#so okay that's five right is five still the rule

[icallhimjoey]

supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!

we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash! Wordcount: 3K

---

Only Have Eyes For You

(read Ground Rules here)

Joe has yet to stop staring at her.

It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.

New.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”

It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.

It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.

He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.

Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.   

He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.

Her perfect little face.

Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.

Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.

The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.

It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.

Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.

“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.

“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”

“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.

“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.

“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.

“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.

“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”

It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.

Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.

Which actually made a lot of sense to you.

It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.

Hence why it had become a running joke.

One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.

When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.

Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”

“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.

“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.

“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”

“You think so?”

“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”

That had made you burst into actual sobs.

The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.

You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.

Or how tired he felt.

He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.

“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.” 

And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.

There’s a baby next to your bed.

The one he watched you gave birth to.

Your baby.

His baby.

He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.

Life is ridiculous.

He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.

When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.

He freezes.

Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.

After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.

Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.

He’d listened.

Knew better than to tell you no.

But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.

You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?

Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.

But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.

He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.

“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”

“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.

“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.

With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”

“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”

“I’ll go get someone.”

“Please.”

Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.

“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”

The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.

It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.

Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.

He can’t get over how you’ve made this.

Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.

The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.

Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”

Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.

“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.

You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.

He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”

You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.

“Six weeks before sex, right?”

You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”

“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.

Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.

You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.

God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.

You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”

You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.

You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.

Your baby.

You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.

You can both just watch her.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”

The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.

You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.

“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.

“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.

“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”

“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.

“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.

“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.

Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.

After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.

His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.

It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.

And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.

Finds he can’t stop staring.

“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.

“I’ll keep an eye.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

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@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

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@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[xenonsdoodles]

my faerie shaped stress ball. crushing him crushing him

[kaydear]

Yearly reminder that I in fact have a face

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

[strang3lov3]

Catnap

Joel interrupts your nap on his thighs. (1.5k)

Tags - dubcon, pervy!joel, blowjob, joel jorkin’ it just a little, manspreading, napping Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for giving me your eyeballs! A/N - for @toxicanonymity’s Manspreading Olympics. I realize this has only a smidgeon of manspreading but I figure better some than none, right? That’s the general rule of thumb with manspreading anyway.

On Joel’s worn, overstuffed couch, you find your eyelids becoming heavy as the old movie plays on an old CRT TV; the screen looks fuzzy and the sound is tinny. Joel’s right next to you, and unlike you, intently watching the movie. He pays you no mind until he feels your head gently fall to the side, now resting on his shoulder. He looks down at you and feels your cold hands wrap around his thick forearms as you snuggle into his side. “Hey, you,” he whispers. “You fallin’ asleep on me?”

“Mm-mm,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck to shield your eyes from the light pouring in from the window. You inhale him, the sweat on his skin and the faint smell of his soap. The wiry, graying hairs of his beard scratch and tickle your forehead. “I’m not even tired.” 

“Oh, sure you aren’t,” Joel teases. He nudges you with his shoulder, “Why don’tcha lay down, kiddo. I know you need it.” 

“Mm-mm.” 

You’re speaking in just syllables now, low-effort hums and mumbles as your head becomes cloudy and Joel’s voice feels like it’s getting farther and farther away.

“Just a catnap,” he urges, speaking in a low and gentle tone, “Twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. You can do twenty minutes. An hour or more is too much, you’d be waking up even more tired than you are now. Ten minutes is too little, doesn’t give you enough time to actually drift off into sleep. Twenty minutes is perfect. “Okay.” 

“Hop off’a me for a second,” Joel gently pushes you in the opposite direction and gets up from the couch to adjust the blinds. He twists the rod until the blinds block out most of the light coming from outside, then sits back down at his place on the couch and pats his lap. “Lay down.”

You lay down and rest your head on Joel’s thick, meaty thighs, your face turned toward his soft belly, where you can see the trail of hairs traveling down his abdomen. You hadn’t noticed before that his jeans were undone. “Go to sleep, now,” he murmurs. He pulls an old crocheted blanket off of the armrest of the couch and lays it over your body, making sure it’s tucked over your shoulders and under your toes. Joel then snakes his hand beneath the blanket and tugs your shirt up your back to gently scratch your skin, lazily dragging his fingers up and down your spine. With his free hand, he turns down the volume of the TV. It’s not five minutes before you’re sleeping peacefully on his lap, curled up like a kitten. 

When the movie ends, Joel peers down at you. Your lips are plump and parted as you breathe steady, short breaths. You look so relaxed, so innocent and peaceful as you sleep. Joel can’t help but to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand, push some hair out of your eyes. He chuckles quietly when he notices that you’re drooling on him, soaking a little damp spot right onto the crotch of his jeans. Joel uses his thumb to swipe some of that spit away and fuck, there’s a lot. 

He finds himself staring at your lips, all wet and warm. He thinks about that warm, wet mouth of yours, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. He sighs and palms his growing erection, massaging his member over his jeans. But it’s not enough, and Joel’s growing anxious to relieve himself. 

Delicately, cautiously, Joel reaches beneath his jeans and pulls his half-hard cock out, not-so accidentally brushing the head across your lips. He spits into his palm and begins to stroke himself, sliding his hand up and down his length. But it’s still not enough - he’s cramped, limited like this. What he really needs to do is spread his legs, give himself room to breathe, room to cup and gently squeeze his balls. He spreads his legs and he knows he should be careful not to wake you, but his mind quickly changes. At this point, that’s his intention. To wake you up, slide his cock down your throat. He strokes his cock, deliberately nudging your face with it. 

It works like a charm. You stir a little, brows knitting together before you wake up with slightly bloodshot eyes, staring in confusion as Joel touches himself. “Shoot, I didn’t mean to wake ya,” he lies. You sit up a little, Joel notices the indentations of his denim on your cheek. He rubs his thumb over the marks, soothing them. “M’sorry, kiddo.” 

Joel continues stroking his length as you watch. “Oh, fuck. Goddamn,” he curses, then presses his thick, blunt head against your lips, smearing his precome on them. “Open,” he tells you, making the decision for you. “You’re gonna take care of it.” 

He adjusts you a little, then pushes his cock harshly into your mouth so that you gag and sputter on it. “Ohh, I know,” he coos. “You’ll get used to it.”

Joel tangles his fingers in your hair, eyes rolling back into his skull as you take his length down your throat. He rocks his hips up and down, drawing in and out of your mouth. His cock has now stiffened to its fullest size, and you have to open your mouth wide to accommodate him. “Fuck, baby. That’s it, that’s it.” 

His cock pulses under your tongue as he rolls his hips, doing the majority of the work himself. He can see it on your face that you’re not entirely lucid, with your droopy, glassy eyes. He fucks your mouth all the same, head leaning back onto the couch, a little bit of sweat begins to gather on his tummy and on his forehead. You let out a quiet, sweet little moan for him. “Atta girl, baby. Make some noise for me,” he grunts. “Tell me how much you like my cock down your throat. S’it feel good, pretty girl?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head as your eyes flutter shut. 

“Makin’ such a mess of me,” he murmurs. In your drowsy state, you’ve completely soaked him. Spit dribbles down your lips, down your chin, matting that thick patch of graying curls that surrounds his shaft. He fumbles around and reaches for one of your hands, then guides you to cup his balls gently. You squeeze them gingerly, rhythmically as he fucks your throat. 

Joel yanks the crocheted blanket off of your body and slides his hand down your back, then tugs your pants down your thighs, exposing your ass to the cool air. His hands are warm as he gropes fistfulls of your flesh in time with each of his thrusts. He feels your tongue traveling along his shaft, tracing up and down that swollen, pulsing vein that climbs the underside of his cock, causing him to gasp and bite down on his own moans. “Oh, fuck. You take it so good, kiddo.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he revels in the feeling of being enveloped in your heated mouth, absentmindedly pushing you down on his cock, then pulling you back up again. He’s losing his gentle touch as he approaches climax, but he can’t help it. Your mouth, your tongue. It’s all so velvety, so warm and inviting and wet. “Fuck, right there. Right there. Don’t move, sweetheart, just stay like that. I’m comin’.” 

His fingernails dig into your skin, dangerously close to your pussy as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. You’re whining, crying softly as he fucks your mouth. With a few more shallow, quick thrusts, Joel feels that warm, sticky feeling in his gut. His balls tighten and his cock twitches between your lips and he lets out a deep and guttural groan, emptying himself down your throat. You swallow every drop of that salty, warm spend that he gives you, humming when he finally pulls out of your mouth. Joel’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, and you press a couple of kisses onto his heavy balls. “You’re a good girl, baby,” he praises. “You’re so good.” 

Joel notices a stray bead of his come sitting on your swollen lips, then collects it with his thumb and pushes it back into your mouth. He tucks himself back into his jeans, then helps you adjust to a comfortable position on his lap, similar to the one you rested in before. “There you go,” he mumbles. “That’s all better, hm?”

You lazily nod your head, “Mhm.” 

Joel pulls the blanket back over your body, just like he did before. “Alright, honey. Go back to sleep.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog, send an ask, tell me your thoughts! Your kind words keep me motivated to write.

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[starkwlkr]

you are NOT the world champion | max & charles

in another ruby fic it’s mentioned that charles is a world champion WELL for this fic that’s not true but he still drives for ferrari …

Formula 1 posted a new youtube video

Kids test their F1 knowledge! Featuring Ruby and Mathéo Leclerc and Noah Verstappen

The official channel for Formula 1 had uploaded a youtube video with the Leclerc kids and Noah Verstappen, of course with their families permission. The kids were going to be tested on their f1 knowledge with their dads asking them questions. Ruby was sat in between Noah and Mathéo, a white table was in front of them while Max and Charles were on the ends of the table with cards in their hands.

“Okay, welcome everybody! We are here to test these kids that should know at least something about formula 1. Are you ready?” Charles began.

“Wait! What are the rules? We need rules!” Mathéo interrupted.

“Uh, if you get the question right you get a point and whoever has the most point at the end—” Charles explained but Ruby spoke up.

“Is the world champion?” She questioned.

“My papa is one! What about yours?” Noah told Ruby. Then the kids got distracted talking about how many world championships their dads have.

“My papa doesn’t have one.” Ruby replied to Noah.

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he drives a Ferrari.”

Max bursted out laughing as Charles tried to regain everyone’s attention back to the game. “Okay! Okay! Are we ready?”

“Yes!” All three kids yelled.

“Alright. First question, what team does Lewis drive for? And you have to say it right or else you don’t get the point.” Charles clarified.

“The orange one! He drives that one.” Mathéo said, but Ruby aggressively shook her head.

“No! Lewis doesn’t wear orange, Théo. Lando and Oscar do! Lewis wears cool clothes.”

“He drives for Roscoe.” Noah added. “I like Roscoe.”

Ruby gasped and turned to face Noah. “He’s so cute! I like Roscoe too!”

“Does anyone know?” Max asked the kids. The kids stayed silent. “The answers is Mercedes amg petronas formula 1 team.”

“They should change it to Roscoe formula 1 team. It sounds better.” Ruby suggested, Noah and Mathéo agreeing with her.

“I’ll let Toto know. Okay, next question. This is the easiest one ever. Who is the current world champion?” Charles asked.

“Not you.”

“You’re very funny, Ruby Jules.”

Several questions later, the kids barely had enough points. Noah had actually remembered some things that Max had told him like what where the track names and how many races there was. Ruby managed to name a couple world champions other than Max while Mathéo remembered the numbers of drivers.

“So you are all tied and this is the last question.” Max told the kids. In the distance, he saw Mick with his girlfriend walking so he called Mick over just do he could ask the final question. “We have a guest here who is going to do the honor of asking the last question.”

“Hi Mick! Hi Mick’s pretty girlfriend!” Ruby waved to the couple as they made their way to the table.

“Hey guys.” Mick high fived the kids. He then took the card from Max’s hands and saw the question. He chuckled but proceeded to ask it. “Who is the best formula 1 driver ever?”

Immediately the three kids shouted “Michael Schumacher!” which made the adults laugh.

“You all won!” Mick gave more high fives to the kids and gave back the cards. “You’re all so smart. Keep it up, okay?”

“We will! Bye Mick and his pretty girlfriend!” Noah said.

“Does that mean we’re all world champions?” Mathéo asked.

“Papa, me and Théo are world champions before you!”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Difficult V

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: A trip to Mami's hometown

It's not often that you don't go back to Norway with Mumma for the international break. You go with her most of the time to see her parents but this time you're staying in Spain with Mami.

It's a shorter break than usual so uprooting your life and forcing you through jetlag is probably worse than just leaving you in Spain with Mami.

Which is why you're in the car driving to Zaragoza, where Mami is from, for the week to see your Abeuala and Abuelo. Mami says she's got a fun week planned for you both but you don't know if you believe her.

She said that she had a fun day planned a few days ago but all you did was feed the ducks at the park and then spent nearly an hour in the art shop as Mami debated different types of pencils.

"There she is!" Abuelo says as you jump out of the car. He grabs you, throwing you in the air and catching you again.

"Abeulo!"

"Look at you, bebita! Looking more and more like your Mumma everyday!"

You grin. "That's what Mami says!"

"Your Mami has good eyes." He puts you back down on the ground. "Now, I'm pretty sure your Abuela has made a cake just for you inside. Do you want to go in and check?"

You're off like a shot before he even finishes his sentence and Mapi is left to bring your bags in by herself.

"What, no welcome for your daughter?"

"Hello, María," Her father says," Thank you for bringing the little one with you. Your mother has been getting ready for her all month. You'll be lucky if you get the bebita back."

"She'll have to take it up with Ingrid," Mapi replies, dragging the bags inside.

You're already sitting on the kitchen counters, being fed bites of cake as Mapi's mother multitasks between feeding you and whipping up another dessert from scratch.

"Hola, Mama."

"Hola, María," Her mother says," You are late. We expected you earlier."

"It is a long drive, Mama. We had to take a break for lunch."

Mapi's Mama raises a brow. "Why did you stop? Are my lunches not filling enough? You had to stop somewhere else to eat? I made lunch specifically for you."

"Mama! Stop putting words in my mouth. We-"

"Can we have second lunch, Abeula? I'm still hungry."

"Of course you can, bebita! I can always trust you to eat my cooking."

"I love your cooking!"

Abuela swings you up into her arms as she flits around the kitchen getting out the lunch she'd put in the fridge.

"Now, you go and watch some tv with your Abuelo. If you eat all your lunch then there is dessert waiting for you."

Your time in Zaragoza is spent very much like your first day. Abuela cooks more food than you've ever seen in your life and you eat it all like you've been starving for years.

Today is different though.

Today Mami has taken you to a storage locker. She hasn't said much about it and she stops in front of the door.

"Bebita," She says," It's very important that you keep this a secret."

You frown. "From who, Mami? From Abuela and Abuelo?"

"No," She laughs," From your Mumma."

"Why?"

"Bebita, I'm serious. Promise this is our secret."

"Okay."

Mami opens the door to the locker and you gasp.

"It's a motorcycle! There's a little one too!"

You're right.

There's a big one that looks like Mami could sit on comfortably. She doesn't touch that one. She grabs the little one. It's exactly like the big one but smaller.

She wheels the little one out of the locker and pops it into the back of the car. It doesn't take long at all for Mami to drive to a dirt track.

"This is your helmet," She says, attaching it to your head and knocking on it to prove it works," And these are your kneepads and elbowpads. What is the important rule?"

"Don't tell Mumma."

"No, the other one. The one I told you in the car."

You think for a moment. "Oh! Squeeze the breaks if I'm scared!"

"And?"

You pout. "But, Mami-"

"No, what's the other rule?"

You sigh. "Don't let the arrow go over the five."

"That's right. I'm going to be holding you the entire time. It's just like your normal bike at home. Now, if- Bebita!"

Mapi scrambles after you, grabbing onto the back of your little motorcycle to keep you upright.

You have no fear though. In fact, you're thoroughly enjoying yourself as you go up and down the bumps in the track, shrieking your joy for the whole world to hear.

"Mami! Mami!" You say," Can I go faster?"

"I don't know, bebita. I think-"

"Is it because you're scared? You don't have to hold on if you're scared. I'm a big girl now!"

Mapi sputters. "I absolutely do need to hold on!" She tells you," And I'm not scared."

"I think you are."

"I'm not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

It takes a lot of convincing to get you to accept that your dirtbike is staying in the secret storage locker in Zaragoza with her own bike. It's all you talk about as Mapi drives you home at the end of the week.

Your whole short life has now been taken over by the dirt track and your bike. It's all you want to talk about, even as Mapi tries to turn on the radio to drown out your words.

Ingrid is waiting for you both in the house but you completely bypass her, ducking under her arm and immediately running to the tv.

"She hasn't seen me for a week," Ingrid says," And it's like I don't exist."

You fiddle with the remote, flicking through channels until you find the motocross race that's currently going on, falling to the floor so you can watch, pressed up against the tv as close as you can get without being told off.

Ingrid's eyes narrow.

"Mapi," She says," What have you done?"

"Why do you always think I've done something?"

"Because I know your parents didn't introduce her to that. What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"Bebita, what did Mami show you while I was away?"

"Nothing, Mumma!"

[arminsumi]

🔞 𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐓𝐨-𝐁𝐞 𝐄𝐱-𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 | 𝟐

<- 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯.

𝟑.𝟔𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 / 𝟕 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : fem reader / Gojo Satoru / (Geto Suguru)

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : your ex-boyfriend claims he isn't a playboy anymore, but is he being genuine? Another date with him leaves you a mess, and you end up asking his best friend out for coffee.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst, pining, drama, smut (cr**mpies, light degradation, name calling (sl*t and wh*re), c*nnilingus, bl*wjob in the backseat/risky), implied sexual relationship with Suguru

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞 : Heaven and Back | Often | Wine Pon You | New Rules

You walk out of your bedroom gussied up, lips painted in a very specific shade of red.

And Shoko, laid on the couch tiredly, gapes in disbelief at you.

"Oh my god." she groans, "Please don't tell me you're going on another date with that playboy."

You act dumb, nervously touching your neck as you style your hair in the mirror some more.

"What?"

"You're wearing the Gojo Satoru lipstick."

You continue acting, "This isn't the 'Gojo Satoru' lipstick, I love this lipstick! I always wear this shade!"

She looks at you, dumbfounded by your acting, nearly laughing.

"No, that's the Gojo Satoru lipstick. I can distinctly recall his words; "That's my baby's lipstick on me." and how you giggled on his shoulder."

"Shoko, that was five years ago." you say, "It's fine. I promised him only one more date. He needs closure."

"He's had five years of closure." Shoko replies, "Angel, you're too good for him."

"He's changed!" you insist.

"No, he hasn't; I saw that look in his eyes when I saw you two on the couch. He's still a playboy, and he'll prove it to you soon enough." she says.

"I have faith in him." you say.

"How many times have I heard that?" she shakes her head, getting ready to have a smoke. "You know, Gojo Satoru has always gotten what he wants. That's why he's so fascinated by the new you; you're not giving yourself to him like you did back then."

"I have faith in him!" you emphasize. "God, just tell me I look good."

"..."

"Please. I'm nervous. He's high-class, you know. I feel like I'm going on a date with the president of the world."

Shoko sighs and heads towards the balcony to smoke.

"You look too good." she says earnestly. "He was right about that shade of lipstick on you."

Her compliment makes you light up significantly.

You fuss as you wait. Since Shoko asks, you tell her; "He ordered for someone to chauffeur me."

"Oh my god." she groans, "He's really buttering you up."

"But isn't it such a gentleman move!"

"... more like a rich boy flex." she mutters under her breath, stubbing out the end of her cigarette.

"Okay. I've got to go. See you later... um, unless I overnight by him, of course." you giggle dreamily.

"Condoms." Shoko says simply.

"He's got some."

"Bring your own, always."

"But I'm on birth control, and we've already — " you begin.

Shoko cuts you off, "I know, but have you ever heard about the whole "creampies make you fall in love" thing?"

"What?" you look dumbly. "Isn't that a myth?"

"No. Coming inside is affectionate. You're going to feel connected to him and then he'll dip when you become "too serious" for him. Just keep him at bay."

You give her advice consideration, and nod. "Okay, alright. I won't let him do it inside."

*****

While being chauffeured, you rehearse in your head how to greet your ex-boyfriend — but it doesn't help, because as soon as you're actually in his presence again, your mind goes blank and you start nervously touching at your neck and giggling to cope with his charm.

From the moment Satoru takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant, you feel like a VIP. It's such a familiar feeling; in your early twenties, when you and him dated, he showed you what it meant to be really rich.

And he was excited to shower you in lavish treatment, he loved to see you decorated in his diamonds and to see your bright smile on foreign beaches.

The effect he has on you is even noticed by the waiter, who tends to your secluded table on the rooftop. You and Satoru feel like you're in your own bubble.

"I'm serious." he says honestly, looking into your eyes.

"... you break my heart, then disappear for five years, and then come back asking for marriage." you shake your head, "Doesn't that sound insane to you? Can't you understand why I'm rejecting you?"

"I've changed."

You hum skeptically.

"Really." he tilts his head, he flicks his brow giving his expression that sad little look that really sells it for you.

"If we got married, how long would it last?"

"What do you mean? We'd be wed 'till we're dead." he grins.

You shake your head and smile at him, poking at your plate. A long silence passes.

"... let me think about it."

"... okay." his spirits lift. "But don't make me wait too long; I'm impatient." he teases.

"Too bad. I'm gonna take my time." you sass, biting a piece of meat off your fork to make a statement.

He grins at you.

*****

Food all eaten, dessert long gone. The night air feels good. Not like old times, but new times with an old lover. He knows he messed up, right? So why hasn't he apologized yet? Maybe, you theorize to yourself to justify him, maybe he's still thinking up an apology.

He stares at you from across the table, eyes hungry like a starved wolf.

"You look so good tonight." he says for the third time.

You giggle in response, "Stop..."

"I swear that shade of lipstick looks familiar." he teases, leaning over the table.

You can smell his cologne, and it entrances your heart.

"... is it?" you ask softly, pretending like you don't know what he's talking about.

He knows you're pretending, he thinks it's cute.

"You think it would look good on me too?" he asks.

You shrug like a ditzy princess, "I dunno. Wanna find out...?"

He's so quick to call the waiter for the bill, like there's a pressing issue that needs his attention.

But the only pressing issue is his hard-on pressing hot against his thigh.

*****

Giving his cock all your attention in the backseat of the car, Satoru forces his moans down so that his poor chauffeur doesn't hear through the screen divider.

You stifle a slurping sound, sliding off the tip of his cock slowly, and it makes him shudder hard. He closes his eyes, like that helps any, and tries to keep from cumming in your mouth right there.

Gojo knows your lipstick stains are going all over his cock, it drives him crazy.

Before he cums, you pull off and he mutters a small "Just you wait..." under his breath that makes you smile wide.

****

Kissy marks lead up his abs. Of course, he wants to take a photo — to preserve the memory.

"Hand here, baby. Good girl." he instructs, and in his voice right then you can hear how mature he is now, in comparison to the squeakier voice he had when you two first met.

He's not a boy anymore, he's a man. But very far from being your man, which he's trying to change.

"Lay back." he murmurs. "Spread your legs. Wider. Good girl."

Without saying a thing about it, he noses in between your thighs and shows you heaven is real, and it exists on Gojo Satoru's tongue.

"Fuck!" you clamp your thighs around his head, making him hum while sliding his tongue inside.

When you two first dated, he wasn't inexperienced — but he didn't quite know how to eat a woman out.

Five years is a long time to practice, and he definitely did. You can feel his sloped nose nudging against your clit as he kisses and sucks, sometimes nibbling softly with his teeth at your puffy lips.

Making you cum on his tongue is almost too easy for Satoru, he nearly laughs as he pulls away and licks your slick off his lips. He thinks it's a pity that he's at the wrong angle to see your eyes rolling back. But at least he sees how you throw your head back for him, and how you sound for him — like a cat, he loves it.

"Nice and messy for me now, huh?" he hums, connecting his body with yours as he crawls upwards and devours your lips.

"Mhm!" you whine, still unsteady from your orgasm, breathing frantically. "Satoru, I need you in me right now."

"Aw, but I was gonna — "

"Nowww!" you beg.

He sighs, "Can't say no to that face."

You watch intently, licking your lips, as he whips his belt off and takes his cock out. It's red from the tip down to the middle, where that familiar thick vein always catches your attention.

By your request, even though it confuses him, he squeezes his cock into a condom.

"What do you need, baby?" he asks, lowering his cock onto your pussy and rubbing it between your slicked lips.

You squeal as he flicks at your clit, then pinches your folds around his cock, making you realize his size in comparison to little you.

"I need you."

"Need me how?"

"Satoru!" you hiss annoyedly.

"I don't want to have to tease you, baby just say it."

"I want your cock inside me."

"Not nearly slutty enough." he shakes his head, drawing his cock back and forth, rubbing over your soft pussy. "You said to me in the car that you were a total, fucking slut for me, didn't you say that? Or am I imagining things?"

You start babbling, "Yeah! I'm a slut for you, I want it so bad!" you whine, "C'mon fuck me stupid!"

"That's better." he grins.

Just like how he always does, he presses his tip inside you so politely but then pushes it in too deep, making you curl like you're about to cum.

Satoru's not one to go slow for long, he'd rather pound into you hard and fast right away, to bring out that slut in you as quick as he can. Because right now, you're not nearly slutty enough for him, as he said — and he needs to see that side of you.

"Baby, get loud for me, come on." he grunts, shoving himself as deep as he can, reaching the spot that you know isn't the G-spot or your cervix, but something in-between.

"Fuck!" you almost cry, "That's so good, fuck me harder please!"

He grins, cheeky fangs on display, and goes harder until you can hardly handle it. You don't care if it hurts just a little bit, because you want to know that every inch of your ex's cock is inside you. Not just eight, eight and a half — honestly, he doesn't know where you put all of that, but he delights in watching it disappear into your hole.

"Look at you." he purrs, "How deep are you trying to suck me?"

It feels like he's going to split you in two. Sweat pours out of the both of you, bodies getting slippery.

As Satoru continues pumping his cock back and forth, in and out of you, he starts furrowing his brows together in focus — playful edge dulling as it always does when it feels good good.

"That's it, you fucking take it." he grunts, "Good girl, you're a good little slut for me huh?"

"Yeahhh I'm a good little slut for you!"

"Let me take the condom off, baby."

You know you're gonna hear it from Shoko if she knows, but in the moment you're too drunk on sex to care, and even reach back to strip the condom off your ex's cock yourself as he watches with a smirk.

"Good girl. Now flip on your side, like this." he instructs.

He slides back inside slowly, filling you inch by inch with a low groan — like he's falling in love.

And the sounds he makes as his orgasm builds up make you want to cum again, too. Each time he hits that strange spot between your G-spot and cervix, your visions sparks a little.

Hard strokes tip you over, and you lay there letting Satoru degrade you and call you a filthy slut. You'd be his anything as long as it felt this good.

"I'm so close." he warns, trying to savor the buildup.

"Cum inside me." you mewl, "Please."

"Yeahhh I'm gonna — fuck. Take my cum, be a good girl."

The broken moan he lets out as he creampies you is almost obscene. Satoru slows his thrusts as he shoots everything he has into you.

His jaw slacks, and he groans, "... prettiest little slut, aren't you? So filthy and pretty."

"I'm gonna cum againnn..." you whine, reaching down to rub frantically on your sensitive clit.

He watches you through the haze of his post-orgasm, slowly grinding his cock inside to get you there.

"Good girl."

"C-call me a slut again, please."

He laughs naughtily, "Fucking slut. Come on, finish on me. Make that cute face again, 'cute lil' whore."

Satoru always surprises you during sex in some way, this time you're surprised when he caresses your cheek as you cum. You shake and spasm, feeling each shock of your orgasm.

Panting and coming down from your high, Satoru cracks a smile.

"You were so loud." he laughs.

Reality hits you, "Oh my god, I didn't know I liked being called a slut so much!" you cover your face embarrassedly.

He rings out with laughter.

*****

After sex. What happens after sex? He's a gentleman, and that makes you tear up — not because he's a gentleman, but because he never used to be quite like this.

No, he never used to be quite like this. Even kissing you afterwards? Why was it, you wonder, that back then he couldn't love you as deeply as now, when you needed it most?

"What's wrong?" he asks.

You try to stop your crying, but it gets worse.

"Satoru." you say, sniffling, eyes pointed downwards, "I know it's been five years, but I'm still hurt."

He doesn't reply. Just awkwardly wrings his hands and sits at the edge of the bed, soft duvet covering his lap.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't really help."

"Then what can I do?"

"I don't know." you sniffle, "Go back in time and love me. You know, I needed your love back then more than I do now." you admit to both him and yourself.

Satoru purses his lips, thinking before he speaks — but then he ends up not replying at all.

Instead, he goes to wipe your tears. Something he always did towards the end of your relationship, because you were always crying.

"I should go home."

He jolts a little. "Oh. I thought you were gonna stay the night?" he croaks. Inside, he's dreading sleeping alone again.

"No." you shake your head. "I've got to stop fooling myself. We're not getting back together, you're not more than a playboy, we're not getting married — and sex with you is better than with anyone else, but a relationship can't bank on that, Satoru."

"I'm being genuine. I told you earlier that I was."

"How can I trust you?" you ask.

"Playboys don't propose marriage." he replies.

"But you're just joking about that!"

"I'm not!" he stresses, "The last time you loved me, I was just a boy. I'm a man now and I know what I want." he says roughly.

You both go silent. Then he starts speaking again, voice softer than before.

"I love you more every time I see you."

You don't say anything back. He looks stricken and confused.

"I'm gonna go." you say.

He purses his lips tightly, looking frustrated that he can't get through to you.

"I'll take you home." he says quietly.

*****

Shoko is just digging around in the freezer for therapeutic ice cream when you come into the entry way.

"You look dreadful."

"Thanks."

"Bad date?"

"The worst..."

"Still love him?"

"... yeah."

"Marriage?"

"I'm in love, not stupid." you reply.

Shoko chuckles. "Come on. Let's catch up on that series. I'm not on-call." she cheers for herself. "We can binge the whole thing."

"Shoko, where would I be without you?" you sigh appreciatively, flopping on the couch next to her, mascara smudged off and all.

"Staying the night with a playboy, probably."

"Can't argue that." you sigh, "Shoko, I'm so dumb for him, what do I do?"

"Wait. Strike at the right moment."

"I'm not a cobra."

"Buy a cobra. Let it loose on him."

"Your humor is so dark, Shoko. I love you."

"Love you more."

*****

Meanwhile, Satoru is with Suguru; who is listening to his sulking best friend.

"I'm so dumb for her. What do I do?" he groans, "Shoko's probably poisoning her against me as we speak."

Suguru thinks deeply. "Shoko..."

"I know!" Satoru nearly starts crying again. He's being so dramatic, it's hard to take him seriously. But Satoru almost never cries. So Suguru seriously thinks about solutions to his problems.

"Shoko!" Suguru realizes.

"I knowww!"

"No, Satoru, Shoko!" Suguru emphasizes, like he's just made a breakthrough, "Shoko is the answer to all your problems!"

"Ew. I'd never date Shoko."

"You're so dense. I'm not suggesting that. Shoko's her best friend, and she listens to whatever she says, like you listen to me."

"You have a point... I'm listening."

"See?" Suguru chuckles, "Now, here's what I think you should do..."

*****

"You want me to talk to Suguru?" you shake your head. "How would that help?"

"He's his best friend. If you want to find out if Satoru's no-good, you go to the best friend."

"Suguru would rather die than expose Satoru. They're not like regular best friends, they're soulmate best friends." you say, nervously touching at your neck.

Shoko shakes her head. "Are you scared to talk to Suguru or something? What actually happened between you two back then? You never told me."

You go silent and wide-eyed. Shoko's jaw drops open.

"No way. Holy shit. Oh my god. You and him...?!"

"... it was just once."

"Holy shit! Was this before, after or during you and Satoru together?"

"I'm loyal as a dog! It was after... I was feeling, um, revengeful, and Suguru was feeling lonely one night... so..."

"Suguru actually did that?! Did Satoru find out?"

"We promised to never talk about it again. You know... Suguru was so nice about it. I remember he laid me down and said "Don't worry, just cum on my tongue" or something. Ugh, he was so hot. He fucked the life out of me — I could barely fucking see straight after."

"Too much information!" Shoko plugs her ears.

You look up at the ceiling dreamily. "He's thicker than Satoru."

"My best friend is a slut!" Shoko cries.

"I am!" you cry back dramatically.

The two of you burst out laughing wickedly.

"To sluts!" Shoko toasts with an ice cream spoon.

You toast with her, "To sluts! The sluttier the better!"

"Are you gonna talk to Suguru, then? Or are you scared of your inner slut coming out?" Shoko asks.

"I'll do it. It'll be fine. I'm sure Suguru doesn't look as good in real life as he does in photos..." you reply.

You exchange a look with her. Immediately, the two of you stalk Suguru's social medias and —

"Seriously? Who doesn't have a single social in this day and age?!" You curse, only finding photos of Suguru with Satoru.

"That's just like him."

"Maybe he has a Linkedin."

"You're desperate."

"Yeah!"

"Wait, here's something...?"

You investigate further.

"It's private?!"

Shoko bursts out laughing with ice cream melting on her tongue.

"Comedy!"

"This is seriously annoying. I'm gonna friend him." you say.

Shoko looks at you. You look at Shoko.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"You're CRAZY."

"I am!"

"Let me watch, let me watch."

"Okay. I'm doing it."

*****

Satoru is mixing another over-sweetened, non-alcoholic cocktail to be sipped on as if he's drinking his sorrows away.

And Suguru? He's laying on the couch, ghosting social medias that he has no account with, happily enjoying a video of traditional cuisine when suddenly he sees the most outrageous, random, and bizarre notification from his mostly-dead private account.

He makes a suspicious side-eye, thinking it can't be real.

Friend request from @ 𝐘𝐍

@ 𝐘𝐍 wants to send you a message.

@ 𝐘𝐍 hey suguru 😊

"What the fuck." he whispers under his breath, blushing in a panicked kind of way.

Immediately, hot memories of you flood his mind. He sits more upright on the couch, glances nervously to check what Satoru was doing, then looks at your message again.

His heart races.

*****

"This is stupid. He's gonna leave me on read."

"Yeah. I forgot Suguru was notorious for that." Shoko sighs. "Operation: Suguru is a failure, then?"

"Yeah."

You set your phone down and continue binge watching a whole season of a trashy series on Netflix.

Your phone vibrates thirty minutes later. You check it without thinking, then scream so loud it startles Shoko right out of her zen-like Netflix mood.

"NO WAY."

"Is it him? What did he say?"

"He said 'hey'. He's online."

"Well say something!"

You panic, "What do I say?"

"Ask him for coffee! In a non-romantic way!"

"Okay."

wanna go for coffee sometime?

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 is this about satoru or us?

it's about satoru

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 riiight

i'm serious 😠

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 because i wouldn't mind if it's about us

"WHAT." you scream with Shoko.

"REPLY TO HIM."

"I DON'T KNOW HOW."

"GIVE ME YOUR PHONE."

Shoko clacks her nails against the screen viciously, replying to him as you watch her type.

"That doesn't sound like I wrote it."

"Well sorry for being grammatically correct."

"Make it sound sillier."

"There."

Shoko sends it. You watch and wait with bated breath, ignoring the climactic scene on the TV because Suguru Geto was far more attention-grabbing.

"Oh my god." you clap your hand over your mouth. "Is that sexual? Is he being sexual?"

"I have no idea, Suguru's an enigma."

"Do you think Satoru is sitting with him? Are they playing us?"

Shoko shrugs. "I don't know, but I'd read that message if I were you."

You look back to your phone.

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sooo coffee where and when?

"SHOKO WHAT DO I DO."

"I don't know."

"SHOKO."

"I DON'T KNOW. I'M STUNNED."

"ME TOO."

"I bet Satoru is cackling next to Suguru right now."

"I bet not. Listen to how sultry he is! That's three o's in there!"

Shoko thinks. "Yeah, but Suguru is always sultry. I think they're pulling a joke on us."

*****

Satoru is dozing off while his best friend texts you. Suguru's not resisting his smirk; it's plastered on his face.

@ 𝐘𝐍 tomorrow? 2pm sound ok? 🙈

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sounds perfect.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞.

[princessbrunette]

mascot!jj had charmed you.

he had handed you the party invite whilst wearing the full mascot get up, sweaty hair stuck to his head, cheeks flushed post game, tongue wetting his lips. jj was an odd one, the rules were different at college. you can be a dork, a mascot for the sports team — but if you were likeable, charming, and cute — you’d still get invited places.

“better see you there, i’m like, so serious.” he’d grinned when he placed the flier in your hand, eyes lingering before he runs off to hand out more.

now there you were, watching him be a social butterfly — shyly stood at his side with a tight dress on. it was nice to see him without the big mascot costume, now stood there — looking alot less sweaty, the college sweatshirt on, a cap sat snugly backwards on his head. you already knew he was cute and charming, but tonight you were seeing him in a different light. the type that made you down your drink a lot quicker, needing that buzz of confidence.

you were aware of rafe’s presence at this party, and that he wanted you — so naturally he wasn’t very happy about seeing you lingering around jj the whole night. the cameron boy was already pretty gone by the time you’d turned up, so it was hard to keep his attention for too long anyway — rafe getting sucked into beer pong with the boys or worse, disappearing to the bathroom and reappearing fifteen minutes later sniffing and playing with his nose. he’d give you a sweaty five minutes, grinding up behind you on the dance floor before running off to force his friends to ‘chug.’

but you had jj’s attention. he didn’t miss a beat.

when it came to passing around a joint, he practically smacked it out of his friends hand to grab at it.

“dude, seriously — y’gotta offer it to the lady first. where are your manners? like…” he scolds, shaking his head before holding it up with raised brows. “care for some greens m’lady?” he presents, making you giggle. you lower your voice, a little embarrassed.

“i’ve never done that before.”

he’s quick, eyes widening and jerking his hand away. “oh— forget it then. it’s gone. s’totally cool we don’t gotta—”

“wait— no i… i wanna try… with you.” you bring your hands to a clasp on your lap, lifting your shoulders shyly as if to bat away the eyes on your interaction, and you physically watch him melt. not only in relief, but in adoration.

“wh— really? don’t feel like you have to. i’m cool either way.”

you take two tokes and you’re done, and jj is indeed cool with it. chuckling as he takes it away from you, he brings it to his own mouth, inhaling before blowing away from you and standing up. “y’know what? sometimes two is like, more than enough. gettin’ you some water ‘kay, two secs.”

you’re all warm and hazy as you watch him walk away, grinning ear to ear as you don’t even acknowledge rafe shoulder checking him as they pass eachother, saying something you don’t hear. jj flips him off as he walks on, and that’s that. you’ve never had two guys fight over you before, and though usually you hate the attention being on you, even when you’re up dancing on that field— you couldn’t help but feel some arousal stirring inside you. it was nice to feel wanted.

maybe that’s why you downed your drink, why that shyness started to drain your body, why you ended up in some sorority chicks walk in closet, practically climbing jj maybank as you frantically overlap tongues.

you can’t believe the words flying from your mouth as you pant wetly in his ear, so beside yourself you couldn’t believe it. his hand is stuffed down your panties, jaw dropping when he really acknowledges how soaked you are. “wanna— wanna suck you off, jayj.” you moan, and even in the moment you know you sound like a desperate pornstar. jj physically shudders, eyes screwing shut like he could cum right there.

“you— okay— i mean there’s no way like you’re impossibly hot and should be seriously like… not interested in me dude — sorry not dude, you’re not a— whatever, lemme make you cum— see how ya feel after.”

he shakes his head at his own rambling, dropping a quick kiss to your cheek when you freeze to listen to him with wide glossy eyes, biting his lip and scrunching his nose in concentration as he extends his arm a little more, trying to find that spot. surprisingly, it seemed like he’d done this quite a few times before. if you weren’t so aroused, your stomach might’ve twisted in jealousy.

he sinks his middle finger inside you, and extends his thumb to dust little circles over your clit and your knees buckle, jaw dropping. he supports more of your weight, nodding knowingly. “yup. theeere it is. alright, lemme get you right mama.”

and that he did.

[ifancyharry]

Close As Strangers

what it is: Harry has been away for six months and YN wants to move on - based on Close As Strangers by 5 seconds of summer!!

word count: 4k+

Harry hurried down the hallway all the way to his room, sliding the key card against the key-reader, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his palms pressed against it.

He quickly removed his shoes, tossing them near the door, before plopping down on the hotel bed, his back against the headboard.

He fished out of his skinny jeans his phone, grimacing at the screen that read 3 missed calls from ‘Angel <3’.

He sighed as he unlocked it, typing hurriedly the number he knew by heart on the keyboard, and putting it on speaker, too tired to hold the phone to his shoulder for the call.

He waited for her to pick up as he listened to the incessant ringing of the line.

“Pick up, pick up” he whispered, biting at the skin of his thumb to suppress his sighs.

He knew he was late. And he felt like he could only imagine the disappointment YN felt when he didn’t answer her call.

He and YN had picked out a specific time throughout the day where the both of them had to be available. No matter what the other was doing, at 7 o’clock they had to answer the phone, which was a pretty understandable rule, and Harry had found it easy to comply to it at first, excusing himself to take a call or getting covered by his band mates if he couldn’t make up an excuse quickly enough. But with time, his schedule had gotten really busy.

And he sometimes missed her calls.

He wasn’t the fresh out of XFactor sixteen year old he’d been when they first started dating. He was Harry from One Direction now, and despite him feeling as the same shy guy that worked in a bakery, life around him had changed, and with it, his relationship.

He knew how she was; he knew she wasn’t answering because she was upset. And Harry really didn’t blame her, but he just didn’t find it reasonable to be upset (“stubborn little thing! — he’d say, once she had calmed down and answered the phone — It doesn’t benefit neither of us if you don’t pick up ‘cause you’re mad!”).

He rolled his eyes once the line went dead, and opened the text app instead, typing quickly with his fingers.

Baby pick up I wanna talk to you

After a couple of minutes, he wrote again: please

I miss you

And after that, he tried the line once again. This time, she picked up after five rings with a small “hello?”, her voice sounded croaky distorted from the phone.

“Hello angel. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay”, and Harry felt her sigh through the phone, “i was thinking we should push back the calls until you’re back…”

“What?”

“I know you’re pretty busy,” she said, sternly, “and I don’t want to bother you.”

“What?” Harry repeated, and once he realised he already asked that, he cleared his voice and said: “you could never be a bother”.

YN couldn’t see him but she knew he was shaking his head. She tried not to picture the frown in his brows and the pout on his lips, otherwise she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Things are different now—”

“No.” He cut her off, “don’t say that, angel. Nothing’s changed. It’s still us.”

“Harry” she softened her tone to make sure he really understood her, “it’s still us. — she nodded firmly to herself — I think it’s best if we stick to texting for now. It’s okay.”

“Okay… okay, if that’s - if that’s what you want. Okay.”

“It’s better this way” she sighed once again and Harry felt her breathing through the phone, her shaky breath loud in his ears as if it were his own.

“But we’re good, right? Tell me we’re good.”

“Yes, of course we’re good.”

Harry nodded, staying quiet as the words she’d just spoken lingered in the air between them. Despite being so far away he could almost feel her right next to him as she kept talking, unaware of the heavy weight he felt on his chest making it a little harder to breathe, the sudden realisation that maybe they weren’t good after all.

-

Harry:

Good luck on your exam baby xx

Harry typed the message quickly before locking his phone in his hands.

“1 minute, guys!” Paul reminded them, and for the first time in three years, Harry didn’t want to perform.

YN had a really big exam, the most important of her course, and his heart ached at the thought of not being there with her. He didn’t want to go on stage, and if he was a bad person, he wouldn’t. He would call his driver and go straight to the airport. But Harry wasn’t like that. No.

Since the beginning of his career, he always felt like he owed something to someone, because as he often said to YN, things like this don’t happen to people like him. What he meant with ‘people like him’ no one truly knows, because YN is sure Harry would be successful even if he wasn’t in the band, even if he never went to XFactor, he would have found a way to do what he loves. People would’ve known him either way, because he’s Harry Styles.

And if he didn’t… was it that bad? Wasn’t a life with her not enough to him? She often wonders that, but then she feels extremely guilty and she stops. She knows it’s wrong to think in such a way, because Harry says many times that that XFactor audition was the best thing he ever did in his life, but sometimes you can’t really control your heart as much as your thoughts.

“Harry, stop texting and let’s go!” Paul shouted, from his position on the doorframe.

Sometimes it’s though, for Harry. He tries really hard not to snap at the crew members because he knows they’re just doing their job, but he would often like to say: handle me a little bit softer, please! Because he is still human, and despite enjoying his job, he still needs to be handled gently. He’s only 19.

He obviously never says anything because as stated before, he’s had this strange feeling of owing his career to someone (no one in particular… his fans? Simon Cowell? He doesn’t know, he just knows the feeling in his gut), and he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Harry throws a quick glance at him and nodds, sighing heavily as he hears his phone ding with a message.

Angel <3:

Can I call you, please? I don’t feel good

“Harry, I said let’s go.” He said once again, walking towards him and taking his shirt in his grip, tugging on the sleeve a bit.

Harry grimaced a little at the thought of not answering YN’s text, but he hadn’t opened it, so he guessed she’d probably think he was already on stage.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” He shrugged, tossing his phone on the couch and turning towards the door.

Paul nods and “c’mon, rockstar” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair playfully.

“Hey!” He pouted, chuckling as he bumps his arm against his.

Harry tried not to think too much about YN and her message, but he couldn’t help the pang in his chest as he walked out of the changing rooms and heard his phone ringing, the personalised ringer he set YN when he first bought the phone hitting him right in the heart.

He rolled his lips in his mouth as he walked towards the stage, the image of YN all alone at home with her phone to her ear hunting his thoughts.

-

Harry:

Hey, baby, how are you? What are you doing?

seen, 10.27am

Answer meeeee

seen, 11.47am

Are you mad at me? Why aren’t you answering?

seen, 12.01am

Angel <3:

Hary.. sprry i was ouy

Harry:

Are you drunk?

Angel <3:

Jst a litle bit hahahaahah

Harry:

Are you safe?

Angel <3:

yea, wit Emma xx txt tommrw

Harry sighed heavily as he rubbed his temples, tossing his phone on the bed beside him. He closed his eyes as he tried to soothe the impending headache as best as he could. He knew he shouldn’t think like this, but he sometimes can’t help but get angry with her; they never get time to talk, and the only time he can call her, she’s out drinking with her friends. It’s wrong and he’s being unfair, of course he knows. He’s just… he feels defeated. And left out. She feels so far away, and he’s sad he can’t be there with her. Why is she drinking? Is she celebrating something? Did she pass her exam? He doesn’t even know. He didn’t even ask, really. Because he was on The Late Late Show in the morning and was already performing with the band by the evening.

So he’s aware it’s his fault, but at the moment, he just feels like being angry at her. He’ll feel guilty in the morning, and he’ll try not to think about her like that ever again, but tonight… he allows himself the feeling.

He feels sick to his stomach when he realises he doesn’t even know who Emma is. He’s been away so long she made new friends he never got to meet.

-

Harry:

I wish you were here.

Harry knows this relationship isn’t going to work. He knows it deep in his heart, the feeling has been growing deep in his belly ever since he auditioned on xfactor, and if he was a better person he would end it.

He would take his brand new (very expensive) phone, digit the number he knows by heart and just… end it.

Dump her, to say it as straight as it is.

But he can’t.

He knows it’s what’s best for the both of them, he can tell she wants to move on, enjoy life with her friends, be loved by someone who could show his love by being present, but he is too selfish to do that.

The mere thought of her with someone else kills him, makes him sick to his stomach. So what does he do instead? He looks for her in every face in the crowd, in every person he meets (and there’s a lot).

Incoming: FaceTime call.

From: Angel <3

“Hi, H” YN whispers softly as soon as he answers the call.

“Hi angel.”

“I missed you, feel like I haven’t seen y’re face in ages”

“I know”, he clears his throat awkwardly, unsure on what to tell her, “still the same pretty face” he jokes.

“No, you look…” Harry can see her furrow her brows down to the middle, “you look different… older”.

What she really wants to say is he looks… glowier? Like someone who slept for twelve hours or someone who just came back from a ten days vacation at an all inclusive resort.

It’s weird, seeing him like this, he sort of lost his edgier and childlike state.

He looks more mature, yes, but also more polished. His once fluffy and untamed hair look shiny and… styled? He certainly has hairdressers, because YN saw it from an instagram post, but she thought it was like a one time thing… not a recurring one.

She feels kind of out of place, in front of this boy - guy, more like - she hasn’t seen in six weeks.

She finds it hard to remember it’s still her Harry.

She wonders how many things he saw in these six weeks, how many things he did without her, how many new places he discovered without sharing it with her, without making her a part of it.

The awkward energy isn’t lost on both parts, and if YN isn’t afraid to show it, Harry tries all he can to keep the conversation normal. He won’t give up.

“You look beautiful as ever” he says with a grin, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

She only partially breaks in a smile, because she doesn’t want him to feel bad.

It’s not him, entirely, it’s them… it’s them as a whole.

“Everyday gets harder to stay away from you” he reiterates, “but I’ll see you soon, okay? At your birthday?”

“Yeah… okay” she gulps, her hands playing nervously with a stray thread coming off of her cream sweater.

“Soon. I promise.”

She nods and pretends she believes him.

The conversation only lasts for a couple of minutes, their hours long calls are just a memory by now, and she asks a couple of questions to pretend everything is fine and not alarm him.

But she knows he can feel something shifted between them, because nothing is as once was.

-

“I think we should head inside, love” Anne kindly said, placing a gentle and comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No” YN shook her head firmly, in her stomach a nauseous feeling was tingling her insides; she tried to defend him with everything she could: “he can’t. He promised he’d be here. He’s coming. I know he is”

“Okay” Anne murmured, as she threw a wary look in Gemma’s direction, “let’s just wait a little bit more.”

“Yes!” Gemma agreed, “maybe his flight is late…?” She suggested, albeit with little conviction.

YN nodded her head absentmindedly, her gaze lost in the pinkness of the sky extending before her.

She had wanted to wait for his arrival to cut the cake, refusing Gemma’s offer (more like plea) to at least light up the candles to sing her happy birthday, so everyone was starving and YN had the strange feeling they were all upset. With her or with Harry she didn’t really know.

It’s not like she blamed them, the scene presented in front of them (YN waiting all day for Harry who didn’t even call to tell her he wasn’t coming; YN refusing to invite her friends because she wanted it to be just close family and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her boyfriend) was pathetic as it was already.

She really didn’t think Harry had it in him to miss her birthday.

Everything YN could really think of was how thankful she was it was just her, Anne and Gemma. What would have happened if she had invited more people? She would have ended up looking like the fool who gets stood up at her own birthday by her own boyfriend.

They had been waiting since lunch time and it was already sunset, the now orange sky a dreadful reminder of how much time was passing and how late it was getting.

In her heart, buried deep under her hope, she knew he wasn’t coming. She knew his flight wasn’t late because he never boarded it in the first place, breaking the promise he’d made her that he’d be there for her birthday.

She tried to think about a birthday she passed without Harry, but nothing came to mind. Ever since they started dating, he’d always be there celebrating with her and making her happy on what is supposed to be a day all about her.

She tried to think how much she was willing to wait, she didn’t want to encounter in the possibility of having to wait until late night, but she knew that if she didn’t give herself an ultimatum she never would have stopped waiting for him.

“YN…” Anne interrupted her train of thoughts, once it started to get a bit chilly in the garden and the humidity was starting to get uncomfortable.

“I know.” YN interrupted her briefly, trying not to pay too much attention to the way her eyes were starting to tingle a bit, the humiliation being so bad it was starting to grow inside her like a balloon waiting to pop, “it’s okay.” She nodded, reassuring Anne, but maybe herself too - a little bit.

She shifted her gaze to Gemma, who frowned at the look on her face, “it’s okay.” She repeated, “I knew he wasn’t coming, after all, I knew.”

She could feel their eyes on her as she brought a hand up to her chest, hoping that maybe the warmth could soothe her aching heart; but nothing about her was warm.

She actually felt really cold, her hand on her chest only accentuated her panic and humiliation as she could hear her heart beat fast against her chest cage.

“I am so sorry” Anne said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly,

“We’re certainly not leaving him any cake” Gemma joked, but her humour fell on deaf ears, because neither YN nor Anne laughed. In Anne’s opinion, there wasn’t anything to laugh about, and in YN’s… well, she wasn’t really paying any attention to her surroundings.

“Let’s go inside, love” Anne repeated once again, but this time YN nodded and got up from her chair.

She inhaled a little before heading towards the door.

Once she was inside, she felt the warm air hit her cheeks, and the sweet smell of the cake cooling off in the oven invaded her nostrils.

The cozy ambience was becoming kind of overwhelming, and she wished she could just close her eyes and be out of that damn house. The house where she spent all her best days with her boyfriend. Was he even her boyfriend anymore?

She felt sick to her stomach thinking those kinds of thoughts, but how couldn’t she? There weren’t many things she cared about like she cared about birthdays, and Harry knew it all too well.

“I think I’ll just head home…” she sighed, a heavy weight on her chest was making it harder and harder to breathe.

“Don’t you want to stay? We could eat some cake and…”

“No” she shook her head forcefully, “I just need to go home, I have to wake up early tomorrow”.

“Okay, love. I’m…” Anne began saying, but she stopped herself. There weren’t many words to say to excuse her son’s behaviour.

“Just… drive safe, okay?”

-

YN felt very alone as she laid in her bed that night; it wasn’t later than 9pm, way too early for her bedtime, but she really didn’t care, at that point she’d do whatever worked to make the day end sooner.

What was worse (if there even was something worse) was that her phone hadn’t rang one time since she’d arrived home, and that meant not only Harry hadn’t shown up to her birthday lunch, but he didn’t even feel guilty about it.

That was everything she needed to know.

She’d always been convinced chasing dreams couldn’t be harmful in anyway, and maybe for Harry it hadn’t been… but for her? What about her? Was she selfish for getting in the way of his dream of a life time?

All these questions ran through her head, a sharp pain growing behind her eyes from keeping in the tears for too long. They spiked against her eyes but she refused to let them fall, she had cried too long for him. This was really all she could do, but without even realising, she had started crying long before even getting in bed.

“Stop it” she condemned herself, pressing the tips of her fingers on her eyelids to dry the tears. “Just stop” she sobbed against her hands.

She doesn’t know for how long she laid there, and at some point she thinks she eventually stopped crying, too exhausted to let anything else out.

Before succumbing to a what she knew would be a troubled sleep, she grabbed her phone and typed a message quickly.

It read: we’re over.

-

When YN sent that text, she knew they weren’t over. They never could be, not without talking it out at first, and Harry… well he’s very stubborn, and at first, it was a quality she liked about him, but when he started calling her back to back until she answered, she reevaluated that.

Text from: Harry

I won’t stop calling until you answer the phone

I’m not joking, YN

Answer

We’re not over

Are we?

We can’t be

You can’t leave me like that

Answer the phone please

I can explain

It took her two days to call him. Two days of uninterrupted messages, two days of tears and an ache in her chest she tried to get rid of by eating tons of ice cream.

Her finger had lingered a while on the green call button before pressing it, but it only took him two rings to answer.

“YN…” he started, and he sort of sounded relieved, she has to admit that.

Like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Stop pestering me with all those messages.” She said firmly, “I don’t want to talk to you”.

“YN” he sighed once again, “please let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Harry! You missed my birthday” she said, and she tried really hard to keep her voice from breaking, but it didn’t really work.

“I know.” He said firmly, “my phone broke, I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to reach you… and by the time I got a new one, I had a concert and I couldn’t… you don’t know how these things work YN, I can’t just drop everything and run to you”.

She felt his words like a bullet piercing through her chest, “you’re right, I don’t know how these things work, but I still deserve to be treated with respect”

“I know. I know you do”.

Sometimes YN wishes Harry had never auditioned for xfactor in the first place. She knows it’s selfish but she doesn’t care. If that makes her a bad person, so be it.

If he’d never auditioned they wouldn’t be here, and she wouldn’t have to beg him for the respect he’d always showed her in the past.

“We really tried to make this work, Harry” she said in a soft voice, at this point all she could feel was defeat.

The whole situation was simply too hurtful to keep going.

“No. Stop. Don’t talk like that.” He’s quick to reply, and she could hear him get up from the bed she supposed he was sitting on.

“You missed my birthday! What am I supposed to say?”

“Enough with this birthday! I explained how things went already. You can’t just leave me like that for a single mistake”.

“But it’s not just the birthday! it’s… everything” she snapped, tired of him dragging a situation that’s been difficult long before he missed her birthday.

“Everything? You’re being unfair, YN. I tried with all I could to be present”

“But you didn’t! You never call, you’re always busy doing god knows what! -

“I’m working, YN, what do you think!” He interrupted her, but she started again with a scoff.

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore, H… buying fancy cars, hanging out with models… what? am I not enough for you anymore? Is that it? If you want out, why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you leave me?”

At that point she was certain she was crying, she could feel the warm tears streaming down her cheeks, but, in the confines of her home, she didn’t really care. Plus, it’s not like Harry hadn’t really seen her cry before.

She cried when she got her first A in maths Harry helped her study for (she had studied really hard), she cried in his arms all night when her childhood dog died (he had died an happy death at 16 years old, but still, it didn’t dull the pain), she cried to him when a mean guy called her four eyes in middle school and Harry had threatened to beat the shit out of him (she realised she loved him then), and she cried with him when he received the call he’d been selected to audition on xfactor.

All these times she’d cried, he had always been there to console her, comfort her, rubbing her back, holding her close to his chest, caressing her face with his soft hands. Where was he now, then? Why, after she threatened to end their relationship, he didn’t drop everything and hop on the first flight home? Why was she crying alone in her room?

A beat passed before he answered, and she wondered if he’s mustering up the courage to leave her. To finally do it. She hoped he would, quick and painless.

“I don’t want to leave you, even if it hurts, okay? You think it doesn’t pain me hearing you cry and not being there? It does. But I won’t give up on us. Even if it hurts, I’m not giving up. Are you?”

“I don’t know” she started, uncertain on what to say.

“No, you know, you know you love me. You do love me, right?”

“Of course I do” she reiterated, sniffling with her nose.

“That’s all that matters. We’ll get through this, I swear.”

It took a little bit more of convincing until YN finally gave in. She didn’t know how long this would go on for, how long they could make it last before going off like a grenade and destroying everything around them.

All she knew is this time, he didn’t even promise he’d come back to her soon. What did it mean? Is something not said as important as what was actually said?

-

After six months he’s been away, YN realises she should have left him that night. She would have saved herself so many missed calls, broken lines, fights and once again, tears.

Her desire to keep watering a dead plant ruined everything in the end.

She wanted out the very first moment he started missing her calls, she wanted to end it, and had she done it, by now she’d be somewhat partially healed, hanging out with her friends, checking his profile maybe once a week when she was really drunk.

But no.

These six months without him only alienated her and hurt her, and she’s finally mustered up the courage to leave him like she intended to.

It’s not a threat this time, as she tries to find the best words to leave him with.

She’s typing her message when her phone screen turns black for a fraction of a second and then his picture invades the screen.

Call from: Harry

“YN” he breathes out, not even letting her say hi to him, “I’m coming home. They told us today, I’m coming home.” he repeats, so many times he doesn’t even let her process this new information.

She doesn’t say anything, the words she has longed to hear for a long time now seem dull, like a cruel joke she doesn’t understand.

“You’re coming home?” She gulps, trying to steady her racing heart.

“Yes!” He exclaims, and then he proceeds to explain the logistics of his trip back home, how all the guys had begged for some time off and how the label finally agreed on two weeks of rest.

All YN can think about is how this is all too overwhelming to understand.

It’s been six months since she’s seen him.

How will it feel? Seeing him again after so long? Touching him? She feels like she doesn’t really know him anymore. So many things he did without her, so many people he met she doesn’t know and she will never be introduced to, so many new songs written, some that aren’t even about her.

She really wants to be happy, trust me she does, but all she can think about is how it feels like, by now, they’re as close as strangers.

[genacity]

DAY ONE. FIRST TIME?

ft. gojo satoru — jujutsu kaisen (呪術廻戦)

your boyfriend gojo satoru is convinced you’ll never be able to knock him off of the pedestal he stands on. saying he’ll always be the one to fuck you good and straight, that you’ll never one up him. maybe it’s time to show him that he’s not always right.

ruling. nsfw — mature content

content warnings. dom! gn! reader, first time sub! gojo, anal penetration / pegging, fingering, overstimulation, bratty gojo, slight dacryphilia, dumbification themes, hair pulling, spit as lube, established relationship, plot before porn

an. this came out way too long. anyways hope y’all enjoy day 1, some of the kinks listed on the ml did not make the cut bcs the fic would take 80 years to read and the intro is already cutting into my lifetime. also not proofread. anyways enjoy fucking gojo!!

kinktober 2023 masterlist

you and your boyfriend gojo satoru have been dating for five months at this point. your relationship is everything you’ve ever wanted in one; secure, loving, and honest. satoru is the most caring man you’ve probably ever met— though cheeky, he’s just as infatuated with you as he was when you first met.

not only is gojo amazing, but so is the sex. not to be a prude, but it’s true. he knows how to take care of his baby and never wants to leave you unsatisfied.

the only sour thing about your relationship is his teasing. especially in the mornings-after.

when you’re groaning, pressing down on a muscle in your back as you complained to gojo about how hard he went down on you the night prior. your boyfriend’s fierce laughter as he’s propped up on one arm, staring at you from his safety beneath the covers of your shared bed and messy hair.

“aw, c’mon, you know you liked it.” gojo would say as you kept prodding at your shoulders and legs. you’d shoot him a dirty look and he’d snicker loudly again. “okay, okay, i’m sorry. i’ll make it up to you today, i swear.”

one morning, your boyfriend had tossed his still-bare body over yours after a long session that night. face first into the pillow behind your head; long, spindly limbs sprawled out like a starfish on top of you as you both shared silly remarks about the long night you both had.

“y’know, one day, i’m gonna get you back for all the times you leave me sore like this,” you huffed, earning a muffle giggle from your boyfriend with his head in the sheets. “what? i’m serious.” you insisted.

gojo’s head snapped up to look at you. squinted blue eyes followed by another ugly little giggle. “uh huh, i bet.”

“what do you mean, ‘you bet’?” you scrunched your nose as your boyfriend gave you another mean chuckle through his big grin. “c’mon, y/n. you know you can’t top my skills.”

“now what does that mean?” you shot back, cocking an eyebrow at gojo’s funny expressions.

he hummed, thinking for a bit before turning his attention back to you. “you know i’m good at what i do. if you even tried to top me, you’d just end up giving up anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “not true.”

“what’s not true? that you’d give up, or that i’m good? because y’know, these fingers aren’t only good at sorcery—”

“yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.”

ever since that night, though, you haven’t stopped thinking about the idea. reversing the roles. it’s something the both of you had never tried before, but were you open to the idea. you just needed to make sure that satoru was, too.

but there was something different about tonight in particular that made you feel a bit more confident than usual.

it started off as it usually did whenever the both of you were in the mood. a handsy hello as soon as you got home from work; peppering your face with kisses and fingers pressing against your hips as you let your boyfriend lead you to the bedroom.

you’d barely be able to get a word in with the way gojo would welcome you home. lips quickly pressed together and without hesitation your back would be against the mattress and clothes discarded onto the floor.

“missed you today.” gojo mumbled into the kiss, lips sloppily trying to chase the pattern the both of you shared. hands gripping at your sides as he pushed you eagerly onto the bed.

as soon as you hit the bed you immediately grabbed at his arms and pulled him forward onto you. something inside you was pounding— pounding for tonight to be different than the rest.

you pulled gojo onto the bed, chest rising with heated breaths as a switch in your brain flipped. hands pushing him down beneath you, his back against the sheets as your boyfriend let out a breathy gasp.

“hey, what’re you doin’?” gojo mumbled, looking up at you through glassy eyes and white lashes as you reveled at the sight of satoru beneath you— a sight you weren’t used to seeing, but welcomed with open arms.

“you’re gonna let me take care of you tonight. okay toru?” you said, his eyes blowing wide and lips twitching into a small grin.

“take care of me?” he chuckled, watching as you slowly started to undo his shirt. “i’d like to see you try.”

you rolled your eyes as you pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. gojo watched your every movement, watching with interest as one of your hands quickly went to circle one of his nipples.

he shivered at your cold fingertips tracing along his chest, but laughed all the same. “what, ‘s this all you’re gonna do? c’mon, baby, let me just take care of you and— mmph.” gojo was promptly cut off when he felt your fingers press against the hard-on in his pants. a small smile crept onto your lips at the sight.

“hush, toru.” you muttered, palming him through his pants as gojo let out a strained groan. “this is what you get for being so mean to me all the time. leaving me brusied and sore.”

“you said you wanted it rough.” satoru panted, looking down at you as his long fingers started to grab at the sheets beneath him. “oh, i do.” you shrugged. “but now, it’s your turn to feel what i feel.”

your boyfriend’s breath hitched in his throat at the words from your tongue. he quickly gathered himself, clearing his throat to mask the whimper that slipped his lips. “you’ll just give up, y’know. you’re just gonna give into me and come crawling back.”

“that’s what you may think, but i know what i want.” you said, removing your hand from his bulge to reach for his glinting silver belt buckle. “you’re gonna take my cock and behave, just like i do for you. and if you don’t like it, you can say our safe word and leave.”

gojo gulped. he knew you wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want. he was in the position to say no whenever he wanted to. but the thought of your thick cock splitting him open had him salivating; even if he didn’t want to admit it to his big ego.

“satoru.” your voice called him back, snapping him out of the trance he was in. he looked down at you, his belt already undone and ready to be pulled off. “color, satoru. tell me what you want.”

he swallowed thickly again, lips parting as he whispered. “green.”

you smiled softly at him, slowly pulling his belt from the loops as you muttered a slow “alright.” unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down alongside his boxers. his pretty cock revealing itself to you.

“already leaking for me, huh toru?” you snickered, the feelings of your breath along his dick making him twitch.

“still gonna break you, y’know.” gojo murmured. “you’re just gonna give up and beg me to fuck you.”

“whatever makes you feel better.” *you said plainly. the tone in your voice left him shivering. suddenly, you raised your hand to his lips and with no hesitation said, “spit.”

gojo blinked down at you, who was watching him expectantly. he parted his lips and let his tongue slip forward, spitting onto your fingers as he maintained eye contact with you. “thank you, toru.” you said, lubricating your fingers before you lined them with the edge of his hole.

he felt his heart leap into his throat when your fingertips prodded at his entrance. silently, satoru spread his legs to let you know he wanted you. and you seemed to understand his prompt, for almost immediately your long fingers slipped into him with ease.

“fuck, oh god.” gojo immediately hissed, clenching tight around your middle and ring fingers as they slowly began to thrust in and out of him. “oh my god.”

he watched as your hand worked at his insides; curling your fingers as the sorcerer finally allowed for small whines to slip past his lips. each sound left his stomach turning— the dirty sounds of his own hole clenching around his partner’s fingers making him shudder.

gojo was stuck at small whines of pleasure, heavy breathing and the occasional gasp, until your fingers hit a particularly good spot inside him that made him cry out.

“ohn— oh fuck,” gojo whined out. “there. right, right there, that— ah!” he gasped when your fingers curled against his sweet spot, making him flinch and pulse around you. “‘s that feel good, satoru?” you asked, slowly thrusting your fingers in and out of his hole, taking note of the way his fingers curled around the satin sheets of your shared bed.

satoru nodded. his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths as he kept his eyes locked on you. “yeah. feels good. right there, feels so good…” he murmured. jolting back with every thrust of your fingers in and out of him, muscles tensing and relaxing in ragged patterns before you eventually pulled your fingers out.

“so messy.” you murmured, raising your hand to his mouth again. “spit.” and he did, right onto your fingers once more.

“i think you’re ready to take me, toru.” you spread his legs and began to undo your own buckle. your boyfriend watched your hands, every move closer to watching you reveal yourself making him almost shake with anticipation.

it wasn’t until you finally pulled out your cock did he realize how big you truly were. eyes blowing into saucers as he immediately began to blabber.

“you look so big!” satoru whined. “no way you’re gonna make me take all of that!”

“oh, i will.” you purred, pressing the head of your cock to his hole. he flinched, feeling your tip just against his ass as he went to protest again. “why can’t i jus’ fuck you like usual, baby?”

you laughed meanly at his words. “what, are you scared, satoru?” you asked, leaning in and simultaneously pressing your tip just against his opening. “scared i’m gonna break you open?”

“no!” gojo shook his head furiously. “i just- i just think you’re gonna get tired and give up.”

you sighed, staring down at your boyfriend with his big wide eyes and wet eyelashes. after a moment of bathing in his beauty, you grabbed hold of his thighs and leaned back. “color, satoru.”

gojo hesitated. looking from you down to his drooling cock that was just begging to be touched. his inflated ego kept hammering in his chest, but the feeling of your tip against his hole drove every thought away and left him squirming.

“green.”

“good.” and before he knew it, you’d forced yourself into him. a loud moan clawing its way through his throat and spilling from his lips as you began to pound into him, gradually picking up speed.

suddenly, that same hammering feeling in his chest immediately died out. as soon as satoru felt your cock sliding in and out of his walls, pressing up against his prostate with every thrust, his demeanor immediately unraveled.

“fuck— oh my— fuck, you’re so big!” gojo cried out. hands scrambling to ground himself as he gripped onto the sheets. “ah— oh— oh my fucking, please, y/n!”

you couldn’t help but watch gojo’s big blue eyes grow teary. rolling back into his head as you fucked him, forcing his legs back to angle yourself well enough to hit all of the right places.

“already all ruined for me, satoru.” you cooed. your words slipped into his brain and toyed with his thoughts, leaving him quietly whimpering as he felt your hands near his head.

all of a sudden, the cloudy feeling forming in gojo’s brain flickered as you took a handful of his hair and forced him to look at you. yelping as your fingers intertwined with his snowy locks and pulled his head up.

“what was that you said earlier about me getting tired and giving up, toru?” you asked, hips angling and pounding into him faster and faster. all he could do was hiccup and gasp, head subtly bobbing from the force of your thrusts combined with the weakening grip on his scalp.

“ahmm— ah, i don’t— uhn…” he stammered, too focused on the feeling of the head of your cock kissing his prostate with every thrust to make out the words you were saying. the fog in his head was coming back, accompanied by a knot tightening in his stomach.

satoru was panting and shaking. too focused on the heat in his lower abdomen spreading across his body. “i’m- it’s-” he stuttered out, words slurred together. his brain was rattling inside his head. too embarrassed to admit the fact that he was already about to cum his brains out to himself as you kept hammering his hole. “y/n, i’m gonna— haaah, oh!”

“gonna what?” you asked, thrusts growing deep and sloppy as you kept your quick pace. “c’mon, finish your sentence. don’t tell me you’ve already gone dumb.”

his vision grew blurry with tears, a few even spilling over and down his cheeks. the heat in his stomach kept burning, hotter and hotter as his brain tried to scramble for words to try and form a sentence. hell, even a word would be nice.

“ah, ahn, i’m— haah, ah, ah!” gojo began to squeal. your grip on his hair grew tighter as he completely began to forget you were even talking to him.

and suddenly, he was cumming all over himself with a garbled “cu— ah, aahhn!” his scalp burning from the force you held him up with, legs twitching as his cock bobbed with every stream of cum he coated his stomach with.

you slowed your thrusts as you watched him cum, but didn’t halt completely. as soon as he was done, you immediately began picking up your pace once more.

“wait, wh— fuck!” satoru whined out as you let go of his hair and flipped him onto his hands and knees. his head stuffed into the pillow that was once below him as you drove your cock into his hole with more fervor than before. “i- i just came! y/n, baby, i just-”

“i never said you could cum, did i?” you asked. immediately he shut his mouth, clenching around you with a loud whine. “you’re gonna keep taking my cock until i’ve cum. until then, you sit here and look pretty for me. is that clear?”

at first he didn’t respond. not until you grabbed hold of his hair from behind and forced him up again. “i said, is that clear, satoru?”

gojo eagerly nodded his head, panting and whimpering with your every movement. “yes. yes, ‘s clear! fuck me, please!”

you were going to have a long night.

[ddejavvu]

Hey Mei 🫶

Here’s my idea - BAU!wife who yells at Hotch when he yells at their team members because she’s a protective momma bear. And hotch secretly loves it because his wife yelling gets him all hot and bothered.

Love you 🫶 and your writing thank you 🧡

Perhaps it's an unwise idea to pick a fight with your surly husband, especially because he doubles as your surly boss. But Spencer hadn't even been that late, and you know he only walked in late because he takes public transportation, and he couldn't control that the bus was late. And, Aaron's only in such a sour mood because Jack had given him typical teenage attitude before school this morning. So really, Spencer didn't deserve the near-shouted lecture he'd gotten.

You march over to the young doctor's desk, happy that his aversion to touch applies to people he's not familiar with. He leans into your stomach when you pull his head to rest on it, albeit stiffly, and you call after your husband with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"Aaron, come back here right now and apologize." You demand, and the already icy mood in the office shifts a few degrees colder. Aaron stops on the stairs and by the tightness of his shoulders he's composing himself, then he turns on his heel and raises a thick brow at you.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve that," You scold him, keeping Spencer's head cradled to your stomach as you stroke down his back, "He's a baby."

Aaron rolls his eyes, "He is not a baby, Y/N. He's a grown man with a government job, and I expect him to show up to it on time."

"He does! He's early every single other day," You remind him, "But the bus came late today! How was he supposed to get here? Uber? You know he doesn't know how to download new apps! Let alone link his bank account to pay the guy. He was seven minutes late, for fuck's sake, just leave him alone!"

Aaron looks like he wants to snap. You've gnashed your teeth at him, and he's lived the life of a fighting dog thus far, so you know you're treading in dangerous waters. But after a rather intense stare down in which you feel Spencer's face heating up through the fabric of your shirt, your husband swallows his pride and mutters, "I expect you in my office within five minutes, Y/N."

Spencer mumbles some feeble protest on your behalf but you pat his back to shush him, letting go so that he can straighten up again.

"Don't worry," You send him a warm smile, "I can handle him. Call me if you ever need a ride again, okay? We can come pick you up."

"Okay." He nods, but it's most likely only to deter you from pampering him with any more motherly affection, as he looks like he's going to wilt from it, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Anytime," You squeeze his shoulder, passing your concerned teammates unbothered smiles as you make your way to Aaron's office.

He's only recently sat down when you arrive, but you notice that he's conveniently sitting so that the desk blocks your view of his lower half. You stand at attention in front of his desk, playing coy like you don't know what's coming next.

"Do you enjoy questioning my authority in front of my team?" He asks you, voice carefully even and tight.

"I enjoy doing anything that makes your dick twitch, Aaron." You announce, your tone deceptively casual for the filth you're spewing, "Did you haul me in here to fuck me over the desk? The blinds are still open, don't you think that's a little distasteful?"

Your attitude only makes him more uncomfortably aroused, and he regrets getting his suits tailored so precisely, as his pants have little give. He leans forwards across his desk, dark eyes boring into yours.

"No. I hauled you in here to tell you that I'm going to fuck you over the desk. But not yet. You're asking for it now, so I'm not giving it to you. Maybe if you'd been a little more polite, I'd have given you what you wanted. But now you're going to wait, because you decided to bicker with me over the rules of this office. Rules that I set, because I am in charge of keeping this team on track."

The harsh tone of his voice makes your stomach twist, and you're feeling your heartbeat in two places. You stand there, saliva slowly accumulating on your tongue, until he raises a brow at you, unimpressed.

"Don't do that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." You lay on the formality hot and heavy, practically purring it and watching as he shifts slightly in his seat, "I'll be waiting, whenever you decide you can't take it anymore."

"Careful." He snaps, eyes ablaze at your implication that he'll be the one to break, "Don't dig yourself any deeper. Dismissed."

You turn to leave with a satisfied smirk on your face, and perhaps you exaggerate bending over to pick up a stray paperclip that you notice on the floor by his door.

"Here," You pad back across the room to hand it to him, not missing the way that he's tense all over, "See you in twenty, Hotchner."

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[We went on shopping (it didn’t go well)] - TF141*F!Reader

not a chapter actually just a rambling, it's kinda messy and not my style imo, pls feel free to skip this etc. might rewrite this shit when I have time since I’m busy with my job these days and I just accidentally sliced my thumb open making it difficult to type, hence not much to provide sorry :( and the weird stranger incident in the latter part did happen irl damn it’s creepy af, but I was the one telling them to fuck off tho (they harassing my cute friend RAGE)

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After your car graduates from its car life in about a week, congratulations, the poor shelf accompanies you since your college life is finally undone, fragments spreading across the floor making you shout Mama and mourn for its graduation.

You don’t have a car right now, so when Gaz offers to drive you to buy a new shelf, you agree to his suggestion without a second thought. Yet when the day comes and you open the car door, only to be greeted by the wide smile of Soap and Gaz, you almost slam the door close in reflex.

“Okay, but why do all of you come together? this isn’t an elementary school field trip!” You gawk at them when you squeeze in the car.

“Sounds fun, how can ye not tell us?” 

“Gaz I thought you could seal your lips!”

“Sorry love, Ghost exchanged it with some goodies.”

Oh yeah, Ghost is sitting in the driver’s seat.

Wait, he’s sitting in the driver's seat?

“Goddamnit—“ Your scream dies out on your tongue when said man puts his foot down. 

Ghost does a good job at providing you the same experience as riding a rollercoaster, glad that you didn’t throw up in the car and arrived at the warehouse without dying. If he's your Uber driver, you will give him five stars and block the hell out of him. 

You hop out of the car and walk to the door. As the automatic door parts after sensing your presence, you feel much better when the cold air of the store. Nice a.c. is one of the important features of a nice store, and you already built a fondness for the warehouse with how refreshing the chilly air is inside.

The first area welcoming you is food. Not bad, 6 out of 10 if it needs to be precise. Gaz pushes the cart and follows you as you saunter to the aisle with cereals.

“Oh, they have my favorite brand.” You murmur to him as your eyes travel across the price tag.

Wait, you must still be dizzy because no way it’s 30% cheaper than the same one you just bought from the supermarket.

“Kyle, it says it’s 3 pounds, right?!” pointing at the tag, your voice raises a whole eight-tone with excitement.

“Yes?”

“Good.”

5 boxes of cereal are added to the cart. 

Actually, 9.9 out of 10 for this place, you fix the evaluation as you watch Gaz putting some of those ten bags of chocolate Ghost and Soap dump into the cart back on the shelf, and as a little revenge to Gaz for letting the other two men join the trip without you knowing, you choose to turn a blind eye when you spot Ghost sneaking all of them back in the cart.

Not forgetting the primary goal for today, you go straight to the furniture area after letting Soap throw five packs of gummy bears in the cart and convincing Ghost not to get a cup of tea from the random tea shop. You’ll make a much better one for him when you get home — you coo when he stares at you with unhappy eyes not covered by the mask, glad that he seems to accept the idea, so he huffs and lets you drag him and Soap out of the food area.

“You should buy this.” 

“Ghost I don’t need a green shelf in my shop thank you.”

“Then ye should buy this bonnie!”

“That’s not even a goddamn shelf, Soap.”

“How about this?” 

Your eyes brighten up when Gaz shows you a wooden shelf, it’s stripped-back, with not many decorations, but it surely will fit wonderfully into your store with its aesthetic vibes and high functionality, thus you pick up your phone to type down the product number immediately.

“Oh my, Kyle, you’re the best.”

and you’re too busy typing the numbers down that you don’t notice him shooting the others a taunt of victory.

The last area before the cashier’s counter sets a bookshop. You don’t plan on buying books, but you indeed need to go to the bathroom, so you dismiss yourself and tell them to look around before you’re done.

Why are the bathrooms always hidden in a bloody long hallway? What if someone can’t hold back during their way? Your footsteps echo through the corridor as your mind starts hitting you with a fresh and unnecessary question, glad that you aren’t that urgent though, so you’re able to get to the destination without wetting your pants.

Washing your hands, you step back to the hallway again, but you yelp in surprise when you bump into someone.

“Sorry!” You nod at the man and start heading back to the bookstore.

but it’s weird, the man you just bump into walks so close to you, that you suddenly realize he’s just a step behind you.

Hey, don’t panic, might just coincidence, you try to tell yourself as you make another step.

“Hey, lovely.” Okay, it’s not a coincidence, fucking hell. You curse when his hand touches your shoulder and stops you.

“Sorry for bumping into you, Sir. Anything that I can help?”

“No, I’m waiting for you to separate from the blokes for a while can’t ask for your phone number when they surround you like dogs.”

“I don’t give strangers my number, sorry.” You try to leave, but the man’s hand grabs your shoulder forcefully preventing you from moving.

“Hey, give us a chance yeah? I’m sure we will have some nice time together.”

“I don’t fucking know you!”

Prying off his hand, you turn and start walking fast, almost running when you hear the stranger’s footsteps coming towards you.

Fuck fuck fuck, you haven’t run with such desperation in years, last time must be high school.

“Who the fok are ye arsehole?”

The tears prickling in your eyes when you hear Soap’s voice ringing in your ears before you feel a pair of warm hands drag you behind him.

“Ghost and Soap will deal with him, let’s go.”

Adrenaline pumping through your body finally subsides when Soap and Ghost reappear from the hallway, you don’t want to know what happened to the stranger, maybe hope they’re still alive and in one piece so you won’t involve yourself in another chaos, 

“I think it’s time to go home, Kyle. Is it okay?”

“Of course, wanna grab some food before we leave?”

“I guess Ghost already bought sufficient chocolate for us.”

A burst of laughter catches your attention whilst Gaz looking at the cart with bags of chocolate stuffing under your cereals with disbelief, and a smile crawls back to your lips as you look at Ghost slamming his forehead against a lower door frame and Soap laughing over him.

They aren’t that bad, maybe, or they reserve the remnants of tenderness for you, you’re not sure whether is correct, but at least they have your back when you need them, and that’s enough for you to stop exploring the answer for now.

“Oh.” A book gets knocked off when you shift to stand up. Turning around to pick it up, you have a good look at the shelf behind your seat.

Your eyes dart from ‘Today’s recommendation’ to the book within your grasp.

‘Surrounded by idiots — by Thomas.’

You will rate this recommendation 10 out of 10 for sure.

After insisting on paying yourself and shooing the men off, you take out your card and place it on the scanner.

‘Insufficient balance :( please try again’

You frown when the machine shoves you a nuh-uh, and you open the bank app to check your balance.

So you overspent 10 pounds huh? What a shame to your title for being a successfully financially broken adult. Which link loses and makes you make a wrong shopping decision? 

you scan the list of items with sharp vision until you land your eyes on a product.

Surrounded by idiots - £ 10.61

Ah.

a/n: thx for reading :D sorry it's messy and unlike my previous writings :( hope I can have time to write again btw Price went on business trip so he's missing everything

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww @ghostysloot @hxnneydew @cutiecusp @beigechristmastree @rejectedbytheempty @lupikekee @hotvinimon @whitetiger846

[fancycat-thesilvertux]

Okay, so I’m a fan of Brain Dead - these two overworked boys who need hugs, melatonin, and to sleep in a comfortable pillow fort while wrapped in soft blankets like burritos (bonus points if it’s actual tortilla-pattern blankets) - and I’m also a fan of petty revenge like -

Tim accidentally getting married to Ghost King Danny because Red Robin got captured and used as a sacrifice by a cult to summon the Ghost King to reign destruction but mishap someone forgot to read up on their runes so the “sacrifice” was actually a “sacrificial bride”, meaning magical contract between GK!Danny and Tim.

And Danny, when he gets summoned and realizes what happened, is like, nope. Takes down the cultists, does abscond with Red Robin just to explain the situation and how right now, the dude is his Queen Consort or co-king because magically enforced marriage at least they don’t have to copulate that would have been even worse. And Tim is just computer crashing as he gets an information dump on how one, there’s another realm that’s, two, filled with dead people who, three, is ruled by a guy his age and who, four, Tim is now married to because, five, cultists really need to do their hOMEWORK WHAT THE HELL -

And did I mention that the contract lets them know no secrets between them? So Danny knows who Tim is meaning he knows who the Batfam is but that’s okay since Tim knows who Danny is and oh wow that explains a lot about Jason now with the ecto-contamination by impure ectoplasm -

And Tim really doesn’t want to tell the Batfam what happened since he still has insecurities regarding his place in the family which isn’t helped by their treatment - and Danny is seething because him and Tim actually get along pretty well as friends and Tim has quickly worked his way into Danny’s Obsession of Protecc because Danny will always protect those he cares about and he doesn’t like how Tim gets treated especially when it came to learning about Tim’s missing spleen.

Now here’s the funny part of this AU - because of the marriage contract between Danny and Tim, Tim gets the perks of being Queen Consort/co-king in having power over ectoplasmic beings, so when Jason’s going in on Tim who has been stressed from the situation despite Danny and Tim’s new friends in Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Jazz, and Dani (and Dan if you want to include him) doing their best to help him destress which he greatly appreciates, is still operating on little to no sleep, AND just found out that somebody replaced his extra strong coffee with decaf, Jason who calls Tim “Replacement” one last time -

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Tim snarled at Jason, his eyes glowing a scarily familiar green to the Batfam. Jason’s own eyes began to glow green in response, but instead of his feeling angry, the Pits encouraging him to hurt, Jason can feel the Pits actually COWERING back instead this time, and an incredible urge to not say another peep.

Meanwhile the rest of the Batfam is also freaking out because holy shit when did Tim take a dip in the Pits?!