Daddy's Girl

She/her ★ 20 ★ Spilling some of my mind's contents ★ NSFW/SFW minors dni

[notsoladylady]

On heavens and on earth I will sell my soul to be with you, my one and only.

Mari. 22. She/Her.

18+ blog. Mature content. Minors DNI

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4:43 - Gojo Satoru

Jealousy, Jealousy - Toji Fushiguro

On-going

Back to you- (Gojo Satoru x f!reader) modern au

Zaddy Toji- (Toji Fushiguro x reader)

©️2021 notsoladylady- all rights reserved.

[notsoladylady]

What We Once Were

Summary: Five years after parting ways, Y/n, a successful business owner, and Satoru Gojo, now the mayor of their hometown, unexpectedly cross paths in a Florence art gallery. Though their lives have taken different paths, the unresolved feelings between them resurface, forcing them to confront the love they once shared—and the choices that led them to separate.

CW: Modern AU, HEAVY ANGST, Politician Gojo

Characters: Gojo Satorou x reader

I hadn’t set foot in this town for five years, and yet the moment I stepped out of the car, it felt like time hadn’t moved at all. The same narrow streets, the same aroma of grilled corn from the corner vendor, and the faint chime of church bells floating in the summer air. My heels clicked against the old stones as I made my way through the plaza, clutching my handbag a little tighter.

My life now is a world away—penthouse views, exclusive dinners, boardroom victories. I left to chase my dream, and I caught it. But the moment I saw Satoru’s campaign posters plastered across the square—“Satoru Gojo for Mayor”—my chest tightened. He had always wanted to serve this place. And I… I had always wanted to leave.

He stood tall on the makeshift stage in front of city hall, shaking hands, giving that same composed smile he had mastered as vice mayor. But every now and then, his eyes drifted toward the back of the crowd. Something in the air shifted. He straightened, eyes locking on a woman standing beside the fountain.

Y/n

She was more radiant than he remembered—her style effortlessly elegant, her presence commanding. The years had made her sharper, but in her eyes, he still saw the same warmth. He almost forgot what he was doing, staring at the woman who once held his entire world in her hands.

When our eyes met, it was as if no time had passed. I didn’t know whether to run to him or run away. Instead, I smiled. “Satoru,” I said softly when he reached me, his hand already extended. The moment his palm touched mine, I felt it all—the comfort, the ache, the regret.

“You came back,” he said. There was something raw beneath his calm. “Just visiting,” I replied. “I heard you’re running for mayor.”

 “I’m finally doing it,” he said with a soft laugh. “You look... exactly like I remembered.”

And you still feel like home, I wanted to say.

For a fleeting second, it was just the two of them, as if the plaza had melted away. He remembered lazy Sunday mornings in her arms, their shared dreams that once split at a fork in the road. She had wanted peace abroad. He had wanted to build peace here. Neither was wrong. But the timing had been cruel.

She hesitated. “Would you like to have dinner?” Her voice was quiet, but full of something fragile and brave. “Just to catch up?”

He froze. The answer wanted to be yes—God, it wanted to be yes. But just then, Arielle appeared at his side, her diamond ring catching the sunlight. “Love, they’re waiting for you at the press table,” she said, kissing his cheek.

Y/n’s world tilted.

I smiled, because it was the only thing I could do without breaking. “Of course,” I said, stepping back. “You’re a busy man now.”

His eyes searched mine—apologetic, tender, as if to say he didn’t want me to find out like this. But what did it matter now?

I turned away before the tears could fall. Around me, the city buzzed with life. Children ran past with balloons, an old man played a guitar near the church steps. Life had gone on. He had gone on. And so had I. Yet, in that moment, I felt the echo of what we could’ve been.

We had been two stars in the same sky, burning too brightly to last.

Gojo watched her disappear into the crowd, his heart heavier than he’d admit. He had loved her with everything he had. Maybe a part of him still did. But time, like seasons, had changed them both.

And Y/n, as she slipped into her waiting car, rested her head back and whispered to no one, “He waited… but only for a while.”

Bittersweet and silent, the memory of them would live on—not as regret, but as a soft ache. A beautiful almost.

(Flashback - Five years ago)

CHAPTER ONE: WHEN WE WERE EVERYTHING

The sea kissed their ankles as the waves rolled gently over the sand, pulling the edges of the night closer. Y/n leaned back on her elbows, the hem of her sundress damp, her hair tangled from the ocean wind. Gojo sat beside her, half-buried in the sand, smiling like the world was finally quiet.

“You’re getting good at parking on a slope,” he teased, nudging her with his shoulder.

Y/n laughed, eyes still on the moonlit horizon. “You’d know if you could drive without crashing into a curb.”

“I told you, I have a license,” Gojo groaned playfully. “I’m just… not on speaking terms with the wheel.”

She turned to him, the corners of her mouth still lifted, eyes glowing. “Good thing you have me, then.”

And he did. For two years, he had her—all of her. Her fire, her laughter, her silences. They had wandered through museums in the afternoon, sharing whispered jokes beside priceless paintings. Their hands brushed over marble statues and coffee cups alike. They had slow-danced barefoot in their apartment kitchen, argued over nothing, and made up as if their hearts couldn’t bear a second apart.

Their favorite was the beach. Always the beach. Somewhere between the salt air and the hush of tides, they found something that stilled the noise of the world. That night, on a forgotten shoreline, they made promises not with words but with glances—quiet, burning things they both felt in their bones.

—

CHAPTER TWO: ALL THE PLACES WE LOVED

Y/n drove through the winding mountain roads of Sapa, her laughter echoing into the crisp morning air. Mist clung to the forest like a secret, and beside her, Gojo nursed a steaming cup of Vietnamese coffee between his hands. The car windows fogged from the contrast of their warmth and the mountain chill, blurring the outside world like a dream. They had woken at 4:00 AM, bleary-eyed and wrapped in scarves, determined to chase the sea of clouds. At the lookout point, the world stretched wide and white before them. They huddled beneath a single thick blanket, his chin resting gently atop her head, breath fanning against her hair as dawn broke—soft orange and pink bleeding into the sky.

Afterward, they stumbled into a local eatery, cheeks red from the cold, and shared a hot bowl of pho while huddled shoulder to shoulder. He fed her a spoonful too hot, and she smacked his arm while he laughed through a mouthful of noodles. Later that day, they wandered through terraced rice fields, hand in hand, the wind tugging at her coat and his laughter steady behind her as she slipped on the damp path and dragged him down with her. They lay there a moment, breathless from laughter and the sheer beauty of it all—the sky, the mountains, each other.

In Tokyo, it snowed the day they landed. She tugged him through the bustling streets of Shibuya, their fingers intertwined beneath their gloves. At a small corner ramen shop, they squeezed into a booth too small for his long legs and watched steam rise from their bowls, his chopsticks reaching into hers with a mischievous grin. Later, walking down a quiet street lined with bare sakura trees, he slipped on a patch of ice and brought them both down in a heap, their laughter rising into the frigid air like smoke. She pelted him with snow until he grabbed her waist and threw her into the drift, kissing her breathless beneath the shadow of the branches.

They spent an afternoon in an old bookstore tucked behind a shrine, thumbing through vintage manga and translated poetry. She found a worn copy of The Little Prince in French, and he bought it for her, scrawling a note on the first page: “Even the stars are laughing at us.” 

That night, they rode the Ferris wheel at Odaiba, Tokyo Bay glittering beneath them. When they reached the top, he turned to her with that rare softness in his eyes, the one that made the world still. 

"If I could freeze time," he whispered, "it would be this moment."

In Paris, spring bloomed around them. They kissed on metro platforms and danced under street lamps with no music, only the sound of the city’s heartbeat. One lazy afternoon, they sat along the Seine, watching boats drift by while a street painter captured them in soft, deliberate strokes. 

Y/n wore red lipstick that stained her coffee cup, and Gojo watched her with that quiet, adoring gaze that always made her forget where she was. When the portrait was finished, she joked about how the painter had drawn her too beautifully, but Gojo only whispered, “It’s still not enough.”

They had their favorite café in Le Marais—a tiny, ivy-covered place where the owner recognized them and brought out warm madeleines with their coffee. He would trace lazy circles on her palm while she read to him from a book of Baudelaire poems, his head resting in her lap. They spent one rainy day wandering the Louvre, getting lost among statues and secrets. In front of The Winged Victory of Samothrace, he turned to her and said, “She reminds me of you. Beautiful, untouchable, always flying away.”

The painting of them from that day by the Seine still hangs in her flat. Or… it did.

—

CHAPTER THREE: THE GOODBYE

“You can’t be serious.”

Rain poured in relentless sheets, swallowing the city in a wash of gray and thunder. The street lay empty, save for two figures framed beneath flickering street lights. Towering buildings loomed in the distance, blurred by the downpour, like the future they once imagined—now washed out and unreachable.

Gojo stood in the center of the road, his white shirt clinging to his skin, his soaked coat hanging off his frame. His platinum hair, usually so perfect, lay plastered to his forehead. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, but it wasn’t the storm that made him tremble.

Y/n stood a few feet away, suitcase clenched tightly in her hand, her umbrella forgotten and abandoned on the curb, as useless now as all the promises they’d whispered under brighter skies.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice barely rising above the rain. It cracked like glass in her throat. “I can’t stay, Satoru. I’d lose myself here. In you.”

He took one slow step forward. Then another. And then, as if gravity gave up on him, he dropped to his knees in the middle of the street—the vice mayor of the city, a man known for his pride, his precision, his impossible calm—now kneeling in the dirt and water like a man stripped of everything but love.

He didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care if the press caught wind of it, or if his name would run in headlines by dawn.

His hands came together, pressed tightly—not as a politician, not as a public figure, but as a man begging for his heart not to walk away. 

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, voice raw and unrecognizable. “Y/n, please—stay. 

We can make this work. I’ll follow you. I’ll resign. I’ll disappear from the world if it means I can still exist in yours.”

She took a shaky breath, eyes shimmering with tears and devastation.

“You won’t,” she whispered. “You were never meant to leave. And I was never meant to stay.”

He opened his mouth, but she turned before he could speak again—turned before he could see her fall apart completely.

The sound of her footsteps, even muffled by the storm, was the last piece of her he ever got.

He never chased her again.

And somehow, that was what broke her the most.

—

CHAPTER FOUR: GOODBYE, MY LOVE

Y/n sat in her quiet high-rise overlooking a foreign skyline—one she had once dreamed of, and now merely existed within. Sunlight spilled like liquid gold across polished floors, but the warmth never quite reached her bones. The apartment was silent, save for the ticking clock and the hum of life outside a window she never opened.

She curled into the corner of her velvet armchair, knees drawn to her chest, tablet balanced on her lap. With a breath that trembled at the edges, she tapped on the hidden folder marked “Us.”

It opened like a door she had boarded shut.

There they were.

Smiling, wind-tousled in Sapa, their cheeks pink from the cold. Gojo reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear as clouds rolled across the Vietnamese mountains behind them.

Laughing in Tokyo, the two of them wrapped in mismatched scarves, holding canned coffee and snowballs. She could almost hear his voice—teasing, warm, and full of that stupid, stubborn hope.

Kissing in Paris. His sunglasses pushed into his hair. Her red lipstick smudged across both their mouths. A painter had captured the moment, immortalized it in oils and pastels. She still remembered the way Gojo had whispered “Mon amour” in a terrible accent, just to make her laugh.

They were dancing barefoot in their tiny kitchen in Osaka, burning pancakes at midnight because “life’s too short to wait for breakfast.” Falling asleep on the train with his head on her shoulder. Arguing in a quiet bookstore in Kyoto—she wanted poetry, he wanted manga—and making up ten minutes later in the romance aisle.

The Polaroids. The voice memos. The videos of him singing off-key while driving through the city at 2AM. The clip where he told her she was his favorite view, even when they were standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Every moment was a heartbeat. A life they’d built in fragments.

She touched the screen like it might pulse back, like it could answer all the questions she never asked him after she left.

Her thumb hovered over the options. A single tear fell onto the tablet, warping the smile on his face.

Select all.

A choked breath. A final glance.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

Delete.

The screen blinks black. The silence rushed in like a wave.

It felt like closing a book she’d never finish. But not the end.

Because some love stories don’t get closure. Some love stories don’t fade. They just live quietly in the spaces we never speak of— In dreams we wake from too soon. In songs that play at the wrong time. In the ache between what was, and what still could have been.

-

CHAPTER FIVE: THE NIGHT THEY MET AGAIN

Y/n hadn’t planned to attend the town hall event. She was back only for a week—just long enough to oversee the final stages of a foundation she’d built from the ground up in her old neighborhood. Loose ends. Nothing more.

Her driver offered to take her through the plaza. She almost declined. Almost.

But fate, ever cruel and theatrical, had a flair for orchestrating the moments that unravel you.

The car rolled to a gentle stop near the old fountain, where water still danced like it did the night he kissed her forehead beneath the stars. Summer clung to the air—hot, heady, familiar. Banners fluttered above: “Satoru Gojo for Mayor.”

Her breath hitched.

She stepped out of the car. Her heels met the cobblestone she once danced barefoot on, laughing as Gojo spun her around, tipsy on wine and wonder. Everything looked the same.

But she had changed.

And then—there he was.

Standing just beyond the crowd, radiant under the dusk-tinted sky. Satoru Gojo. Laughing with someone in a white blouse. A microphone was handed to him, his name echoing in cheers. He looked every inch the man the world adored. Poised. Powerful. Unshakably confident.

And yet… still the boy who once traced her scars with trembling fingers, swearing he would never be the reason she broke again.

She stared, frozen. For a moment, she was just another face in the crowd watching the man she once called home live a life she wasn’t part of anymore.

He looked… magnificent.

Her heart, traitorous and tender, stirred painfully. The wind tousled his silver-white hair the same way her fingers used to. That warmth in his eyes—it could still melt her resolve.

Then he looked up.

And saw her.

The crowd disappeared. The banners blurred. Even time held its breath.

His eyes widened, as if disbelief had punched the air from his lungs. And then, he moved. Pushing gently through the crowd like gravity itself pulled him toward her.

Y/n stepped forward too, though every cell screamed at her to run. To protect what remained of her peace.

“Y/n,” he said, voice cracking at the edges. “God. You’re really here.”

“Hi, Satoru,” she whispered. Her smile was soft, but her eyes glistened with a storm she refused to let fall. “You look… like someone who finally made it.”

“I did,” he said, searching her face as if to memorize it all over again. “But not in all the ways I hoped.”

She swallowed. There was too much she wanted to say, and not enough language to carry it.

“I’m proud of you,” she murmured. “You’re exactly where you said you’d be.”

“And you,” he breathed, “are even more beautiful than the day you left.”

Her lungs ached. She almost laughed—almost sobbed. Because he didn’t know about the nights she cried herself to sleep. About the way she kept his toothbrush for a year. About how she deleted their photos one at a time like a ritual—never all at once. Never all at once.

“I was going to ask,” she said, voice trembling, “if you wanted to catch up. Dinner maybe. Like old times.”

For a moment, something flickered in his expression. A memory. A life they almost had.

But then—

“Satoru?” a voice called, soft and sweet.

A woman approached. Elegant. Lovely. Familiar in the way things become when they stay after everyone else leaves. Her hand found his naturally.

Y/n saw the ring first.

It glittered like an ending.

Gojo didn’t speak. Didn’t pull away. Just stood there, torn between past and present.

Y/n smiled—not from happiness. But from grief dressed in grace.

“Congratulations,” she said. “She seems… wonderful.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she gently shook her head.

“I should go.”

“Y/n—”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t make this harder.”

She stepped back. Her heart shattered in perfect silence, but her heels never faltered. She didn’t look back.

Because if she did, she’d never leave again.

-

CHAPTER SIX: THE ONE WHO WALKED AWAY (Gojo’s POV)

She disappeared into the crowd like smoke—untouchable, uncatchable, still burning at the edges of his soul.

Satoru stood there, hollowed out, a thousand unspoken words caught in his throat. The way her voice cracked when she said, “Dinner maybe. Like old times.” would haunt him more than anything.

He had imagined this moment for years.

Had played it over during long drives home. Wondered what he’d say if he ever saw her again. How he’d take her hand and finally get the ending they were once denied.

But he hesitated.

Because beside him stood Arielle—steady, patient Arielle—who had stood by him when his dreams fell apart. Who kissed his knuckles before every speech. Who never asked for his past, only his present.

But she wasn’t Y/n.

And no one ever was.

The applause snapped him back. The emcee called his name again. Arielle’s fingers laced with his.

“Love,” she said, smiling. “They’re waiting.”

He nodded. But he felt like he was drowning.

That night, after the cameras were gone and the plaza fell asleep, Gojo sat alone in his study. The glass of whiskey remained untouched. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of a city that thought it knew him.

He opened a drawer he had promised never to touch again.

Inside—dusty and worn—were relics of another life.

Two concert tickets to a band they never got to see.

A Polaroid of her laughing in the Paris rain.

A letter. Torn at the edges. Smudged with time.

You make the world feel like poetry.

He closed his eyes and pressed the photo to his lips.

“I still would’ve chosen you,” he whispered, throat tight. “Even now. Even with everything. I still would’ve chosen you.”

But love, like timing, is a cruel thing.

He had waited.

But only for a while.

And she had walked away. Not because she stopped loving him.

But because she loved herself enough to let go of someone who couldn’t choose her when it mattered most.

And that—he would never forgive himself for.

-

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ART OF MOVING ON (Y/n’s POV)

The city outside her window was louder than ever. Or perhaps, it was only the silence inside her that felt deafening.

Y/n returned to her condo, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her heart felt like it was being dragged behind her, the weight of all the unspoken words, the promises once made, now lost in the distance. She kicked off her shoes, poured herself a glass of wine, and walked slowly toward the massive window that overlooked a city she had once dreamed of conquering. Now, it felt like a hollow victory. Success, riches, and accolades had done nothing to heal the aching emptiness inside her.

She set the glass down, the wine untouched, and turned toward the small shelf across the room. She hadn’t looked at it in years, not since that night when everything had fallen apart. The shelf was barely noticeable, hidden behind a stack of neatly arranged books, but she knew what was there. She had locked it away, locked him away, but tonight—tonight she couldn’t ignore the pull.

Her fingers were trembling as she crossed the room, the box she had stored it all in still tucked behind the books. It felt heavier now. She took a deep breath and lifted the box, the lid creaking open like an old wound. Her hands shook as she peered inside.

There they were. The relics of her past with him. Each one a piece of a love she had never quite been able to forget.

A dried flower, pressed carefully between a piece of parchment. It was the first wildflower he had picked for her, the one they found on their hike in the mountains of Vietnam. It had been her favorite moment of their trip—the quiet, stolen moments, the way he’d smiled when he handed it to her, like he’d given her the world itself. The petals were faint now, barely a whisper of their former beauty, but they still carried the scent of the day they had walked together, laughing and planning a future they never had.

Next to it, a small velvet box. She opened it slowly, her chest tightening as she gazed at the promise ring he had given her on their last anniversary. The silver band was simple but elegant, and on the inside, his initials were imprinted: “S.G. to Y.N.” It had been a symbol of everything they had promised each other, and though the ring was still beautiful, it felt like a weight she couldn’t carry anymore. A promise broken.

And then, the letters.

She carefully unfolded the first one, a love letter he had written her during their time in Paris. His handwriting, imperfect and beautiful, danced across the pages. His words had been promises, dreams, visions of a future they had both believed in. 

“If love were a place, it would always lead me back to you,” he had written. She could still hear his voice in those words, the warmth in the way he had said them, and for a moment, she felt him close again. But the weight of those words, now lost in the past, threatened to pull her under.

She put the letter down, her eyes drifting to the photograph that had always been her favorite—the one taken on their last night together in Tokyo, before everything unraveled. They had been laughing, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights as they danced in the middle of an empty street.

She picked up the photo and traced her finger across it. She could almost hear his laugh, feel the warmth of his hand on her back as they spun beneath the stars. A time when everything had felt so easy, so certain.

But now, it was just another memory.

Y/n stood up, the box still in her hands. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart aching in ways she had forgotten it could. She had told herself she’d moved on, that the life she had built—her successful career, the city that was now her home—was enough. But it wasn’t. It never would be. Not without him.

Her eyes filled with tears as she stood before the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. She was strong, successful, fierce. But tonight, tonight she was broken. Tonight, she was just a woman who had given up the only love she’d ever known, thinking that success could fill the void he had left behind.

The box of memories was heavy in her hands. She wanted to hold on to them, to keep the past alive, but she couldn’t. Not anymore.

She walked slowly to the trash bin, every step feeling like an impossible decision. She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to erase him from her life, even though she knew it was the only way to heal.

One by one, she set the mementos in the trash. The dried flower. The ring. The letters. The photograph.

As she held the ring one last time, the weight of it in her palm felt like the weight of her own heart, breaking and cracking all over again. She whispered, “Thank you… for loving me when you did.”

And with that, she let it fall into the darkness.

She didn’t watch it disappear into the trash. She couldn’t.

Instead, she turned off the light.

The room plunged into darkness, just like her heart.

-

CHAPTER EIGHT: A LIFE WITHOUT YOU(Dual POV, two years later)

Y/n had everything.

Her face graced magazine covers. Her name was etched into the glass of boardrooms stretching from Manhattan to Milan. She was the keynote at global forums, the icon in business school case studies. People whispered her name with awe—as if she were a myth.

Untouchable. Unreachable.

But every time she walked into her penthouse, where the lights flickered on with her voice and the city sprawled beneath her feet, silence screamed his name.

Gojo.

She had tried—God, she had tried. There were men who brought flowers, spoke poetry, kissed her hands like she was art. But none of them had the laughter that melted her walls at 3 A.M. None of them knew how to hold her dreams without trembling. None of them were him.

They weren’t Satoru.

And sometimes, late at night, when the rain tapped against her floor-to-ceiling windows, she’d wonder… Did he ever think of her?

Did he hesitate before slipping the ring on someone else’s finger?

Did his wife know there was once a girl who held his whole heart beneath a sakura tree and walked away crying into the storm?

She would never know.

—

Gojo, now mayor, stood alone at the edge of the pier—the same one where he once traced her name along her spine with lazy fingers, whispering promises he was too young to keep.

He had kept his city alive. Built schools. Passed reforms. Worn a hundred suits and delivered a thousand speeches.

But none of them made his hands stop shaking when this day came.

Her birthday.

Every year, he returned to this quiet stretch of sand, far from cameras and ceremonies. He would close his eyes and try to remember her laugh—not the faded echo, but the way it hit him in the gut. The way it made him believe in forever.

He wondered what she looked like now. If her smile had changed. If she still took her coffee sweet, if she ever forgive him for not chasing her that night.

But how do you chase someone who was born to fly?

And maybe, deep down, he knew… 

She didn’t need saving.

She needed letting go.

So he never called.

She never returned.

And somewhere between the pages of time and the corners of two separate lives, their love remained—unburned, unburied, unforgettable.

Because some stories don’t die. They just live in the places we go to remember. And in hearts that never learned how to forget.

-

CHAPTER NINE: THE LAST TIME (Dual POV, five years later)

The air in Florence felt soft that afternoon—mild and scented with old stone, museum polish, and hints of spring.

Y/n wandered through the art gallery alone, her heels quiet against the marble floor, her scarf tucked gently around her neck. She wasn’t looking for anything. Just a quiet hour away from the noise of the city, away from the hum of the world she had worked so hard to build.

And then she saw it.

A painting. Their painting.

She froze.

Snow fell around the couple in the scene, frozen in a moment of laughter, mid-kiss—Paris, ten years ago. A painter on a cobblestone street. Her lipstick is red. His hand cradling her cheek. Their happiness was immortalized.

Her breath hitched.

“Y/n?”

The voice came from behind her. Deep, familiar. Gentle.

She turned slowly.

He stood there. Older now, but still unmistakably him. Satoru.

She blinked, unsure if it was real. 

“Satoru…”

A small, disbelieving smile tugged at his mouth. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Her voice was quiet. “Neither did I.”

For a moment, silence passed between them like a ghost. She took a step closer to the painting.

“I remember this day,” she said.

He chuckled softly. “You made fun of my scarf.”

“You wore it like a lost tourist.”

“You kissed me like you knew we were running out of time.”

The air thickened between them.

He looked at her fully now. “You look… different. Still beautiful. But softer. Steadier.”

Y/n met his eyes. “Life does that.”

There was something restrained in his face, something buried but flickering.

She tilted her head. “And you? Still in public service?”

“Mayor. Two terms now.”

She smiled. “Of course. You always said you'd never leave.”

He nodded, eyes drifting back to the painting. “You were always the one who left.”

“And you were always the one who stayed.”

She meant it without bitterness. Just the truth.

“I’m divorced,” he said suddenly, the words heavy. “Two years now.”

Y/n blinked. That twist in her chest again. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, but pain passed across his face like a shadow. “She was good. But I loved her with my past. Not my whole heart. Not the way I loved you.”

Silence.

Then, softly, he asked, “You?”

She hesitated.

“I’m married,” she said quietly. “We have two children. A boy and a girl.”

His breath caught—just a flicker, but she saw it.

“They’re beautiful,” she added. “They laugh like I do. Dream like him. I named our daughter Elise. I used to love that name.”

His hands went to his pockets, his posture shifting—like trying to hold the weight of something invisible.

“I thought maybe,” he said, voice low, “that if I waited long enough, you’d come back.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I did come back. Just not in the way you hoped.”

His voice cracked. “Does he make you happy?”

She nodded. “He gives me peace. And space. And love without questions. He lets me be everything I am. Just like you did.”

His eyes glistened. “But you didn’t choose me.”

“I chose my dream. And the life that came with it.”

Gojo looked down at the floor.

She took a step toward him.

“You were the love I thought would last forever,” she said. “And you did. Just… not in the way I imagined.”

They stood quietly.

Then her phone buzzed gently in her purse.

She glanced at it. A photo from her husband—her son holding her daughter’s hand, waiting for her by the fountain outside. Smiling.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

He nodded.

She touched his hand, once. Lightly. Tenderly.

“If things had been different…” he began, but couldn’t finish.

She offered a soft, aching smile. “They weren’t. But we were beautiful, weren’t we?”

His voice broke. “Yes.”

She turned and walked away—toward the sunlight, toward her family, toward the life she had chosen.

Gojo remained there, staring at the painting.

Alone in the gallery, with a memory he could never repaint.

-

EPILOGUE: THE LETTER

Gojo’s POV

The night was still.

The lights of the city blinked below his hilltop home, tiny stars scattered over the land he had promised to serve. The mayor’s office was silent now. His staff had long gone. But he remained, as always, the last to leave.

The snow painting hung on the opposite wall. He stared at it while the ink bled slowly onto the page in front of him.

He was writing a letter.

One he would never send.

Y/n,

I saw you today.

I wasn’t ready.

But the moment you said my name, something in me broke loose—like the part of myself I buried with you had only been sleeping.

You looked like everything I’d hoped you’d become. Not just successful. Whole. Radiant. Full.

And I hated how much I still loved you.

I used to imagine being the one by your side when your children were born. Holding your hand in the hospital. Dancing with our daughter in the kitchen. Building a home by the sea like we always dreamed.

But you gave those moments to someone else.

And I don’t blame you.

You were always meant for flight. I was the one who stayed behind, hoping you'd circle back.

I didn’t know what to do with a love that large. I thought it would wait.

It didn’t.

And losing you? That was my greatest regret.

You once told me love wasn’t always about staying. Sometimes, it was about letting go.

I understand that now.

Still—I hope he makes you laugh. I hope your children feel safe in your arms. I hope your home smells like sunlight and stories and soft mornings.

And when you close your eyes at night— I hope there’s still a small part of you that remembers us.

Because you were never just my past.

You were the love that taught me what forever feels like.

Be happy, Y/n.For all the days I couldn’t give you.For the life you built, beautifully, without me.

You were my greatest almost.

Always,Satoru

He folded the letter slowly, tucked it inside a drawer, and locked it away.

Then he turned off the lights and walked out of the office—into the dark, into the quiet, into the rest of his life.

Alone, but carrying her always.

[notsoladylady]

Wildflower

“I betrayed my friend just to be with you”

You found yourself seated on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, as you watched Gojo zip up his pants. His gaze, as deep and captivating as the ocean, met yours, awaiting an explanation for your whispered confession.

"I betrayed my friend just to be with you," you repeated, the words heavy with regret, each syllable tinged with the sting of betrayal. Gojo's smile, however, remained unfazed, his movements deliberate as he closed the distance between you.

As he drew closer, his touch gentle against your skin, planting soft kisses that trailed from your lips to your neck, you closed your eyes, unable to bear the weight of your own guilt. The warmth of his embrace offered fleeting comfort, but it was overshadowed by the ache in your heart.

She had been more than a friend; she had been your confidante, your pillar of support through the toughest of times. You had sworn to stand by her side, to shield her from harm, yet here you were, entangled with the very man who had caused her pain.

As Gojo pulled away, his gaze bore into yours, searching for affirmation. "I was worth it, right?" he asked, his voice a whisper that echoed in the silence of the room. With trembling hands, you brushed away the tears that threatened to spill, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of your betrayal heavy on your shoulders. But as you uttered those words, a nagging doubt lingered in the depths of your soul. Was he truly worth sacrificing a friendship that had weathered the storms of life?

As the echoes of your betrayal reverberated in the stillness of the room, you couldn't help but wonder if the price you paid for love was too high a cost to bear.

[notsoladylady]

Wildflower

“I betrayed my friend just to be with you”

You found yourself seated on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, as you watched Gojo zip up his pants. His gaze, as deep and captivating as the ocean, met yours, awaiting an explanation for your whispered confession.

"I betrayed my friend just to be with you," you repeated, the words heavy with regret, each syllable tinged with the sting of betrayal. Gojo's smile, however, remained unfazed, his movements deliberate as he closed the distance between you.

As he drew closer, his touch gentle against your skin, planting soft kisses that trailed from your lips to your neck, you closed your eyes, unable to bear the weight of your own guilt. The warmth of his embrace offered fleeting comfort, but it was overshadowed by the ache in your heart.

She had been more than a friend; she had been your confidante, your pillar of support through the toughest of times. You had sworn to stand by her side, to shield her from harm, yet here you were, entangled with the very man who had caused her pain.

As Gojo pulled away, his gaze bore into yours, searching for affirmation. "I was worth it, right?" he asked, his voice a whisper that echoed in the silence of the room. With trembling hands, you brushed away the tears that threatened to spill, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of your betrayal heavy on your shoulders. But as you uttered those words, a nagging doubt lingered in the depths of your soul. Was he truly worth sacrificing a friendship that had weathered the storms of life?

As the echoes of your betrayal reverberated in the stillness of the room, you couldn't help but wonder if the price you paid for love was too high a cost to bear.

[notsoladylady]

Sugar Daddy, Geto

Living in a cramp dorm place? missed the bus and got no car? tight on a budget and living on free meals?

That’s not a problem! as long as you’re with sugar daddy geto, you have nothing to worry about.

He’ll give anything for his baby girl, long as he’s busting her back.

a collection of drabbles and scenarios with your sugar daddy-geto suguru

CW: NSFW/SFW, smut, fluff, comfort, romance, age-gap, modern au

Suggestions/Ideas: open

Taglist: open

Chapter 1: Sleek Black Card

[notsoladylady]

Zaddy Toji

A collection of drabbles and scenarios with your hot assassin boyfriend Toji Fushiguro.

CW: NSFW/SFW, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, romance-centered, age-gap, assassin! toji

Taglist: open! (just send me an ask/message)

That time when we were out shopping

Jealousy, Jealousy

Breakfast in veranda

So, How did we meet?

The night where cold wind embrace me instead of you

Patch me up

[notsoladylady]

chap 2 is out!!

[notsoladylady]

Zaddy Toji

Jealousy, Jealousy

cw: NSFW‼️thirst, suggestive content, fingering, mention of sex/fucking, fxm!

As you browsed the menu, searching for a nice dinner that could satisfy your cravings beyond the endless takeout you devour at home, a familiar deep-toned voice from the past called your name. "Y/N?" Upon hearing that, you raised your bowed head and met his gaze from a distance, a hazy man who had made a significant impact on your past.

"Higuruma!" You yelled lightly as he walked towards you. You slowly rose from your seat and walked towards him, and he snatched your waist tightly, pulling you close to his body while you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stood there for a few minutes, lost in thought and feeling each other presence, until Toji brought you back to reality with a loud cough.

"Excuse me?" Toji looked at you with a sharp gaze, scanning Higuruma from head to toe. "Mind introducing him to me?"

You stepped back, pulled your skirt down, and smiled. "This is Higuruma, my college friend... my study buddy."

Higuruma's eyes locked onto yours, and you knew that Toji was aware of the true nature of your relationship. That Higuruma was more than just a friend-your fuck buddy or a friend you fucked with every after class. You and Toji had always been open with each other about your past relationships, including our sextuationships.

Higuruma once again wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned forward towards Toji, offering his hand. "Hey, you heard my name. I was Y/N's college friend."

After finishing his sentence, Higuruma formed a smirk, intentionally emphasizing the word "friend" with an obvious meaning behind it.

As the evening progressed, Higuruma reminisced about old times with you, sparking laughter and nostalgic conversations about the shenanigans you’d pulled in the past – sneaking out of lectures to have sex in the library, quickies in the restroom, car fun’s and dorm-fucking stories.

Toji's jealousy simmered beneath the surface, evident in the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact together with his growing anger which was obvious from the sound of his utensils grationg on the plate.

After finishing his wine, Higuruma stood from his seat, leaned towards you, and kissed you on the side of your lips. "I missed you," he whispered before standing up and bidding goodbye. "Call me, Y/N."

The atmosphere became heavy and suffocating after Higuruma's departure. You tried to talk to toji, asked him a few questions but he ignored you. As you wiped your lip on the napkin, ready to call the waiter for your bill, Toji spoke up with his deep, cold voice. "Was he good?"

You looked at him, and his gaze was piercing into your soul. His eyes undressing you slowly, nipping your skin limb by limb that is sending shivers down your spine. Intimidated by his gaze, You couldn't answer properly. You swallowed hard and nodded your head gently, mumbling the word "yes."

Toji snickered confidently now, leaning towards you as his right hand crawled up your knees slowly towards your thighs. He squeezed them tightly before reaching under your skirt and pressing against your clothed self with his knuckles. "Better than me?" he asked, rubbing his knuckles up and down in circular motion against your pussy.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt every movement of his hands on your clothed pussy. You were losing your mind, one more move and... you’d be done. "Toji... a-ahh... not her..." You tried to finish your sentence but couldn't.

As you felt warm liquids escape your undies, your back arched and hands squeezed Toji's shoulder. You gently closed your legs in between toji’s arms while catching your breath slowly. Before you could even regain yourself, Toji pulled back his arm and let out a smug look. Licking his knuckles and fingers. He leaned towards you again and whispered in your ear, "Take your undies off; we're doing it in the elevator."

[notsoladylady]

Zaddy Toji

Jealousy, Jealousy

cw: NSFW‼️thirst, suggestive content, fingering, mention of sex/fucking, fxm!

As you browsed the menu, searching for a nice dinner that could satisfy your cravings beyond the endless takeout you devour at home, a familiar deep-toned voice from the past called your name. "Y/N?" Upon hearing that, you raised your bowed head and met his gaze from a distance, a hazy man who had made a significant impact on your past.

"Higuruma!" You yelled lightly as he walked towards you. You slowly rose from your seat and walked towards him, and he snatched your waist tightly, pulling you close to his body while you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stood there for a few minutes, lost in thought and feeling each other presence, until Toji brought you back to reality with a loud cough.

"Excuse me?" Toji looked at you with a sharp gaze, scanning Higuruma from head to toe. "Mind introducing him to me?"

You stepped back, pulled your skirt down, and smiled. "This is Higuruma, my college friend... my study buddy."

Higuruma's eyes locked onto yours, and you knew that Toji was aware of the true nature of your relationship. That Higuruma was more than just a friend-your fuck buddy or a friend you fucked with every after class. You and Toji had always been open with each other about your past relationships, including our sextuationships.

Higuruma once again wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned forward towards Toji, offering his hand. "Hey, you heard my name. I was Y/N's college friend."

After finishing his sentence, Higuruma formed a smirk, intentionally emphasizing the word "friend" with an obvious meaning behind it.

As the evening progressed, Higuruma reminisced about old times with you, sparking laughter and nostalgic conversations about the shenanigans you’d pulled in the past – sneaking out of lectures to have sex in the library, quickies in the restroom, car fun’s and dorm-fucking stories.

Toji's jealousy simmered beneath the surface, evident in the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact together with his growing anger which was obvious from the sound of his utensils grationg on the plate.

After finishing his wine, Higuruma stood from his seat, leaned towards you, and kissed you on the side of your lips. "I missed you," he whispered before standing up and bidding goodbye. "Call me, Y/N."

The atmosphere became heavy and suffocating after Higuruma's departure. You tried to talk to toji, asked him a few questions but he ignored you. As you wiped your lip on the napkin, ready to call the waiter for your bill, Toji spoke up with his deep, cold voice. "Was he good?"

You looked at him, and his gaze was piercing into your soul. His eyes undressing you slowly, nipping your skin limb by limb that is sending shivers down your spine. Intimidated by his gaze, You couldn't answer properly. You swallowed hard and nodded your head gently, mumbling the word "yes."

Toji snickered confidently now, leaning towards you as his right hand crawled up your knees slowly towards your thighs. He squeezed them tightly before reaching under your skirt and pressing against your clothed self with his knuckles. "Better than me?" he asked, rubbing his knuckles up and down in circular motion against your pussy.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt every movement of his hands on your clothed pussy. You were losing your mind, one more move and... you’d be done. "Toji... a-ahh... not her..." You tried to finish your sentence but couldn't.

As you felt warm liquids escape your undies, your back arched and hands squeezed Toji's shoulder. You gently closed your legs in between toji’s arms while catching your breath slowly. Before you could even regain yourself, Toji pulled back his arm and let out a smug look. Licking his knuckles and fingers. He leaned towards you again and whispered in your ear, "Take your undies off; we're doing it in the elevator."

[notsoladylady]

JJK Boys as Toxic Manipulators

cw: different types of manipulation, smut, violence, angst, suggestive contents

Chracters: naoya, gojo, toji, geto

AN: I was long gone right? My real life kept me preoccupied (mostly my degree) and I thought I would never had the chance to write again. Yet, I'm trying, slowly because the last time I wrote was six months ago! and I didn't even realized that I hit 900 followers. I'm so overwhelmed and happy at the same time, thank you for supporting me even in my absence. I hope to write more and share more so I'll be trying my best in the future :) thank u and i love u <3

Naoya Zenin gaslighting

As a woman of zenin naoya all you did was to be good for him. A perfect wife who lives just to serve his husband-his master for the rest of her life. You have absolutely no right to think and do anything besides him. You were his and his only, and the sole identity you have is Naoya zenin's little trophy wife. So what about it when he degrades you for a little mistake you did? Calling you dumb, ungrateful bitch who does nothing but enjoying his riches when you just forgot to bring his coffee on time? So what about it when he calls you a crazy psycho one time when you caught an obvious red stain of a kiss mark on his neck, and when confronting him where it came from, he said that it was nothing but a mere mark and told you that you are out of your mind-paranoid, a crazy bitch making a scene to ruin his image. You worship naoya so much that you have owned up sins and mistakes that were supposed to be his. A liar, a cheater, a manipulator, a crazy bitch who only wants the zenin's riches and naoya’s glory. All of that was you and bestowed upon you as long as you are still in love with him.

Gojo Satoru love bombing

Being the greatest sorcerer, a six foot tall and gorgeous man is a dream for everyone, yet for gojo it was his daily life. People falling in line just to fuck him. Giving out their body, soul and dignity just to get a glimpse of him. He has heaven in his reach. He is absolutely in control of everything because everyone is treating him like a god. Unseemingly, it was quite different when he was in love. Never once gojo thought that he could stoop down on a human level to have you. You were his first, the woman who made him feel that way. The first person he had adored, cherished and glorified. So when he had the chance to have you, he gave his everything. Body, soul and dignity. Showering you with love just the second he meets you . It was sweet at first, a coffee on your desk every morning, a home-made dinner, a bed of roses. Oh, it was a day dream being with him- having him gojo satoru until it was not. A 2 am call just to hear your voice, your scream and moan in the middle of nowhere so that he can release his load.

A tireless public love confession that you never asked for. A threat from all the people who are trying to get to you, even your friends. A banging knock on your door at 6 in the morning or 12 in the evening, the endless information he got from your schedule which you never shared. He was always there, on your sight that you could not even breathe a second without him. He overwhelms you, the love he gives was just too much to handle. It was not sweet nor tender- it was suffocating and uncomfortable. It feels like you are chained down on a love that you never wished nor asked for. You should be happy-grateful to have him and his love but you are not. He keeps disrespecting your boundaries, keeps forgetting that you have your own life and he has his. That you were not his world and he is not yours. He was ideally a blessing from heaven but sometimes his love is too much that you just wish to suffocate to death rather than to be loved by him.

Toji Fushiguro abandonment

You were not sure if it was loved. But the way he touches you proves that it is. The way he kissed you was more than a reassurance it was an oath, a vow, a promise. So why do you feel that everything is a lie the second he walks out on your door and leaves you for a few months with no single call? Why does a read in all those bunch of messages you sent cut deeper than any words you could have received when he literally said nothing? Why does a missed birthday and anniversary mean it feels like the end of the world? You were not sure if there was a relationship to begin with because he never promised, never tried and never assumed that there is you and him. Well, in fact you were only one of the girls he ran at when he was done with his job and needed momentary solace and pleasure. It is stupid, showing your whole self on him, overthinking the future with him when he never tried to show a miniscule of himself to you nor thought a single moment with you cause everything for him is vast emptiness the second his wife-his other half passed away. And what is more stupid is that despite of you knowing everything, that you were nothing but a heat he needed and that he’ll never look at you the same way he looked at her, is that you still accepts him and loves him with all your might. Giving him everything he needed and wanted until you are dead empty. You love him- so fucking much that even if he forgets your existence the second he walks out your door-you will still welcome him in your life, open arms like nothing happened, anytime. 

Geto Suguru manipulation

He was the best guy you dated. Tall, black hair, muscular, kind and respectful. But more so he satisfies you the way you wanted to be satisfied. You never doubted him, never questioned if his intentions were pure, you just explicitly bowed your head and followed his orders as his eyes were looking profound into your spirit, thumb fixed inside your mouth as you sat kneeling down underneath him, sucking him slow and deep. He was the best- the greatest, you repeatedly told your friends but they agreed otherwise when they saw how your body flinched with a single touch and how it was filled with red marks. You didn't understand them- he was the best. You know that-he proved that. He told you that you were beautiful, that you were perfect, that he needed nothing else (family nor friends) but you. He also told you that he should be the only one for you too and asked you to leave everyone else and focus on him because everyone is only trying to ruin the both of you. You said it was not true and everyone is supported on the both of you-wishing you the love you both deserved and alas! that earned a slap. 

Yes, he might be cruel at times but I was wrong, he is a good person, he loves me so he just wants the best for me . You repeatedly told your friends, but they disagree. Telling you to break up with him and you deserve someone else. What? Why? Are your friends really trying to ruin both you and geto? Maybe, maybe he is right. Maybe the people I trusted never wanted me to be happy. Geto also told you before that your friends are insecure of you and they never wanted you to be happy. They are jealous of you for having a man who will love you for the rest of his life-willing to give up everyone for you. All along the love of your life was right, no one from these people supported you, respected you and genuinely wanted you to be happy. They were only hiding behind their pretentious smile just to drag you along with them in the mud-ruined and unhappy. You should have listened to geto- you should never befriend them, you should have abandoned them a long time ago. Stayed inside the house beside him and only trusted him with all your life because no one from here cared. They never loved you. So you got up and exited your ways and moved towards your home, your sanctuary, geto suguru. He is the only person you could trust, he is the only person who wants you to be truly happy and he is the only person who truly loves you. 

[notsoladylady]

HELLO Y'ALL HOW ARE YOU?? I'M NOT DEAD BTW JUST SO CLOSE TO DYIN 🥰😄😄😄

[notsoladylady]

Hi Lady, long Faded anon! FYI, I was listening to I love you by Billie Ellish while re-reading Faded to ✨ set the mood✨ but hope this helps with your idea for the second part! Maybe a further insight on why he cheated and whether he’s emotionally able to move forward or would he stuck this way til he dies?

Hi anon! Thank you very much for your suggestions, I love them and I would really get back to them as soon as I finish my responsibilities. Again, thank you very much! 💓💓

[notsoladylady]

Hey babes! So I reread your ‘Faded’ fic with Geto and I kinda, sorta made a quick sequel-like ending to the story 😀 (TW: death, blood, ptsd) so after the ending in Faded, Getou is completely lost, disturbed and overall regretful after Y/N ending her life. It’s that generic trope of only loving someone after you lose them. He can’t function emotionally anymore, has cut out everyone (including the mistress, left her as fast as lighting), etc. He even catches himself buying baby clothes, “maybe Y/N would like these colours better. I’ll just get both”, making her favourite foods/drinks, and hasn’t touched anything of hers, as if she’s never dead the last few months.

It becomes increasingly worse when she “appears”, day or night, through his lows and even worse blows. The last straw is when he dreams of her one restless night of the many; he wakes up to see her cleaning up “the mess she made”. She looks up and asks what’s the matter, showing her ever caring self as if she’s not the one who’s suffered. Suguru, in total shock and rendered speechless , can’t even move as if she’s not at all fazed by their end. Suguru then pleads for her to yell at him, spit every bad word possible, shame him for being a horrible husband, as he can longer live in a world without her. Then as Suguru finishes, he sees himself behind her kneeled figure as she stares blissfully unaware and so lovingly at the real Suguru sitting on the bed. “Suguru” stabs her in the back as she coughs up blood onto Suguru as he wakes up, fully awake and shaken, touching his face as if the blood is really splattered on him.

Yet again, all not real yet really real… he sobs loud out to no one, begging for a another chance, he promises to be a better lover, husband, anything as long as he have Y/N back. He wants to hold her swollen belly as they dance in the kitchen late at night after getting her pregnant cravings, give her reassurances as she brings their little one into the world, hold the little bundle of their love in his arms and promise to protect and love their mother and them no matter, watch the baby’s first steps toward their gleaming mother.

It’s all but a dream; somewhere in another life, he’s a better man, husband, father who has everything he never deserved but truly cherishes. He can now only find them in dreams and in the stars….

“maybe Y/N would like these colours better. I’ll just get both” THIS! Oh my God anon, you have no idea how you made me sob in real painful tears 😭😭😭. This is sooooo good and painful!!! 😭😭❤️ I can imagine geto regretting every single day of his life, wishing to see the family he could have. "Every single step and every single breath, I see you love, looking at me like I am the center of your universe, the main character of enchanted dream you have built on your head. Loving, Kind, and faithful, a man that truly appreciated you, a lover who had loved every single part of you, and a husband who had a dream with you and lived with you. How I wish I took part in it, love, cause every single day I am dying of guilt and regret. Wishing to see you again, wishing to touch you and our child. and now that the tables have turned could you live in my head instead? I promise to paint you as beautiful as you are, just let me, Please" AND THIS!!! "He wants to hold her swollen belly as they dance in the kitchen late at night after getting her pregnant cravings, give her reassurances as she brings their little one into the world, hold the little bundle of their love in his arms and promise to protect and love their mother and them no matter, watch the baby’s first steps toward their gleaming mother." you absolutely killed me on this part, because GOD I canon geto as the most PERFECT LOVING HUSBAND AND FATHER in this fic if he wasn't a jerk. Now, I'm crying I really, really want to know and write how would geto be on the second part of faded. ❤️

[seijohbear-deactivated20220414]

— streamer

kinktober masterlist

full haikyuu masterlist

kinktober oct 19 : cockwarming

kozume kenma x f!reader

description: your boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to you, so you decide to take matters into your own matters. literally.

genre: smut, university au

warnings: cockwarming, mention of creampies, begging, kenma is a streamer

You had always been supportive of your boyfriend’s career. Being a streamer was a lot of work, especially with consistent uploads and livestreams. You knew he loved it, so you loved it too.

But not so much when you were extremely horny and he was too busy to give you attention.

Kenma had been sitting at his computer for hours, talking to chat and playing some game. He knew that you wanted his attention. “Just a little longer.” He said, muted with you out of frame.

His fans knew who you were, they just didn’t know what you looked like or what your real name is. For the first half of his streaming career, Kenma was faceless. Private. And he planned to keep a lot of it that way.

Finally, after you were basically whining for him, he gave in and turned to you.

You had gotten completely naked, sitting on the edge of his bed. He swallowed, yet gave you an annoyed look.

“Alright guys. I gotta go.” Kenma announced. “My girlfriend wants me to pay attention to her.”

A series of awwws and byes rolled across the screen as he ended it.

Quickly swirling in his chair, he gave you a look. You smiled sweetly, innocently, as if you weren’t begging for him. You’d been alone all day, and horny as fuck to add to it.

“I have a video to upload.” He told you, stoic per usual. “Do you think you could do it yourself?”

You were giddy. “Yes, yes. Yes.”

As he swiveled back around, you found a place directly on his lap. His arms engulfed your sides. He paid you no mind as he worked to edit and upload his video.

He was already semi hard, despite his nonchalant attitude. It was something he was into: you getting yourself off to him. You knew it, and he knew it.

But there was something else he was into, that you also knew. Being yours.

You only rolled his sweats down a little. You only needed his cock to be out, after all.

A small groan from the back of his throat made your head snap up.

“You’re so wet, babe.” He mumbled. His eyes never even met yours.

“Mhm.” You shifted your hips to meet his. “I needed you so bad but you were so busy.”

You sat on his dick, taking his full length and bottoming out. His breath hitched.

“Focus on your upload.” You didn’t move, but you felt his hips try to shift. “I won’t move until it’s posted.”

Fuck. That’ll do. The feeling of him twitch inside of you, the feeling of his deepening breath against your neck as he tried to make the video upload faster (like he could make the internet work quicker), the feeling of him inside of you. It was all you needed.

You placed a kiss to his neck, right below where his hair sits. He looked to you.

“Please move.”

You shook your head. “But you feel so good like this.”

“Please,” He took his hands from his mouse and keyboard to your waist. “I can’t … I need…”

“You can cum whenever you want.” You smiled the same innocent smile. You pressed another kiss to his neck. “But I’m gonna stay here until you’re done on the computer.”

Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes. Kenma was always fun to tease.

Just him being inside of you was perfect. The way his warm cock felt as it caressed your insides, the way you could feel him attempt to thrust and move. You wanted him to cum, to feel him unload into you just because you were sitting there. Still. You wanted to make him cum again, fill you up with twice as much.

You knew he would do it, too.

Just the thought has you hot. If you were on the verge of cumming before he paid attention to you, this was it now. You could feel the familiar pressure in your stomach, and when you clenched, you heard him gasp.

“Do you wanna cum already?” You asked, clenching your thighs around him. His grasp hardened on your waist. “All I’ve done is sit here.”

“You feel amazing.” Is all he said.

You giggled, not daring to move.

“If you cum before it uploads, I’ll start to ride you. How’s that?” You suggested.

He nodded frantically. Turns out he needed you just as much as you needed him.

taglist: @ochakoakabane

please do not repost my works on any site. copyright © seijohbear 2021

[notsoladylady]

@kirakirasaku

[vangwen]

good morning (*ﾉω-)

[chibishae34]

@lovelytarou @boosyboo9206

[tojisun]

that “if we’re still single by 30, let’s get married” pact/trope but it’s toji x reader after mamaguro passes away.

drunk after celebrating your 30th birthday, single as hell, you call toji to remind him of the silly pact you guys made up in college. he barks out a laughter before confessing to you that, yeah he remembers the pact and that he’s technically single.

your mushy mind does not understand what he means and ropes him into meeting up with you to get married (jokingly), to which toji agrees anyways.

when tomorrow comes, your hangover cured and the taste of stale alcohol washed from your mouth, you remember what you just did. too ashamed to further fan the flames of your embarrassment, you just wait for the day of your and toji’s meet-up.

he arrives with his son.

“so, what now?” you ask and groan onto your palms when toji just shrugs a shoulder and feeds megumi, his son, a strawberry.

little megumi chomps away, little legs swinging back and forth as toji continues to pop fruits into his mouth.

he’s so cute unlike his father.

you cast a glance at toji who catches your eyes and winks at you, nonchalantly sipping his coffee.

ugh.

[notsoladylady]

I started watching bnha because of shoto and now I'm bakugo and aizawa's little hoe. I mean look 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 legs spredin

[rindough]

“if i’m sick tomorrow, we both know whose fault it is!”

rims surrounding the blue, glazed eyes of the white-haired sorcerer widens as satoru retorts, “how dare you! who was the one who said they wanna buy earphones at — nine p.m.?”

“me,” you proudly pointed at yourself, lips curved as you rest your folded leg on the bench. “and who was the one who wanted to rest in the park?”

your boyfriend huffs before looking away, as if to contemplate something in the dark of the snow coated bushes. he then shifts his body, now turned to face you.

“let’s try the new earphone.” he juts his lips at the white box between the two of you, “maybe we could refund it if it doesn’t work well.”

“oh, right.” you nodded, hands busy in trying to connect the two devices. the two pieces now rest perfectly in your ears.

satoru stares at you, head resting in the warmth of his palm. he waits for a reaction, only for silence to fill in.

he grows a little curious, stern even, now that seconds have passed and he doesn’t see any reaction from your face. no toothy grin? no head bopping? what about feet tapping?

you broke eye contact, getting up from the bench, the earbuds now pulled out while its string dangles between your fingers. he blinks, eyes searching your face and he doesn’t mind the increasing closeness at all (he does).

“listen to this, ’toru.” you carefully place the pair of earphones into his ear, the song was almost halfway done, but you couldn’t care less. you extend your arm out, and the male gladly took it.

as if he read your mind, you were now caged inside his long arms, how safe does it feel to be in the arms of the strongest sorcerer — in the arms of your lover. your bodies sway beneath the lamppost, its light dawning above you.

“it works perfectly fine, in fact it sounds nice.” he comments. “you don’t like the quality of it?”

“nope, i do like it. was finding for that flamingo song,” you grinned at him, causing him to laugh. “didn’t you see me pressing the buttons?”

“no?” he shook his head, “this isn’t the flamingo song. you tryna introduce me to a song?” he cocks his eyebrows.

“sort of,” you shrugged, hands resting on his broad chest.

“then listen with me.” he takes off one side before placing it into your ear. you giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation from the cold tips of his fingers.

it’s been a little hard to tell him straight up about your thoughts, mostly due to having no idea how to start the conversation about it. but it would break you even before you can finish.

from time to time, and from the dark of your shared bedroom, you would notice his bent figure before the bathroom sink. how his hair was tousled as he cradles his head in his arms. often times you’d ask if he was okay or if he needs anything, only for the man to reply with a simple, yet a trustful answer. though the self reminders of his quiet grunts and sighs only doubts you further.

even if he does know it, you would still want him to know; that it was perfectly fine to drop the demeanor of a perfect, strongest sorcerer.

it is okay to feel weak, it is okay to feel like the world has their back on you every now and then.

feeling the gentleness of your hand on his cheek, you sang the next line in a tone so soft, it was almost like a whisper—

“what you don’t tell no one, you can tell me.”

it caught him off guard, his eyes flicker and you notice the corners of his eyes glisten under the light.

“you’re so silly, y/n. you know that?” he rolls his eyes.

“i know, but you love me.” you shrugged, a smile creeping its way up your face.

satoru sighs, lips mellowing into a soft smile. “what would i do without you?”

 ©  2021 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[aethervm]

PB THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL !!!

i really thought this was going to be fluff and then we reached the point where we see him sad and all and my heart just breaks for him :’((( also love how the imagery of this isn’t that clear except for the snow, his eyes, the light!!! dunno if that was intentional or not but i love it!!

[mrskodzuken]

@me-wa-usotsukenai @notsoladylady