#but MAN was he an insufferable mess at the start

[mikurulucky]

Me at the start of Harlock '78: Tadashi... dude... you seriously doing this? 🤦🏻‍♀️

Me towards the end of Harlock '78: Tadashi, you've really become a man, haven't you? I'm so proud of you. 😊

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[uravichii]

"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

[gojoest]

CRAZY ABOUT YOU — gojo satoru

tw: MDNI, f! reader, she/her pronouns used, pregnancy (reader is expecting), established relationship (you’re married), pregnancy freak!satoru, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, love, sweetheart), very very brief mention of somno & oral f receiving, reader wears a dress, he’s a freak, not proofread, wc: 2.4k

synopsis: your husband fucks you during one of your prenatal visits

your husband is a freak, you know that. but what you didn’t know was how big of a one he could be, for you. you found out — when you became pregnant with his child.

when satoru found out that you’re carrying his child — because he did before you, saw it with his six eyes — he fucked you differently. with a primal urge unheard of, like a man that’s impregnated his wife and is now claiming her again, confirming the fact that you belong to him by slamming it deep inside you. after the fifth (?) orgasm he dragged out of you that night, you asked him through a weary chuckle — “huh, where did this come from?” — and his answer began with a motion of his fingers hugging his balls — “it came from here…”, followed by his other hand caressing your belly “…and went there”, while slowly leaning in to meet your lips, “and i might just lose my mind because, baby — you’re pregnant”

a rather unconventional way to find out you’re pregnant.

if he had any semblance of decency in him before (which is rather questionable) and could keep his hands to himself (to some extent) during certain times and in certain places, it is completely off the table now.

when he wants you, you will know; others around will know it, too. he doesn’t shy away from making it obvious, or more so he doesn’t care if other people notice. what’s there to be embarrassed about? after all, you’re a couple, you do things. it’s only natural. and that pretty baby bump is the perfect proof of it. in all honesty, it gets him off when others know that he’s about to fuck his beautiful pregnant wife once he takes her home.

he's a freak like that, it can’t be helped. even more so now with the way your skin glows differently, with the way you smell, the way you carry yourself and the way your body is undergoing the natural changes as the pregnancy progresses that he finds so beautiful. it all messes with his head. brings out the real freak in him that can no longer keep his urges at bay, not when knowing that he himself brought this upon you. it makes you so undeniably his, for everyone to see and acknowledge. his chest swells with pride…

…but sometimes pride also gives way to greed, to a freakish desire for more of you.

during the rare times you go about to shower without him, he slips into the bathroom. sits on the toilet seat and starts jerking off to you, watching your swollen belly and breasts, moaning loud and clear for you to come to his aid. sometimes you wake up to him holding your hand wrapped around his cock, rubbing himself into your palm, audible pants seeping from his lips as he slowly lifts the hem of your shirt (his shirt that you wear to sleep) — preparing to splatter his load on your pregnant belly; or alternatively, you open your eyes to his face buried between your legs, devouring you like a starved animal… other times, as you make dinner in the kitchen, tenderizing the meat with the mallet on the counter, he comes from behind and presses his hard-on against your ass, shamelessly asking “would you mind beating my meat, too, baby?”

and when you go about to scold him, call him a jerk, a perv, a freak, insufferable while hitting his chest — playfully, because you secretly like it when he can’t contain himself around you — he blames you for it. tells you that you’ve severed him so abysmally that he’s having a hard time now keeping it soft around you (he’s not lying). that you broke him and should take responsibility for it. chuckles fill the room and mix in between your kisses that later turn into breathy moans and pants mixed in between countless of i love you’s and you’re mine and mine only’s.

but sometimes, such as today, he takes things a bit too far…

like,

—you can’t simply fuck your wife during one of the prenatal visits just because the doctor left the examination room for a bit and your dick is rock-hard from seeing your wife’s belly out in the open.

“you have to be kidding me”, you raise your brows in absolute surprise as you watch your husband unbuckle his pants, “now? HERE?”

“please?”, he looks at you, cheeks flushed and eyes of a pleading puppy.

you knew he was up to something from the glint in his eyes as he kept staring at your exposed belly earlier, completely transfixed, only his eyes following the ultrasound probe as the doctor pressed it over your tummy.

“the doctor’s going to come any moment, you know right?”, you try to confirm he is aware that this can go very wrong.

“yes, but so am i — you don’t want me walking around in cum drenched pants, right?”, he purses his lips into a pout, one that’s obviously fake (but it works on you, even if you refuse to admit it).

“it’s not like you’ve never done it before”, you mock.

“that was only one time”, he pouts (this one’s not a fake), “okay, maybe two or three times, but it happens even to the best” (it was more than two or three times)

“aha”

“oi. whose fault do you think it was? you make a man go crazy. i mean, look at me right now, just look — i am standing here with my dick almost out for you, in the doctor’s office”

“so you realize this is absolutely crazy but still you won’t pack your dick away?”

“no, i will not. i’ll die if i don’t get to fuck you this instant. and i mean it, it hurts so much. and the authorities will suspect you did it, you know. because it’s always the wives anyway…..and they won’t be wrong about it”

“you’re hopeless, satoru”, you sigh, giving him a roll of your eyes.

but still, leaning on your elbows you slowly rise yourself from the examination table and sit at the edge of it, removing the towel covering your thighs. spreading your legs for him, you think that you really made the right choice to wear a dress today — less in the way for your husband and another one of his “if i don’t get to fuck my wife, i’ll die” episodes.

“i am”, he saunters over to you, biting his lower lip at the sight of your thighs and the beautiful belly hanging in between, “but i can’t help it when you’re so pretty for me like this, i go crazy”

and fuck, if it doesn’t make you wet the way he looks at you right now as he stops to stand between your open thighs, invading your space with such ease because that’s where he belongs to be. all the signs hint at that, too — the ring on your finger, the baby in your belly and the wetness dripping from your cunt, ready to welcome him in.

“yea, you really do”, you pull the front of his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, earning a low hiss from him upon your hand making contact with it.

“all because of you”, he places his hands under your ass and slightly pulls you to himself. you’re immediately met with where he’s hard, it’s poking and rubbing against your belly.

a moan crawls up his throat and breaks out into a satisfied groan. part of him wants to cum just like this — by rubbing himself against your belly. but god, you smell so good down there that it shifts his desire. now that he’s so close to you — standing right in front of your doors — he can smell it so much better. your scent wafts up from your heat and goes straight to his nostrils, letting his brain register in the most primal of ways that your body is ready for him.

you know he’s noticed the dampness of your panties by the way his smile’s faded into a grin, you can smell yourself in the air around you, too.

“fuck, baby…can cum from this alone, you know? rubbing myself on that pretty belly that i made on you”, satoru whispers as he leans forward to take your mouth into his. his lips are loaded with such intensity that they suck the air from your lungs, leave you moaning into his mouth. the grip he’s got on your ass tightening, his fingers digging into your flesh. “but that won’t do now, so hold on tight”

you comply in silence, wrapping your hands around his neck as he lifts you up just enough to peel your panties down to your thighs, then sits you up again and drags them down your legs and onto the floor.

“just so you know—if someone comes before i do, i’ll just keep fucking you”, he grins at you as he positions himself back between your legs. his words might sound like a joke, an exaggeration of some sort to make it clear how much he wants you right now, but you know better than anyone that he’s pretty serious about it.

“then hurry up, you freak”

his fingers swipe over your cunt — to confirm that you are indeed as ready as your scent gives away — and collect your arousal before rubbing it all over the length of his throbbing cock, mixing your wetness with his vigorously leaking pre.

“open them a little bit more for me, baby”, he coaxes, hands back on your thighs, tapping softly on your skin as a signal to spread them just a little bit more and give him way. you lean back on your hands and push your legs open as much as you can. the motion causing your belly to bump against his cock, squishing it between the two of you, pressing it against his stomach.

“s-shit, baby”, he hisses at the sensation, his body jerks a little and his hips buck forward, against your belly, to deepen the friction, “i can really cum from just rubbing it on you….fuck, that’s crazy”, he laughs.

but satoru stops himself.

his hand moves away from you to get a hold of his cock and help it against your entrance, pushing the head towards your folds before slowly sinking in the entirety of it, bottoming out in you from the very start. there’s no time to waste and he’s got no patience left in him, once he’s in — he’s going all the way.

“nghh, s-satoru”, you whimper at his needy intrusion, but swallow him so easily that your wetness starts to spurt out as he’s starting to dart in and out, trickling down the crack of your ass and dripping onto the examination table.

“fuck, love…look at the way you take me”, he breathily chuckles, head thrown back as he picks up the rhythm of his thrusts, “and you call me crazy, huh…haha, fuck, f-fuc-k” — if his voice was a tad bit louder just now and could keep a steady note, he would’ve sounded maniacal.

“s-shut up….don’t compare me to yourself”, you protest, trying to deny the fact you want him just as bad but the way your walls clench around him proves the other way around. you become who you surround yourself with. he’s crazy to do this to you here of all places. and you’re just as much crazy to let him have his way with you.

you suck him in so deep that his body, caught off guard, jerks and bucks forward. it makes him forget where he starts and where he ends. he wants to let go but also to never stop, he’s fighting so hard but it’s a battle he’s slowly losing. as his pace is growing faster his thrusts are getting sloppier. “shit”, he curses under his breath. his balls are sizzling and he wants to bust so bad but not before he makes you cum.

the tension, the pulsing of his cock and the ridges of his throbbing veins — you can feel them like a heartbeat inside of you, and each time he slams against that sweet spot your clit responds with a beat of its own.

you try to hold your voice back but pants leave through your parted lips as you gasp for air.

“nghh, ’toru…’m gonna cum”, you whimper incoherently as you throw your head back, eyes shut close.

“yea? go on, baby—cum for me. come on, sweetheart—i’ll help you out”, he breathes.

his hands grabbing onto the plush of your thighs with a deadly grip, pulling you closer to help fuck himself into you better. the bottom of your belly is flat against his rock-hard abdomen now and he keeps it that way while ramming himself inside you, rubbing his cock around your sensitive walls, without pulling out. over and over until you squirm and come undone. face grimacing in pleasure and hips jerking from the electrifying sensation as you keep chanting “fuck, fuck, fuck” under your breath as quietly as possible so your voice doesn’t make it past the walls of the examination room for others — doctors, nurses and patients — to hear.

you glance your eyes to him, all disheveled and sweaty as his hips live through the last few thrusts left in them before he implodes inside of you. you hear him grumble how he’s about to fill you up while peering at you with a desperate face.

“f-fuck”, he growls throatily, charging one last time into you before spurting his load inside you. his body shudders from the release he’s been holding back. and he’s pouring too much, his heat spilling and filling your insides. you can feel it all — he’s making a frothy mess of your cunt.

it takes a few seconds after he’s done pouring his seed that his body reigns back control and he stops shuddering. he then looks at you.

“if i pull out now it’ll all spill out, you know? so maybe we should stay—?”

“no.”, you dryly interrupt. “don’t force our luck. put that thing away before someone comes and help me put my panties on”

“but it’ll spill out”, he insists.

“i’ll hold it in, don’t worry”

“oh? you know just the thought alone is doing inhumane things to me all over again, right?”

“satoru. don’t you dare.”

[cythena]

REVENGE

ꨄ︎ synopsis . now you're cursed it seemed. maybe it was karma for your relentless attempts to fluster giyuu. they worked out in the end but now he's set on messing with you too.

warnings . oral f receiving, breeding, awkward moments for reader, cowgirl, fingering, messy kissing, really chill tbh

word count . 3k words

notes . part two to this post! since i got a request for it i was a little bit stuck on what to do soooo i reversed the roles now giyuu gets to have fun.

he's doing it on purpose. that evil evil man. there was no way he was that aloof. he's completely aware of what he's doing and he's enjoying it. he loves getting back at you for everything you've done to him.

everything he's done was a calculated move in order to provoke you. whether it was innocently masked questions or touches, they were all done with the intent to fluster you. your words would jumble together and cheeks grow hot. all while he kept that stupid stoic expression like he wasn't messing with you.

you're so upset but can't help but enjoy this game he's started. you even started distancing yourself from him a little. whenever meeting with him, you try to avoid giving him any opportunities. yet somehow he always manages.

he still makes your head dizzy. even from your distance you admire him, his strong jaw, smooth skin, sharp nose. he's so handsome you wish this game would end soon. then you could finally get your hands on him again — or at least even the score.

it's not fair fun anymore. giyuu let your hook up get to his head. you were always hyper aware of how he reacted to you. he avoided you but his eyes lingered. with a gaze so intense and heavy, it was impossible for you not to notice. you relished in his attention and used it as fuel to your advantage.

on mission assignments together, it was nearly impossible to avoid each other. giyuu had suffered previously whenever ubuyashiki made the ignorant and cruel decision to partner you two together. it was undeniable how well you worked together combat wise, but other than that it was insufferable.

the bright side of it was how fast missions were completed. the most time was spent walking together and back, then separating to return home.

"y/n," his voice calls for you from the trees in front. his back is turned to you while he sheaths his sword. when he turns to you, you're flicking blood off the metal of yours with a twirl of your hand.

"yes, tomioka?" your melodic voice rings in his ears. he mentally scowls at the use of his last name once again.

you take few steps to move closer to him, keeping your distance still. he closed a decent amount of the distance to stand in front of you. he bends his neck slightly to meet your eyes.

"we'll stay at an inn for the night."

you're not given time to respond before he's walking to way back to the village. you follow him with a short distance between you until you reach the inn.

the inn is a decent sized place, refurbished and well kept. it's clean and a little busy. a few customers are returning to their rooms with buzzed looks on their faces.

giyuu speaks to the receptionist. he's an older man, sweet faced and kind looking. a woman standing next to him looks to be his tired wife. her eyes are shut and she's wobbles a little.

"good evening. you travelers are out quite late," he smiles and leads you to a room. you trail behind giyuu.

his wife holds freshly steamed yukatas which she hands off to you while a drowsy smile. "have a lovely night you two."

the man shuts the door behind you. from the outside you hear the woman speak again.

"what a sweet couple. the man reminds me of you when you were younger."

your ears perk up now. you glance around the room realizing the circumstances. you were give a single room because they assumed you were together. not that you had a problem with it but still. did you two really look like a couple?

giyuu was already settled near a small table. he begins ridding his haori and sword, placing them on the ground neatly. you remove your outer layers too, opting to be mature about the situation if he is as well.

you face the other direction until he calls your name.

"i need your help, my wound requires bandaging."

"oh, i'll be there in a moment," you reply. you turn your back to him once more to finish taking off your sword.

he takes a seat on the table. his legs spread open, his wrist rests on his thigh and his hand hangs. the other arm props the rest of his body up from behind his back. his collar is loosened and stretched from his neck, revealing his adam's apple.

you swallow thickly at the sight. it's almost...arousing.

you brush it off and focus. "where's your injury?"

giyuu's hand reaches from his thigh and tugs from the opening in his collar. somehow he yanks the buttons open in a single motion. he pulls one side of his shirt away from the center and lets it slide off his arm.

a red wound stretches across the side of his lower torso, next to the eye catching muscles of his abdomen. it makes your mouth water on sight — even though it's nothing you haven't seen before.

your face burns and your eyes go wide. it's inexorable. you notice how giyuu's eyes squint as he watches your face reveal your feelings.

"is there a problem?" he asks, keeping eye contact. "are you able to help?"

that little bastard- you think to yourself.

"yes. just give me the bandages?" you mutter. you try to speed up the process as much a possible.

you kneel down between his legs to reach easier. you're eye to abs with him now. pushing the thought out of your head, you wrap the bandages around him.

giyuu smiles while you're focused on his wound. the sight of your head between his thighs is something he's shamelessly fantasized about. suddenly your head shoots up and you catch the coy smile playing at his lips.

you loose your balance and fall backwards onto your ass. he doesn't react, instead slipping the rest of his shirt off. you take this opportunity to hurry back to your side of the room, far away from him and his stupidly defined abs.

you needed a nice break. finding time in your schedules to meet with mitsuri and shinobu was difficult. a free slot in your schedules aligned on the day of a festival in your town. so the three of you planned a date for that evening.

you all dressed in beautiful clothing, a refreshing change from your corps uniform. you wander the stalls together through the bustling crowds. red and orange lights glow and illuminate your faces. mitsuri stops to sample multiple snacks while shinobu admires handmade crafts.

a cat figure catches your eye and you step to the side for a little.

"i'll catch up with you in a moment," you assure them before heading towards the booth.

it's a cute little wooden cat. you pick it up and examine the delicate woodwork.

"i'd like this. how much?"

"eight yen but for a pretty la-"

an arm suddenly extended over your shoulder and offered what looked to be ten to fifteen yen. the owner happily traded the cat for the generous sum. he gave you the cat wrapped in a pretty box.

you turned to thank the kind person. giyuu stood behind you, shadowing you. he also dorned a deep blue yukata.

"tomioka, i didn't expect you to be the festival type," you said. you both stepped away from the stall and continue walking.

"i'm not." he turned his head and gestured to the three familiar boys and young girl. "tanjiro asked me to come."

"and you were just so willing?"

"it's near your house, i hoped to see you."

his words sent heat to your face once again. such romantic words said so stoically. he was doing this on purpose.

"came all the way here in hopes of seeing me?" you tease.

"if you weren't here," he steps closer to you, "i would've went to your house."

"and if i weren't there?"

"i would've waited." where did he learn this from? he's so forward with his words. he returns to his original position and looks off the the side. his gaze lies on nothing i particular as he speaks again, "but kocho mentioned your plans before."

your path takes you towards a quieter part of the festival. it's just as bright but with more seating and open space available. the loud atmosphere is replaced by a relaxed one. the crickets chirping becomes more apparent now.

you're admiring a particularly beautiful latern when your foot catches an uneven stone in the pavement. you lose your balance and in a flurry of movement, fall forward. giyuu reacts swiftly.

his arms reach out and wrap around your waist and pull you close to his chest. your arms smoosh against his body as your heart races.

"i remember you telling me...not to fall for you," you must be crazy because you hear a chuckle in that statement.

giyuu's soft gaze lingers on you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. you push your palms flat against his chest to get off. before beginning to move, your own lips curled into a playful grin.

"it seems it's too late for me," you whisper.

"y/n!" a high pitched voice gasps.

your head whips to see mitsuri and shinobu joining you and giyuu.

shinobu's eyes close as she brings her fingers to stifle her laugh. "my my, i wouldn't have expected tomioka-san to be so close to anyone, let alone, y/n."

"if you and tomioka-san had a date please don't let us interrupt!" mitsuri's face flushed in excitement at the sight of you and giyuu holding each other.

you quickly push yourself off of him and walk over to them.

"no! we don't have a date, it's not what it looks like." your voice is a giveaway to your humiliation. you hide your expression from all three of them to mask your embarrassment.

a few days after the festival, you don't get any interaction with giyuu. no missions or training sessions bring you together. the distance makes you a bit relentless.

you settle down in your yard, admiring the afternoon. a kakushi calls your attention.

"y/n-sama, i have a letter from tomioka-sama," they say with a bow.

curious and pleased to see some interest from giyuu. you walk over over to the kakushi. they hand you a neatly folded up paper. it's the usual template for any giyuu letter. you'd be concerned if it were longer.

"i need to see you. come to my house as soon as you can - giyuu tomioka."

how dry-

you thank the kakushi and walk back into your house. with no pressing matters at the moment, you decide to visit him immediately. the letter seemed somewhat important.

the journey to his house is quick and you find yourself at his door in no time. you knock firmly. there's a brief pause before the door slides open.

giyuu reveals himself shirtless, his toned muscles and faint scars from battles past on full display. the lighting from the oil lamp highlights the contours of his well-defined chest. he uses his elbow against the frame to hold his head up.

"giyuu what the fuck—" it slips out of you.

his fingers spread through strands of his hair as he gazes down at you. "you're here."

"it seemed urgent," you swallow, trying to keep your composure. he moves aside to let you in. "obviously not that urgent. why are you dressed like this?" you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"is there a problem?" he asks with innocent in his voice.

"when you have guests over—"

"but it's nothing you haven't seen before."

confidence instills itself in you. "so you're dressed like that because i'm here?"

"isn't it more comfortable this way?"

you roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “perhaps. comfortable or not, it’s still a bit unexpected.”

he chuckles softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “well, if you’re uncomfortable, i can change.”

the playful glint in his eyes tells you he’s enjoying this moment far more than he’s letting on. you take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

“no, don’t bother. let's just get to why I’m here.”

as you turn, giyuu steps closer, his presence warm and unmistakable. “if you insist,” he says, his voice low and soft.

he closes the distance between you. your back is pressed against a wall. his lips capture yours in a sudden, fervent kiss. the softness and warmth of his touch make your heart race, and you melt into the kiss, losing yourself in the moment. his hands grasp your face delicately, like glass. you layer your hands on top of his.

he's gentle at first. his lips brush against yours with tender and soft motions. the intensity rises as the pressure of his kiss and fingertips increases. the fervor behind them is fueled by passion, desperation, and yearning. your mouth feels like a fire that only he can cool.

you part with a deep inhale, your chest rises and falls while a string connects your lips.

"that's what i'm here for?"

"not all."

he yanks your shirt off and tosses it. his hands reach to undo your belt while keeping your lips interlocked. you skirt falls onto his floor. he's practically salivating at the sight of your body.

he knew he missed it but not this much.

he pulls back to gawk at your bare body, free from anything barriers. he brings his hands to settle in on your hips.

"nuh uh." you shake your head and gesture to his pants.

he reluctantly pulls away from you to shed his pants. he wastes no time before attacking your lips once again. he trails kisses and bites down your neck until he reaches your nipple. he takes one into his mouth while he tweaks the other with his index and thumb. he uses his other hand to slide across your clit, gathering your slick and then sliding between your folds. his tongue swirls the bud and teeth nibble lightly to tease. you hold onto the base of of his head.

"tomioka," you sigh. you're immediately cut off when he bites harder than usual.

"stop that."

you smile to yourself, pleased with riling him up. you lean back against the wall and sigh. you relax into his touch and in what feels like seconds, you feel yourself tighten around his fingers.

"giyuu! h-hah."

he slows fingers, almost halting your peak completely. your eyes shoot open to see him lowering himself to his knees. you could cum just from seeing his eyes looking up at you. he lets his tongue out before his face disappears between your thighs.

your body doubles over. he matches his fingers to the pace of his unrelenting tongue. he greedily slurps up the heavenly taste of your cunt. you feel the smile pressed against your folds.

high squeals are pulled from your throat. he takes your thigh and rests it on his shoulder. both your hands tangle in his hair and push his deeper.

"oh, i'm cu-mming," you whine.

he spreads your cunt to blow cold air that makes you shiver. his nose pressed against your clit now while his tongue dips into your pussy. a swipe of his tongue is enough to tip you over.

your thighs press against his head while he continues to swallow every bit of you he can get. you're forced to push him away from you. his lips and chin are drenched and all he can do it lick around his lips and fingers.

he looks up you with hazy eyes and uneven breathing.

"ride me?"

you nod, still dizzy. giyuu lies back and rests on his elbows. you straddle him and hover over his cock. your palm wraps around the base to guide him into your hole. he steadies himself by grabbing your hips with a hand.

you slowly rock back and forth, gradually moving to a steady bounce. giyuu lets out soft sighs of relief. his adam's apple bobs with each swallow. he helps you bounce with his hand on you.

"mhm- shit," he groans.

you speed up your pace and steal more sounds from him and force them from yourself.

"hah- fuck fuck, feels good." his breathing grows heavier.

you're practically slamming yourself down on his cock. he reaches that spot that has you squealing every time. you squeeze down on him and your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.

giyuu pushes your back down so you're flat on your stomach against him. he bends his knees for leverage and thrusts into you.

your head falls into his neck while you relinquish control. his thrusts are dangerously good. your legs are going weak.

"jus' like that...please, i'm gonna-"

he pulls you away and captures your lips in a deep kiss. he holds the back of your neck.

your pussy contracts around his cock. shivers rack through your whole body and you can't stop. "giyuu!" you sob.

your back arches further into him.

"so pretty." his gasp catches you off guard. you're locked into eye contact with him. he whimpers underneath his breath. "can i- cum?"

you're shocked he's asking for permission. a part of you wants to deny and tease but he's been so good to you.

you start to meet his thrusts which pulls a loud gasp from him. you stroke his cheek with your thumb, teasing just a bit.

"you can cum."

timed perfectly, giyuu spurts his load deep inside of you instantly. he refuses to look anywhere else besides your eyes. he's still rocking your hips onto him when he's done.

slowly, he comes down from his high. you settle down against his chest with his cock still inside you.

"hmm, don't wanna get up," you mumble.

giyuu wraps his arms around you. "don't."

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[fawnhunter]

natural instincts…

sick and laying in my bed which also means i can’t stop thinking about cregan and the stark baby making gene that definitely runs in the family. cw: dis is mostly smut with a side of fluff, no angst at all. talk of breeding and imprégnation, as well as some talk of family life.

so it’s no secret to any of the beautiful brains on tumblr that the stark men have a certain habit of tripping and falling and maybe putting a baby in their pretty lady wives. and well i believe that cregan stark is no different. it’s so fucking cold in the north, and even though he is a man grown that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a nice warm cunt to settle into at the end of the night. he works so hard :/ constantly walking around and performing his duty as lord of the north.

i can imagine how insufferable he’d be before you are wed. the thought of building a family with you always on him mind. sneaking into ur chambers before the sun is y over the hills, just to slide into bed with his hand on your stomach and dream about the life he can’t wait to have with you. talking over ir shoulder until you go to sleep and slipping back into his own chambers. it gets even worse once u finally belong to him under the eyes of the seven. on ur first official night together, during the bedding ceremony, he was incredibly gentle with you. so grateful to have you as his wife that he could even think to push you abt heirs. no he’s never allow those old fuck in the room to watch as he takes you over and over again, he allows them to listen to ur cries through the walls, opening the chamber doors and tossing the sheets at them after splitting u open on his cock for the first time that night. happiest man on the planet once he gets you back in his arm and under one of his favorite pelts.

i can imagine one day he sees you talking one of the young lords who had gotten lost and was search for his mother. stumbled upon you coddling him and wiping his tears until another his morhwr is found again. the whole ordeal has him feeling some kind of way, he can’t even find it in himself to approach you over the feeling of him stiffening between his thighs. he thinks about it for the rest of the day, the thought of making you a mother. just lalala scatter brained cregan stumbling around the training grounds things about stirring up ur guts the second you get back to ur shared chambers and keeping you on ur back until ur sure to be taken with his seed.

nsfw!!!!

baby making time! cregan is my man with a plan. he has been planting little seeds in ur brain for weeks now. talking about how cute having someone who looks just like you would be. or how much he would love to see ur belly get rounder with ever passing moon. wrapping his hands around ur stomach and pressing down right where ur womb would be, rocking you back and forth while pressing his slowly gardening cock into ur backside. his plan is going so well that it’s only be a matter of time before he has ur body crowded against the sheets of his bed. face down with tears wetting his sheets while his pillow sits comfortably underneath ur hips. sliding his cock in the space between ur thighs before finally oushing past the tight space of ur cunt. his front pressed against ur back while he lifts his hips and slams back into you at a toe curling pace. one hand keeping ur hips pressed against his while the other wraps around ur front, groping at whatever he can feel to lift you back into him, swallowing ur whines with a kiss. when all is said and done he likes to pull out and admire his work, the mess he’s made of you. rolling you over and sliding the pillow back under ur hips so you’ll be sure to bless him with a mini stark sometime soon.

he also is not the kind of man who refrains form touch you while you are with his child. it’s hard to ignore the way ur chest starts to swell along with your stomach, spilling out of the lovely dresses you wear. or the way ur body starts to beings softer.. more plush. completing him to dig his fingers into ur hips and revel in the marks he leave behind. so head over heels for his pregnant lady wife that he might wanna start keep her that way. swollen and sweet with his child.

this was typed during a fever dream so sorry for any mistakes. hotd requests are open!

[tropes-and-tales]

Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11:  Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4096

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains.  It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache.  You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south.  The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue. 

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply.  “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal. 

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly.  The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly.  The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention.  You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten.  Maybe that’d be better.  You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone.  It means nothing. 

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap.  You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself:  you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him.  Turning him over and over in your mind. 

Soap MacTavish.  Handsome, almost unbearably so.  He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious.  Friendly.  He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question.  Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile.  He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply.  You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.”  He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber.  “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.”  You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.”  You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter.  “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong.  Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains.  You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap.  But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another.  You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission.  Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all:  Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever.  Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke.  He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price.  He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured. 

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you.  You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match.  When you walk past, he notices, sits up.  Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes.  He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff.  “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own.  “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.”  You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you. 

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing.  “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.  His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree.  You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission.  You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing.  “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.”  You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close.  He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you. 

You’re not sure what spurs your next move.  You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger.  You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move.  But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought.  Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess.  Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise.  His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it.  His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you.  You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?”  His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink.  Refuse to look away.  “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.”  You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm.  “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back.  He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters.  Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke.  You could still back out.  Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him.  It could change the tenor of the team.  And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day?  Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity?  Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both?  Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him.  Sweet Johnny MacTavish.  Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing.  Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone.  “If you do.  If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name.  “Wasn’t joking at all.”  Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face.  It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy). 

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says.  He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first.  Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse.  He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters.  Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative.  It’s uncharted territory.  He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either.  But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours.  One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg.  Everything about him is warm, really:  the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you.  And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed.  You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless.  He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking:  when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on.  Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy.  He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks.  He pats his upper chest.  “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is.  Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing.  But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown.  Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate.  There’s a lot of trust on both ends:  he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck.  And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…”  You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl.  I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide.  The accent is not fighting fair.  Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair.  It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed.  But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own.  His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen  Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him.  Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him?  Do you straddle him lower and scoot up?  You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned.  Any other man?  It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too.  He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are.  His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all.  There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core.  “Tell me what is working for you, yeah?  Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser.  It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine.  He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance.  He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does. 

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him.  Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair.  He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny.  Just like t-that.”

“Good?”  It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.”  You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too. 

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.”  Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.”  And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs.  His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone.  But there’s something about this position.  You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you.  You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out.  “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks.  Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway.  He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless.  You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days.  You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment.  You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh.  “Yeah, that was good.  Especially for someone who’s never done it before.”  A beat.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again.  “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex.  Coming makes you stupid.  “Huh?  When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head.  “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him.  He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated.  “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.”  He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him.  He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders.  “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation:  the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed.  Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees.  “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms.  You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

[hamsternella]

maybe a sfw alphabet🤭 stanford!!

Stanford Pines SFW Alphabet

A= Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Stanford is an eloquent man who always knows what to say on many subjects, as long as that doesn't mean he has to be clear about his feelings. And it's not because he doesn't feel it honestly; much less that he doesn't love you as intensely as you love him. It's just hard. It's that simple.

Ford would choose to show his affection for you with actions. Words are not going to be lacking, but showing you how he feels rather than saying it is much easier. So outside of shyness, this man is full of affection and tenderness; and always ready to let you know it. There isn't a day where you don't find his gaze full of love, with a smile painted on his face and his fingers trembling with the need to caress your cheek.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start)

Here is something to consider regarding three primary moments.

Arriving in Gravity Falls, Ford turns out to be an educated and interesting man. He is young, with a bright future and lots of fresh ideas. You meet him during a walk in the woods; it could also be outside a store, where you make conversation and help him carry his groceries. Be that as it may, you and Ford promise to meet again, and inevitably become very good friends. He enjoys a company to surprise with his discoveries, feeding his ego as a scientist and first-time researcher; and you find a place of comfort among books and secrets that fill your head with fantasies and stories. He is a trustworthy man, with a kind heart and good intentions. He is an extremely pleasant person.

During the construction and management of the portal Ford becomes paranoid and insufferable. He begins to become selfish, and even borders on narcissistic as his head fills with voices that lead him down strange and disturbing paths; his dreams destroyed as he seems to coexist with those who don't belong in his world. Needless to say, at this point your friendship with him fragments. Ford does not seem to trust you, and his words as well as his treatment of you are given with violence and bad taste.

Today, returning after so many years, Ford is a man weighed down by the miseries he had to suffer as payment for his past ambition. You find in his eyes the ghost of regret; and although it is difficult to completely forget the pain and mistreatment, it does not cost you much to reconcile to recover the bond that had been suspended in time. That Ford you missed, with his sweet eyes and sensitive heart, has returned. Your best friend.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Ford loves to give hugs, although it's not something he recognizes as such. He does it almost unconsciously. Sometimes you are sitting on the couch or in his study, in peace, other times even outside soaking up the sun and watching the kids play; and you will find his arm hanging off the back, wrapping around your shoulders so he can find a space to rest or to feel closer to you. It is trust and affection that lead this man to feel at home with those people who are special to him. You are already family!

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The idea of settling down fits Ford like a glove. At first it's complicated, because all his attention and commitment goes to science. But if he can find someone who can fit into his lifestyle, the option certainly begins to feel possible.

Now... let's see. First you have to keep in mind that this guy has been lost in other dimensions for years. All he knows about recipes are abominations impossible to find in the human world. It's as simple as that. Despite this, Ford is quick to learn; so a recipe book, and some help, can get this guy to master the skill and make friends in the kitchen.

As for the rest, Ford is not a dirty man but a messy one. He understands himself, just the same. It's as if the mess works in patterns and guides him to everything he needs… that, or he just forgets and doesn't say anything so as not to embarrass himself. Whatever it is, someone help this man.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It's hard for him, but he does it quickly and without spinning. Ford likes to get it over with as quickly as possible so he doesn't have to keep seeing your face. It's like taking a stab in his heart—the need to take you in his arms becomes dangerous.

F= Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The idea of marriage doesn't enter his head until he meets someone with whom he feels he is entirely compatible. Other than that, Ford is a man who is not afraid of commitment in any form.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Extremely gentle. Ford is a tender man, with feelings that hurt against his chest because of the intensity with which he allows himself to be affected by those he cherishes. Physically he can be clumsy, but he is gentle nonetheless.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

He likes them without a doubt. He doesn't ask for it much, though; but he accepts them without a problem. He always does it with a smile. He thinks the gesture is nice.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him quite a while to say it without a problem. It's not that he doesn't feel it, it's that he just has a hard time with it. Chances are you'll end up saying it first, and eventually Ford will have the confidence to take the initiative and take you by surprise. As he does so his eyes twinkle, and the corners of his lips twitch with the birth of a shy smile.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

Ford is not a particularly jealous man. If he does feel that way, he is likely to frown and look annoyed or uncomfortable. He would be embarrassed to admit that such an attitude was the result of a jealous rage.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are slow and sensual. Ford loves to kiss you on the lips, forehead and neck.

For his part, he likes to receive kisses on the lips, on the back of his hands —which he considers a sweet gesture and appreciates greatly— and on the cheek.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ford tends to be a fun and sweet man around children. He's responsible, and you can easily tell he enjoys taking care of them. He tires quickly, though.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Despite having a lot of projects on his plate, not sleeping and, sometimes, not eating properly, Ford has an uncanny knack for waking up early. He does it with sleepy eyes; but always with a goofy smile if he happens to find you, the kids or Stan around the cabin. Always the tousled hair, the slow walk and the slightly hunched back—but that's okay! A good breakfast, a moment in the fresh air and this guy is ready to start the day! He does it quietly, though.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Although there is always something to research or do, Ford prefers to take a moment to enjoy a role-playing campaign, a movie or a walk with you if the evening is perfect to allow it. Sometimes the time is perfect to lie in bed, with a couple of hot drinks or sweet snacks, and some books. It doesn't matter what; but Ford has to spend the nights with you if you're there. There is no way to miss a moment that is special to him.

Hopefully you get to spend some family time with the others, too!

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

Many of his secrets, or special details, are things Ford has told you long ago. After his return from the portal, it will be difficult for him to continue to share many others with you—but it's not impossible.

If you meet Ford after his return from the portal for the first time in your entire life, it's going to cost him three times as much. It is assumed that in this case you are new and that leads to distrust, fear of rejection and ridicule.

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Not so easily. Ford is patient.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

Does he remember your favorite flavor? But of course. Does he remember that day, on that date, back then, more than ten years ago...? But please, of course he does. This is Ford we're talking about; this guy does role-playing campaigns, runs his own library on alien languages, and has even gone so far as to learn the colors you don't like about the candy you two eat on movie nights. He always sets them aside for you to eat in peace. He always remembers.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

To have met you. To run into you was to have given him the opportunity to have an amazing person like you in his life. That day surpasses any other discovery—coming to Gravity Falls, and seeing you with his own eyes. You are now a part of his life; every day is an ideal moment. In the bad, and in the good.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

Ford keeps an eye on you whenever you accompany him on his quests deep in the forest. He is more than ready to fight to keep you out of danger, using his weapons or even his hands if necessary. Taking care of others is a priority.

But speaking of himself, Ford wouldn't know exactly how he would like to be protected. Maybe have his life saved if he finds himself cornered; but it would be difficult considering his experience. It's difficult if he has someone on the side to look out for, of course. If that person is also experienced, then he would like to fight side by side. It would be fun.

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot of effort, although it is quite clumsy and in the end requires the help of someone else to put his ideas in order. If it's about his feelings it's hard not to lose his head in the process.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Despite being a sweet person, Ford can become quite inconsiderate when there is something he wants/desires very much, and in turn there is someone in the way to reach that goal. From hurtful or uncomfortable words, to acts that go so far as to make you feel abandoned. It's as if there's a button in his head; something that transforms him into a silent, dark and detached man from the real world.

Also, Ford can end up being very overprotective; and even have narcissistic attitudes for which it is better to walk away for a moment so as not to start a fight. It's not always.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too much. The most you've seen him struggle is with his beard. Ford prefers to incinerate it for an instant tidy look... and not so safe, though.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In the beginning, yes, definitely. It would take Ford years to get over your loss, and there would even come a point where he would have to accept living with that pain if he can't fill the void, or understand that you're not coming back.

If he were to overcome it, there would be times when homesickness would hit him hard; but he could go on with life as usual. Ford has suffered enough losses already—one more shouldn't stop him in his tracks.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Ford can sleep anywhere, and in almost any position. It's a skill he's acquired over time. Sometimes it takes you by surprise to arrive at the cabin at night, and find him fast asleep in corners that make you feel as if you're going to wake up with an intense pain in your neck. It is enviable, especially at his age.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

Violent, delusional, crazy and demonic people. Especially if they happen to be creatures from some other dimension with anger issues.

Z= Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

If you put your shoulder near him, chances are Ford will eventually drop his head on it. Sometimes he even goes so far as to intertwine his fingers with yours.

[tojipie]

adah … reader sliding toji her panties during a visit … him jerking off with them in his cell … (i know realistically it wouldn’t work bc regulations blah blah blah guards would see it and all BUT but indulge me for a sec) this man would go FERAL FOR THEM ((satosugu would try to steal them deprived freaks))

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: jerking off, mentions of violence, panty kink .. ? if that’s not a thing ignore that tag

you don’t know what had gotten into you today, truly. 

the idea had popped into your head as you were getting dressed, a little voice in the back of your brain directing your thoughts toward the maxi skirt you’d bought on an outing last weekend.

the fabric was opaque, impossibly silky. ebbing and flowing along the dips of your body all the way down to your ankles. tight enough to show off your figure but not enough to restrict your movements. easy to maneuver in without being too obvious.

that’s precisely why you have no issues wiggling your panties off each hip under one of the prison’s many visitor tables, letting the black lace slip over your knees and around your ankles.

you let one foot slip out of the garment, lifting your leg to brush against toji’s calf slowly.

huh? 

he whispers, amused at what he thinks is a little game of footsie. the inmate palms at the meat of your calf lovingly, traveling down down down until calloused fingers close around your ankle.

oh.

he’s quiet when he says it, eyes blown wide with a mix of shock and arousal. you barely hear him over the bustle of the visitor hall, the small smile gracing his face being your only indication of what he’s about to do.

toji delicately lifts the fabric from around your leg, scanning the perimeter to make sure no one’s looking. emerald eyes bore into yours as your boyfriend balls the garment up in his fist, bringing his closed hand up to his mouth.

and then he kisses it. kisses your panties through the gaps in his fingers without ever looking away, sending a lightning bolt of arousal straight to the deepest pit of your stomach.

you swear you see him stuff the fabric down the front of his pants before he heads back.

˚ ✧ ───

your little gift doesn’t last a chance in the shitty hiding place he picked, haphazardly thrown under the swell of his pillow while he eats lunch in the mess hall. all toji knows is that they were in his cell mates’ greedy little paws by the late afternoon, the two insufferable men huddled around the item like schoolgirls reading a magazine.

“how the fuck did you get these past customs?” geto asks in disbelief, turning the fabric over in the dim light. gojo runs a lithe finger over the lace border in silent interest. 

“didn’t get it in the mail dumbass,” your boyfriend sneers, snatching the black lace from both men with a huff. 

“so y’r broad snuck them to you, huh?” gojo teases, head hanging off the edge of the bunk with boredom. 

toji couldn’t stomp the two young men half to death like he usually would, disappointing as that was. he did only just get visitation rights back again after his last infraction.

the last time he’d beat geto’s face in was after the younger man had got his hands on a picture of you, earning toji 2 months in solitary confinement.

he really did think he was starting to go crazy, spending 22 hours a day in that padded room with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. being fed through a tray slot in the wall like a fucking zoo animal. 

more time in solitary meant less time with you. less time with the picture of you he tacked to the underside of the top bunk with a wad of gum, palming himself slowly as he takes in the sight of your sweet little smile he knows all too well.

less time with the soft clutch of your panties caressing the underside of his dick, catching milky ropes of cum as he finishes all over his stomach on the slab of metal this place calls a bed.

and a whole lot less time of getting to rut into you under the dim light of a spare storage closet, hours after dark. hand closed right around your lips as he takes you over and over and over.

so if toji had to bite his tongue till he drew blood and settle for jerking his dick raw as a distraction, then so be it. at least your little present would keep him good company till’ your next visit.

taglist🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pietro Maximoff x mutant fem!reader

Summary: You hate Pietro for how he treats you, or at least you do until you're stuck in an elevator with him.

Genre: hurt and comfort, enemies to lovers (only they aren't "enemies") <3

Warnings: Pietro is a dick in the beginning, panic attacks, claustrophobia, swearing, i use Czech to represent Sokovian (probably shitty translation)

~ thank you for requesting @princesssunderworld! loved this prompt sm! i wrote this for Pietro because we need more Pietro content asap and i have so many wips for Tangerine already! I hope you like this! ~

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

Pietro Maximoff is quite possibly your worst nightmare. 

While he does have the face of an angel, all doe-eyed and charming smile, he somehow manages to make your life a living hell. He's like some beautiful, insufferable, devil that constantly insists on sitting promptly on your shoulder. 

Mostly, he spends his days finding any excuse to either argue with you or undermine you. During training, he constantly makes snarky comments on your form and purposefully speeds by you to knock you on your ass. He'll always wear the same smirk when you chew him out, almost like he's amused and you despise it.

You hate him. 

And most of all, you hate how it makes you feel. How he makes your cheeks feel warmer and that unfamiliar feeling bubble in your stomach. 

Wanda tries to convince you he has a school-boy crush on you—like some little boy who likes pulling little girls' hair on the playground. You don't want to hear it. He's a grown man now, not a boy anymore. If he has a crush, he should deal with it like an adult. 

One afternoon, Pietro had just pulled one of his so-called pranks on you, causing you to walk under a bucket of cold water and successfully drenching you and rendering the flames that usually spark from your hands from your anger into smoke.

The Avengers in the room training grow silent as Pietro, sitting on the weightlifting bench, bursts into laughter. 

"Pietro!" Wanda shrieks, immediately rushing to you from where she'd been talking to Vision but you shake your head, frustrated tears threatening to brim in your eyes.

You send Pietro a glare and storm out of the room, shaking your wet sleeves. 

You're too busy mumbling curses under your breath to hear Wanda shout at her twin brother as you furiously press the elevator button. When the doors opens you do hear his voice, however, "Y/n! Princezna (Princess)!" 

You rush into the elevator and spin around, pressing the close button as fast as you can but obviously, Pietro is much faster.

He reaches you before the doors close, almost slamming into you as his body vibrates from the aftermath of his powers. His hand comes up behind your head instinctively so you don't hit your head against the wall and he glances down at you, his blue eyes piercing into yours. 

You push him away just as the elevator wobbles and the sound of something snapping is heard. Pietro's speed must have somehow messed up the elevator system because the elevator starts to fall. 

You gasp, reaching for the only other person in the elevator,  and Pietro is by your side in an instant, crouching you both into one corner, his arms tightening around your waist as the elevator falls three stories and then halts with a loud screech.

Your mutation sometimes manifests when you're stressed, so you barely even register that you've set a part of Pietro's sleeve on fire from where you're clutching his arm until the sprinkler in the elevator turns on, soaking you both. 

"Hey, miláček (darling)," Pietro holds one of your cheeks in his hand, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he sees the white cloud in your eyes disappear and you blink. "You're okay." You're breathing heavily now, staring at him until you snap and push him away, curling your arms around your knees.

You look at the elevator panel only to see it's broken. Pietro is trying his hardest to pry the doors open, but even with his speed, they remain shut.

"Fuck Tony Stark," Pietro groans and slumps to the ground in front of you, running a hand in his silver hair as he sends you a lopsided grin. "You okay, princezna (princess)?" 

You glare at him. 

Pietro lifts his arms in surrender. 

You check your watch. The team should realize something went wrong and rescue you at any moment. You'll be fine, you try reminding yourself but the walls seem to be pressing in faster and faster. You feel dizzy as tears blur your vision and you haven't realized that you've started hyperventilating until Pietro touches your arm. 

You gasp again and look up at him, frightened. His expression softens as he kneels in front of you, looking you over. He looks concerned, which is a first.

"I- I can't breathe," you manage to croak out, your voice strained. As much as you don't want to turn to Pietro for help, you need him. 

Pietro nods, understanding your panic now. He soothes you and holds out his palm. "Breathe. It's okay. You're safe," he says and shakes his palm a little. He wants you to hold his hand. 

You sniffle, still having trouble breathing correctly as your fingers stroke against Pietro's palm and he smiles. His skin is warm and the shock centers you for a moment.

"There. I'm right here, miláček (darling)," he pauses and his hand vibrates a little, controlling his powers just enough so that he can show you he's here. 

The sensation elicits a laugh from you as you look up at him, matching the breathing he's showing you. Pietro's smile widens, his heart only half-breaking from the tears brimming in your eyes and he resists the urge to wipe your cheeks. 

"Shhh, there you go. Breathe. Dýchej, anděli, dýchej (Breathe, angel, breathe)."

Minutes later, Wanda is fussing over you as you sit in the lounge room after Tony rescued you and Pietro. She wraps a towel around your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" She keeps repeating as she ignores her equally wrecked-looking brother standing in the corner as Clint and Steve talk to him. You nod, eyes round from the entire ordeal. 

"Did he make it worse? Because I'll kill him—"

You shake your head, glancing at Pietro. Your cheeks burn hot when you catch his gaze and you snap your head back to Wanda, who just looks confused. 

"No– he helped me," you whisper, watching realization sparkle in her eyes. 

Still, she doesn't say anything.  

* * *

Pietro isn't awful to you anymore. He's the opposite. 

He's sweet. 

You find the shift weird so you avoid him. You avoid him until you physically can't anymore because he's blocking the door to the kitchen as you stand in the refrigerator light, a spoon stuck in your ice cream tub.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He's wearing his pajamas as they hang just under his v-line, his hair a mess as he yawns. 

"What are you doing up, princezna (princess)?" he asks and walks over, grabbing another spoon and leaning against the counter, and shakes the spoon for you to share the ice cream. You hand him the tub, staring at him intensely.

"What?" Pietro smirks, his mouth full as he winces. "Sakra, je zima (Damn, it's cold)." 

"Thank you," you blurt out. You're a week late but you don't care.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"Helping me in the elevator. It meant a lot," you say, shifting nervously.

Pietro's smile softens and he sets the ice cream down, licking his lips. He walks over, cornering you into the counter but you don't feel threatened. You feel safe. He lifts his hand and hesitates at your cheek.

"Y'know, I'd be quite an asshole to let you suffer like that," he says in a whisper, his Sokovian accent thick as he chuckles. His fingers touch your skin and you shiver, your eyes widening. 

"Didn't stop you before," you mutter.

Pietro frowns. 

"Listen, anděl (angel), I know I haven't been the nicest to you but it's all been in good fun—it's nothing serious," he looks away a moment, searching for his words as he pauses. "I never meant to ever truly hurt you. I- I like you, Y/n. I just didn't know how to tell you so the teasing was easier for me."

You tilt your head, taking in his words. "What was your plan then, Pietro? Make me dislike you so somehow I'd turn around and like you after? That doesn't make any fucking sense. You could have just been sweet like you're being now!"

Pietro looks at you again, his arms caging you in now as his hands flex around the counter. "My feelings for you make no fucking sense," he argues, his eyes locked on yours. "I hate them. I hate how they make me act like a fool when all I want to do is kiss you and hold you close. Vše, co chci, je milovat tě (All I want to do is love you)."

You never wanted to admit it but you love it when he speaks Sokovian and you calm your breathing as your eyes shut. Pietro leans in, his breath ghosting yours. "One word. Say the word and I'll stop. I'll stop everything. I'll leave you alone."

You open your mouth, your eyes following, and you whisper. "Kiss me."

Pietro wastes no time in kissing you, claiming your lips as his own as his hand tightens around your waist. He's pulling you in closer, your body warms so hard as your hands find his cheeks that you're afraid you'll burn him and you try pulling away from him. 

"You won't hurt me," Pietro whispers through his kisses as he refuses to let you go. "I can take it."

You gasp into his mouth as your hands find his hair, pulling on the strands. This feels so unfamiliar and yet, you've never kissed anyone like this. 

Finally, Pietro pulls away and he leans his head on your warm forehead as you catch your breath. 

"Wanda mi dluží dvacet babek (Wanda owes me twenty bucks)," he whispers, mostly to himself as a lovesick smile graces his features. "Moje. Jsi můj. (Mine. You're mine)."

"What are you saying?" you ask, looking into his icy blue eyes you once 'hated' so much.

Pietro smiles and kisses your lips. He doesn't tell you what he means or how he feels. 

Not yet. 

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese, @lqrlei

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 [+ 𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥] 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: dean, sam, castiel, and gabriel

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: dance macabre—ghost

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧

• When Dean first meets you in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on a hunt, he's not surprised that you know his name

• Afterall, he has brought on the apocalypse more than once, and the hunter community isn't exactly known for its ability for people to keep their mouths shut

• What does surprise him, though, is your knowledge on him as a person

• It's nothing creepy— the thought of someone knowing all about him in that way brings him back to where he first met Becky through Chuck, and the thought makes him shudder —but just enough to where it's obvious you've done some digging and people reading of your own

• "Brought back some pie with dinner; didn't know what you wanted so I got apple."

• "Careful handling this case, it's got some nasty demons. We don't want you diving head first into hell. Again."

• "No no, don't use that. It didn't work on that shape-shifter you ganked last year in Massachusetts, so it won't work on this one. Throw it out." You eventually say one night while looking in Baby's trunk for some ammo, and Dean finally turns to face you

• "How did you know that? How do you know any of these things?" He clears his throat, squinting. You shrug with a barely there smile

• "Who do you think cleans up your messes when you're done, Dean? And what can I say. Word gets around."

• It's a simple case of Dean's reputation preceding him. Although, as you discover, there's a lot more to the Winchester than just his precious car, a strange love for greasy food, and his ability to fight off a demon with his bare hands

• "You sure you aren't obsessed with me? Because its totally fine if you're obsessed. I mean, look at me." Dean asks you at one point while gesturing down at himself. He's leaning on his car door in what he probably thought was a sexy manner, watching as you lugged some equipment out to the vehicle. You manage to press your lips together just in time to hide your amused grin

• "Keep dreaming, man." You shake your head. "There's a difference between reading up on people, and stalking them."

• "So you admit it?" He grins misheviously, pushing himself off Baby. "That you've spent your spare time thinking about me?"

• "Sure. And those witnesses never mentioned you'd be this insufferable." You scoff light heartedly, even though thats exactly what some of them said, and leave it at that. But for the rest of the hunt Dean can't stop elbowing you in the ribs to make a playful remark; something that, strangely, you don't find yourself minding

𝐒𝐚𝐦

• Unlike his brother, Sam takes the information that you practically already knew him with a bit of embarrassment

• Sure, he had been (or was supposed to be) Lucifer's vessel, and sure he also had a habit of being at the center of everything world ending, but he never really conciders him anyone other than a hunter that just happens to get the worst cases

• So when you just offhandedly started dropping these facts about him, he's a little off put

• "How'd you know that?"

• "You're literally one of the most infamous hunters to ever exist, Sam. You tangle with angels. Most of us only ever get to meet a werewolf or two before a friend is organizing our funeral the week after."

• "Oh. Right"

• Gets a little curious after a while as to what you exactly know. It's not like he keeps a journal about his feelings that the public can read, and that this point he's just praying you haven't discovered Chuck's Supernatural series, so he'd probably ask you all of what you know and why you know it

• "So you're telling me you've done research on our hunting styles—" Sam asks you while leaning forward. You nod, so he continues. "—and all the people we've ever pissed off?"

• "Call it too much free time, which I certainly don't have enough of these days, but I knew if I ever ran into you two knuckle heads, and I knew it would happen eventually whether I wanted it to or not, then I would need to be prepared." You dragged a hand down your face and exhaled for a moment. "That meant making a checklist of every vamp, demon, or god you've ever had out for your head. And trust me, it's a lot."

• He's silent for a moment after you finish, but it doesn't take long for him to pipe up again

• "Can I see it?"

• Safe to say, after seeing the list, Sam started to rethink some of his past decisions

• "Seriously, how are we not dead yet??"

• "Buddy, I have no idea."

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥

• He does not understand why you seem to know so much about him. Not only as a person, but as an angel

• Castiel is used to the Winchester's asking questions. The first year of knowing them was filled with 'How Did You Do That''s and 'Can You Do This''s. He'd answer all of them, even if he found their questions to be on a kindergarten level most of the time, until eventually they had no more to ask

• You hadn't been like that. Castiel doesn't think he could ever recall you asking him things unless they were about hunts or special circumstances, like the time Sam lost his soul. Hell, you seemed to know more about him than some angels knew about themselves

• Grace knowledge, wing anatomy, biblical lore—you name it and Castiel's probably heard it come out of your mouth at some point

• He gets around to asking you about it one day, albeit very bluntly

• "You don't ask questions." Castiels voice sounds from behind you. You don't even bother to turn around; you heard his wings flutter the moment before he dropped in

• "What do you mean Cas?" You sucked some air between your teeth as you scribbled away at the papers before you. It was something Sam had asked you to follow up on, and you'd been at it for a hot minute now. Hopefully you could make this conversation quick so you could get back to it

• "About angels." A beat of silence. "About me."

• This time you do turn around in your seat to look at him. He's already studying you with that silent squint, and you resist the urge to mirror it

• "Why would I ask questions I already know the answers to?" You parry. The case papers lay on the table, forgotten by now. Your response gets you a rare, but endearing, Cas head tilt

• Upon further questioning, he finds out you'd spent a lot of your early hunting years doing nothing but reading up on anything remotely supernatural. Even calling them 'hunting years' was a stretch. You were more like a crazed researcher that never left the library than a hunter, even resorting to keep mountains upon mountains of notes on ancient lore stored away in the margins of dusty books

• "That's certainly explains why you weren't surprised when we met for the first time and I healed you." Cas's low voice drawled slowly after you gave him a moment to interject. "Or how you knew the symbol for sending us back to heaven before Dean or Sam ever did."

• "Like I said." You smiled to yourself, and Castiel got the feeling he was missing a part of the joke. "Lots of reading."

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

• Do not bring up that you used to have an angel phase back in college. Under no circumstances should you reveal that. He will never let you live it down

• Especially if he finds out you used to study artwork and literature about him specifically

• It's all over the moment he finds your old school books. They're stuffed full of old crinkled pages with his name thrown in there. Of course, this was way back when the idea of angels being real was laughable to you and you still had dreams of graduating college, but that doesn't change to fact that the notes are there, and that Gabriel found them

• "Wait wait wait listen to this—" An old binder is clutched in the hands of a very amused and very heavenly being as he paces around your spot at a table. His eyes are skimming the pages as a speed quicker than light, and Gabriel's shit eating smile grows as he continues to read

• "The archangel Gabriel isn't depicted as much as his brothers Micheal or Lucifer in classic literature, but when he is, it is often as a symbol of great power and beauty—"

• "I'm going to kill you." You cut him off and groan with hot cheeks. Your hands had come up to cover your face a while ago in an attempt to keep what little dignity you had, but something told you it wasn't working

• "Glad to know you think I'm beautiful, sweet cheeks." Was all Gabriel said. You could hear the teasing lit in his voice. Sure enough, when you looked up to glare at him, he was already looking at you and wiggling his brows suggestively. It took you a total to three seconds to throw the closest thing at his head

• "Hey hey! Watch the beautiful goods!" He laughed while dodging a pencil. It his his chest anyway and bounced to the ground with a dull thud

• "Gabriel." Your tone was downright murderous

• "Okay, okay! I'll stop!"

• He does, in fact, not stop. Someone restrain him for the love of Chuck, for he is getting way too much enjoyment out of poking fun at you

• You're gonna have to avoid him for the next few weeks after that if you want to keep your embarassment levels to a minimum. No other way around it

• Let's just hope he never realizes you had to spend time in art class analyzing renaissance paintings of him in the nude. Now that would be the conversation to end all conversations

• "Heyyy, you never told me you had an art folder—"

• Oh shit.

[little-diable]

Let Me Love You - Draco Malfoy (smut)

It seems like many of us are back on the Draco Malfoy train taking us straight to hell, so I needed to add another fic to this very mess. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Draco are sworn enemies, at least that’s what she like to believe. But what happens when they have to share a bed at their friend’s wedding? What happens when he finally lets her in on the feelings that leave her confused and unsure of her own feelings?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, quite some fluff

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (2.6k words)

“What?” Her voice echoed through the hallway, eyes set on her friend’s features. (Y/n)’s blood was singing in her ears, telling a tale of confusion, anger, and helplessness. 

“Oh come on, (y/n), it’s just for a weekend, he’s not half as bad as you think he is!” Her friend's laughter didn’t manage to drown out the thoughts racing through (y/n)’s mind, trying to figure out how to leave in front of her eyes without using any magic, protecting her friend's obliviousness. 

“Stace, I love you, but he’s an absolute git. I won’t survive sharing a room with him.” With an exhausted sigh leaving her, (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, just for a moment. How could she survive sharing a room with Draco Malfoy? The man she’s hated ever since crossing paths with him at Hogwarts all these years ago. Even after she had left the school her hatred had grown, having to endure working for the same company as him. But it felt like fate kept playing tricks on her, pushing (y/n) into the same group of friends Draco called his own. 

It was a constant back and forth between the two of them. A back and forth that left her boiling in anger, jaw clenched together whenever he teased her in front of their shared friends, making jokes that pushed waves of heat through her trembling body. And now she was supposed to share a room with him? 

“Look who’s finally here, I was waiting for your arrival, love.” Draco’s voice rang in her ears, lips pulled into the smirk she hated almost as much as she hated Draco himself. Slowly she turned towards him, teeth buried in her lower lip to keep her angry words bottled in, at least as long as their friend was still around.

“See, (y/n), I told you Draco doesn’t mind sharing a room with you, please just do it, for me. It’s my wedding after all.” 

……

“You insufferable git. Was this your idea?” (Y/n)’s angry voice boomed through the big hotel room, angry eyes set on Draco’s grinning features. He studied her for a few seconds, moving closer and closer till he came to rest in front of her. No words left the blonde haired man as his hand cupped her cheek, feeling the heat flushing through (y/n)’s veins. 

“Now, don’t be like that, we both know you’ve been waiting for this to happen for years. No need to hide your crush on me. I’m not blind, I feel your eyes on me, love.” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, forcing the hairs to rise on her arms. (Y/n)’s mouth felt dry, stomach in knots, just like her vocal cords. No word managed to roll off her tongue, allowing Draco’s thumb to start exploring her cheek, finding its way to her mouth. “No matter how much you try to hide it, your body can’t stop longing for me.”

“Don’t you dare touch me again, Malfoy.” (Y/n) finally managed to rip herself out of her state, having to turn away from him to try to calm her accelerated breathing. With her heart pounding in her chest she started unpacking her bag, desperately hoping that he’d lose interest in teasing her. 

“I’d advise you to pull yourself together. We don’t want you to mess up our friends' big day.” No longer did Draco’s voice carry its teasing undertone, it was back to the icy tone she’s been used to ever since arriving at Hogwarts all these years ago. She froze, eyes flickering up to meet his bright ones, getting lost in the pupils that reminded her of a frozen lake, longings buried beneath the thick blanket of ice they couldn’t escape from. Draco turned away from her after a few moments, reaching for his black coat before he wordlessly left the room.

With a groan clawing through her, (y/n) plopped down on the bed she was supposed to share with him. Her thoughts couldn’t stop racing, once again wondering where the root of all her anger and hatred towards Draco Malfoy was lying, growing stronger with every passing week. And yet she couldn’t pinpoint it on a single event, only able to remember the teasing words rolling off his tongue, embarrassing her in front of new students, pulling pranks on her to prove his worth to those that looked up to him. 

She’d have to pull herself together before the weekend would end with her hands covered in Draco’s blood, finally snapping after all these horrible years, burying the handsome man six feet under.

……

“Green has always been your colour, love.” His breath fanned over the back of her neck, lips ghosting over the soft skin of her shoulder. Draco stood behind (y/n), hand placed on her waist as the other guests around them listened to one speech after another. A shaky inhale of air was pulled into her lungs, lips finding their way back to the thin rim of her champagne glass, drowning another sip of alcohol. 

Ever since this afternoon she had tried to avoid Draco, not daring to cross paths with the man that made her feel more emotions than all the words she knew could ever describe. It was clear to the both of them that he held a dark kind of magic over her body and soul, a spell she wasn’t familiar with, forced to endure. And yet - deep down inside of her - she didn’t want to break free from the back and forth glueing the two of them together. 

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling as Draco’s quiet chuckles rang in her ears, finally pulling away from her. But her peace was soon disturbed once again, pulled into his chest, back perfectly placed against his front. Draco kept his arm wrapped around her middle, smiling at those guests that turned towards the two of them every now and then.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” He took her glass from her hand, keeping quiet as he started guiding her towards the dance floor. Soft music reverberated through the room, allowing other couples to sway from left to right, couples that looked more in love than she’s ever been, wondering what being admired like this must feel like. She followed Draco’s lead, wondering why the man kept swaying her from left to right, forcing her to dance with him as if they were just another couple invited to the wedding of their friends. 

“You see, even though you like to give off the impression of hating me, I don’t think you actually hate me.” Draco whispered the words, lips teasing her ear before he twirled her around, pulling (y/n) even closer. She felt his heart pounding in his chest, beating against the rib cage she felt underneath her trembling hand.

“And why is that? You’ve been nothing but horrible towards me, I have every right to hate you.” He studied her, intensely as if she was a canvas filled with colours his icy eyes have never seen before. Her eyes threatened to flutter close, unable to withstand the intense eye contact. 

“Don’t act as if you weren’t just as hateful towards me, I simply followed your lead. I'd rather have you hate me than not care about me at all.” With her breath hitched in her chest she stared at him, pupils dilated, heart pounding, insides churning. Her thoughts couldn’t come up with a reply, wondering if he was once again teasing her, speaking lies she now clung to as if they were her lifeline. 

The music stopped playing, just for a few seconds, though seconds long enough for Draco to step away from her, clearing his throat before he blended in with the crowd. It took (y/n) almost a full minute to break out of her thoughts, the state his words have forced her into. Desperate for fresh air she pushed through the crowd, glassy eyes focused on the exit.  

She didn’t know what to believe, confused by the words that sounded more sincere than any other words Draco has ever spoken before. Could it be? Could it be that he wasn’t clinging onto the hate she was oh so certain he felt towards her? 

……

Draco didn’t return that night, he didn’t enter their shared room like she secretly had hoped he would, deciding to stay away from the woman that would probably once again force him into a useless fight. Anxiety thumped through her veins as (y/n) entered the breakfast hall of the hotel, finding her way to the table where Draco was already sitting, pulled into a conversation by a couple (y/n) hasn’t crossed paths with just yet.

“Good morning.” Her soft voice interrupted the conversation, forcing all eyes to snap towards her. Wordlessly Draco pulled the chair next to his away, helping her sit down before he turned back towards the couple. But by then the two of them seemed distracted, focusing on another approaching couple. 

“Where were you last night?” (Y/n)’s whispers forced Draco’s eyes back towards her. He studied her, eyes flickering between her pupils and her mouth, the lips she nervously kept biting. With his hand finding her knee he reached for his cup of tea, drowning a few sips before a silent sigh left him. 

“I stayed with Mark.” She was waiting for an explanation, wondering why he had decided to stay away, but no further word left Draco, eyes focusing on hers for a few more seconds before he turned away. Her heart was pounding, forcing her hand to find his, interlacing their fingers before she rose to her feet with a quiet “Come” leaving her. 

Draco allowed her to pull him out of the hall, down the hallway towards their shared room. They were engulfed by an unfamiliar silence, atmosphere crackling like a fire feasting from old branches, warming them from inside. She parted from him to sit down on the bed she had slept in, fumbling with her fingers as she stumbled over her words. 

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said yesterday?” Draco kept his distance, not daring to step closer just yet as a soft “I did” left his slightly parted lips. His words forced (y/n) to lift her gaze, admiring his features. “I don’t know how I feel about this. You’ve always been mean to me, and I guess I just gave in, because I didn’t want to hide from you or your friends. You’ve hurt me, but I guess I wasn’t any better.” 

Draco stepped closer, cupping her cheek like he had done yesterday afternoon, once again pushing waves of heat through her trembling body. He moved slowly, tilting his head down to brush his lips against hers, nothing more than a ghost of a touch. (Y/n) forced herself closer, properly kissing Draco for the first time. 

Their lips moved in sync, a touch so burning, so intense, both couldn’t stop their moans from leaving one another. Her arms found their way around his neck, gasping in surprise as he sat down next to her, forcing (y/n) to sit in his lap. Their tongues fought for dominance, while their hands started moving, guided on by the longing now flushing through their system. 

“We need to stop, otherwise I won’t be able to let you go.” Draco murmured his words against her lips, words (y/n) spared no attention to, trembling hands working on his shirt. A chuckle ripped through Draco, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. He kissed her again, urged on by the lust keeping them laced together, slowly laying down with (y/n) still straddling his lap. 

“I don’t want you to let me go, I need you to touch me, please Draco.” For the first time in years she didn’t speak his name with any hate fueling her words, murmuring it softly as if she was praying to whoever was listening, sharing her secrets with the dark night. Draco instantly gave in, undoing the zip of her dress, pulling it over her head as he sat up once again, shuffling out of his dress shirt. 

She helped him out of his trousers before she stepped out of her underwear, naked bodies exposed to one another's wandering eyes. Draco pulled her back into his lap, kissing (y/n) breathless as his hand found her heat, feeling her arousal drip from her folds. The two were a moaning mess, bodies begging them to give in, to finally feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. With her trembling hand finding his twitching cock, (y/n) aligned his cock with her heat, parting from the kiss to force another breath of air into her burning lungs. 

“Fuck,” the curse slowly rolled off Draco’s tongue as she sank down on his cock, walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to adjust. His hands kept exploring her body, stroking up and down her sides, cupping her breasts as (y/n) slowly started moving. Draco supported her every move, forcing her down for another kiss, hips jerking up to meet hers. 

Neither of them cared about the friends that were probably looking for them, neither of them cared about the unaddressed confessions hanging in the air, begging to be spoken. All they cared about was the way their bodies perfectly fit together, forming a bond so strong both struggled to keep on breathing. 

“Feels so good, shit, I feel so full.” (Y/n)’s whispers forced a shaky breath out of Draco, drowning out her surprised gasp as he tightened his grasp on her, flipping them around. He fucked her into the mattress, hand finding the headrest of the bed to try and keep himself controlled, not daring to mark her up just yet. 

Their moans reverberated through the air, urging them on to climb higher and higher, wanting to finally give into the intense feeling simmering deep inside of them. Every now and then their lips found back together, sharing breathless kisses that were interrupted by their moans, by their groans, sounds that clearly projected their every need. 

“Such a tight cunt, fuck, my pretty girl, you feel so good.” His praises left (y/n) burning with heat thumping through her, eyes rolling back in her head as his cold fingers found her clit, carefully circling the bundle of nerves. With her back arched off the mattress and her quivering legs wrapped around his waist, she gave in, choking on his name, begging him to fuck her through her high. 

Draco’s body kept meeting hers, only pulling out of her as he felt himself tumbling over the edge, relieving himself on her lower stomach with a groan. Their hearts were racing, lungs begging for more air, bodies trembling, a feeling so intense kept holding them hostage that neither of them managed to break through the cloud of lust they were still engulfed by. 

“I don’t know how we’ll explain this to our friends.” Her whispers left Draco chuckling, plopping down next to her. Their eyes met before another laugh left the two, letting go of a “Fuck” begging to leave them. 

“We will definitely have to endure their ‘I told you so’, but I’m more than okay with that.”

[buckypinetrees]

Warm

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to go on a team bonding getaway together. Tensions rise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, boob play, oral (Fem receiving)

A/N: First fanfic I've written in years and the first time I've ever written for Bucky. Feedback is very much appreciated in the comments.

Part 2

You had run out of places to run. You had run further into the woods than you intended. You had been trained for this, you reminded yourself. Taking a deep breath, you scanned the area around you. The knotted mess of trees and plants surrounding you struck no chords of familiarity in your bones. You were lost.

“You lost, doll?” you heard a voice sneer. The voice of the man you were stuck with out here in the middle of nowhere for a “training session” Bucky Barnes. 

“I’m fine,” you mustered as much anger and spite into your voice as you could manage. 

“I could show you the way back.” The stupid smirk that pervaded your dreams gleamed. 

            You pushed forward avoiding talking to him further. You heard him try to continue the banter, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on the fact that you had to spend an insufferable week here with him in the name of team bonding. You understood why Steve had made the decision. The last fight between you and Bucky had ended in the drywall of the training room being completely turned to bits. But there had to have been other ways. Surely, they could have sent you guys on different missions, planning out your schedule so your presences never had the chance to grace each other. But no, here you were with the man who had made your entire time at the compound a living hell.

Finally coming out of your thoughts you examined the area surrounding you. The woods thickened and the whisper of birds sang above you. Peaceful. That was what this was. Maybe the first semblance of peace you encountered since yesterday when you were jetted here against your will. Your pleas for anything different fall on deaf ears. Steve had said it would be good for you. 

You had sat in the clearing for what seemed like hours. The sun had started to set in the distance and the birds stopped chirping. The temperature had fallen what seemed like 20 degrees in an hour and you realized you didn’t have much time to get back to the cabin before you froze to death. Maybe death would be sweeter than the taunting and humiliation you would face if you had returned there. Before you left you told Bucky that you would rather die than spend a night in the cabin with him. Returning now would make it seem like you were weak, and you couldn’t stand the smug look that would be on his face when you returned. 

“Still lost, little dove?” his voice rang in your ears.

“Don’t call me that” you bit back the urge to scream at him. He had been using these pet names against you from the moment you arrived. Seeing you as nothing but an average civilian. 

“It’s getting cold out, and I’m not going to let your stubbornness get you killed,” Bucky admitted. You answered with a vulgar gesture. “Okay, have it your way, I’m returning to the cabin. You can follow me back or you can freeze.” 

You heard Bucky’s footsteps soften as he started walking away. You rose, knees aching as you stretched them for the first time in hours. Trying to be as quiet and discrete as possible you followed his trail back to the cabin. It took you a while, not to realize how deep you had truly ventured into the woods. Watching him through the window you readied yourself for his snide remarks. You could handle this. You rarely lost your temper in other situations but with Bucky, there was just something truly infuriating about him. 

Walking through the door, the smell of the stove pervaded your senses. He had made dinner, probably just for himself. The conditions of this little “getaway” were simple. The cabin was made available for you two to shelter in but everything other than that you would have to fend for yourself. So, no food, unless you hunted, no clean water unless you searched for it, and no heat unless you cut the wood yourself. You thought back to how stupid you had been. Instead of spending the first day here using your efforts to find any of these things, you threw a tantrum. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you smelled the aroma of food sizzling on the stove. 

“Hungry, doll?” He sneered as if reading your mind. “Too bad you were lost in the woods the entire day. I only had enough time to find a meal for myself.” His eyes found yours as he hit his mark with his ravenous words. 

“I said earlier, I am fine. I don’t need your help here. I’m on the team for a reason. I can survive the week just fine” not daring to give him the dignity of seeing you fail. You made your way towards the shower. You heard him chuckle behind you. You locked yourself inside the bathroom, trying to steady yourself. You hated the smug expression on his face. He would be truly handsome if he didn’t have such a bitter interior. Being this close to him made you want to rip his throat out. This was going to be a long week. 

            You emerged from the shower, dressed in your night clothes. The only luxury you and Bucky were afforded was packing your clothes for the week. Bucky was spread out on the couch, a grin spread across his lips. 

            “Oh, just so you know, I didn’t get any wood for the fire. I don’t need it seeing my enhancements and all, but you might get cold. Should’ve thought about it before you acted like a toddler earlier” his grin never ceased as he eyed you up and down. His gaze always felt dirty on your skin. He would never see you as part of the team. To him, you were just a stray they found and had the kindness to take in. 

            You didn’t deign to respond to his mockery. The less you had to talk to Barnes the better. You simply shuffled past him to reach the bedroom. An old shaggy duvet sat aloft a bed that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, but it would do. You wrapped yourself as tightly in the blanket as possible already feeling the chill seeping into your bones, both from the cold and your lack of nutrition. You ignored it, wishing you could also ignore the whistles and hums coming from the living room. He was loving this. Your misery was delicious to him. He was drinking it in. You tried to turn off the thoughts running through your head and slept.

            You had awoken in the middle of the night shivering. The cold is too impertinent now to ignore. On top of that, you were hungry. You hadn’t eaten since you guys had started the flight here, almost 24 hours ago. Tossing and turning, you had tried to stay in bed for as long as possible. Finally rising you made your way to the bathroom. It was a smaller room. Maybe it kept heat trapped in better. As you walked out of the bedroom, Bucky rose to sit up on the couch. 

            “What are you doing up?” His voice was husky with sleep. Any other man with this voice would make your toes curl and you would be completely pliant in his hands. 

            “I had to go to the bathroom.” You whispered out meekly.

            “Sure, little dove, it’s not because your cold right?” You shook your head, not daring to talk again in case your teeth chattered. “You see,” Bucky continued, “with my enhancements, I could hear your little body shivering in that bed. The sound of your chattering teeth started to sound like white noise. You know I could help you if you just admit that you acted like a brat this morning.” 

            You scoffed at him. Why would you not act the way you had when forced to go on this little retreat with him? And what did he mean by helping you? You had had enough of him. 

            “I don’t need your help, Barnes. You’re an ass!” Your tone rises as you spit the words at him.

            “You say one thing and yet your body betrays you every time. Look how hard you’re trying not to shiver. C’mon, just admit it. You acted like a spoiled little brat today and you need me to fix your mistakes.” His eyes never left your frame as he examined the way your body continued to shake from the cold. 

            “No.”

            “Okay then freeze, but then you’re going to be weaker tomorrow because you didn’t get any sleep and then I’ll have to spend all day caring for your ass because Steve made me promise that I wouldn’t let you die out here” he grunted out. “So, either let me take care of you now, or deal with it tomorrow. It’s your choice little dove.”

You wanted to scream at him, fight him, anything to wipe the smug grin that sat on his face like a permanent fixture when you were in his presence. You felt the heat radiating off him. He didn’t even need a blanket to keep warm. Your words betrayed your mind as you muttered out a “fine.” He rose from his spot on the couch moving closer to you. That ever-present smirk waltzing towards you.

“I’d offer you a spot on the couch, but it might be a little small for the two of us. Shall we move this to the bedroom?” His eyes raked over your figure as he stepped closer. Just being this close to him was already starting to warm you up. Not to mention the heat that flooded your cheeks at the word he spoke. 

He grinned as he gripped your hand. “Hmm, you are freezing.” A brief glimpse of concern showed on his face. “Don’t worry we’ll get you all warmed up doll.”

You followed him into the bedroom, assessing how you would get him back tomorrow for making you feel so weak. Climbing onto the bed you felt him wrap his body around you. A weird foreign feeling to be seeking out comfort from what you considered your sworn enemy. But he was so warm, and his hands felt so gentle as he traced lazy shapes onto your chill-bitten skin. Your head instantly went empty as you savored the way his body pressed against your backside. He truly was beautiful with his dark locks and his cerulean blue eyes. The cold must’ve affected you worse than you thought if you were thinking such sweet things about Bucky. 

            While you were lost in thought you had continued to shift ever so slightly against him. His hand stopped instantly steadying you.

            “Stop moving” he managed to growl out with a hint of something different in his voice. Unconcerned you continued to shift as you tried to get comfortable and that’s when you felt it.

            “B…Bucky” you managed to squeak out now aware of his current situation. His hands felt too hot suddenly. Your body temperature rises way too high as the flush spread from your cheeks to your chest. You thanked God as you realized it was too dark for him to notice the blush spreading throughout his body. You shifted so that your backside was no longer pressed against him. Your body fully turned to him now. 

            “I think I’m warm enough now Bucky,” your voice was barely a whisper.

            “You know what I think…” Bucky paused assessing the words he was about to say, “I think you’re a brat who makes it so damn hard for me to think about anything but this when you’re in the room.” He punctuated the sentence by gripping your ass in his hands hard, earning a moan out of you. 

            “Bucky,” you moaned out brokenly, too high off adrenaline to push him away or pull him closer. 

            “And do you know what I think you truly need? To be taught to mind your manners,” His voice dripped with lust as he moved his lips to your neck barely ghosting them over your pulse point. 

            You were a mess against him. You felt the dampness in your panties and your blood pound beneath your skin. Every sense was going haywire as you felt his hands roam your body. He took his time grabbing at every inch of your skin through your clothes. 

            “Please” you choked out. “Please touch me.”

            “Aww…She does have manners,” He responded mockingly. “But I am touching you, maybe I need to teach your patience as well.” His hands gripped harder into your sides as he positioned you beneath him. 

            Just as you opened your mouth to protest his teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck. Arching your back trying to feel more of him, you whined against him. His metal arm came to rest against your hips keeping them in place as he slithered from you. He opened the blinds, so moonlight flooded into the bedroom. 

            “I want to see my meal before I eat it,” he smirked from his position by the window. The moonlight streaming showed how blown his pupils were, and if you had a mirror, you would assume yours would be the same. He moved ever so slowly towards you, the grin of a predator on his lips. His hands came to rest on the edge of your shirt.

            “I’ve wondered how pliant you would be underneath me. How easily you would listen to every word I say” his hands began making quick work of your shirt exposing your bare breast to him. Your body shines blue underneath the moonlight.

            “Beautiful,” he murmured more to himself than to you, but your body still keened at the praise. His hands explored the newly visible skin. You felt his warm tongue start to explore your right breast, giving little sucks and bites as he avoided your nipple. His metal hand doing the same motions on your left side. 

            “Bucky, please…” Your whines and groans were pathetic as you urged him to touch your most sensitive spots. Something about your feeble attempts at persuading him must’ve stirred something in him because he began to attack your breast with a new fervor. Your moans became even louder as he sucked and nipped at your budding nipples. His metal hand left your breast and steadied himself. His human one makes quick work to slide into your underwear. 

            “Someone’s so needy,” he tsked against your skin. His fingers explored the wetness found there. It was too much. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time. All sense of morality floated out of your head as you reached for his shirt. “Please” became your mantra as he continued to rile up your already supple body. You were pleading for this man you had run from earlier to hurry up and fuck you. 

            He removed his shirt and your underwear, and you sighed thinking you had finally gotten to the part where he slides into you. Bucky had other ideas as he pulled your cunt closer to his face. He let out an exploratory lick that had your body pressing against him further. He found a motion that you liked as he let himself feast. Your moans bounced off the wall fueling him further. He began to devour you.

            “You taste so sweet” The vibration made your body bend further into him. Seeing this as a pleasant sign he sweeps his finger against your aching hole, watching as your eyes widen in anticipation. He slides it in, and you finally submit to him fully. Knowing that this man could do anything he wanted to you, and you would willingly take it. 

            He ate you like he needed you to orgasm. Like it was the sole purpose, he was placed onto this Earth. Your head began spinning. The heat begins building up deep in your core. You clenched around his skilled fingers and felt yourself tumble off the ledge letting out a string of words all broken and all ending in Bucky’s name. Your body shook as he continued through your orgasm until you were spent. 

            Doe eyes met Bucky’s gaze as you finally regained some sense. You reached for him, hands grazing his bare chest as you came down. Bucky simply separated himself from you, moving towards the doorway. 

            “Hope you’re warm now, little dove.” His smirk returned to his face as he left you and returned to the couch.

[daenysx]

guys, please read at your own discretion (i mean it's not something too different from the usual nsfw content i write, it's just that reader touches herself to the thought of aemond and maybe some people can feel uncomfortable, i don't know, i'm a bit shy as i post this)

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut <333

aemond targaryen drives you insane.

he's- he's been on your mind since you got home.

fuck him.

no, that's- that's not what you want.

you just want him to shut the fuck up for only a minute, stop talking, stop saying what he thinks on something that matters too little for the philosophy class. stop trying to impress the professor. stop knowing everything. stop smirking when he gets something right. stop blinking those pretty eyes looking at the book, stop-

he needs to stop before you lose your mind.

you throw your bag on the floor, your messed up room can take a bit more mess because you're not gonna clean it today. not now. your blood's boiling, a thin layer of sweat forms on your hairline. taking off your clothes harshly, you put them on the floor, too.

feeling the cold bed sheets against your hot skin is nice. you close your eyes. calm down. stop going crazy over a man. over this man at least. he's pretentious, he's literally the devil himself sometimes, an insufferable prick. you should dislike him with your entire being.

you should.

the thing is- he's too pretty to be disliked.

you put your hand on your belly. fuck aemond targaryen. fuck his piercing blue gaze, his stupid flowy hair, his perfectly sculpted jawline. one time you saw his bare chest when he was at the training with the team. so fuck his statue-like physique. his abs. his happy trail and-

you need to get over it. you need to. it makes you feel like a fool every time you see him at school. every time when he sits next to you in class. you don't know if you hate him or if you're crazy for him. this is madness. stop thinking about him. stop.

you rub the soft skin of your hip bone. only wearing your panties, it'd be so easy to- but no. not when he's on your mind. squirming helplessly on bed, you move your legs. it's just- just for once. you can promise yourself to never do that again. oh.

sliding your hand inside your panties slowly, you find yourself wet. of course. he's an overachiever even now when he's turning you on, and he's not even here. your free hand plays with your nipple briefly. your entire body feels like it's on fire.

your hand goes down just a bit. you spread the wetness nicely, a shaky breath comes out of your lips. just this time. you need it for the peace of your mind. you'll get him out of your system after you finish. it's just a secret to keep for yourself.

you start rubbing your clit, it feels so nice. you need to be touched, your fingers move on the nub to find a good angle. you can never reach too far with your fingers when you try to stimulate yourself from inside, only managed to come from touching your g-spot once. it never happened again and it frustrates you more when you can't do it by yourself.

you go with the way you like. your eyes closed, your free hand thrown over your head. you move your hips to meet your two fingers, stroking the bundle of nerves. it's okay. you're doing okay. you can imagine him. it's gonna be okay.

his face flashes in your mind. that beautiful smile when he gets something right. oh, those pretty lips curving so nicely when the professor gives him a praise. you smile. why is he so pretty? it's not fair. he'd smile against your skin if he'd be here right now. he'd tell you how good you're doing for him. he looks like the type of guy who talks during sex. he practically never shuts up in class, why would he be silent when he gets you like this?

"there you go." he'd say, his voice low. "touch yourself for me. look at how wet you are, and i haven't even done anything." arrogant jerk. you keep rubbing your clit. almost there.

you think of his hands. the prominent veins showing when he holds his pen too tight. one time he held the door open for you, his hand all spread on the surface, long fingers and clean nails. he looks so clean, so put together. his fingers are definitely longer than yours. you imagine he'd knew how to fuck you with them the way you want.

"please." you whisper against nothing. you're in control yet it feels like you're not. "more. more."

you lift your hips, roll them on bed to meet your fingertips. the wetness is too much suddenly but you can't help yourself. it's the sweetest part, you're almost there. this madness will disappear. you need something- more. something to press harder. you'll lose your mind.

the sudden urge gets you and you take your pillow. putting it between your legs, you start humping. almost ashamed, but there's no reason. you need this. "come on, be a good girl. almost there, such a pretty baby. oh no, are you crying? what's there to cry, you silly girl, no, you can't stop, i told you to keep going."

his voice. fuck his voice. you press yourself harder, two fingers squeezed between the pillow and your body to keep rubbing your clit. come on, come on. you're going insane. he drives you insane. "oh!" you say, can't help yourself. "yes. yes." counting down the seconds.

and then- the tight bubble finally snaps. "aemond!" you whisper desperately. "oh, aemond- fuck." you slide yourself on the pillow, trying to last a bit longer. you hum, satisfied, the orgasm tiring you and clearing your head at the same time. you keep your eyes closed, he's right there. he gives you a proud smile. you've done so well. your back arches like a cat finally, one last movement on the pillow. it's over.

your body falls on the bed. opening your eyes, you see the room has darkened. your tired hand stays limp on your belly, the used pillow is still between your legs. you gotta clean yourself. you gotta drink some water.

you think it's over, this weird feeling you have for your rival. out of your system. your mind can function properly now. it's all okay.

your phone beeps with new messages.

aemond targaryen: hey

aemond targaryen: i was wondering if you'd like to be partners for the next philosophy assignment

aemond targaryen: i have an idea, i think you'll love it

fuck.

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them. 

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders. 

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so. 

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle. 

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him. 

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow. 

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard. 

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went. 

Life should’ve felt perfect. 

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times. 

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you. 

What are you doing right now? 

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with? 

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you. 

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you. 

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore. 

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him. 

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan. 

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone. 

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words. 

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway. 

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did. 

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room. 

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin. 

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release. 

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either. 

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears. 

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

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