"oh my god satoru you look so cute here!"
"wait wait wait, don't look at those!"
you were currently holding a picture of satoru in your hands. it's nothing you haven't done before, going to the corner store and flipping through recently printed pictures of you and your friends after waiting a week for them to develop.
but this time you weren't holding snapshots of suguru having permanent marker on his face while sleeping or ridiculous photos of satoru and shoko grabbing onto each others hair, fighting over who gets to get the last snack from their stash. this time you held a photo of satoru, except younger. exponentially younger. as in, you just got your hands on a photo of satoru the moment he was born. literally.
like every other newborn he had that faint pink shade on his soft skin, button nose, and little hands that had the chubbiest of fingers. you swore you fell in love all over again with him.
the grown up version of the baby however did not feel the same. he didn't think a visit to his family's prestigious estate would lead to you seeing the one photo he would rather die than having any one of his friends see. he'd rather have you take a photo of him falling flat on his face on a pile of garbage actually.
how you came across that photo of him, he has no idea. you both were currently residing in his old bedroom, laid down on the old tatami mats that still smelled new. all he remembers is you getting up to look for something within the old cabinets of his room before you exclaimed about your recent discovery.
"oh there's more, lemme see."
"nononononono, no! you've already seen enough!"
satoru tried desperately to snatch the small box of photos that was now on the floor. seriously who put this here?? — maybe his mother heard of how he was bringing you along for the weekend and planted a little surprise for you to find. he was unsuccessful, again, as you seemed to be faster than the strongest now since the box was now sitting on your lap — the stack of photos now in your hands as you flipped through them one by one.
"you used to wear such cute things too! look at that, it's a little onesie with a duck pattern!"
satoru was now internally screaming, his ears blowing out steam now from embarrassment. they must be, since he could feel his face rise in temperature faster than ever, he might even be a new shade of scarlet now. he's resorted now to lying face first on the floor, burying his face in his arms trying to shield himself from your commentary.
he didn't budge when you poked him with your fingers, trying to show him photos of his even younger self. satoru won't deny it, he was cute as a baby. the cutest even (his ego was whispering that) — but to have you witness him in all his newborn glory? that was too much for him. now his image was shattered (the one he created in his head), you won't look at him the same anymore. you'll only think the words cute and adorable, and so on after this. no more comments on how hot he was, how undeniably attractive his smile was.
satoru gojo, was indefinitely, ruined.
that was at least his way of thinking. you were internally dying on the inside.
to think that at such a young age, satoru still held the most striking pair of eyes you've ever seen. even as a baby you could see that he held the heavens and even the depths of hell in them. you can see why many people whispered how his birth had changed everything in the jujutsu world.
but even so, you couldn't bring yourself to care about those old rumors. right now, you were focusing on just how cute he used to look, back when he was just a couple of pounds and was drowning in innocence that any baby had.
"hey satoru?"
"..mm?", well at least you got a reaction.
"who took these photos anyway?"
you had to wait a few seconds until you heard him shuffle, moving on all fours before sitting up and placing himself right next to you. the embarrassment had died down, just a bit. there was still evident pink on his neck, ears, and cheeks.
"it was mostly just my mom and the maids. they were the ones who always dressed me up too."
that made you smile, the image of a fussy satoru not wanting to put baby gloves on with a matching outfit — it was too good not to imagine. a few moments passed before satoru carefully snatched a handful of photos from you. you were about to protest when he began telling you the story behind each of them, or well, the ones he could remember.
maybe you seeing him like that wasn't so bad after all.
p.s., now he's totally gonna send some of these to the group chat. bet he was a cuter looking baby than suguru and shoko anyway.
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IMAGINE GIVING SUB!ART HEAD WHILE HE IS DRIVING
(I know we have never interacted but I binge read all of your mike faist characters fics and I’m obsessed with your blog so forgive me for intruding)
three hours, cross-state, is hardly a lengthy roadtrip, but you and art make it feel like one. packing snacks and making playlists for the ride. it's not often that you two will travel within the state; there have always been more occasions that require the two of you to fly. so, it's only natural for this to be treated like a fun little adventure.
almost like a date.
art's got a tournament tomorrow afternoon on the west side, yet he still insisted on being the one to drive.
after about an hour and a half, the songs start to loop back around in the mix and the lull of the highway's soft rumbling against the wheels makes the blonde's lids start to droop. it's warm inside the vehicle as the trees and fields of grass go by, and that only makes it harder to stay conscious.
and when you say something to art to try to get his attention, and he nearly jolts upright in his seat, you know you have to do something to try to keep him awake..
"baby.." you say, giving him a look that says 'cmon now'.
he sighs, blinking and trying to shake the sleepiness from his head.
".. 'm fine, i'm fine.." he tries to protest, fighting your gentle but accusatory expression. he fails. he yawns.
the sight of his tousled golden curls hanging over his forehead, and his strong hands gripping the steering wheel, is all it takes for you to start readjusting in the passenger seat.
you give a soft tug to your seatbelt to coax it to give you more range of motion, and then you're leaning over the empty cupholders between your body and his to start undoing the tie on his loose joggers.
art chuckles weakly and flushes tomato-red all over his cheeks, his gaze darting rapidly from your head hovering above his lap to the windshield.
"woah, woah," he breathes out, "i.. you don't have to do that. and isn't it a little illegal..?"
you smirk, grabbing onto the sides of his pants and pulling them down his hips to reveal just the top half of his boxers. just enough to get ahold of what you crave.
"do you want me to stop?" you speak softly and slowly, lifting your head up to look to his aqua blue irises. his pupils are massively blown, you notice them right away. he's already tenting in his briefs.
art swallows thickly. and then he shakes his head.
you nod, chuckling, and look back down to the last piece of clothing between your skin and his.
"ive got you, babe," you whisper, "just keep your eyes on the road and try not to get us in a wreck, yeah?"
he nods wearily, and a small jolt of his hips follows suit.
you pull down his boxers just enough to let his heavy parts spring out, and then you're leaning in to engulf his throbbing tip in your mouth.
art can't stop it-- he immediately lets out a guttural moan, low in his chest as his face crumples with the pleasure of feeling your soft, wet mouth suckle on his cock. one of his hands shakily reaches down from the steering wheel to affectionately rub over your upper back and neck.
"Ouungh— fuh-fuck..." he whines softly.
you hum around him encouragingly, beginning to bob your head up and down as you feel him swell over your tongue.
his back arches up from the seat, and his hand on your body tightens to fist at the fabric of your top like he's gonna burst.
"mmmph- mhmmm- mhmmm-" you moan around him. he groans, his eyes rolling back into his head, and he starts to needily buck his hips as you suck him in the exact way that always drives him crazy.
in the middle of taking him to the back of your throat, an involuntary hum of surprise is pulled from your chest as you feel the car swerve sharply.
you give a few playful but corrective pats to the side of one of his thighs, and he moans before he mumbles out a rushed 's-sorry, sorry'.
your tongue curls around his shaft, licking up the precome that's mixing thickly with your sticky spit, and you swear that you hear a couple stitches in your shirt tear as he pulls at it and shudders.
his eyes are on the road, but art's mind is wholly consumed by you and everything that you're doing to him. how is it possible for one person to know all of his weak-spots? everything that makes him want to spill down into your tummy as you milk him dry?
his thoughts of disbelief are cruelly interrupted when you begin to suck him faster, hollowing your cheeks and lapping at the underside of his cockhead as your palm strokes the base.
he lurches forward in his seat with a pained whimper right before his legs start to shake; his muscles tensing all over as he tries not to close his eyes and risk running the car off the highway.
"ohhh, shit, hah—please, i'm almost—“ he fucks into your mouth gently, waves of hot aching pleasure building up from his gut as he spares a few looks down into his lap where your head moves earnestly.
you don't hesitate; stroking and laving your mouth over him lovingly and passionately, making sure to hum around him in an effort to send some vibrations up through his pulsing length. you squeeze your eyes shut.
art can't hold back anymore. he just cant.
he's nearly curled over the wheel when his hips jerk once, twice, three times, and then he's crying out as he calls out your name and comes.
it gushes past your adoring lips, glazing them for just a moment before you swallow him down and let the walls of your throat squeeze around his cock.
your boyfriend is sobbing softly with overstimulation and ecstasy, writhing in the driver's seat. your hand only continues to move relentlessly though, stroking his oversensitive shaft and cupping his balls as he chokes on his words.
"oh, please," he whimpers out, fingers still tightly grasping onto your shirt, maybe even harder than before. his toes curl in his court-scuffed sneakers, and he slurs out an assortment of 'too much' and 'so sensitive' and 'i'm done'.
you slurp up his leaking parts and pull yourself off with a soft pop and smack of your lips, grinning as you sit up and look to his dazed expression; chest heaving, legs shaking, eyes lidded. his hand leaves your back to return to the wheel, but you dont miss the way it trembles against the worn leather.
your clean hand reaches up to push back his blonde locks, and he squeezes the steering wheel as he struggles to gain his bearings back. a chuckle leaves your saliva-slicked lips, and you lean in close to his ear as he pants like a puppy.
"you still sleepy?" you whisper lowly.
all art can manage is a soft shiver and a moan, but he shakes his head the best he can.
"good."
safe to say he drove the rest of the way to the destination without so much as a whiff of being tired. the only thing that bothered him during the remainder of the journey was the smug look on your face, and the way his half-hard dick wouldn't go down (no matter how much he tried not to think about your touch).
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rough enemy theo after a quidditch match against gryffindor (pls)
The adrenaline from the game was long gone now and replaced by something much better. If you looked down you could see Theo pumping into you with a forceful pace, each squelching noise causing you to want to bury your face in his neck. But no. No he’s going to make you watch what he’s doing to you. Taking out all of his anger on you.
“You like that, marmocchia? (brat)”. You did. You enjoyed it so much as you were sputtering around his index and middle finger that he had shoved into your mouth. No matter what you tried to say it only came out in little whines or a choking noise when he’s fingers dipped deeper into your throat.
Theo continued without a care. He was going to make you pay for catching that stupid snitch. Gonna make you pay for thinking that you were allowed to celebrate your little win. Oh no no, he wasn’t going to let that happen.
Theo picked you up from the bathroom sink and laid you down on the dirty ground. “What do you think your fellow teammates would say if they saw you like this hm? Their slutty little seeker getting pounded by the enemy.”
Your back arched of the cold concrete, more pornographic moans leaving your mouth as you clenched harder around him. He tore your mouth open and shoved his tongue inside making out with you in the most disgusting way possible as you just had to lay there a take it. Finally your eyes rolled back, hips bucking up you felt that familiar wave of pleasure go through your body.
Theo came not a second later groaning and twitching as he shot his semen into you. After a moment he allowed himself to pull out and start getting dressed before he left the room. Once you did the same you had to pause. Because all though you had all of your clothes on. Your panties were missing.
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