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blank-potato · 24 days ago

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Something Special

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

This time, in a sudden pfft, it sprays something directly into both of your faces—a cloud of shimmering mist exploding into the air. It smells sweet... too sweet. Like overripe fruit or syrup, or cotton candy left in the sun. Almost sickly. Bob coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. “What was that?” “A defence mechanism, perhaps—” you begin, but your voice trails off as something shifts. The stem starts to grow, elongating right before your eyes, inch by inch. Then, like something out of a sci-fi movie, thin tendrils begin sprouting from the base, curling and stretching like green tentacles. “Okay, what kind of flower shop did you go to?” you ask, backing up a step. Bob’s eyes are locked on it in horror. “I don’t know! I swear it looked normal! The lady had an apron!” Or You’ve been the live-in doctor at Avengers Tower for a year, and Bob wants to get you something special to celebrate. Unbeknownst to him, that something special turns out to be a sex plant.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit content, sex plant, sex pollen, p in v, cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, crazy thoughts from horny!reader, Bob's good intentions backfiring

WC: 6.9K

A/N: I saw Thunderbolts earlier this week, and I felt compelled to write something! My Marvel obsession is so back, and I’m so in love with Bob, and consuming so much Thunderbolts fanfiction, I think I’m genuinely going crazy

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Bob teeters on his heels as he looks around the flower shop. He was here to get a gift for you, but he had no idea what you would like. Then, while browsing the camellias, a woman appears, half scaring the life out of him, asking him what he’s looking for, and he tells her as best he knows how.

“I’m looking for something special for someone special.”

“Special, huh?” She replies with a mischievous smile, “I have just the flower for you.”

He watches as she disappears into the recesses of the shop and wonders if he’s making the right decision.

You were important to him, but maybe flowers were too much; perhaps you would see right through it and see the feelings he was trying (and failing) to hide. The whole team could see it. Alexei kept giving him unsolicited —and mostly unhelpful— advice about it, while John and Ava never missed a chance to tease him whenever they caught him gawking at you. And Yelena and Bucky tried their best to nudge him forward in their own ways; Yelena with blunt encouragement, Bucky with quieter, knowing looks and the occasional grunt that somehow conveyed volumes.

But Bob remained resolute, content with just admiring you from afar.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Ever since you were introduced to the team as their live-in doctor, he knew he didn’t stand a chance. You were a ray of sunshine. Exceptional at your job and had this strange but beautiful quality where you could make anyone feel at ease within seconds of meeting them.

He felt it firsthand when he walked into the med bay in the Tower. You were sitting there, clipboard in hand, and welcomed him in with a warm smile, motioning for him to sit. He obeyed without a word, nerves already prickling beneath his skin.

“I’m just going to take some blood samples, okay?” you said gently.

His eyes darted around the room—white, sterile walls, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air. Tests didn’t often lead to good things in his experience, and he felt that this one would be no different. His posture stiffened, and his breath was shallow. But as if sensing his unease, you placed a hand on his arm, steady, reassuring.

“If you’re feeling uncomfortable, I’m right here. And if you want me to stop, you just go right ahead and tell me.”

Bob nodded slowly, looking into your eyes—your beautiful, beautiful eyes that somehow made the rest of the world fade to background noise.

“I just need you to take some deep breaths for me, can you do that?”

You looked at him with such gentle care, and for a moment, he felt like he’d known you longer than just a minute. It felt crazy how fast he was falling for you, but it was happening all the same.

“Yeah… I can do that,” he replied, voice low.

And he had never been the same.

From that moment on, he’d been falling for you—hard. Making lovey-dovey eyes at you over morning coffee in the communal kitchen, pretending not to watch you when you laughed at someone’s joke, finding excuses to linger a little longer in any room you were in.

He toys with his watch, waiting for the florist to come back and flinches as he hears crashes and curses. He has half a mind to go and check on her when she suddenly pops out with a crooked smile and her hair askew, presenting the flower to him.

“Trust me, your girlfriend is going to love this one. Rarest thing in here.”

“She’s…” He stops, watching as the worker flits around the shop, putting the finishing touches on the arrangement. What use was it explaining anyway? How could he put you into words?

It was a strange flower, one he didn’t recognise. Its petals folded into each other. It was unlike any flower he’d ever seen, almost alien. But it was also beautiful, rare and special. Just like you. He buys it in a heartbeat, but the anxiety that follows is sickening. As he goes back to the tower, he thinks about turning around, getting something safer—chocolates, maybe. A coffee voucher. Literally anything else.

‘Maybe it’s not good enough, or what if she hates it?’

He plays with the loose yarn on his sweater as he nervously looks down at the plant.

‘What if she pretends to like it but actually hates it and, in turn, hates me?’

He overthinks all the way down the street, onto the subway, up the Avengers Tower elevator, until he eventually reaches the door to your office.

Then—three knocks. His heart sinks into his stomach the second his knuckles leave the wood.

The door swings open, with you on the other side of it, a smile blooming on your face as soon as you see him.

“Bob!” You say excitedly.

You’re clearly happy to see him and hurriedly usher him inside. The rest of the Avengers had been on a mission for the past two days and counting, so it was just you and Bob. It had been quite nice to spend time with him one-on-one. You even had a movie night the night prior, which ended with Bob falling asleep on your shoulder.

“What do you have there?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, catching sight of something he's hiding behind his back.

He hesitates for a beat, then slowly brings it forward, revealing a single, delicate flower—its petals a rich, otherworldly shade of purple, like something from a dream. It’s almost enchanting. You stare at it in awe, momentarily speechless.

“It’s a gift,” he says, placing it on your desk, voice shy but steady. “To celebrate you being here for a year. I… we really appreciate you.”

Your eyes soften at his words. You can see he’s nervous, waiting for your reaction like it might determine the course of his entire week.

But all you feel is warmth. You thought it was so sweet of him to do this for you; it was so thoughtful, so Bob. You’d felt a connection with him from the moment you met, something quiet but persistent that never quite went away.

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely. “I love it. Truly.”

You’re probably smiling too much, but when it comes to Bob, you can’t help yourself. You snap out of your loving stare as something flickers in your peripheral vision.

“Is it supposed to glow?” you ask, your eyes narrowing slightly as the petals shimmer faintly, a soft pulse of light running through them like a heartbeat.

“I, uh… I don’t think so?” Bob replies, frowning.

He leans in, squinting at the flower. The glow pulses again. Cautiously, he pokes it with one finger.

The flower twitches.

“It moved,” he says, eyes wide with a mix of fascination and fear.

“What? No way.” You step closer, trying to get a better look, equal parts sceptical and intrigued.

But then it twitches again, its petals bristling at the touch, and both of you freeze.

“…Did you buy this from a normal flower shop?” you ask slowly, eyeing him.

“I thought I did!” Bob says, his voice pitching just a little higher than usual.

You poke it again.

Bob coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. “What was that?”

“A defence mechanism, perhaps—” you begin, but your voice trails off as something shifts.

The stem starts to grow, elongating right before your eyes, inch by inch. Then, like something out of a sci-fi movie, thin tendrils begin sprouting from the base, curling and stretching like green tentacles.

“Okay, what kind of flower shop did you go to?” you ask, backing up a step.

Bob’s eyes are locked on it in horror. “I don’t know! I swear it looked normal! The lady had an apron!”

In hindsight, the florist did seem a bit sketchy. The shop was tucked away in a dark, back alley, its dim interior lit flickering by lamps that looked like they hadn’t been updated since the ’70s. The air was thick with a faint smoke that he had to try not to choke on, but in his defence, Bob had just assumed it was part of the shop’s "vintage" aesthetic.

The flower twitches again, and one of the tendrils gently brushes your desk lamp, knocking it askew.

“We should probably contain that,” you say.

“Or burn it,” Bob offers weakly.

You don’t have enough time to deliberate before they’re coming straight for you. They coordinate a joint attack and grab hold of your shirt. It has a relentless grip on it and tears it apart without a care. In the back of your mind, you have to take a second to mourn one of your favourite work shirts.

The plant, however, is far from done with you. Before you can react, one of its slippery, vine-like tendrils reaches for your wrist, its texture cold and unnervingly smooth. It’s trying to pin you down, the tendril wrapping around your forearm like a slippery snake.

“Bob!” you yell, panic rising in your voice.

Bob springs into action without hesitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you back just in time. But in the chaos, both of you tumble backwards, your feet tangling in each other’s as you fall to the floor.

You land… on top of him.

For a moment, everything stops. Your breath catches, his heart races beneath you, and there’s a stillness, an accidental closeness that makes everything feel like it’s happening in slow motion.

“Well, that was eventful,” you comment, breathless, glancing back over your shoulder at the plant—still twitching, preparing for its next move. The tendrils are growing faster now, more aggressive, and it’s only a matter of time before it tries to grab you again.

“Watch out,” he warns, voice sharp, as he pushes you aside with surprising strength. The moment you’re clear, he rolls to his feet, eyes fixed on the plant.

It lashes out, one of its tendrils reaching for your throat, but Bob is faster, shoving you out of harm’s way just in time.

In the seconds it took you to escape from it, the plant had doubled in size, its tentacles now oozing with a thick, viscous substance. It seemed to pulse, almost alive with an aggressive energy, like it was anticipating its next strike.

The plant gives you no time to catch your breath. Before you can react, it swipes again, this time reaching for Bob’s jeans. With surprising strength, one of the tendrils successfully yanks him to the ground, dragging him closer to its growing mass. The little tendrils begin climbing up the inside of his trousers, slithering toward his legs like they have a mind of their own.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, adrenaline flooding your veins as you rush to grab his hands, pulling with all your strength in a futile attempt to free him. Where are the Avengers when you need them?

Unfortunately, you have no super strength or any useful abilities. Bob’s still being dragged closer, inch by inch.

But what you do have, is a pretty damn good throwing arm.

You glance around the room, your mind racing for anything you can use. Your eyes land on the lamp on your desk, your favourite one. Bob had always joked about how you wouldn’t let anyone touch it. Without a second thought, you sprint across the room, grab it in one smooth motion, and hurl it toward the plant’s centre of mass.

The lamp flies through the air, and you’re about ready to start celebrating, but just as it’s about to make contact with the plant, the tendrils shift, dodging the attack like it’s alive and aware of what’s coming.

“Crap,” you mutter. "It dodged."

This had to be one of the worst moments of your life.

Bob tries to crawl away, his muscles screaming in protest as he drags himself across the floor. His mind is a chaotic mess, every thought running a mile a minute. This day wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to give you the gift and see that smile of yours light up your face, not get fondled by a plant monster.

The tendrils continue their relentless pursuit, now reaching the edge of his boxers, squirming and twisting, as if looking for any way to get inside.

“Hold on, just a second!”

“Please hurry, it’s kind of ticklish,” He blurts out as he writhes on the ground, “And wet.”

They find their way inside his boxers, reaching his dick and starting to wrap their way around it, making him tremble.

The tentacles continue to secrete that viscous liquid, slick and glistening as they slip up and around his cock, their movements still clumsy, but starting to adapt to what makes him react. Bob struggles beneath its weight, panic flashing in his eyes as the tendrils flick over his sensitive tip, starting to pulse around him.

You’re frozen for a moment, heart racing, watching him fight against the plant’s hold. The air is thick with desperation, and for a split second, you wonder if you’re going to be too late. But then your mind snaps back into focus. This can’t keep going. You need a plan and fast.

You scan the room, eyes darting from the plant to Bob and back again. The papers on your desk, the fire extinguisher near the door, the window—wait. Without wasting another second, you rush over to it, pulling it down with a swift motion. You have no idea if this’ll work, but Bob’s safety is the only thing that matters, and you’d do anything to ensure it.

“Hold on!” you shout, as you aim the nozzle at the base of the plant.

You pull the trigger.

It’s temporarily thwarted, and you breathe out a sigh of relief when you see it retreat from Bob’s jeans.

“Come on!” you shout, reaching for Bob and pulling him to his feet. The moment you’ve got a solid grip on him, you both scramble toward safety, adrenaline fuelling your movements.

You rush toward the front door, but just as you reach it, the plant’s vines stretch out, blocking your escape. The thick, twisted tendrils curl around the doorframe, trapping you in.

You turn on your heels, panic setting in as you dash to the far side of the room. There’s only one other way out, the door that leads to the lab part of your office.

You reach the door, flinging it open just in time, and drag Bob inside with you. As you slam the door shut, you quickly lock it, the sound echoing. The room is dim, but you barely notice the light as you both stand there, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. It’s all you can both hear before you finally break the silence.

“What the fuck?”

He’s panicking. He’s panicking hard.

He attempted to do something nice, something to show just how much you mean to him and the rest of the team but instead he got you attacked by a plant that wanted to fuck you.

“I screwed this up. I’m so sorry. I... I—” He stammers, his voice trembling with regret. He tries to continue, but the words seem to catch in his throat. He’s frustrated, overwhelmed by the situation and the guilt of what just happened.

You immediately notice the signs. The way he's retreating into himself, shoulders hunched, eyes avoiding yours. The guilt and panic are all over his face, and for a moment, you realise how much this is affecting him. He must think you’re mad at him, but you’re not. Not in the slightest. You weren’t even sure if you could be mad at him; he was Bob.

You take a step forward, placing yourself in his line of sight, standing in front of him. You don’t need to say anything else. You don’t need him to apologise again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” your voice acting as his source of stability, even though you’re both still shaking from the chaos.

But before he can respond, there’s a loud bang against the door. A deep, guttural scraping noise as the plant’s tentacles push against it, trying to force their way inside. They both jump at the sounds, and he tries to curl in on himself, his hands gripping into his hair as he shuts everything out, nothing but his own voice echoing in his head.

‘Of course, you’d mess this up.’

“Bob, look at me, please.”

‘She probably hates you now.’

He opens his eyes slowly, and you can see it—the fear. The gold in his eyes flickers, a silent reflection of his inner turmoil. He’s been holding it all together for so long, but now, one mistake has him spiralling, and it’s all spilling out in front of you.

He hates that you can see it. The cracks in his composure, the weight of the guilt sinking into his chest. The last thing he wanted was to fall apart in front of you, to let you see just how much he’s struggling with everything.

“I put you in danger,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze drops to the floor, shame and regret lacing his words.

You can’t let him carry this alone. You can’t let him drown in his own guilt when you know the truth: it wasn’t his fault. He only wanted to do something nice for you.

You step forward further into his space, cupping his face gently in your hands. His breath catches and you feel his warm skin under your palms, the tension in the air thick but not overwhelming.

“It’s okay,” you say softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “I’m alright, aren’t I?”

‘She doesn’t mean it.’

“I try to do one thing, and I just made things worse. I ruined everything—”

“You didn’t ruin anything, okay? I loved the fact that you got me a gift, and we’re going to get out of this.”

You pull him close, and you both embrace each other tightly, the chaos outside fading away for a brief moment as you both seek comfort in the silence of the hug.

But suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, you become acutely aware of every touch, every shift of his body against yours. The warmth of his arms, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, it all feels intensified. It’s like you’re hyper-aware of the sensation of him against you, and it’s overstimulating in a way you weren’t expecting.

You subconsciously nuzzle into his touch, breathing in his scent. He smells so good, you would even describe it as intoxicating. The feeling of him holding you, so close, feels delicious. The feeling of his fingers against your bare skin, mouth-watering.

You lean into him even more, a soft moan slipping out before you catch yourself. The sound barely escapes, but it’s enough to make you freeze. You jerk back from him, heart pounding in your chest.

From the look on his face, he didn’t hear it. Or if he did, he’s pretending not to, but you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, flooding your body. The flush spreads down your neck, over your skin, and you can’t stop it.

“We’ll…get through this,” Bob says, agreeing with your earlier words.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter out, still feeling the heat spreading throughout your body.

Then, as if his panicked brain finally catches up to the situation, Bob’s eyes flick over your form, and his eyes widen just a little when he realises you’re topless, wearing nothing but your bra. His face flushed with embarrassment, and in an instant, he looks away, his cheeks turning a shade of red at the fact that he had just hugged you in this state. Like the gentleman he is, he immediately averts his gaze, trying to give you some privacy.

“Oh. I uh, you should take my sweater.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I–”

Both of you nervously bumble until Bob starts taking off his sweater. The entire thing plays in slow motion. His hands, a little shaky, reach for the hem. The fabric bunches up in his fingers before he slowly pulls it over his head.

Bit by bit, his chest and torso are revealed. You can’t help but notice the definition of his muscles and appreciate them greatly. Finally, he hands the sweater to you, his expression nervous but kind. “Here…” he says softly, not looking you directly in the eyes.

Damn it.

He’s ripped.

You didn’t know when you woke up this morning that you’d be treated to an impromptu striptease courtesy of Bob Reynolds. You can’t believe all of that was hiding under that knitted sweater. There’s a sudden wave of arousal so strong it almost knocks you clean off your feet. Your eyes wander his sculpted form, and it’s like every part of him was made to drive you crazy. You know you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“So… how are we planning on taking back my office?” Your words come out breathy, your eyes are still very much fixed on his body, but he seems oblivious to the fact.

“Maybe we can…” He trails off, distracted by the way you were starting to sway, “Hey, are you alright?”

He had now started to become clued into the way you were staring him down like he was a full-course meal. And you’re just happy he couldn’t read your mind because you were thinking the most unhinged things, like how you wanted to lick the sweat off his abs.

“Holy fuck,” You mutter tiredly, shaking the thought away. You were a doctor, damn it, not a degenerate. Or at least not both at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m just…” You start a sentence that you can’t finish as your body continues to heat up and your desire for him starts to hurt. You just want to be closer to him, and the overwhelming need to touch his abs comes back in full force. You try to focus on something else but just land on his arms and you wondered how’d they feel wrapped around your waist when he’d fuck you.

“Fuck!”

You start pacing around the room, trying to get rid of this madness that seemed to be overtaking you. And by pacing it was more of an awkward stumble as bit by bit your limbs turned to rubber and your brain to mush with horny thoughts of Bob.

You stop moving and drop to the floor, hugging your knees and squeezing your eyes shut. Maybe if you cannot see the hot man, he cannot haunt you. You decide to take deep breaths because that always helps, and try to calm yourself down. You are, however, wearing Bob’s sweater, which smells like him and therefore smells like heaven. You moan, definitely loud enough for him to hear and bury your face in it.

“Talk to me,” Bob says as he crouches down by your side, the comforting pats on your back feeling more like kisses on the neck. You just wanted to climb him like he’s a tree and live there forever.

“Need to take this off.”

You start kicking off your trousers as they start to stick to you, feeling more like sandpaper on your skin. Next, you peel off his sweater and hold it in your hands, resting it against your cheek, breathing it in every so often.

“I can’t be near you right now.”

“Why?” He asks and if you had your head on straight, you’d state the obvious. Did he not see the fact that you were seconds away from grinding on him?

But you did have to think about what caused this, and there’s only one theory that makes sense.

“I think the plant you got is a sex plant.”

Bob blinks at you.

“A what?”

While falling down an internet rabbit hole, you had heard about plants like these with certain properties that lent themselves quite nicely to certain activities. These properties including sex pollen that seemed to only affect you and not him. At a later date, you’d love to run some tests to see why. Maybe it was something in the serum he was given that made him immune to certain things. But all logical thought was being dropkicked out the window right about now, replaced with the need to fuck yourself silly on his dick.

You explain to him the whole sex plant thing as best as you can without going feral. The need to have his hands all over your body was becoming near next to unbearable.

“Why do you know this?”

“God forbid a woman is informed,” You sigh as you fan yourself with the sleeve of his sweater, more of his scent wafting into your face, making you more hungry for him than ever.

“So, how do we fix this?” He asks, desperate to help you out.

“I can just wait it out,” you suggest, knowing full well you couldn’t “wait it out”. Each second that passed was a second not spent bouncing on Bob’s cock which was a second wasted in your opinion. But this was Bob, your Bob, you didn’t want sex pollen induced horniness to reduce your friendship to rubble. You could see it now. Things would never be the same. No more book chat over morning coffee or late night milkshake runs and you’d be damned if you lost them.

“You’re burning up.” He places his hand against your forehead, and you whimper at the contact, shocking you both.

“Tell me, what will fix this?” He repeats.

It’s clear that there’s no avoiding it, so you tell him.

“...sex.”

There’s a heavy silence in the room, only accompanied by the background noise of the plant going on a rampage in your office. It was obvious, sex plant, therefore sex will alleviate the effects of said plant but saying it out loud didn't make it any easier.

“But I won’t ask that of you. I won’t,” You say firmly.

Did you want him? Yes, you wanted him bad. Ever since his floppy-haired, doe-eyed, cute self came in for his first check-up. But you didn’t want it under such dire circumstances, with a sex crazed plant trying to knock the door down. You wanted it to mean something. You wanted to know that he liked you as much as you like him.

You watch as Bob’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly as if coming to a decision. There’s something in his gaze, something vulnerable but strong at the same time, like he’s finally deciding to take a step forward.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” he says firmly. “I don’t want to see you in pain like this.”

You shake your head, the words he says sinking in, but the effects of the sex pollen make it hard to respond.

“I can’t have sex with you like this. It’s not fair on you,” you finally manage, your voice quiet, almost defeated.

Bob’s face softens, his eyes flickering with understanding and something deeper. He steps closer, his tone gentler but unwavering. “It’s worth it if it helps you. You’re hot and shivering. What kind of friend would I be if I let you suffer?”

The sincerity in his words hits you hard. You feel your throat tighten, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to spill over. You’ve always known Bob cared about you, but hearing that he was willing to do this for you was something else.

“Bob…” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it.

He stops himself then, looking away for a moment, his own vulnerability creeping to the surface. "I care about you. I…" He trails off, a deep breath escaping him as if he's preparing himself for what’s to come. “I like you.”

You're struggling to find the words as the one thing you’ve been wanting to hear is finally said.

“You like me?”

Bob looks down, his eyes shifting nervously, afraid that he might be ruining everything.

“I like you too,” You admit. “You have no idea how much.”

Not wanting the moment to pass you by, you cup his face and kiss him like you’ve never kissed anyone before. The kiss is desperate and needy, your hands gliding over his body with such urgency. All that pent-up need and tension came out in this one kiss. You cling onto each other like kissing is the last thing you’ll ever do.

You pull back, looking at him, his cheeks slightly flushed, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask, your voice a mix of uncertainty and hope.

Instead of responding, he pulls you back in, his hands gentle but insistent, bringing you closer once more. Then, before you can say anything else, he lays you back down on the floor, his body hovering over yours.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispers, before leaning back in, his lips brushing against yours once more.

You smile into the kiss and wrap your legs around his waist from beneath him.

You shiver as his hands travel up your back, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. It’s clumsy at first, fumbling with the hooks, the fabric catching between his fingers.

“Oh yeah, this one’s a nightmare to take off,” you comment, remembering the countless times you’d try to undo the clasps before giving up and just pulling it over your head instead. You chuckle lightly at the memory, tension easing for just a second.

“I think I almost got it,” he says, determination in his voice. Finally, after a few more attempts, he gets the clasp undone, tossing it aside with a small sigh of relief.

You feel a warmth spread through you, as look up at him.

“You’re perfect,” he says softly, his lips finding their way to your neck. The way he touches you, the way his hands move, everything feels electric, like every little action is charged with more meaning than you ever expected.

His hands wander down towards your panties next, rubbing at your core through them. He can feel that you’ve already soaked through them, your desperation no laughing matter.

He knows that because you immediately trap his hand between your thighs and start lifting your hips to rub against it.

His eyes widen as he watches you roll your hips, so completely wrecked, and you’d barely even gotten started. This was a whole new side of you that he could get used to.

“You need to let go of my hand for me to touch you,” Bob says, and you reluctantly do, only because you know he’s gonna give you something better.

He pulls off your panties and is met with the most beautiful sight.

“You’re so wet,” he comments spreading open your dripping pussy and flicking at your clit.

He slowly inserts his fingers and smiles at how easily they slip in. “You can take two already,” he says and almost in awe as your walls clench around him. You’re mewling and twitching with every swipe of his fingers, your wetness spilling around them. His fingers are so thick and he stretches you out so good, you wonder how your own fingers ever felt like enough.

“So good,” You whine out, and he feels encouraged to ever stop making you feel like this.

He curls them inside of you, brushing against your sensitive spot over and over again, making you squeal. You start to squirm, but he holds you still, his thigh and spare hand keeping you spread open for him.

He starts reassuring you with soothing circles on your thigh, “Right there?”

You blink away the haze and nod, “Yeah, keep going.”

He repeats his actions, his fingers threatening to bring you to an orgasm so fast that you’re almost embarrassed.

“Need you so bad,” You whisper as you thrust back against his fingers, desperate to have more of him. You’d take his whole fist if he’d give it to you.

“I need more than just your fingers.”

He looks up at you. This was a huge step, but one you were both ready to take.

“Condom?”

“I’m on birth control,” You say, and thankfully, you were. It’s not like you had a condom on you; they were in your purse, which was in the room with the raging tentacle monster.

He pulls off his jeans and boxers and he’s left exposed in front of you. He feels vulnerable, but he knows he can trust you.

“Ready?” You ask him and he replies with a breathy, “Yeah,” before laying a sweet kiss on your forehead.

He lines himself up with your hole, which is actively trying to suck him in as he pushes into you slowly. The relief of feeling him inside of you is so good, the sound of his moans as he bottoms out inside of you is just as good.

He starts thrusting into you deeply, as you grip his shoulders. It felt better than anything you’ve ever done with anyone else. It was partly the sex pollen, but more than anything, it was because it was him. You were finally with him after months upon months of pining. Finally able to feel his skin beneath your fingertips, to hear his moans vibrate against your skin, to lean his forehead against yours as he ruts into you. It was slow but passionate, as you finally confirmed how you both feel about each other.

You feel like you were on another planet, but you wanted to experience every part of this man, so you whisper in his ear, “Wanna ride you.”

You’ve never seen him move so fast, in seconds you’re sitting up right, warming his cock as his lips attacking your neck.

You’re about to start moving when he stops you.

“Just a second.”

You sit there, desperate to feel him moving inside you, but if he says to wait, then you’ll wait. He cups one of your boobs in his hands and his tongue flicking around your areola just enough to tease you.

“Bob…” You whine out, and he smiles up at you, and it’s one of his dopey smiles that makes your heart melt. Then as if you couldn’t feel any more sensitive, he starts sucking on your nipple, his eyes closed in pure focus and concentration. You fully scream, your legs quivering and walls fluttering around his cock. His tongue was working overtime, and you felt like you could come undone with just this.

“You’re gonna kill me,” You cry out as you pull closer by his hair.

“You’re so dramatic,” He laughs before going back to his ministrations, determined to make you lose your mind.

“Just like that,” You cry out as you wrap your arms around his neck. You shake and tremble so much that you just have to start riding him. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own.

Bob rests his head in the crook of your neck as you work his cock up and down between your folds. “You feel so good.” His voice is shaky and needy as he’s unable to do anything but give in to the pleasure you’re giving him. His legs were shaking with how good it felt, and it was an ego boost to say one thing.

“Wait a second,” he says before he holds your hips up and starts thrusting up into you from below, giving you everything he’s got.

“Oh Bob…”

The feeling is so overwhelming that you start to cry, tears flowing down your cheeks, each one showing just how good he was giving it to you. But seeing your tears, he stops immediately, wiping them from your eyes. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

His eyebrows are furrowed with a concern plastered on his face, worried that he had hurt you.

You shake your head profusely, “Keep going. I’m crying because it feels so good.”

“Yeah?”

With some renewed confidence, he continues thrusting into you, and it’s your turn to rest your head against his neck.

He whispers against your ear, “You feel so good.”

“Wanna turn around for me?”

“O-okay,” You stutter out, your mind half in the clouds as he spins you around and you land back on his dick, reverse cowgirl.

“Holy shit,” he says as he starts pounding into you again. You feel him so deep inside of you, you never want him to leave.

You feel him gripping onto your ass so you imagine the view must be good.

“Harder?”

“Yes, fuck please,” You reply immediately. The way he was thrusting up inside of you had you crying out for mercy, and if he wanted to go harder, you’d let him. He picks up the pace, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours is music to your ears.

“So good, you’re such…” He stops for a moment, and you can hear him hesitate, but you suppose his internal thoughts won out as he finishes his sentence, “Such a good girl.”

And you’d be lying if those words, escaping his lips, in his voice, didn’t make you want to explode.

Then he slows down before pulling out of you, you’re about to whine and complain, but he intercepts that.

“Can you hold onto me?” He asks, and you do it immediately, desperate to feel him on you again. You suddenly feel yourself being lifted into the air, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He effortlessly lifts you over and lays you down on an examination table.

He lines himself up with your hole again and thrusts right into it, not holding back one bit. Your body is shaking and trembling with each thrust, and you’re screaming his name with each one.

“So good, so good,” he repeats like a mantra, like he can’t think of anything else but you.

He lifts your hips, tilting your pelvis and hitting your G-spot dead on, and you almost choke on your spit. You’re not even sure what comes out of your mouth; you just know it’s not of this world. You head lolls to the side as you drool for his cock to be fed deeper into you.

“Right there, right there, right…”, You bluster out before being cut off by your own scream.

You weren’t going to last much longer; in fact, you’re surprised you lasted this long. You just needed one final thing to put you over the edge.

“B-bob. Put…put your hand here,” You say guiding his hand above your stomach and bite your lip as he presses down feeling his cock inside of you.

“I’m gonna—” You sob before you’re cumming harder than you ever have, calling out for Bob all the while. Bob holds onto your bucking hips as he watches you squirt on his cock. The orgasm that hits you is blinding, your toes curl, your fists tighten, and tears fall from your eyes.

You are gone.

You’re only brought back to your senses by Bob saying your name and soft kisses on your face. When he sees you’re responsive, he smiles and starts brushing your hair off your face. But then you realise, he’s stopped moving and you absolutely can’t have that. You can still feel him pulsing inside of you and you needed him to cum.

“Keep going,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

You sit up closer to you, your fingers gripping his back.

“Keep going until you’re done with me.”

You needed this, you needed him. You wanted him to fuck you so hard that your pussy remembered him, you wanted him to fill you up so much that just the smell of him would bring you to your knees and that wasn’t just the sex pollen talking.

“I think I can do this day,” Bob says and that he does. He fucks you against the wall, the window, on the floor, if he had control of his Sentry powers he probably would’ve fucked you in the air too. By the time you’re done, the sex pollen has been well and truly pounded out of your system.

But your troubles aren’t over.

The plant knocks down the door with an ominous thud. Menacingly slithering over to the two of you, now triple in size, each tentacle bigger that the last, and you’re ready to accept your fate. This is how you would go out. Fucked to death by a plant.

The plant starts prodding at you both a tiny bit before pulling back away from you, much to your surprise. Obviously sensing its job was done, it reverts back to its original form in a matter of seconds and sits innocently in its pot.

You guess your troubles are over.

“So…can I be your boyfriend?” He asks and you laugh, “What do you think?”

Bob’s face lights up with a grin, and he kisses your cheek, “I think there’s a mess waiting for us in your office.”

“Well, couples that clean together stay together.”

Snuggling into his embrace, you let out a sigh of contentment. Nothing could ruin this day, not when you’d finally made Bob your man.

But, in the distance, you hear the shuffling of footsteps as the team has arrived back from their mission. You hear a faint, “What the fuck?” seemingly from Walker seeing the havoc the plant made but you’re too content in Bob’s arms to care. You’re exactly where you want to be.

Masterlist

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chuluoyi · 5 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

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humanjarvis · 3 months ago

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the world when you're with me

synopsis: you seek out sylus for comfort after realizing you were wrong about him.

tags: comfort, fluff, implied avoidant!reader learns to trust sylus, implied avoidant!reader clings to sylus, sylus takes care of reader from afar, sylus has mephisto and the twins follow reader but wbk pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mostly mc word count: 802

a/n: is this the peak of literature? no. did i need to write it after the day i had? yes. did i need to post it today? no, because i’m trying to stagger my posts more, but here we are. anyway 4k caleb pwp coming tomorrow

For the first few weeks after you’d infiltrated the N109 Zone, you’d avoided Sylus Qin like the plague.

After being scared out of your wits by the first version of him you'd met—the cold, unavailable criminal mastermind who’d forced you to shoot him within 5 minutes of knowing one other—you were unashamedly wary of working with him again.

But Sylus’s intel was unrivaled. More and more often, you found yourself visiting the N109 Zone to meet with him, eventually not even bothering to book a place to stay. There was always a guest room at the Onychinus base prepped for your arrival.

As you spent more time with Sylus, he’d noticeably changed his approach to interacting with you. Rather than forcing you to resonate with him, he’d explained to you how his Evol worked, letting you aim his hands at some training dummies to test it out yourself. Instead of unceremoniously shutting you out when he was tired, he’d drag his robe-and-slippers-clad self to sit beside you on the sofa, answering your cautious questions by practically giving away all his secrets.

His shift in attitude hadn't stopped there. Sylus had clearly been using that endearingly incorrigible crow to keep tabs on you, but for the strangest reasons.

Whenever you had a bad day at work, some building-wide maintenance emergency would magically appear, forcing your team to cease operations for the rest of the day. He’d text you a couple hours after your early dismissal, saying he was in the city and inviting you on an evening joyride to clear your head.

The day after you’d lugged a case of water up the stairs to your apartment, having to pause a couple times to catch your breath, you came home to see your fridge mysteriously stocked with groceries. The only traces left behind were the masked twin figures you spotted scurrying away from your window.

When a new phone showed up at your doorstep one day—you never even told him you’d shattered your screen, you thought—you’d decided that Sylus wasn’t as bad as you’d once assumed. Not anywhere near as bad, in fact. He was thoughtful, generous, and helped you without taking credit or forcing you to ask for it. You’d never had that before.

Which is why, somehow, you find yourself standing in the doorway of his armory, studying him silently as he polishes an antique-looking gun.

When he notices you, Sylus looks up, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. “Something wrong, kitten?” he drawls, subtly checking your body for injuries.

Mind numb from your absolutely dreadful day, you stay silent while Sylus looks at you expectantly, his hands forgetting their earlier task.

But for the next minute, you remain hovering in the doorway. You expect him to get annoyed—you almost want him to, so you have an excuse to go back to relying only on yourself—but all you see on Sylus’s face is patience.

When you start shuffling toward him, that patience mixes with a glimmer of anticipation that he visibly tries to suppress. You need him to be calm right now—an anchor, he thinks. If he loses his composure, if he startles you with his excitement at your approach, you might bolt at any moment.

Sometime during his inner struggle, you reach him. Meekly, you stand before his chair, briefly opening your mouth before closing it.

“What is it, sweetie?” he asks softly. “Tell me, and we can figure it out together. I’ll personally track down whoever seems to have stolen your words from you.”

At his offer, you break, collapsing into his lap. His large, warm hands immediately encircle your waist, and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his leather and spice cologne.

“Aw,” he coos in his baritone voice, rocking you slowly in his embrace. When he lifts your head an inch, you resist, letting out a soft whine. Gently, he guides your head back to his chest, his quickening heartbeat thumping in your ears and grounding you in the the moment.

After several moments of silence, your deep, shuddering breaths the only interruptions, Sylus murmurs into your ear. “When I noticed you never ask for help, I was worried the world may not be treating as well as it should. You must be very tired, hmm?” he asks, rubbing his chin against your hair.

Tightening your arms around him, you sit there for a while, his steady breaths seeming to mend a decades-long rift in your heart.

The next time Sylus tries to lift your head, you let him. He pulls your face from his neck so he can look into your eyes, hoping his gaze conveys his sincerity, before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t need the world when you’re with me,” he promises. “I’ll treat you better than it ever could.”

#iris writes #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads x reader #love and deepspace comfort #love and deepspace fluff #lnds #sylus qin #lads fluff #lads comfort #lads sylus #lnds sylus

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medusagorgongirl1 · 11 months ago

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I love the idea of Tim being all clinical about Kon's crush on him. Like 'there must be something wrong with Kon, why else would he blush when I talk to him' and like proceeds to make a fucking murder board with picture and string connecting each 'event' like

02/27/2024, Incident: Kon stared at me while I trained, when I called him out he blushed profusely and stuttered, obviously he is ill or compromised. Solution: keep a closer eye on him

03/04/2024, Incident: Keeping a closer eye on Kon appears to have flustered him. I caught him staring at me 7 times, each he seemed embarrassed by. Potentially he believes I am an imposter. Solution: team building exercise, and movie night

03/06/2024, Incident: movie night proves that Kon must be having emotional or social issues. Team building went fine, but Kon seemed disturbed at sharing a blanket with me, he went very rigid when I leaned against him, I fear that the Kent's may be mistreating him. Solution: subtley question about home life.

03/08/2024, Incident: questioning about home life initially had Kon happy, then his demeanor became shy. He offered to show me his favorite restaurant near the Kent's and take me star gazing. He appeared very put out when I asked if Cassie and Bart would be coming. Solution: maybe Kon only expects me to realize the harmful habits of the Kent's.

03/14/2024, Incident: I was left in a critical condition after a mission, Kon refused to leave my side. That is normal as the rest of team refused to leave, but I swear he was holding my hand while I slept. Solution: Kon is more tactile that I thought?

03/16/2024, Incident: my memory of the mission and the events leading to my injury is better now. Kon is the one that caught me. Though I could swear that he was begging me not to leave him because he 'loves me'. Solution: request less morphine next injury.

03/21/2024, Incident: Kon said my injury gave him a lot to think of, he requested that we go on a "date" tonight. Solution: ask Kon if he got the phrase 'hang out' and 'date' mixed up

03/22/2024, Incident: Kon kissed me. Solution: I am an idiot.

#tim drake #kon el #red robin #superboy #dc comics #robin #batfamily #dc robin #timkon #conner kent

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nanamiskentos · 6 months ago

Text

SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

5K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 17 days ago

Text

Sharp Dressed Man

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky looks good in a suit, and it isn't fair how easily he turns you on.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), referenced oral sex (f. receiving), feels, sweet and spicy fic, established relationship, vulnerability, being in love, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans based on an anon ask. ❤️ Thank you to the lovely @buckybarnesfic, @soelstress, @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for looking it over and assuring me it wasn't garbage. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was still getting ready for the day while you made him breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, and neither of you would let the other skip it. Thankfully the rest of the team had already eaten and were elsewhere, otherwise everyone would try to steal something; except for Bob because he wouldn't take food without asking. Not to mention the last time John tried to steal one of Yelena’s meals he almost lost a finger.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee cut through the last traces of sleep, warming you up as you loaded the plates with various foods and set them on the island. You rinsed the dishes and cleaned the counters while you waited for Bucky, doing a silly little dance in-between tasks. It wasn't your day to tidy up the kitchen, but you weren't going to be a jerk and leave it a mess.

“Someone’s happy this morning,” Ava said from behind you, and you somehow didn't jump at the sound. You were all getting used to her phasing in and out of the rooms. “Let me guess. Morning sex?”

Was it obvious since you were only in your robe and underwear? “Maybe,” you teased.

The wonderful ache between your legs was a nice reminder of how Bucky woke you earlier, making you shiver. You felt his fingers and tongue working you over before you opened your eyes, and you barely recovered from your first orgasm before he had his cock in you. It wasn't rushed either. He took his time, making you feel every delicious inch as he thrust slow and deep. Even when you came again he didn't stop.

“‘Attagirl,” he smiled against your lips while you trembled beneath him, his body effectively caging you in. “But you can give me one more. I know you can.”

“Bucky,” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you to the brim.

“Just one more, sweetheart.” A hand moved between your bodies so he could play you like a well tuned instrument. “One more and I’ll give it to you.”

You did, and so did he, your name tumbling from his lips as he spilled into you. Who wouldn't give Bucky another orgasm if he gently demanded it? Three orgasms wasn't a bad way to start the day. A girl could do much worse.

“Lucky,” she smirked, snapping you out of your thoughts when she snatched a bite of food from Bucky’s plate. “Mmm. Remind me to have you make me breakfast the next time you have morning sex.”

“Hey!” you yelled, but there was laughter in your eyes when she took another bite and phased away. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Who will pay for what?” Bucky asked when he walked into the room, making your breath catch in your throat.

Bucky's hair was tucked behind his ears today, bringing your attention to his steel eyes before you took in the rest of him. His suit was tailored impeccably to his large frame, and he wore it well. He carried himself with composed ease, his steps deliberate and head held high. His presence demanded attention without appearing arrogant, which was tough to balance. He was all man.

He was your man.

“Fuck me,” you breathed.

Bucky may not be a Congressman anymore, but he would have had your vote for anything and everything he ever wanted.

His eyes flashed with unmistakable lust and pride as he walked toward you, making your stomach flip. “Already did.”

“You did, and you can do that again later,” you said, reaching up to trace his mouth.

You smiled when he kissed your fingers. It was an honor to touch him and that wasn't at all an exaggeration. You noticed how tense he got when some got too close to him, but not you. Never you.

“So, I look handsome?” he asked casually, adjusting his tie. “Not that I’m trying to look handsome. I’m only wearing this since I have a meeting, and I might get a few dirty looks if I show up in tactical gear.”

You almost teased that he was fishing for a compliment, but you saw just a flicker of his confidence waver as he waited for your answer. “Suit or tactical gear, you’re the most handsome man I've ever seen.”

He breathed out, his confidence back in full force. “I’m glad to hear that.” Sliding a hand over the curve of your hip, his fingers dug in, a protective and possessive touch, when he brought his mouth to your ear. “And I may have to wear suits around you more often since it turns you on so much.”

You tried to play coy, as if your nipples hadn’t peaked and your clit didn't throb. “Who said I'm turned on?”

Bucky chuckled and lowered his head, his teeth nipping your neck and drawing a whimper from you. His lips moved up to find your ear again while you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Don't have to say it, sweetheart. I can smell you,” he whispered. You couldn't hide anything with those heightened senses of his, a blessing or a curse depending on how you looked at it. “Ruined your panties the second I walked in here.”

Your eyes closed. He was right, the smug bastard. Damn him. Damn him to Hell. No, not there. That was too cruel. Your bed would do nicely.

It was insane the more you thought about it. The man could breathe and it would send your libido into overdrive. Feminism? Where did it go? One murder strut or grumpy stare and it went out the window along with your panties. One smile and it melted your insides.

What had he done to you?

“You're unbelievable,” you sighed.

He pulled back, searching your face. “What do you mean?”

“I was a strong and capable woman before I came here,” you said, the words sounding ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth.

“And you still are,” he assured you. Bucky was one of your biggest supporters, always.

“It’s just… Do you have any idea what that’s like? To just look at someone and get turned on?” You stepped out of reach and gestured to him. You asked yourself some days how Bucky Barnes could possibly be real. How did someone like him exist? “You breathe and I get aroused. That isn't normal.”

No other man had that kind of power over you, body or heart, until him.

The warm chuckle from your boyfriend had you fighting not to smile. “One, we’re not normal. Two, your breathing turns me on, too. And three, I do know it’s like to just look at someone and get aroused because that happens when I look at you,” he said, taking your hand to bring you back to him. He placed it against his crotch and grew harder under your touch. “We’re a match made in heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You two were a good match. “It isn't just arousal when I look at you. It’s…” You took a breath and gripped his jacket with your other hand, trying to be careful not to wrinkle it. “You smile at me and…”

“And what?” he asked, catching your eye and softly smiling.

You swallowed, your eyes suddenly misting over before you dropped your hands. It was alarming how quickly your emotions took over in regard to Bucky. “I see a future with you there.”

Bucky cupped your cheeks when you tried to duck your head. He had stripped you bare more than once, but saying something like that made you feel more vulnerable than when you were naked. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“You have the power to break me,” you whispered, your eyes shutting. Not to hide, but to keep the tears at bay. “Which should be terrifying, but it’s very exhilarating.”

To give that much of yourself to another, to trust them to that extent, wasn't easy. But if life taught you anything, it was that it was too short and you had to seize every opportunity to live it to the fullest. Who better to do that with than Bucky Barnes?

You cleared your throat when he didn't say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions when you opened yours. “Your breakfast is getting cold. You should-”

He surged forward, his lips covering yours. The pad of his thumbs brushed your cheeks when he deepened the kiss, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. Emotions surged through you, your heart nearly overflowing as you held onto each other. You felt everything all at once and let yourself be swept away.

He slowly broke the kiss allowing you both to savor the lingering touch of each other's lips and take a much needed breath. “You could break me, too, but you won't,” he said, his forehead resting against yours as you attempted to calm your racing heart. “Just like I'd never break you.”

It was a vow that resonated in your core, a declaration of love, one that had you kissing him again and silently promising the same. “Match made in heaven or Hell, huh?”

“And where you go, I’ll follow,” he smiled.

You'd follow him, too. “Well, right now you need to eat breakfast and head out so you aren't late for your meeting.”

He groaned and refrained from rolling his eyes. “This suit is coming off as soon as I get back,” he said, much to your disappointment. Or maybe your delight.

“Right when you get back?” You bit your lip. “Will you use the tie on me?”

“I can,” he smirked, making your body heat up all over again. “Can have a little fun in the office, too. Pretend I’m your boss and-”

“Or I could be your boss since I'm strong and capable,” you teased.

He moaned, seemingly into that idea as he backed you against the island. “Boss or not, I’ll still bend you over the desk or have you sit on it while I eat your pretty pussy.”

You whined. There was no stopping Bucky when he was hungry. He’d spread your legs and stay between them until you cried, lap up every drop and still want more.

His hands roamed your body, forgetting all about breakfast. “Fuck you raw and fill you up just the way you-”

Bob cleared his throat, both of you turning toward the sound. How long had the poor guy been standing there? “Just getting a drink,” he said, quickly going to the fridge and avoiding looking at you. “I’m not even here.”

“Sorry, Bob,” you smiled sheepishly when he grabbed his drink and bolted. “We should probably rent a hotel room or something soon and give the team a break.”

You and Bucky could be extremely private some days and others there was no stopping you. How the team put up with it you had no idea. Maybe because you made each other happy. It still had to be slightly obnoxious for them.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, too. “Or we could always do a campout on the roof so we aren't too far away,” he suggested.

You smiled as you imagined it. Looking out over the city and watching the stars before cuddling up in a tent. A cabin getaway was also something to keep in mind for the future when you two could take a break together. Peaceful, quiet. Something just for the two of you.

“A roof campout sounds nice,” you said.

“Good,” Bucky smirked before he picked you up and set you on the island. “Campout later. Right now I want breakfast.”

“Bucky, your meeting.”

“I won't be late.”

You didn't resist when he opened your legs. “Ava said no more fooling around in the kitchen since we eat here,” you reminded him. Alexei would probably encourage it. “And I just cleaned up, and you haven't eaten the food I made.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” he winked as he crouched down. “And I’ll eat after I eat.”

And he did.

We deserve this. Bucky deserves this. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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