan in his other hand, the one not currently squeezing your upper arm – letting it rest on the dungaree of his thigh, making a dark blue ring where the dewdrops had slid down.

Something happened in the movie you were too tense and panicked to watch, but either way, whatever it was, it seemed to make him lose interest – scoffing out a gruff “Puh-” before raising his beer to his lips, chugging the rest of it down before slamming it to the ground.

“This movie is fucking boring-”

You flinched and would probably have screamed too if you could – all your nerves making you feel sick, close to giving out at the sound of the crash. Your eyes peeled with terror and tears, watching the empty can slowly roll around to a stop on the wooden floors.

He groaned, using his free hand to grab his groin – giving it a tug and shake, manspreading a little wider than what he was already.

Then, he lazily flipped the tail of his belt out of the loops, popping the buckle with a clatter of metals.

You wanted to whine or will yourself to move, but you knew it would only end in more bruises – so instead, all you dared do was breathe a little faster through your nose.

The hand kept at your arm brushed past your shoulder to cup your head, messaging your scalp in big fingers – with such pressure, it made your entire head bobble on your neck. The other hand undid his button and unzipped his fly – then moved to hook the rope tying your wrists together, pulling them to the bulge for you to finish the job.

You didn't refuse, wishing to keep him calm – so you dipped past the band of his boxers with shaking hands, put trembling fingers around his thickened shaft, and gently pulled him out.

He gave a rusty sigh, releasing a damp and sour breath of beer that clouded your head.

Grimacing at the stench, you nearly made the mistake of coughing as your fingers enveloped his fat erection in both hands – intertwined with each other neatly down along his shaft.

He jerked his hip, prompting you to start – stroking up slowly and down again, rubbing over forked veins plump with blood, making him stiffen harder in your grip – soon so hard it stood on its own in your hands, pilling with precum getting caught on your digits.

He pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin upon your cheek – watching your small hands work his cock – your skin so smooth and good compared to his, caressing him so tenderly in such a sweet and loving way.

You listened to his heart hammer on your ear, pressed tight against the tough muscles of his torso with his prickly chin stubble digging into the soft side of your face. The whole position was awkward, but you kept your hands going – rubbing him like you knew he liked until his hands gripped your arm and pulled you off, planting both paws on your hips as he lifted you onto his lap – your thighs spread to straddle him.

He'd been keeping you in just a silk babydoll – one he could easily lift for his pleasure. Gruff fingers rubbed the glassy texture of it before slipping beneath the light thing – gliding up your thighs to hold you by the fat of your ass.

He pulled you forward – tight – close enough for him to lick your collar and bite onto the strap on your shoulder – pulling it aside for him to suck your sweet little nipple into his mouth.

Your nails pressed smiles into your palms, looking down at him suckling new blotches into your sensitive skin as he rolled your nip between his teeth teasingly with a lusty growl – his hand making moves beneath the skirt of your nightie, grabbing his shaft and pushing it immaturely against your unprepped pussylips – forcing a kiss to your taut entrance before further driving himself inside you.

You couldn’t help the sounds now – whining out a pained moan into your gag as you doubled over against his chest, soon sobbing on his shoulder as he nudged himself nice and deep against your womb – fitting snuggly in your tight-knit walls.

He paid your wails no mind. Squeezing the soft flesh of your butt in his hand, with the other coming to join the action once more – digging his fingers into the supple flesh and making you rock back and forth on his lap – feeling as though he was ripping your hole apart.

“It’ feel better if you just got wet like you used to-” He said casually – fucking your dry cunt like he did your dry palms earlier. You don’t think it bothers him at all as long as it’s tight.

But soon, the slick started to form anyway, like it always did whether you wanted it or not – a protective maneuver your body conditions itself with to make the assault feel somewhat less miserable.

“There you go- now you’ll feel good, so stop your crying.” He cooed, raising a hand from beneath the tent of your dress, wrapping it in the hair at the back of your skull, forming a fistful of it – pulling you from his chest to lash your neck full of new lovebites.

He started making you hop now instead of riding – aiding you by the hand lifting your ass and the other pulling your hair. He jerked his own hips to meet you, slamming your poor cervix like a punching bag – he knows that’s how he makes your pussy cry boohoo, soaking his cock with pleasant warmth. 

A moan springs from your throat each time it runs you through – feeling it kick you in the stomach each time you slapped down on his lap – and soon you gushed in spite of it, abruptly halting your tempo before squirting violently – quaking in spasms, tits doing spins with him buried up to the hilt.

“That’s it- that’s my little whore-” He purred with a rumble in his chest, humming at the feel of your tight cunt fluttering from orgasm as you leaked sweet pussyjuice on his jeans. “Now, that’ll never get boring.”

He unraveled the fist in your hair and began petting your back, letting you slump back against his chest as he kept doing slow lifts with his hips to squeeze into you despite being swallowed down to the base – leaving your cunt now would just be a waste of a nice throttle.

“Since your mouth’s in a timeout, I think this pussy’s the winner of today’s load- fuck knows you deserve it after that.” He continued in a strained voice – the length of his cock desperately curling to make space for its whole length, stretching your gummy walls until they stung from the workout, making you buck your hips in revolt.

But he only took it as an eager approval of his comment. Leaving his prints on your ass with how hard he clawed his hand into it while his other arm hugged you tightly to his chest – keeping you seated and himself bottomed out as his cock sprung within in you, busting out thick hot ropes of cum deep inside the comfort of your tight cunt.

He held you there long enough to make the ache of it mellow out into a numb tickle – feeling just the warmth as he finally slumped out.

Face dewy, still with a taped x marking your lips. The pain had made you nearly chew right through the sock stuffed in your mouth, but now you just sucked on it – jaw lax from exhaustion where your head felt heavy, resting on his shoulder. 

He panted for a few minutes, sweaty hands rubbing circles into your equally slippery skin until announcing, “It’s almost dinnertime, huh?”

Your eyes kept blinking softly, feeling the slow trickle of cum leave your cunt along with wetness of your own, seeping out onto the softening cock keeping warm between your thighs.

You barely even jolt when his hand comes down on your ass in one of his kinder slaps.

“How ‘bout we untie those hands again so you can shimmy this little ass into the kitchen, hm? I’m starving.”

BNHA – Kirishima, Hawks, Bakugou, Natsuo, Dabi, Mirio, FatGum

JJK – Naoya

HQ – Ukai, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa

[sincerelyneo]

no judgement | l.mk

“i can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on, you can be whoever you like”

💿now playing: no judgement by niall horan

❯ summary: Mark’s shocked to see you at his front door step crying, but he isn’t surprised. You do this all the time - get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute that asshole dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. And he will. He always does.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader (brief mention of yuta)

❯ genre: friends to strangers to lovers? smut, angst

❯ words: 4.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, protected sex, lowkey sub!mark, hookup, rebound sex, glasses kink, big dick mark bc yes, oral sex (m receiving), nipple play, slight begging, yuta is an asshole for the plot, reader is also kinda mean, mentions of cheating (not between mark + y/n), slight unrequited love, use of ‘pretty girl’, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Mark thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. I mean - it would make sense - the last time he’d checked the clock on his desk it was 12:17 am. So, there’s no way the light knocking on his front door is really happening…right? 

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him - a work assignment that was due last week that he’d already managed to get an extension on. He knows his boss will have his balls if he doesn’t have it completed and on his desk by 8:00 am sharp tomorrow (today). 

However, Mark’s fears of premature insanity are put to a quick end this time when the knocking is paired with an unnecessarily loud yelling through his letter box. 

“Mark Lee if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass the next time I see you.” 

Now that - the sound of your voice - wasn’t in his imagination. 

You bang harder, clear that you're using a fully clenched fist to make as much noise as possible.  “I’m serious dude, I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again. Now open. The. Door.” 

Mark knows he should just ignore you, pretend that he’s sleeping and focus on his work; but, he hasn’t seen you in months, and you are supposed to be his best friend after all. He can’t just leave you out on the street at this hour — he won’t — what sort of friend would he be?

He rises from his desk, removes his glasses, and places them gently on the wooden surface before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You knock (pound) again. 

“‘Alright alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he says, followed by a small curse as he ushers through his hallway to the front door. 

As he swings the door open, he’s almost hit with a nasty sucker punch to the cheek as you simultaneously raise your fist to knock again.

“Woah there, calm down, you’re gonna get me a noise complaint,” he flinches. 

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you point to the house next door, “That woman has been glaring at me from her window since I got here.” 

Mark peers out of his house, the cold night air nipping at the tips of his ears, and sees his neighbour looking down shaking her head disapprovingly at him. He raises his hand in a feeble apology, with a tight-lipped smile to ease the edge, but it doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t and he knows he’s going to have to do a lot of ass kissing in the morning. 

“Well, Mrs Kim and her husband have just had a baby.” 

He watches you shrug then grimace, “How was I supposed to know that? They didn’t have one the last time I was here.” 

It’s now when Mark takes in the person standing in front of him, a mere silhouette of his childhood best friend. You’re barefoot, which already raises questions in his mind, and a bottle of wine is in your hand. Your hair is dishevelled and mascara smudged under the bottom of your eye – which makes sense since he can see the faded redness from where he knows you’ve been crying. 

 “So, you gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Well obviously, Mark thinks, you’re wearing nothing but a short black dress, covered by a thin sheer blazer leaving your legs completely bare in the middle of winter. Your teeth chatter and he has to suppress the smile threatening to dance on his lips because it reminds him of when the two of you used to mess around in the snow during winter break back in high school.

But he pushes those memories to the side, just like his front door, as he makes enough room for you to slip into his house. As you step inside, you waste no time making yourself comfortable - old habits die hard you guess - remembering how things used to be.

You remove the blazer you're wearing and walk over to Mark's desk, draping it over the back of his chair. Your eyes fall on the sheets of paper scattered across the surface, partially covered by his glasses. You recall that he had stopped wearing them during junior year, opting for contacts instead - a decision you found disappointing. You had always liked his glasses; they made him look kind of... cute.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

Yes. 

“Nah, not really,” Mark shrugs following in from behind you. 

“Really?” You ask picking up a sheet of paper as you raise an eyebrow, “Marketing campaign for neo gummies, on my desk Monday 8:00 am.”

There’s a smile on your face as you read it because it’s nice to know that the Mark standing in front of you is the same as the one you grew up with. He was always the last person to hand in his college assignments, and school science projects; but don’t get it wrong, he’d always ace them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve basically finished it.”

Mark’s lying, and you can easily tell by the way his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It's a mannerism you've become aware of, noticing how he used to do it when you asked him for his opinions on some of your uglier fashion choices throughout high school. 

“You sure?” You add, “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything. Especially now that you live in this fancy-ass townhouse, your mortgage payments must be crazy.”

Mark shakes his head with a smile, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on. “They’re not that crazy…”

You give him a knowing look, his living room alone is practically the size of most apartments in the city. But you didn’t expect anything less from him, he’d always worked hard for everything he had. He graduated with flying colours, found a high-paying job after college, bought a nice house; and you’re sure that one day he’d secure himself a nice girl to live in it with him. 

What you’re trying to say is Mark Lee had something to show for himself, which is more than you can say after you took a more leisurely approach to college. Mark had always worked a little too hard for your liking, or maybe you just worked a little too easy for his. Either way, he’s the one with his life put together and you’re just…standing barefoot in his living room, looking a mess, with a bottle of alcohol in your hand.  

“Well then, since I’m not imposing, how ‘bout a drink?” You suggest, waving the bottle of wine in the air in an attempt to win him over and distract yourself from your own reality. As shitty as it sounds, you come to Mark to escape the chaos of your own life, so dwelling on comparisons isn't something you want to keep doing.

For Mark though, he knows he shouldn't indulge in a drink – after all, the work assignment on his desk is practically begging to be completed. But he's always struggled to say no to you, and he's well aware that you know that too. It's why you're so comfortable knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning when most of the city is asleep; you know he'll always open up for you.

And that’s exactly why he’s heading into his kitchen and rooting through his cabinets until he finds two wine glasses. 

When he comes back into the living room, he finds you standing by the fireplace. It's not unusual, considering you were freezing just moments ago on his doorstep from your attire. However, what catches him off guard is that you're not warming yourself by the fire; instead, you're holding a picture – Mark's favourite one – taken by his parents on the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

"No way you kept this," you groan, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Of course I did. You were completely out of it on anaesthesia, going on about marrying Lee Taemin," Mark replies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering the way you sent the hot senior you had a crush on in your freshman year a DM in your high state. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

But truthfully, that's not the sole reason Mark kept that picture, or why he still chooses to display it despite having hundreds of clearer, better ones of the two of you together. He treasures that particular photo because it was the day you told him you loved him – although you never brought it up again. Mark pins it down to you not remembering from the anaesthetic, but that photo, it’s the last slither of hope he has left. 

“Well, I must say, Mark Lee, you have had quite the glow-up since your high school days,” you laugh putting the picture back on the fireplace. 

Mark can't believe his cheeks are warming up as if he were that same teenager – pathetic, he thinks. And he wants to say the same about you, but he hardly recognizes you. You're a completely different person from the girl in the picture, and while he loves you, truly, it doesn't change the fact that you're a mess sitting before him.

To his defence, it's impossible not to notice it; he saw it the moment he opened the door and saw your smudged makeup and raw eyes – you’re defeated. And even though he knows precisely why, he still asks.

 "What are you doing here, Y/N?"

You swallow, “Can’t I just come and see my best friend?”

“No, you can’t.”

His words carry a double-edged sword, both an accusation directed at you and an expression of the hurt he's experienced from your repeated instances of ghosting him over the last few months. 

You begin pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine you brought along. If you were going to have this conversation with him, you weren't about to do it sober.

“Yuta broke up with me.”

And there it is. You always do this –  get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute the asshole in question dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. 

And Mark hadn't forgotten the name Yuta; in fact, it had been seared into his mind ever since you posted a picture with him on your Instagram account, looking all lovey-dovey. And then Mark had gone into full stalker mode – because of course he did – he always did. But the thing with Yuta was that he was one step ahead. One particularly awful day at work, when Mark wanted to check your account, he found himself blocked.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t blame Yuta, he’d be lying if he said all his thoughts about you were completely innocent, but you’d never blocked him over a guy before. He's accustomed to the isolation, the ghosting, and the personality changes that come with you getting a new boyfriend; but being digitally blocked by you was a new low. It's safe to say Mark had already formed his opinion about your new ex-boyfriend: he was definitely an asshole.

"Why did he break up with you?" he asks, not out of genuine concern, but rather out of selfish relief. Still, he knows it's the right thing to do.

“He found someone else, or I found him fucking someone else,” you spit bitterly, “and do you know what? That fucker didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes before he kicked me out.”

You take a long gulp from your glass, the liquid burning slightly as it goes down your throat, and then you flop back on the sofa. Your movements are heavy, weighed down by more than just the alcohol in your system. As you sink into the cushions, a wave of emotion crashes over you, threatening to engulf you completely. It's a moment of vulnerability that you've been holding back, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You try to fight them, push down the rising tide of emotions, but it's futile. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassures, quickly taking a seat beside you on the sofa and resting a gentle hand on your thigh, where he begins to rub small, soothing circles into your skin, just like he used to do. "You can stay here tonight."

You groan into your hands, you can’t believe you're acting like this – pathetic – and it has you immediately defensive. “Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, so quiet Mark almost misses it.

“Like what?”

“All judgy.”

“When have I ever judged you, Y/N?” he questions, his tone gentle, “I’m always your shoulder to cry on, we’re past the judgement stage,”

"I don't cry that much," you protest weakly.

“Well…” he starts, that teasing look in his eye you love.

In response, you push his chest playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Because you’ve missed this – missed him.

And that’s the part that always stings the most: how effortlessly you two slip back into each other's company. Despite not speaking for a couple of months, it's like you didn’t lose any time. And perhaps that's why Mark finds it so easy to keep forgiving you, and why you find it so natural to slide in and out of his life and then expect him to mend your broken heart.

Mark grabs the hand you used to push his chest and looks at you seriously but gently, “Seriously, Y/N, you can just be yourself with me, just like it’s always been.”

His words resonate with you, stirring something deep within the pit of your stomach. You meet his gaze with glossy eyes, and in that moment, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. Without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips to his. 

It's a tender kiss, soft and sweet just how you expected Mark’s lips to be. And he melts into it just as much as you do, if not more so. It’s like he craves it, like he’s hungry for it. And he is because you – his first-ever crush, the girl he’s been in love with since he could remember – is pressing her lips to his. The teenager in him is jumping up and down right now.

Just as you're about to deepen the kiss, your face bumps into his glasses, causing both of you to pause as they sit askew on his face. Mark blushes and begins to fumble with them, but just as he's about to take them off, your hand wraps around his and stops him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on,” you bite your lip as you reposition them on the bridge of his nose. “I like them.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink,” he teases.

“Neither did I...just like them on you.”

That triggers something inside of him because his tongue lightly sweeps over your bottom lip where he nips it with his teeth. One of his hands reaches up to cup the nape of your neck; the other finds its way to the hem of your dress, intrusive fingers brushing over your bare skin, making you gasp.

He stills.

Did he just fuck this up? Was he reading it wrong?

There’s a fraction of a beat where you just breathe against him, and Mark feels a twinge of self-consciousness. And just when he’s about to apologise, you dive into him and all reservations are thrown out the window as you give him the green light. 

His hand wraps around your waist and he pulls you over his lap to straddle him. It gives him all the access he needs to grab your thighs and lift you up as he stands. He keeps your lips connected as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing into you just enough to feel the swelling in his crotch. 

If you thought he was hungry for it before, now he’s starving. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts crushing against his chest. Your hips start to move against him without any control, almost like it’s instinctual. You suck on his tongue and he groans. And God if it isn’t the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he says into your mouth, “Are we really doing this?”

You smile against his lips, “We’re doing this.”

You both take that as a confirmation to go harder, kissing like you’ve been starved of each other for years, and Mark supposes you have. His body moulds to yours and you feel his hand wander to your ass making your dress lift as he carries you out of the living room. 

When you see him heading for the staircase you know exactly where his head is at, and when he opens his bedroom door with you still in his arms, you feel wetness pool right between your legs. 

He drops you on the bed so gently and carefully not to hurt you – because even though he’s so goddamn horny right now – he’s still Mark. When your back hits the whites of his sheets it gives you a moment to look at him, his chest is heaving, lips swollen and cheeks flush. His hair is tousled and it makes your blood run cold. 

He looks like pure sex. Hot sex. Good, filthy, all-night-long sex. And you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted any man before in your life.

Mark kneels on the bed in the space between your legs, coming close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you wonder if he sees you the same way you see him right now. He brushes your cheek gently with his thumb and you lean into his caress and plant a small kiss against his palm. 

His lips meet yours again as his hands slip between you two. They glide up your leg, to your stomach to under your dress, where he finds you not wearing a bra as your nipples pebble under his rough hands. 

Instinctively, your arms stretch over your head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug the material off and over you, lips crashing back together as you roll your hips into his with desperation and need. 

Mark groans when he pulls away to look at your naked chest in front of him, it’s a picture he thinks. One that needs to be hung up in an art gallery or some shit – actually now that he thinks about it – he hates the idea of you being on display like that for someone else.

His fingers wind themselves in your hair, a delightful shiver skittering along your body as you soften into his touch. You can’t help but grin suggestively as you look him in the eyes, top teeth holding down on your lower lip as your hands creep low enough to hook into the band of his pyjama bottoms. 

Mark practically whimpers as your hand teases at the elastic, “Please.”

The plea has you smiling wider, knowing exactly what he wants. You remove his bottoms without a second thought, the same time he strips from his t-shirt. His cock springs free, thick and long and straining so eagerly for you. 

You get a thrill knowing you’re the one who’s made him this hard and that makes you want to please him badly. So you do, taking control and flipping him over to be underneath you. He gasps at the motion and then he almost cums untouched at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, lowering yourself down just enough to kiss the tip of his cock.

The teasing touch sends a chill right through him. He leans back on his arms just to see you, eyebrows strained as he concentrates, glasses slightly fogged – he wants to remember exactly what you look like like this. You’re intoxicating, strong enough for him to get drunk on.

“So pretty,” he murmurs under a soft breath and you blush.

You lick your lips, focusing on his cock, flattening your tongue from the base all the way up to his head, where the slit is leaking with pre-cum. You hear him suck in a breath and it makes you smile. 

You like knowing he’s needy, teasing him to ignite small reactions, but continuing to do so would only be hell for you; because right now you want nothing more than to suck on his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

You wrap your hand around his shaft and don’t waste another second before your mouth is sinking to suck on him. You manage all you can – there’s a lot of him – and use your fingers to move up the length you don’t swallow, stroking him painstakingly slow.   

As you kiss and lick at him, Mark is going mad because it’s your mouth. Your mouth is wet and hot and currently wrapped around him good enough that his thighs have started trembling. 

It’s not long before his hands find your hair and he helps you to slide more of his cock inside, knowing exactly when to stop instead of making you take too much. But he’s big and thick and your mouth barely covers him – which he hates – it feels like a reminder that he’s not made for you. 

The thought has him letting out a growl, which catches you by surprise from the whimpering mess he was seconds ago. The grip he has on your hair tightens. 

“Fuck, Y/N, suck me harder…” The dirty words sound dominant at first, but they trail off as you continue sucking on him, a lot like you’re melting him, and you fucking love that idea. 

The thought of having him be so desperate for you is making you wetter and needier. And it’s that need that has you reaching up to graze his nipples with your fingers. Mark finds the chill of your cold digits distinctive, responding with a mewl that rings between the walls of his room. 

You can't believe such a small touch makes him so…responsive. 

Every tug on his sensitive peak is enough to pull a sound from his pink lips, enough to make him writhe his hips and edge his cock further into your mouth. 

You twist and pinch and watch as Mark’s face twists in the feeling, mouth dropping open to release a stuttered breath. It’s so sensual - so carnal. 

You pull off his cock with a sickening pop, looking up at him with spit-covered lips. “Who would have guessed your nipples would be so sensitive?” 

Your hand stays at a steady pace, stroking him slowly as you speak. Mark shivers from the loss of your warm mouth around him, but there’s still a part of him that’s glad you stopped. But not because he doesn’t want this — he does, so badly — but because he was starting to feel his cock’s overwhelming urge to twitch with his orgasm. And there was no fucking way he was going to cum before he’d even buried himself inside you. 

In a cooling breath, he replies, “Only sensitive for you.” 

Warmth flushes on your face, and the arousal soaking between your legs begs to soak his cock. He’s so cute when he is all red-faced and whiny, eyes closed tightly as his brows knit together. And you suppose his own state of neediness triggers yours. 

“Want you inside of me now, Mark,” you pant, “Need it.” 

“Fuck~” his voice drips like honey as he moans, hands moving to grab at your waist to flip you under him.

You push yourself further up the bed and he crawls after you. It’s only now he realises the lace barrier still on your skin standing between you and his cock. Your panties are dark blue and they look so pretty against your skin.

He leans down, kissing the inside of your knee, letting his fingers slip up your ankle to cradle your smooth calf.

“Sometime tonight,” you tease.

But Mark likes to go slow, he likes to savour in your sight, study your body to remember every detail for his next late-night fantasy. He wants to bask in you being so bare and so ready for him — not your ex-boyfriend — him. 

He skims his hands further up your bare legs until he slides your underwear down and disregards them somewhere on the floor. Then, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, pressing your chests together skin to skin. He likes it like that — being so close and so intimate with you that it's almost raw. 

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. You don’t take your eyes off him once as he rips it open with his teeth and rolls it down the entirety of his length. Heat pools in your stomach because this is happening — and that makes your pussy throb. 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you, breathless. You can’t help but sink your head back into the mattress, eyes closing.

“Eyes open.”

You lazily blink them open.

“Eyes always on me pretty girl,” he demands, thrusting into you. 

You’ve never felt anything like him. You feel so full. He’s everywhere. Even your lungs and head are filled with him.

“Taking me so well pretty,” he groans.

His praise has you gushing, whining with the feeling of him stuffing you. It’s not awkward like the first time having sex with someone can be. It feels like you’ve always been doing this.

“You’re okay?” he asks.

He sounds calm, but you can see the restraint that he’s barely holding on to by the tightening in his jaw, and the tension in his brow.

“More than okay. Just fuck me, Mark. Please.”

He brushes his lips over yours and whispers, “Oh I plan to.”

You smile, but it’s quickly gone as he starts to move, fucking you slowly, then quicker and quicker, and harder and faster. The headboard is banging against the wall, surely denting it, and you know if the neighbours weren’t already pissed about your knocking they’d definitely be pissed now. 

And selfishly, you can’t find it in you to give a shit because he’s like a machine, working thrusts into you at all the right angles to elicit sweet moans from your lips. 

You’re panting and groaning like a bitch in heat. Mind fuzzy with euphoria as your flesh slaps loudly together. If college you knew that Mark Lee, your best friend, was about to give you an orgasm she would have laughed in your face. 

But, God, the man can fuck. 

He urges you onto his cock harder, clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, each time your hips connected in powerful thrusts. 

“Oh God, Mark,” you try your best to keep your eyes open, but the pleasure is threatening to consume you. 

“That’s it. Cum on my cock pretty girl. I won’t come until you do.”

The idea makes you want to hold off forever, let him fuck you for hours just to bask in the feeling of your closeness. However, your body disagrees with that sentiment, and suddenly you’re cumming hard. 

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls flutter around his length. 

Mark doesn’t slow down though, he fucks you through your orgasm like a madman, hammering deep to the hilt to chase his high. 

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…shit…fuck…” He growls a sound so erotic in your ear, you feel like you might cum again.

He sags onto you, his body heavy but not crushing, his skin warm against yours. You touch your fingers to his cheek. 

“I don’t think I can move,” he says, breathless.

“So, don’t.”

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red at the suggestion, but eventually, he figures he needs to move — much to his dismay. He eases out of you, catching hold of the condom and pulling it off his cock. He rolls off of you and out of bed to put it in the trash before he’s back next to you, arms engulfing you in a hug. 

You look up at him and he presses a kiss on your lips before pulling back. “Are you staying?” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I asked first.” He says.

“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”

Liar.

Mark swallows, “Okay well, I’ll get us breakfast in the morning then, yeah?”

He says it but he knows come the morning you’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with you. 

Mark has always been your rebound. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s also your favourite hookup call when your boyfriend’s being an asshole.

And he knew that when he first heard you knocking on his front door. He knows you'll never change – and strangely, he's content with that, he’s accepted it. Because even though he knows you'll move on again, he doesn't mind keeping your secrets safe until the next time when you want a man to heal your heart.

Because Mark will settle for being a pity fuck if it means he gets to be a constant in your life.