worship

sol ; adult: 20+ || links: byf, dni, rules / m.list. || main: @solaude / ao3: redelles

[heich0e]

just imagine being a teenager with a BIG EMBARRASSING CRUSH on kuroo tetsurou thinking you'd finally get to enjoy the springtime of your youth free from his charming loserboy clutches only for him to show up 6 months after graduation to say hi to his little sport team juniors .. i would be liable to commit a crime i think

[heich0e]

the gods pick favourites, and you're not one of them.

it's not enough that fate sent you to nekoma high for your first year of high school just in time to see kuroo tetsurou complete his last. two planets whose orbits drifted just close enough together to witness the other but never close enough to feel a pull. not long enough to actually get to know him, but just long enough to miss him when he was gone.

no, your misfortune followed you all the way to your first year of university. trailed after you on your first night out drinking with your classmates in your department. your bad luck bullied you all the way into the only seat left at that bustling bar table—

right next to one pink-cheeked kuroo tetsurou.

it's agony sitting next to him in that rowdy bar just off campus. you try and fail at every point in the evening to distract yourself with the conversations happening around you, you will yourself not to think about the fact that kuroo tetsurou—the same one you'd daydream about in your first year math class, the same one who held the door open for you one autumn day when you were 15—is sitting next to you.

but it's just too difficult. too impossible.

because he's the same kuroo—energetic and gregarious and effortlessly charming—that you knew, but somehow different. taller. broader. older in every kind way that 4 years can possibly be to someone. you're too conscious of this, too conscious of him, to properly relax for a single moment throughout the evening.

but the worst part is, you can tell that he's conscious of you, too.

he offered you a drink when you first sat down, and while his expression was friendly there was clearly something else behind his eyes. a flicker of recognition maybe. an inkling of discomfort in light of the surprise of running into someone he vaguely recognized when he wasn't expecting it. he never outrightly acknowledges it—or you for that matter—so you just accept the drink, down it quickly, and eagerly seek out another once the last drop is drained.

and if you thought, perhaps, the stars might take pity on the wretched circumstances of their own creation in which you find yourself that evening, you're blindly optimistic.

because beyond all reason or will, the night ends with a tipsy tetsurou and an equally tipsy you in the narrow alley behind the izakaya, toe to toe with kuroo peering down at you from his obnoxious height, and the synapses in your brain are lit up like an emergency dispatch switchboard.

"c'mon, tell me," kuroo insists, not for the first time, as he stares at you expectantly.

suddenly you question if you ever learned how to speak in the first place, too tongue tied to form a single coherent reply to his appeal.

"i," you find your tongue eventually, and your nerve apparently, ducking out from under the arm that kuroo has pressed against the brick wall beside your head and fleeing to safety a few steps away. "i don't know what you're talking about."

kuroo groans, slumping forward into the brick wall like he's been cut down. he lazily lets his body roll to the side—leaning against the wall with his left shoulder so he can face your direction—and he frowns when he looks at you.

"why'd you hate me in high school?"

this is the second time he's asked you the same question, and it's no less frank than the first time he'd posed it. you're sure that kuroo's bluntness has been largely facilitated by just how much he had to drink at the student mixer—the one still happening just on the other side of that brick wall he's slumped against—but knowing that does very little to ease the actual sting of it. reasoning doesn't make the question itself any less mortifying.

"i didn't."

kuroo's brow pinches—maybe in confusion, maybe in frustration—you can't quite tell, because you can't bring yourself to look at his face for long enough to properly evaluate the expression.

"yes, you did!" he pushes himself up the wall and takes an unsteady step towards you, which you respond to in kind with a commensurate step back. he throws his hands up dramatically. "see! you're running away again just like last time."

last time.

you wish you didn't immediately know the last time he's referencing.

it was your second year, just before winter, and you were beyond relieved to finally be free of whatever strange possession kuroo tetsurou had unknowingly inflicted upon you the year prior. he'd graduated, you'd moved on to second year, and now you'd be free to enjoy the rest of your high school career without the constant fear (anticipation) of the next time you'd run into—

"kuroo-san!"

haiba-san, the freakishly tall one who asked so many stupid questions in your history class the year prior you'd filled a notebook with them just to pass the time, is halfway across the Nekoma campus, waving his arms so furiously in the air you're surprised any of his volleyball teammates around him are left standing.

and then you see him.

striding in the direction of nekoma high's gym, walking the same path you'd seen him follow countless times before, that same easy grin stretching across his face that used to make you feel lightheaded.

and without thinking it slips out.

"NO!"

you freeze. kuroo freezes. even haiba-san's arms eventually slow to a stop.

tetsurou's eyes snap to yours on the other side of the yard, just in time to see you guiltily slap a hand over your mouth—effectively ruining any microscopic chance you may have had to feign ignorance through it all.

he looks at you, confused but still sort of smiling, and a wave of nausea so intense washes over you that before you can even register the movement you've spun on your heel and taken off in the direction of the school gates.

and that was the last time you saw kuroo tetsurou.

well, the last time he's referring to anyway. you weren't fortunate enough for it to have actually been your final, mortifying encounter.

"that was a misunderstanding," you stumble over your words. "i—i thought you were someone else."

"really?" tetsurou asks, pausing an arm's length away from you in the grungey back alley. he'd been inching closer while you were reminiscing—if you can really call it that. but he's stopped now, just out of reach.

"yeah," you lie. of course you're lying. it's obvious. no one would be this frazzled over a simple misunderstanding. there's no way that ill-fated interaction was anything short of horrifyingly sincere.

but kuroo seems to believe you.

"oh," he laughs. but the sound is sort of thin. brittle almost in the way he forces it out. "i'm sorry."

sorry? what the hell could he possibly be sorry for.

"hah," he backs up another step, ruffling his perpetually unkempt hair so it's even more ruffled than usual. "i've been pretty weird all night, huh? that was probably awkward for you."

awkward? is this guy even speaking the same language as you anymore.

"what do you mean?" you ask him, thoroughly bewildered.

tetsurou's cheeks are even redder now than they'd been inside, when he was at his drunkest. they're saturated now with a flush that burns more furiously. more self-consciously. more reflexive than simple intoxication.

he's embarrassed.

"no, you're gonna think i'm an idiot," tetsurou covers his face with both his hands, but he peeks at you through the cracks of his fingers unsubtly.

you screamed at him from across a schoolyard and he's the idiot?

you don't even reply, but as though you've subjected him to intense interrogation, kuroo deflates in defeat.

"i... the guys said... i should never have listened to those brats."

you're not sure if he's the one who isn't making sense, or if being in such close proximity of him for this long has well and truly fried your nervous system. kuroo runs his hands down his face, takes a breath, and peeks over at you.

"i had a little crush on you, is all. back when we were in high school."

yeah. you've lost it. officially. certifiably. hallucinations are a surefire sign of derangement, and you're experiencing auditory and visual apparitions so vivid that you could have sworn kuroo tetsurou just said he had a crush on you.

kuroo tetsurou.

the kuroo tetsurou.

the one you pined after for years.

the one who you think you might still be pining after.

"the guys on the volleyball team said that maybe you had a crush on me too back then. i think i just sorta—" he laughs again, but it's not the laugh you hear of when you think of kuroo. it lacks the warmth and the endearing bite. "i got carried away, is all. i'm sorry if i ruined your night."

you blink. then you blink again.

kuroo looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

"you gonna say anything or should i be the one to make a run for it this time?" he's so uncomfortable his voice cracks a little when he makes an attempt at a joke.

"liked?"

kuroo pauses. "what?"

"you said you liked me."

the young man before you's lips part as though to say something, but quickly shut again before the words come out. he repeats the same cycle once more before he finally gets it right.

"that was years ago," he says with the least convincing laugh of the night. he waves his hand around in a clumsy, over-exaggerated flourish. "a crush. teenage stuff. hormones and... whatever."

his cheeks are so violently pink that you're surprised the dimly-lit alley isn't suddenly cast in a rosy glow.

"i'm really gonna run if you don't say something soon," kuroo's voice is positively pitiable the next time he speaks. pleading almost, like he's asking you to put him out of his misery.

"you were right."

kuroo's eyes widen just enough that you catch a flash of hazel in the glow of the overhead light in the alley.

"i do think you're an idiot," you go on to add, and as quickly as you saw hope build in tetsurou's gaze, it evaporates.

"can't blame you for that," he chuckles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and letting out a long low breath as he averts his gaze to the ground below his feet.

"i had a huge crush on you in high school. you'd have to be an idiot not to know that."

kuroo's eyes are on you again in an instant—more alert than you've seen him look all night. as though your confession burnt away any lingering trace of alcohol in his system, his attention is suddenly sharp and uninhibited.

it's quiet for a moment.

the light overhead buzzes softly.

a car passes by on the road at the end of the alley.

"had?"

it's only a single word but it hangs heavy in the air after tetsurou says it.

you swallow over the lump in your throat and squeeze your eyes shut. when you open them again you see spots from how tightly you'd been blinking.

"have," you correct yourself quietly. "i think."

tetsurou inches a bit closer again. slow like before, but less hesitant.

"liked?" you follow up his question with one of your own, and you feel your heartbeat in the back of your throat after the single word leaves it.

tetsurou smiles, you feel lightheaded, and the tips of his fingers reach out and gingerly skim against your own.

"like."

and when kuroo tetsurou—the kuroo tetsurou—leans in to kiss you for the first time after four long, embarrassing years in the making...

well, who are you to question fate?

[mattsundaes]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

issei matsukawa x f!reader

Casually asking your werewolf roommate to put his scent on you to ward off creeps is...well. It's platonic, until it's not.

wc: 2k tags: 18+ only, werewolf!matsukawa, roommates to lovers speed run, dry humping, mattsun's big dick, werewolf scenting -> 2k event

“Matsukawa.”

Your roommate looks up from where he’s idly scrolling through his phone on the couch, eyes widening a fraction once he sees your outfit. 

Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of the short dress, steeling yourself to ask the question that’s been idling in your mind all afternoon. “I’m supposed to be going to The Black Crow tonight for my friend’s birthday—”

“My condolences,” he cuts in, face blanching slightly as he puts his phone down on the coffee table. 

Sighing, you nod. “Yeah, it wasn’t my first pick either. But anyway, I kind of wanted to ask you for a favor.”

He winces. “Please don’t tell me your friend is still trying to get you to hook her up with me.”

It’s embarrassing how relieved you were when he shot that down months ago—not that you’d ever tell him that. 

You shake your head, snorting. “No, definitely not. I just…I want to have a good time without having to deal with the weirdos that always hang around there. And one of the girls in my lit class the other day was talking about how nice it is to have a were boyfriend, because she’s always scented when she goes out now. Nobody bothers her.”

Matsukawa waits patiently for you to continue.

“SoIwasmaybewonderingifyou’dscentmebeforeIleave.”

He blinks.

“As a friend,” you add, for good measure, to punctuate your mortifying word vomit. 

He blinks again, lips parting.

Heart pounding with embarrassment, you turn on your heel and squeak out, “God, I knew that was going to be weird. Forget I said anything please and thanks. Bye!”

“Wait.”

You’re stopped by a hand loosely wrapping its way around your wrist, Matsukawa leaning forward off of the couch cushions. 

Soul three-quarters into its journey of leaving your body, you slowly turn to face him once more.

“I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you know what you’re asking for.” 

There’s something slightly odd that wavers in his voice when he says it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“You just have to like, hold me for a little bit, right?”

He looks up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to you. “Yeah, uh. It’s not that. You’re a human, so it might not affect you in the same way. But it’s…scenting is very intimate for my kind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if it ends up being too much.”

Crossing your arms, you furrow your brow. “We’ve been friends for like, eight years, Mattsun. We’ve hugged plenty of times. I’ll be fine.”

Scratching the back of his head, he nods, gesturing for you to come and sit next to him on the couch. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

He puts an arm around you, his skin warm against your bare shoulders. Your heart knocks against your ribcage at his proximity, as it always has, but that’s a secret you’ll keep firmly locked behind your teeth. You asked Matsukawa to do this because you trust him, nothing more. 

Slowly, gentle notes of pine begin to settle over you, drifting and settling like delicate needles atop freshly fallen snow. 

It’s subtle, but something inside of you stirs all the same, rising like dust motes in a cracked window’s breeze.

Your skin prickles.

Your toes curl. 

Matsukawa leans in, his nose pressed to the side of your neck, and like a carefully twisting dial, the smell is amplified. A sweet, herbal scent dances across your nostrils, tickling the back of your throat—lavender. A field of purple flowers sways delicately in the wind, and you feel warm all over.

Your tongue rests heavily in your mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, lips moving against your neck as he speaks.

Your ribcage shudders beneath the weight of what’s blooming behind it, a trellis for the edges of your fragile heartstrings. 

You nod.

Matsukawa inhales and begins to drag his nose down the side of your neck, the day-old stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin as he rubs his face against it.

Lemon. The clean scent of lemon trickles in, buried beneath the pine and lavender. You want to tip your head back and part your lips, feel drops of sour juice sink onto your tongue. 

(You want Matsukawa to grasp your chin, to slip his thumb into your mouth and hold your tongue there as you inhale—)

Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

You swallow. 

Matsukawa’s wavy black hair is soft against your face as he moves to the base of your throat. And it’s funny, because you know the eucalyptus scent of his shampoo like the back of your hand, can picture the brown bottle where it sits nestled between your shaving cream and body wash.

But right now, while you specifically remember the sight of his dripping wet hair this morning when he walked into the kitchen after showering, right now—

You can’t smell it at all.

Not over the all-consuming scents that permeate you from head to toe. 

“Oh,” you gasp, unable to hold back the noise that slips out of you, gut churning at the sensation as his lips skirt your collarbone.

He pauses, slowly going to pull away, and before you can think better of it, you thread your fingers in his hair.

“No, no,” you exhale, a little dazed. “It’s fine, it’s…keep going.”

He’s still for a moment.

“Please,” you add.

Matsukawa breathes out, his breath hot and damp against your sternum, and you roll your shoulders.

Pine and lavender and lemon and heat—

“I should move to your other side to get the rest—”

You shift, not waiting for him to finish his sentence as you start to throw a leg over his lap, your body acting before your mind can fully contemplate the action. Matsukawa grunts, and the room sways as strong hands grip your waist, pulling you fully into his lap in one swift movement. Your dress is rucked up enough to allow your thighs to spread wide, and you try not to think about the way your panties are now on clear display. 

Forehead falling against his, you’re both quiet, save for the sounds of your breathing.

“Okay?” he asks, voice a little rough.

“Yeah.”

Matsukawa leans back in, bringing his face to the other side of your neck that he’s yet to rub his scent on. It’s more difficult to mask how affected you are by this, now that you’re straddling his lap. Your mind floats untethered in a lush forest, and you unconsciously press closer.

Something rumbles in Matsukawa’s chest, and the hand that’s still curled around your hip flexes, thumb pressing into your hipbone. His free hand slides up to the back of your neck, fingers slipping through the hair at your nape. 

Lush lavender interspersed with pine needles.

Matsukawa’s face strays a haphazard path as he scents his way across all of the exposed skin he can reach, his breathing going a bit ragged. 

Lemons and tall trees and a soft forest floor.

You tilt your head to the side, and he buries his face in the tender juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Matsukawa,” you exhale. 

Matsukawa shifts, and teeth graze your skin.

You’re on the verge of combusting. 

“Issei, please.”

It was an accident, the slip of his name. But Matsukawa just shudders beneath you, one hand cupping the side of your face. “I can stop, if you want.”

He misunderstood.

And you’ve slipped so deeply into the cradle of his lap, his erection now lies flush against your cotton panties.

“No,” you whisper. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Why?” he rasps. 

Your lips move of their own volition, “It feels so good.”

He growls, but the sound is somehow soft. It goes right to the simmering heat between your legs all the same. “Yeah?”

You nod, inhaling slowly as you run a hand over your sternum, body arching into his. 

“Then enjoy it,” he murmurs, both hands now on your hips.

He breathes hot and heavy against your shoulder, and you card your fingers through his black hair. Giving in to the urge, you tug, just a little. Just hard enough for him to—

“Hah—” he exhales, tongue sliding in a firm, broad stroke over the low neckline of your dress, skirting the swell of your breasts. 

Matsukawa rocks his hips upward, fingers pressing into your skin, and you gasp at the friction of his hard cock against your swollen clit. You belatedly realize just how wet your panties are, the material now soaked through with sticky arousal as it clings to your sopping folds. 

“You have no idea,” he grounds out. “How good you smell.”

“Me?” you ask, breathless. You thought scents were strictly a werewolf thing. 

He nods, dragging his nose from the hollow of your throat to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe. “Humans can't smell themselves, but wolves can.”

He inhales deeply.

“Salt water and oranges,” he groans.

Your chest flutters at this new information, and he nips at your earlobe.

“But when you’re—” He groans, rocking his cock against your clothed cunt again. “When you’re like this…”

In any other situation, you might be mortified over what he’s implying. But right now, all you can do is whimper as he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss over the corner of your jaw and tells you how you smell when you’re aroused with a gravel-rough voice that will fucking haunt you until you die, probably. 

“It gets sweeter…like a peach,” Matsukawa murmurs. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Oh.

Your cunt aches as you dry hump his erection, mouth watering at the sheer length of it. When you look down, the back of your neck heats up as you see the dark stain on his gray sweatpants, your slick arousal having soaked clear through your underwear.

He must see you looking, because one of his hands slides to the small of your back to urge you to keep going as he murmurs, “I don’t mind.”

You gasp when he presses up into you harder, and the zap of pleasure that ricochets in your chest and settles in your gut leaves you dizzy with need. Shiny precum pools on his abdomen, the head of his cock flushed red as it pokes out from the waistband of his pants. 

“Issei, can you—” your chest heaves as you try to get the words out. “Will you ki—”

Matsukawa doesn’t let you finish, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he brings his mouth crashing into yours. He swallows down your gasp of surprise, the moan of pleasure that leaves you at the feeling of his plush lips slotted against your own. 

His stubble caresses your chin as his tongue skirts the seam of your mouth, beckoning your lips to part. Matsukawa deepens the kiss, his other hand wholly palming your ass while you drag yourself up and down his length. It’s possessive, the way he’s touching you now. Your entire body shudders and trembles with pleasure, your raw nerves alight as your composure slips with each thrust.

Pine and lavender and lemon and Issei, Issei, Issei—

You don’t realize you’re crying out his name until you feel him cup your face and start to murmur your own, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watches you come in his lap. 

When you can finally breathe again, you look down to find thick ropes of cum all over his t-shirt as he tugs up the waistband of his pants to cover his spent cock. 

Pine.

Lavender.

Lemon.

Issei.

He blinks a few times, dragging a hand through his hair before he stares at you, dazed.

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, and there’s a banging noise at the front door, followed by the distant shout of one of your friends yelling, “Let’s paaaaaarty!”

But what the fuck just happened—

You glance between the door and Matsukawa, and he gives you a lopsided smile. “Go.”

Sighing, you start to pull yourself out of his lap, but a firm grip on your hip stops you. Matsukawa takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he adds, “We’ll talk about this later.”

[willowser]

i keep having this thought rotating in my brain and it's of bakugou so fed up with your differing schedules that he proposes in a phone call LOL

[willowser]

this got angsty LOL but ends well. bakugou calls you 'woman' once.

not that it would make anything easier, but—katsuki almost hopes that you won't pick up.

his gut hurts, and he knows it's dread in its raw form. not something he's too accustomed to feeling, as all his battles are faced head-on, with a certainty and confidence that he's nurtured since he was a child.

he's faced death and come out on top; how could he stand to fear anything?

the district they've given him has been a nightmare. he and kirishima are more than capable of handling it, but it's still new enough that they're struggling to establish their presence in the back alleys and between the nightborhoods. most days, they're needed two places at once, for twice as long, and they're constantly finding holes that should have been patched long ago.

it's just not something that can be fixed overnight. you know that—because it's a truth he's used as a shield for months.

in the beginning of your relationship, it was so easy. not perfect, but fitting together had been so doable, for you both. and now—

katsuki is panicking.

"hellooooo!"

the wind scrapes by, and even though he's burning up from the trouble of the day, the sweat on the back of his neck runs cold. "hey," he murmurs.

"i am—i had to help my coworker close something out and i missed the train, so i'm just waiting for the next one!" your voice showcases all your excitement, and when katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, he can imagine you dancing back and forth on your feet. hopeful. "all i need to do is change, and it won't take me long! are you ready?"

"uh," he curls forward until his forehead is pressed against the brick of the agency, feeling the sting of broken skin. it gives him something to hold into. "no, i, uh—"

the line is deadly silent. hope squashed.

"i, uh, don't think i can make it tonight."

it's been like this for months.

all of his work comes home with him, keeps him either cramped into the office or on his phone one way or another. you're gone for work by the time his shift is over, in the mornings, or you're fast asleep by the time he comes in late. lunch two or three times a week is the most you've seen of each other, had the time to just talk. the few times he gets to touch you have been in the shower, and he's too exhausted to enjoy it, and he can tell you know what it is.

some kind of desperation, a feeble reach for the intimacy you've been without for too long.

it's panic. it's fear.

katsuki almost thinks you've hung up until the line crackles with your long inhale, and trembling exhale. in the beginning, you used to question it fifteen different ways; is there any way he can get away for just thirty minutes? fifteen? ten? can you get the food to-go and come to him? what time does he think he'll be done? no idea? not even a little bit?

but now, you just say, "okay," in that tense, quiet voice, that's swollen with all the tears you'll cry when the call is over. just thinking about it has him—

"'m'sorry," he offers, miserably, and he pushes against the brick until new scrapes open. if he wasn't so sure he'd crack his skull, he'd bash his head into it, but he's too—mad? annoyed? guilty? like a prey animal, wanting to gnaw himself out of this situation. "it's—i'm—"

"no, i know," you sniff and it makes his toes curl in his boots, his teeth grind. of course you know. "do—i can—just tell me where so i can cancel the reservation."

"no, y-you don't hafta' do that."

"no, i can. that way you don't have to."

"no, i'll—" he has to breathe in through his nose so his frustration isn't misdirected. "don't worry about it, alright? i'll handle it."

and you just say, "okay."

in the background, he can hear the incoming screech of breaks and the ruffle of wind, and he tries to imagine you standing there. frowning, face pinched. he doesn't even know what you wore today.

"i'll talk to you—"

"it ain't—it ain't always gonna be like this, y'know?"

and you say, "i know," because you do, because he's already said this to you before.

"it's just—this fuckin'—" he huffs and suddenly stands straight, throws his arm out while facing the wall, as if you could see him arguing over this, because he cares. "ei and i are gonna figure this shit out and—"

"i know, katsuki—"

"—i know you know!" he inhales sharply when you go quiet, and he's offended at his own tone. you would normally offer something soft to placate him, because you're so good at reading him—but you don't, this time. "'m gonna figure it out," he continues, "and it's...gonna be worth it, alright?"

the sounds of the station fade out slowly, like you're walking away from it now that he's ruined your night again. he wonders where you're going but suddenly doesn't feel like he has the right to ask.

when you speak again, your voice has gained enough of its sweet familiarity that he can finally take stock of his surroundings, that he can focus on something besides the break that's threatening inside his chest.

"what do you mean, worth it?"

kirishima is still standing off the sidewalk, far enough to give katsuki his little bit of privacy, back turned. the sidekick interning with them this month—another responsibility on his shoulders—turns away when he gets caught staring.

watching as katsuki looks as much of an asshole as he feels.

he doesn't know what to say to you, and you continue before he can think about it.

"you mean, like, you?"

yeah. he means like him. your relationship, the two of you. it's hard right now, but— "i'm gonna figure it out."

it's quiet for a while until you sigh, a little less shuddering. you don't sound on the verge of tears anymore and it's maybe selfish, but he feels something loosen in his chest. he can hear your keys jingling, the zipper and charms on your bag.

and he doesn't even know what you wore today—

"of course you're worth it, if that's what you're trying to say." you offer, softly, to placate. "it's just dinner, katsuki."

you're trying to let him off easy, like you always do, and maybe he should take it, but now it only riles him up further, because he's never just taken easy. he faces things head-on, his mistakes and all.

"no," he argues, because he cares. he does. "it ain't just dinner, it's—"

he bought the ring a year ago, now, picked it out with his dad's help. it's been sitting in a bag in a box at the bottom of his work bag so you wouldn't stumble upon it by accident.

at first, he needed to find the balls to ask, and now that he has, everything has gone to shit. and even though you have the patience of a fuckin' saint, he's not sure how many more chances he has, with you. how many more you'll give him.

"no, it ain't just dinner," he reaffirms, grumbling. there's a speech somewhere in his brain that he's practiced over and over again, but it's been so long since he figured out how to word everything that he can't remember the opening details. "i—there ain't anyone else for me 'sides you, y'know that?"

you're smiling, even if your eyes are wet; he can hear it in your voice. "well, i hope not." he doesn't laugh because he can't, with his heart in his throat like it is. "there's no one else for me, either."

"it—ain't just dinner, it's..." all the sweat that had cooled in the creases of his arms and knees fires up again, hot enough to make him feel dangerous. "forever. i don't want anyone else forever."

"yeah, i don't either, bighead."

"so if i asked you to—fuckin' marry me or whatever, you'd say yes?"

this isn't how he wanted to do this. not in a million different scenarios that he worked through did it happen like this: over the phone, as desperate as he's ever been, too tired to remember what he wanted to say. it's not a last ditch effort; he just can't stand to look at his fucking work bag sitting in the corner of his office any goddamn longer.

the line crackles with your long inhale, and trembling exhale. "is that what you're doing right now? asking me to marry you?"

katsuki huffs, rolls his eyes like you can see them. "'s'what i've been tryna' do for months, woman."

you laugh, like it's a yes.

for him, the sound might as well be.

"are you coming home tonight for sure?"

"that have anything to do with your answer?"

"no," you smile again, clear and small and shy. "answer is still the same, i just want to know."

katsuki almost doesn't realize he's smiling until he looks at kirishima again, face too numb and hot to feel anything else. eijirou grins back at him, big and bright, like he's the one that had been asked.

"yeah," katsuki murmurs, and as he answers, he pictures you like he's seen you every night for weeks: safe and warm, curled up in his bed. where you belong. "i'll be home."

"okay," you whisper, but it's not like before; it makes his chest hurt in a good way, like his heart is trying to beat its way out. "ask me when you get home."

"okay," he says—

and he does, finally digging the box that's in a bag at the bottom of his work bag, getting down on one bruised and creaky knee at your bedside. still covered in dirt and grime, though he's more awake than he's been in a long time.

unafraid.

[marstons-angel]

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader, top karlach, bottom reader, strap-ons, breaking the bed, act three spoilers (vaguely), karlach is the weensiest bit of a bully, 18+

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡

Karlach can't keep her hands off you.

Not her fault, in her defense. She had to spend an incredibly long, incredibly daunting leg of your journey not being able to touch you at all. Really, some of the hardest shit she's ever done in her life - even with her time in Avernus being Zariels' little lapdog.

Now that she has the privilege, she has to make the most of it. Her engines burning her up from the inside so she ought to make the most of everything. You especially. Who knows what will be left of her memory when her soul ends up in fugue plane? She hopes and prays her last memory is the feeling of you tucked in her arms all safe.

That being said, she's always on you. She likes fucking you whenever she can, wherever you'll let her. You're proper cute when she sneaks into your bedroll and lets her hand underneath your waistband, muffling little moans into the side of her neck as she holds you. Got the prettiest little voice she's ever heard when you whine for her, grip her forearm and beg all teary eyed.

That's been good and well - fucking amazing really. But there's been one thing that Karlach has been dying to do since she's gotten back to Faerun which is fuck you. Like, really fuck you.

She makes you cum in other ways. Whatever available, really. Hands, mouth, the muscle in her thigh when you're especially needy. Gods, she's grateful to see you like that. Leader of the pack all soft and trembling her bedroll all night, a sight for sore eyes.

But she wants to fuck you. She needed a strap to do that, and those sorts of things are only easy to find in the city - not in the middle of nowhere in the backwaters of the Sword Coast.

She knows you want it too, always begging for more.

You're in the city now, though - and you've visited Sharess' Caress, and now Karlach finally has something to fuck you with. You're finally in Elfsong song now (no more sleeping on dirt!) and the rest of your party has gone off to explore the city. There's plenty of business to attend to. The two of you offered to stay behind, hold down the fort.

(And well, no one was really going to stay after that were they? Not with the happy couple around, with Karlach eyefucking you as openly as she possibly can at least.)

She really is glad that you have all this time to yourselves for now.

Now that she's finally, finally fucking you - she isn't sure it'll be easy for her to stop.

You're pretty laying underneath her. Naked, sweat making your skin sheen as Karlach stands back on her knees and fucks you on your back. Your chest bounces every time your ass meets the thrust of her own hips, your voice trembling as she gets into proper pace to fuck you.

She gives you a wicked little smile, watching with abject fondness as her cock slides into you again. Shiny with your arousal, your cunt is tight with resistance even as she goes slow. You mewl, your hands reaching to push against Karlach's abs.

"Too much, Karlach, can't—" You gasp as she bullies the swollen head back into you. "S-senstive,"

"Didn't take you for such a quitter, soldier. You were just begging for it and now it's too much," She goads, fucking you deeper. You groan as your spine arches, nails scratching at her waist. "Try a little harder, baby."

Your voice breaks into a pathetic moan, weakly trying to push her out. Legs shaking as she fucks another inch into you. You're so wet she can hear it, hear how soft your pussy gets trying to accommodate around her length. Whimpering you close your eyes and shake your head.

"Too much. I c-can't cum again, can't."

Fuck you're delightful. It's nice when Karlach gets the chance to render you as helpless as you always make her feel. Pitiful and tender, she hums a little as she bottoms out again. Her eyes go lidded with want as she looks at the place in where she's inside of you, stretching your tight little hole. Fucking pretty thing you are. Pretty face and pretty heart and the prettiest pussy she's ever seen in her life. She's mesmerized how something so big can fill something so small. You stretch around her cock so well, so perfect.

"Of course you can." She murmurs. Hot hands curl around your wrists, your arms straightening out in front of you as Karlach holds them. Your fingers brush against your abdomen again but don't find the same purchase as Karlach holds you down. "A little more and you'll make another mess for me to clean up like always, huh?"

"Karlach," You whine, your eyes fluttering open. Your lashes are wet with overstimulated tears, mouth curled in a soft and pouty flush. "Karlach,"

She laughs, sharp teeth showing as she rolls her hips - undulating slower. A soft pace to ease you into it again. She knows just the right angles. You like two ways. Hard and heavy, her hips fucking into yours

She steals a glance at your desperate face and settles on the latter. "I'm right here, pretty girl. And I'm not going anywhere, either. Now hold on,"

It's the most she spares as a warning before she sets a brutal pace. She use your hands for purchase as she pulls her cock out, and thrusts all the way back in with a loud, unforgiving groan. Her clit digs into the leather backing of the strap when she does, delicious friction making her head feel numb.

You cry out as she thrusts deep and hard, cock buried to the hilt again.

She keeps the same brutal, unforgiving pace. The room sounds with the weight of her thrusts, skin smacking against skin and the soft internal whirr of her engine noisy. Lewd, wet sounds mix with the visual of you laid underneath her, tits bouncing with every smack of hips.

She throws her head back back, euphoria washing over her in a haze.

"Fuck yeah, that's it baby. Feels good. Feeling me right in your stomach?"

You nod deliriously as your hand curls into a fist, struggling to keep up. She laughs at you as she ducks her head to meet your mouth. You kiss her with immediate fervor chasing her lips aimlessly while she fucks you hard and deep.

Her name sounds so good from your mouth, she doesn't think she'll ever get sick of it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡

[yunspsd]

[r5x95r13ros]

megumi fushiguro, 28.

[seiwas]

@soumies

[mintmatcha]

cw: a weird vent piece lol, suicide mention, no quirks au, mentally ill reader

You always fuck with your shirt on. You'd wear more, if you could, but you haven't figured out how to do it with your pants on yet.

You pull the sheets over your sweat chilled legs and hope he didn't notice the spots you missed shaving. If he did, Natsuo doesn't seem to mind. His arm is tucked under your head, muscle fibers occasionally twitching underneath you and turning the soft mass dense.

Sometimes, Natsuo keeps his shirt on too. Neither of you have ever asked the other about it; there's a mutual understanding when a hand is stopped.

"Do you work tonight?" he asks.

You shake your head as his body relaxes deeper into the mattress.

"I'm gonna do laundry if you want to throw your stuff in," he mumbles, "I'll get you junk to sleep in."

The medical textbooks he was studying are still on the floor, flipped to random pages of different cycles and tissues, abandoned in exchange for you. If Natsuo fails his midterms, it'll be your fault. If he passes, he'll be leaving the city next semester for his hospital rotations.

Part of you wants him to fail. It's that dirty, evil part that no one else seems to have, the part you try to starve, but it keeps growing anyway. It nips at you whenever the room gets too quiet.

It's teeth are extra sharp today.

"You're so sweet." You speak into his skin, "I don't know how you're still single."

A sharp inhale is sucked through his teeth, cutting through his smile. Natsuo takes in all of your features and you know he's wondering why you're saying these things-- why you're purposefully bringing this up.

"Well, sweetie-" His tone is light, like he's avoiding stepping on glass, stepping on glass. With every word, he walks his fingers on your arm, spanning from elbow to shoulder, "I'm only single because you keep turning me down."

The overhead fan whizzes. The part you try to starve sinks its teeth into your chest.

"Natsuo, we've talked about this," you say, "I don't date."

You sit up and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. A trail of white hair runs down his stomach and down under the sheets, disappearing where the two of you meet. He holds you by the hem of your tee, just tight enough to hold you in place.

"Would it be so bad?" he whispers.

"Here's what would happen, alright?" You brush your fingers through his sweat touched hair and it bounces right back into place the second you pull away. It makes you giggle a bit and he mirrors you, an unsure, foolish optimism in his eyes, "Let's just say I met this wonderful, beautiful boy and tricked-"

"Tricked?" he scoffs.

"Tricked him into loving me." You want to kiss him, but it feels cruel for both of you. Instead, you just cup his jaw in your hands and cradle him, letting the weight of him slump into your palms, "He'd treat me right and bring me home to meet his parents, 'cause he was raised right and, even though he's really smart, he'd think he's in love."

Fingers squeeze at your hips.

"But the second I left, his parents would tell him that he deserves someone prettier and smarter and, and, and better," you say, "And they'd be right."

“My mom’s nice," He drops your pretense with a whisper, ruining your not so careful charade. “She wouldn’t say that.”

He doesn’t mention his dad. There’s a silent sentence there. One that says, “But he might.” It’s hard to keep your brain from sticking to that point, from sticking your thumb into this metaphorical soft spot.

“I mean, she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d think it," you say, “She’d sit there and think ‘that girl's not good enough for my son' and she'd be right."

He scoff he lets out is uneasy, almost a songed laugh, more pained than annoyed. "My mom is nice."

This conversation is hurting him, but you can't stop yourself.

"And they'd tell you to break up with me, but you wouldn't listen to them, 'cause you're head strong like that. You'd probably date me in spite of them for while," you ramble, "But then you'd go away and you'd meet some pretty, normal girl and you'd realize they were right. They were always right. I was right."

The overhead fan whizzes.

"So, it's better if I just don't date at all,"

Natsuo's grip dissolves and you think you see it then - the moment whatever is between you dies. A hollowness passes over his features, empty eyes and sucked cheeks, as he ducks his head down to rest his face against your chest. Chin against the soft of your tits, he seems farther away than ever.

You could gloat. You could cry. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy once again.

Natsuo sighs and his words slip so easily from him that you almost don't process what he's saying. "You're so sad. I wish you'd get help."

That catches you off guard. The control over this conversation is ripped away, your curtain drops, and you suddenly feel very, horribly seen.

"What?" You try to laugh it off, leaning back to escape the way he watches you.

"Sometimes I wake up and you're not here," he says, "And I worry that's the last time I'll ever see you."

You understand the implication.

"I'm not gonna kill myself." It might be the truth, you think.

"Yeah," His arms wrap around your waist again, snaking the air from your lungs, "Touya promised me that too."

Touya is only ever mentioned over too many beers and tears you're not allowed to remember the next morning. He was only 16, only a couple years older than Natsuo, but the ghosts still linger to this day, always tucked into the back of the room, stalking, haunting.

Natsuo comes from money and fame. His apartment is paid for by his father. He's never had to work to afford food. At first, you resented him for that; you wanted that ease and safety his family afforded him.

But everything comes at a cost. Every unhappy family is unhappy in there own ways.

"I'm sorry that you keep loving things that break." That is the truth. You're just the end of a line of his mistakes, starting all the way at mom and dad and trailing through every girlfriend ever since.

"I do love you. And it's not despite the fact you're 'broken'," Natsuo takes your hand with a resounding firmness. It reminds you of that thing they say about golden retrievers; the smart ones can hold an egg in their jaws without shattering the shell. Natsuo holds you like he understands you in some deep, intrinsic way, "Or because of it or whatever."

He doesn't look away, those bright, wide eyes bluer than ever.

"I just like all your little pieces." He kisses your knuckles one by one, trailing from thumb to pinkie to thumb again.

The room is silent. The bad part of you is no longer begging to eat. Maybe it's full for now, but you know it's just out of focus, stalking in the dark, biding its time.

"You should study." You slip from him and reclaim your own space in the bed. After a long, simple pause, Natsuo gets up himself, collecting his boxers from the floor.

"Yeah," he says, "You're right."

The hurt you've caused is no longer comfortable to live in. Your mouth is dry, thirsty for a change you're not sure how to make. Recovery feels like a big leap-- loving and being loved feels every farther away.

All you can do is shuffle your feet against the sheets and take the tiniest step towards normalcy.

"Do you want to get brunch tomorrow before your classes?" you offer your olive branch, your silent promise, "I'll pay."

He weighs this, measuring it for sincerity, then smiles just wide enough your get a glimpse of teeth.

"Let me get you something to sleep in."

For now, it's enough.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 ౨ৎ

matsukawa issei x reader. 1.1k wc. ﾉ suggestive fluff ﾉ after sex pillow talk but no smut ﾉ friends with benefits

“wanna go to a wedding with me?”

as casual as the question is, something feels just a tad bit strange about your timing. you hadn’t planned on asking him now—mere minutes after sharing your bodies with each other, your limbs still tangled with his. it doesn’t make for great pillow talk but if you don’t ask him now, you aren’t sure when the next opportunity will make itself known.

matsukawa laughs but it’s something closer to a snort. dark curls stick to the tanned skin of his forehead, damp with sweat. he tries to push the hair away from his face as he rolls onto his back. the new position creates a bit of space between you and robs you of the man’s warmth. you should be thankful for the chance to cool down but being in his arms is just so comfortable. 

chocolatey eyes focus on the ceiling with matsukawa’s counter-question. “isn’t that an occasion reserved for boyfriends?”

“you’re basically my boyfriend.”

the words tumble from your lips before you can even comprehend what you’re saying. you aren’t sure what compelled you to say that—“boyfriend” isn’t a title you’ve ever referred to him as and despite saying so right now, you’ve never truly thought of mattsun as your boyfriend either. still, you don’t take the words back, curious to see how he’ll respond.

“eh…” he makes a sound of disagreement, one that’s matter-of-factly but nowhere near malicious. “we have sex.”

it’s true; if either of you were asked to slap a label on your relationship, it would probably be one that reads, “friends that fuck.” emphasis on the latter. but you’d be a liar if you said that the line between friends and something else wasn’t beginning to blur.

the conversation makes you consider all the little things that have changed since the two of you started sleeping with each other, things that have come about as a result of something other than your friendship. your brows furrow as you silently compile a list of all those things. you’ve lost count by the time matsukawa’s voice cuts through the quiet air.

“what are you thinking about?”

you don’t mince your words. “how you’re basically my boyfriend.”

it’s not that you’re trying to push it, rather, that you’re coming to the realization yourself. you may find it just as weird as mattsun does.

“fine,” he sighs, but it’s more playful than exasperated. “i’ll bite.”

he rolls over on his side so that he’s facing you and props his head up on his arm. there’s humor and curiosity twinkling in the dark pools that are his eyes. being the sole subject of his gaze makes your skin prickle and all of a sudden you’re warming up again. “what about me is screaming boyfriend in that pretty little head of yours?”

“well,” you start, “you’re literally flirting with me right now. pretty little head?”

he shakes his head. “simply stating a fact.”

“whatever you say.” you ponder over your next piece of evidence. “we know the passcodes to each other’s apartments.”

he’s quick with his rebuttal. “all the guys know my passcode.”

“you’ve known them since high school.” you point at him accusingly, finger almost bumping the tip of his nose. you can feel the laugh he exhales through his nostrils. “it’s barely been three months since we’ve met.”

a beat of silence passes and then he nods. “got me there. what else?”

a grin pulls at your lips with his choice to concede. it encourages you to go on. “ok, you keep a change of clothes and a pair of pajamas in my dresser—and a toothbrush in my bathroom. you’ve practically started moving in.”

matsukawa doesn’t remember the moment he decided to bring any of that stuff over here or what possessed him to. convenience, he would imagine, but it speaks to how often he’s over your place, how frequently he lingers throughout the night and into the next morning. he’s only noticing it now, but he’s never done any of this with the hookups of his past. 

maybe you’re more than a hookup, he thinks. how much more, mattsun isn’t sure, but there’s certainly something different about you. you’re no one-night fling, not someone he calls just when he needs to relieve some stress—there’s a deeper connection between the two of you, one that neither of you can seem to put your finger on. but you’re both beginning to acknowledge it, nevertheless.

“alright, can’t argue there,” the man confesses. he wonders if you can see the gears turning in his head, if you can tell his opinion is swaying with each piece of information you bring up. issei usually prides himself on his poker face but he’s reconsidered a lot these past few minutes. “any more proof to back up your claim?”

you hum in deep thought before meeting his eye once more. he never looked away. 

“have you been sleeping with anyone else?”

“no.” his reply comes quicker than either of you expect. and it makes you smile, not because you’re happy to hear it (although, you are happy to hear it), but because his tone and the look of mild offense painting his features makes it seem as though you accused him of cheating. 

which you can’t do unless you’re dating.

“so we’re exclusive, then.” you don’t miss the subtle relief that washes over his face at the implication that you also aren't seeing anyone else.

“you make a compelling case,” matsukawa tells you, a lazy grin playing at his lips.

“and your verdict?”

his lips stick out in a pout as he makes a show of thinking everything you’ve said over. with every second he doesn’t answer, you grow more and more sure that he’s looking for a way to let you down slowly. after what seems like forever, he finally speaks. “i’ll go to that wedding with you.”

your heart jumps upon hearing his acceptance of your invitation. you hide your excitement in a single word. “great.”

“when is it?”

“later next month.”

he hums and nods, mostly to himself. “that should be enough time.”

you can’t help but ask, “enough time to…?”

issei leans forward, closing the gap between you to steal a kiss. it’s short but sweet and for some reason, it leaves you wide-eyed like a doe caught in headlights. “to become your actual boyfriend, of course.”

thanks for giving this a read ! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

sloppy seconds | s. getou + s. gojo

✮ tags ; afab +fem!reader, weird relationship dynamics, polyamory if you squint, mild obsession, overstimulation + unprotected sex, wet and messy, dubcon (gojo references passing out on readers end but its all consensual) 18+

✮ wc ; 2.3k

✮ a/n ; nonsensensically horny about this idk

Suguru doesn’t mind sharing. Not with Satoru.

Never with Satoru. 

It’s easy to mistake that willingness for benevolence, and for a lesser sorcerer - fear. But it’s neither, nothing so complex. Nothing worth philosophizing over, something Suguru loves to do. Suguru just doesn’t mind sharing with Satoru for anything.

If he has to explain himself - it’s like this. Satoru is an extension of Suguru himself. A part of him, ingrained in him, grown into him. Not like ivy vines, but a flower pushing through concrete, a stubborn spectacle of Suguru’s gray matter. Satoru is the bluebell that refuses to be plucked, to die, to be anything but involved. 

That and Satoru is not good at not coveting all things Suguru owns. He’s even worse at try to pretend he doesn’t want them. It's pitiful and frequent enough to make Suguru wince every time. A boy born into God doesn’t know how to play fair, even when his best efforts are made to do so. 

When Satoru longs for something, his whole body has to whine for it. His eyes will flutter and he’ll slow himself down like a sloth, laugh less. When he really, really tries - he almost becomes a shell of himself. A shell of a shell, a masquerading puppet. 

He’s not equipped for it. Suguru finds the whole display pathetic. 

Well, Suguru likes appeasing him, too. That’s part of it. He’s not so dishonest that he can’t recognize that he enjoys seeing the way Satoru breaks the things Suguru gives him. There’s a novelty in that display, like a child crying for a toy and playing too rough. Suguru fixes them, sees if Satoru learns from his mistakes and he never does. Satoru likes things that are shiny, things he can’t have. Discards them and loses interest when it’s already his. 

Suguru never gives Satoru something unless he’s certain he doesn’t mind it being broken, or being used, or being a little messy. If there is any apprehension, Suguru won’t do it. Won’t let Satoru cry his way into it either. 

He also likes the chase. Satoru does. Like an overgrown dog. Likes begging and pleading, making a big show.  He can be manipulative too, if it’s something that has to be taken, but he’ll heel if Suguru puts his foot down. 

Most of all, Suguru enjoys cleaning up after Satoru’s messes. It makes him feel important. There’s always an undercurrent of amusement and warmth when Suguru picks up after Satoru. The strongest is uncharacteristically sloppy, and doesn’t know how to indulge in things without getting sick of them instantly. 

Their relationship is like this - Suguru is the hand that feeds, and Satoru is the thing that bites. Suguru sighs and clicks his teeth, but the scars in his fingers and all the bite marks prove that he doesn’t really care about Satoru learning his lesson.  He just likes to feed, likes to watch Satoru eat off his hand for a while before Satoru gives up on being good and uses his mouth to devour. Suguru watches this happen idly, lets the whole thing roll off of his sleeve and laughs. Because that’s just Satoru, after all. 

For all reasons above and then some, Satoru's interest in you doesn't shock him at all.

Suguru loves you. Maybe in some twisted way, but it’s love. You’re rather obstinate. He suspects he might have a type, but he likes you so much for it. When Suguru pushes your buttons - you’re not the kind to sit back and take it. And for how much Suguru gets on your nerves, Satoru gets on yours worse. Between them, only Suguru only saw the best in you. Satoru didn't understand that part of you is what makes you so special. Only you could refuse him so often and keep Suguru wrapped around your fingers, unable to ignore you or keep his hands off of you.

(He’s a good enough man to you just to make you melt since he knows if you really got mad you'd leave. He knows how to smile and sorry until you lay in his arms and hit him soft because you claim to still be mad.)

The decision to share you is one Suguru makes lightly. It’s featherlight and simple. Satoru will indefinitely break you in some way. Will rip at you like the ill-mannered man he is. Suguru will bask in it like he always does. Satoru is only so keen on having you because Suguru so utterly adores you. Of course he knows that. But curiosity always wins Suguru over. He couldn't help but want to know what exactly Satoru will do with you once he had you. 

It surprises him after, but Satoru doesn’t lose interest in you as fast as Suguru expects. Or at all. Maybe he should’ve predicted that, since he knows best you’re not so easy to break. 

But Satoru tries. God, does he try to just do that.

Suguru glances back towards Satoru. He has a lot more energy than him. Enough to fuck you utterly dumbstruck 

He watches on as he does it now, with the same mild fondness. Something stirs seeing you like that of course, but it’s not so distracting he can’t do other things. 

Satoru has you in his bed with your legs pinned up against your ears. Impatience makes an interesting image of Satoru. His sweatpants are pulled over the meat of his thigh, covered in cum and sweat since he refuses to take them off. His shirt is still on in much the same condition, though the black fabric masks some of it. Still it sticks unmistakably to his abdomen, clings tight to the lines of his abs. 

Satoru himself seems keen on making himself sick on you. His hands are folded underneath your knees with his face against yours - warm, wet and sloppy kisses making the entire room sound sticky. The air of his apartment is so thick with lust, Suguru’s sure he could slash through it with a knife and still not make it to fresh air. 

Suguru is a little used to it. So he’s horny, but he’s not there yet. He approaches the bed with a smooth and familiar demeanor, the mattress dipping underneath his weight as he sits next to you. Your eyes are tear stained and wet as you blink, sensing his presence even amidst your delirium. 

You try to reach your hand out for him but Satoru is quick to shut it down. Suguru tsks. 

“Don’t get greedy,” Suguru reprimands, and Satoru only shoots him a frown. His focus in fucking you open doesn’t cease for even a minute. “Missed me did you?” 

Your mouth forms around his name. It tries, but the words are muffled by Satoru’s own lips again. Suguru laughs a little louder this time, but doesn’t stop Satoru in any way. When he pulls away from you, your eyes are glazed over. Mouth open, tongue sticking out and covered in spit. Bitten to hell and pink with someone else's saliva. Suguru reaches towards your face and wipes your mouth, his back facing Satoru. You whine, letting your face curl against his hand. Desperate, so desperate for him despite being fucked out of your mind. 

“So greedy,” Suguru teases, because you are - because he’s made you that way so perfectly in his image. “Satoru isn’t doing a good job?” 

Satoru grumbles with possession he’s hardly earned, but again - this is of no concern to him. He watches Satoru ratchet his hips a little more, watches him fuck you on his cock even deeper than before. Your eyes roll back and your jaw goes slack, and from this angle - Suguru can see the way all the loads his best friend has pumped in you have gathered at the base of his cock. A thick, creamy ring of white making your pussy deliciously sloppy. Your cum drips down your sex, paints your ass white as he keeps fucking him into you with all that stamina. 

That’s what gets him, he finds. All that energy, all that mess. Suguru feels a shiver roll through him as Satoru fucks his loads into you deeper. He’s longer where Suguru is thicker so Suguru imagines how far that really goes. How hot it must be inside of you, fucked so ruthlessly you’ve gone completely stupid in bliss. Satoru can fuck like an animal just like he eats like one, and god don’t you look so pretty being ripped apart in front of him. 

Satoru bottoms out and stays there this last thrust, so hard the bed shakes. His thighs stick to yours as he grinds his hips up, pulsing against your gspot - reaching right into your womb. You moan brokenly, whimper as you get fucked. Suguru knows it now - that it means Satoru is about to cum in your greedy little cunt for umpenteenth time unconcerned with the consequences. 

Satoru shivers, riding out his high as he pumps whatever he has left into you before he pulls away. Thick strings of arousal keep you two together before Satoru inevitably manages to get off of you. He sits on the back of his legs, admiring his work - his hands going to smack your puffy cunt - pleased and finally relieved. You yelp, completely worn out. 

“You didn’t pass out this time,” He says, pleased and completely different than he was before “Good girl.” 

You let out a pained whine, and Suguru coos.

Satoru gets off the bed and looks for a water bottle to drink, peeling his shirt off when he finds it and rehydrating himself. He has the courtesy to come back and let you have some when he returns. You swallow it as best you can when you’re laying down and drinking it from his lips.

“You gonna have your way with her now, Suguru? How cruel.” Satoru says. 

Suguru ignores him. “Go wash up and order dinner.” 

Satoru hums noncommittally and disappears, leaving you alone together. When Suguru replaces Satoru’s weight in the bed - your reaction is immediate. You close your legs, but Suguru forces them back apart as he gets a good look at your sore, abused cunt. 

Satoru can be so brutal when he wants to, but thats what he likes most to see. You’re in a sorry state. He uses nimble fingers to open you up - looking with a wicked grin as your cunt opens up for him. Nearly gapes from how stretched it is, how much Satoru has fucked you. You’re still soft and sticky inside, your clit hard and swollen. Full to the brim with Satorus seed, heady with his scent.

He tsks at Satoru’s unprofessionalism, wonders if he’s been as dexterous as he should’ve been. 

The questions answered when Suguru touches your pussy and you pull away - skittish and helpless as he pinches the hard bundle of nerves. He whistles at how easily you’re stimulated, and then groans at the way Satoru’s cum starts to drip out of your hole. He uses his pointer finger to collect it back up - pushing it back where he wants it. You cry out - for Suguru mostly.

Suguru hums delicately as he picks up after Satoru’s mess. 

He unclothes you properly first. Takes off your shirt and dirty shorts before he undresses himself. You like skin to skin, so his shirt comes off as his pants lay low on his hips. When he’s like that, you reach your arms around his neck like you know what’s coming. Suguru chuckles at how instinctual it is, lets you reach out for him - your sticky body adhering to his skin. 

“Messy little pussy. Going to let me fuck you some more? Fuck another load into you, huh beautiful?” 

You nod stupidly. He kisses the side of your head. Of course you will. 

It never fails to send pure electricity up Suguru’s spine when he fucks you like this. Never fails to make him so hard he’s lightheaded, feeling how soft and wet and sloppy you are. Your cunt doesn’t resist him in the slightest. He slides his thick, heavy cock right into your pussy with unbelievable ease and feels everything. Feels your walls pulse with tremors of orgasms, overstimulation making you dizzy with need. 

Suguru groans. You feel incredible like this. Feel perfect, so stretched open, so delirious, full of his best friends cum. He’s never felt a single thing so euphoric as this. 

He ducks his head down to give you the proper care. The best part of all of it for him. His mouth latches on your tender tits and his hand goes between your bodies - thumb circling your clit as he bottoms out easily into your pussy and stays there. 

It’d be a waste to fuck you hard, everything dripping out where Satoru has worked so hard to fill. Suguru opts instead to lay you out on your spine and grind into you. Your legs weakly wrap around his waist as the head of his cock bullies your gspot, pushing into you and rubbing against the sensitive spongy area. Silky walls soggy as they cling to him while you cry out again. 

With Satoru, you mostly keep to yourself. Bratty and firm. But with him, you’re so needy. You whimper his name and beg for his attention and ask for something you aren’t sure of because you trust Suguru so completely. You forget your obstinance as you beg him for a proper orgasm, not one that happened to get rung out of you because Satoru can’t help himself. 

Suguru can never last long like this, but he lasts long enough to fulfill your wishes. He relishes in the weakened pulses of your pussy, spasming around him for the last time. Your nails dig into his biceps, as he hums against your tits and lets you ride out your continued high. 

Only once it’s over does he let himself cum. Buries himself as deep as he can go and gives you his own load, grunting into the crook of your neck as he shakes - his abs tightening before going soft inside of you. Thick white ropes of cum filling you even deeper. Sloppy fucking pussy for his pretty. perfect girl.

“Suguru,” You whine, your hands gripping onto him for life - usual personality evaporated to mush. “Suguru I love you,” 

He laughs to himself. See? No issues. Suguru always knows how to put you back together. 

“I love you too, baby.” 

[innaillus]

Happy Valentine's Day - again!

[heich0e]

18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact

"can i... can i put it in?"

touya's right above you, the skin of his bare chest pressing against your own, his panting breaths breaking across your swollen lips. you laugh a little, in spite of yourself, at how strange the question is when the two of you have already come this far.

"i mean... if it's not too much trouble," you tease him. his face pinches in an expression of somewhat jilted annoyance, but the pink blush that stains the tips of his ears—stark against the white of his hair—tells you he's more flustered than anything.

he pulls himself away from you to sit back on his haunches, poised between your spread legs, and you're sad to feel his warmth retreat—but only for a moment. you watch raptly as he unbuttons his jeans at the waist, and then struggles with his zipper. once he succeeds, he's all to quick to push them down around his thighs—taking his boxers with them—a hand wrapped around himself and moving in slow, steady strokes.

touya looks at you, his eyes wide. he's startlingly alert, considering how worked up he is, and the pupils of his eyes are so dilated that the black threatens to swallow up the cyanic irises around them.

he clears his throat, dipping down towards you again, and you're grateful to have him close once more. he kisses you, his breath hitching as you shift your hips and the tip of his cock—still held in his tight fist—skims against the soft, wet heat of your pussy.

"i wanna fuck you so bad," he breathes against your mouth, the words broken and fervent. the hand not wrapped around himself between your bodies finds yours, tangling your fingers together tightly.

he licks into your mouth and you welcome it, parting your lips further to let him in. when touya finally pulls away, he looks a bit confused to see you smiling.

"what?" he asks you breathily, his fingers squeezing around your own where they're still slotted together against the sheets of your bed. his blush has crept across his face now, slithering all the way down the length of his throat. you wonder if his pulse is racing as fast as yours is.

"you keep telling me you want to fuck me," you say quietly, and there's a laugh hiding somewhere in your words, you think. hidden somewhere under your laboured breaths and pounding heartbeat. "so what's stopping you?"

[tired-biscuit]

i’ve been thinking about werewolf!yuuji for a while now and i will expand on it further sometime in the future, but i do think he’d be very gentle with you despite being a monster!

just a playful pup who just so happens to be insanely huge and inhumanly strong at the same time; play fighting with you until you’re a giggling mess underneath him, completely trusting even though his jaws are strong enough to break through bone like it’s butter.

he’s very sweet and kind, and just a tad bit too protective when the need calls for it. he tries to not speak with that pesky growl in his voice whenever he transforms in your presence so that he doesn’t scare you, and thus ends up cooing and voicing little grunts of affection as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck in order to keep your heartbeat calm and steady.

he’d never bite you with his sharp teeth — he’s seen the way your eyes widen whenever he bares them with a smile — however that doesn’t exclude licking and tiny little nips that make you squeal with delight.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

YOU’VE GOT THE CURE (EVERYTHING I NEED) | B. KATSUKI. 

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!bakaugou, developing relationships, mutual pining and ambiguous relationships, anal play (m!recieving), dry orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 6.7k

✮ a/n ; an anon comission from a beloved mutual im posting. also just dropping in to say hello

✮ synopsis ; katsuki is too fucking young to have erectile dysfunction, damn it.

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” 

The sound of your typing is especially loud in the empty office. It’s a Saturday and neither of you are supposed to be clocked in, but when duty calls - it’s up to the two of you to answer. 

“...I’m going to tell you something. If you so much as fucking laugh I will kill you.”

You don’t look up from your screen.

“Well that’s one way to start a sentence. I’ll try not to laugh.”

Katsuki slams his hand on the desk. 

“I’m being serious,” He says in a half-yell. You look up from the edge of your laptop unflinchingly with a displeased frown, shaking your head and throwing your hand up half-heartedly. 

“Fine, fine - I promise I won’t laugh. Can you stop being all ominous? You sound like Tokoyami.” 

“There’s something wrong with me,” 

“Well yes,” 

“Not like that,” He hisses, taking a deep breath. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped seriously as he covers his face. “...I think my fucking..thing..is broken.” 

There’s a loud noise like a muffled laugh but when Katsuki looks up your expression is completely blank. Your lips are pressed tight, eyes out of focus as you continue to type. Or pretend to. True to your word, you don’t laugh but Katsuki still wants to fucking kill you. 

“Oh? What uhm,” You clear your throat, lips trembling as you try to keep yourself together. “What brought you to that conclusion?” 

He nearly snaps his pen in half. 

“What do you fucking think?!” 

“Hey. Calm down. I’m doing my best not to laugh but you are not helping.” 

This is the sort of thing Katsuki would normally take to his grave. Not only is it genuinely humiliating, it is the sort of painful personal detail he wouldn’t share with anyone even if he was fucking them. It wouldn’t matter either, that his dick isn’t working - if the other ways he relieved stress were.

He’s got an average sex drive, sometimes lower but a high libido. Getting off is a physical response to a bodily need. Like eating food or taking a nap. It’s just because it’s a physical need, it is noticeable when the need doesn’t get met. He is painfully aware of it. It’s been weeks and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Worse? He’s exhausted every human option trying to fix the problem himself, save for going to the dick doctor. His testosterone levels are fine, he gets check-ups more regularly than the average person. Given his reputation is at stake, he’d rather not get prescribed anything. He’s bought ginseng and shitty vitamins and medicine he had to ship from overseas. Anything and everything. 

Picking up viagra at the ripe age of twenty four would give him psychic damage he won’t recover from, this much Katsuki is sure of. So not that. But everything else, every natural remedy conceived - he’s tried. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and willfully ignoring the sound of your strained huffing “I can’t fucking get….it up and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything. Everything. I’m going crazy,” 

“You know, it really says something about our relationship that you can confide to me about these kinds of problems. Like I’m so proud of us,” 

“Shut up. I’m already miserable enough without wanting to fucking tell you - but the only other option is Shitty Hair and Izuku. I refuse to buy a single goddamn pill for it, and I know if I go to a doctor they’re gonna recommend it and—” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a little too sincere for the kind of conversation you’re having. 

You’re a tactless person, so of course - you don’t bother with going along with the mood. Instead you smile like the evil bastard you are. 

“And…?” 

“You little—” He sighs rubbing his palms over his hands “And because I can trust you to be the least horrible option.” 

“So you acknowledge my valiant efforts as your underling and assistant and know you’d be nowhere without me?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Aw, you’re sweet,” You say, promptly ignoring him “But yeah, I mean - no judgement. I would ask if you’ve had anything major happen but I unfortunately already know that’s not really the case.”

Yes. You, of all people, would know that no major changes have happened in Katsuki’s external life that would make it hard for his dick to function. You spend so much time together. Minus the time he spends working and catching villains in the world - you’re practically glued to his side. You’re in charge of all of his affairs, his schedule, all other personal things. Katsuki is naturally neurotic, but you handle all of it with grace and care. You know everything about him, which is why he is asking you about this problem. 

(Does it border on unprofessional? Of course it does. But your relationship to each other degraded that border a long time ago. You’ve already slept in his bed and met all of his friends. And kissed him, but that’s irrelevant for now) 

“I need solutions,” Katsuki offers, totally and utterly defeated by the situation at hand. “I’ve done everything. Taken every goddamn herb, done every meditation. Nothing is working. Nothing. I’m going to go fucking crazy.” 

“Do you think just sleeping with someone would help? I know you don’t want to ask any of your friends, but maybe an escort? We can do it discreetly.” 

“Fuck no. If it were that easy I would’ve done it.” 

You pause. Katsuki can see the focus on your face and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. After an elongated period of silence, you perk up a little. You lock eyes with him and Katsuki briefly regrets bringing the whole conversation up in the first place. 

“Hate to ask,” You say, though there’s not enough embarrassment on your face to make anything of that statement. “But uh, have you tried getting off with other things. Like something that isn’t your dick.” 

He feels a flush creeping up his skin. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

“This is an important question,” You emphasize, an expression so alarmingly calm Katsuki doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. “Cause if the answer is no, then that’s basically the best solution.” 

“How the fuck is that the best solution? Are you insane?” 

“Don’t be such a prude, Mr. Dynamight. You’ve bottomed before. It’s not that different. Have you ever tried it on your own?” 

“I fucking hate you.” He replies, closing his eyes and frowning. “No I haven’t. Why the hell would I do something so embarrassing.” 

“I know you’re super anal retentive - no pun intended there actually, but can you relax a little? It’s a good solution if nothing else is working. Your dick might be broken but an orgasm is an orgasm.” 

“Remind me to never ask you for shit again,” 

“I’d love that. Just keep me on payroll. Anyway,” You go back to typing. “I think that should be your first move,”

“How the—are you seriously telling me I should go fuck myself to solve my problem?” 

You giggle. “Well it sounds bad when you put it like that. But I guess yeah. I can help pick out some sex toys, maybe, do a little research. If you don’t want to do it in your apartment, there might be a love hotel,” 

A blush creeps up against the back of his neck. He covers his face with his hands. 

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up. There’s no,” Another wave of humiliation sets in “There’s no way this is how I’m going about this. Like. Fucking none.” 

“The only other option is the good old fashioned doctors appointment, then. Which we can squeeze in over telehealth I think - since you got a check-up pretty recently. Want me to do that instead,” 

“Fuck, no. I just,” He groans, feeling the stress make his eye twitch “Fuck.” 

There’s a bit of silence and a little typing, like you’ve decided to leave him to his thoughts. Which he doesn’t blame you for, because all things fucking considered - there’s not really any more options. He’s a smart man and even he is fucking stumped. He’s going to have to give into something, eventually. He knows that, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

As soon as he gets close to giving up, you sit up straighter and give a deep long sigh. 

“Hey,” You scratch the side of your face awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you….?” 

He stares at you. “With what.” 

“With your dick being broken,” 

“What?!” 

“Don’t yell anymore, you’re giving me a headache,” You express, rubbing your temples. “Look. You need to get off, and you’re probably going to have to use your ass to do it. You don’t want to do it by yourself, and you don’t want to do it with a friend or escort. You’d prefer not going to the doctor's office or taking any pills. I’m offering - I’m not really your friend per se and you trust me enough to ask about it.” 

He hates more than anything that you have a point. 

“You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Hey. If you want your dick to stay broken for a while until you figure it out, do you. I’m just saying. Offering solutions is what you pay me for,” 

He pulls back a little. 

“...Are you fine with that?” 

“Oh banging you? Is that what you’re worried about?” He winces at the direct and crass way you speak. “I like you plenty and you’ve got a pretty face. I’m down if you are,” 

“I can’t believe I’m considering this.” 

“Really? I totally can,” You snicker, and he really, really considers firing you. “It’s not the first time we’ve crossed boundaries with each other. Just consider it, okay? Before you actually blow a fuse.” 

He leans back in his chair and groans. 

“Fuck. Yeah, whatever.” 

__ 

It’s another week before Katsuki takes you up on your offer. 

Miraculous it took that long, given the amount he suffered stubbornly trying to fix the problem on his own. The lengths he went too are too embarrassing to even disclose or recount but it very quickly became clear that this was not an issue that was going to magically disappear - no matter how hard he tried. 

Against his better judgment and after a long, cold shower trying to talk himself out of reality - Katsuki sent you a one line text. 

Fine. Come Saturday. 

The only thing he could say without dying of complete fucking shame. He’s grateful that’s the time you decided to have some tact. 

(Not a lot, since the text back you sent was a peach emoji and a thumbs up. But whatever, he’ll take what he can get.) 

It’s Saturday now, and he’s clean. All of him. He’s clean, and just wearing his boxers - sitting on his couch. You’ll be here very soon, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s nervous. 

You did mention you were fine with it. He believes that because there’s been long standing tension between you two for god knows how long he’s not entirely blind too. You sleep at his place sometimes and spend all day with him, and then there was that one time you two kissed (very sober) during New Years. You don’t bring it up because you know he can’t deal with it. Yet he’s comforted by the fact you at least want it (because you’ve said so), and that you’re willing to do this despite the ambiguity in your relationship. 

He knows that is inevitably going to come up today. But he really wants to fucking cum. And if it’s with you, then it’s fine. If his head was a little clearer, he would probably reject this whole thing based on his own emotional disparity. God fucking knows he is not in any place to deal with any of that. His heart barely gets by in the office and now you were going to fuck him. 

Is he stupid? 

Usually no, but because there’s a soft dick and tight balls where his brain used to be, currently yes. Everything put together, it’s a recipe for disaster. He considers telling you to fuck off and forget all this happens. 

But then he thinks about the prospect of your hands and your voice and it’s enough to at least get his heart pumping, though his dick still refuses to cooperate.

More than anything, he does trust you. Shitty, smug little fucker you can be sometimes - there’s not a single person who goes out of their way for him. More than just your job, sometimes it feels like every little thing you do is for his sake. Everything you don’t ask of him, every secret you keep. You push him where he needs to go and encourage him to take risks in his career without imposing on him. 

He blushes again, laying on his couch. He was nervous before but it’s not any better. Maybe he’s not so much of a dumbass as he is a total fucking masochistic. Is the level of overthinking the shit Izuku goes through? No wonder he’s like that all the time. 

He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring. 

He answers the door shirtless and finds you on the other side. You have a cardboard box and the most nonchalant expression he’s ever seen. Normally it would annoy him, but right now he’s kind of comforted by it. You look at him with a flat smile. 

“Hey sexy,” You say with no intonation. “Can I come in?” 

He gives you a look of disdain. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. But come in,” 

You laugh quietly as he steps aside. You don’t have much with you other than the ominous box and your bag. 

“You look like you’ve showered,” You say, taking your shoes off and putting on the house slippers he keeps for you. You don’t even look at him as you go towards his bedroom upstairs. He follows you with mild (faux) annoyance.“What a shame.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I wanted to get a little romantical and help you clean up but you’ve taken that from me. I’m a little hurt.” 

“You’re such a dumbass. As if I’d let you do that,” 

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m gonna be playing in your ass today anyway.” 

“Not the same thing.” 

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” You say with a wave of your hands. When you finally get upstairs, you look over your shoulder. Katsuki gets the message quickly enough, helping you with the door. You give him a little smile and let yourself in, dropping the box on the edge of his king sized mattress. 

He stands in the doorway for a short while, glancing at you before coming in. You put your bag somewhere on the floor before getting back to the box you’ve brought over. He can guess what’s in it, but he stands with you to open it anyways.

Predictably,  the thing is full of sex toys. The first question he wants to ask is how much you spent on all of it, but he bites his tongue. 

You look at him and do a little jazz hands gesture. “Tah-dah.” 

He gives you a displeased look, but you’re well used to this sort of thing from him. There isn’t actually a whole lot in the box. The theatrics of you bring it upstairs were more likely just you fucking with him for the sake of the bit.  He frowns. Typical. 

You do have some new things in the box. A few expensive look gadgets, like a pair of quirk canceling handcuffs (decorated with leopard print fur) and something that looks like it goes around his neck. The sex toys that are in there are noticeably high quality. You definitely used his dime to pay for this. 

“Handcuffs? Seriously?” 

“You’re too much of a control freak and I like not having my hands blown to bits,” You say, shaking your head. “We should establish some ground rules and stuff now.” 

“Haah? The fuck are you gonna do that we need rules.”

“I’m not just gonna jump scare you with dominating you. But that is what I’m doing.  What we’re doing.” You give him a more serious look, that makes him feel more shy than he cares to admit.  “You get what I’m saying? You have to trust me a little, okay?” 

He makes a petulant face at you. “I already trust you dipshit,” 

“This and that are different,” You say, shaking your head. He refrains from disagreeing with you a second time. They’re really not, but he has no desire to explain that. “I’m gonna touch you and be a little strict. Are you okay with that?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“That’s not an answer,” 

He grits. “I want to cum. And I…trust you or whatever. I already agreed to this. If it’s pissing me off, I’ll just kick you offa me. Anyway, ‘s fine.” 

“If you kick me I’m suing you for battery. We can have a safeword. I’m not going to duct tape your mouth and I’m gonna talk you through most of it - but just incase.” You say. He pauses, taken aback by how… delicately you’re treating him. He doesn’t know if he should be pissed about it or not. “Any word is fine. We can use the stoplight system too if you want.”

“Stoplight?” 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.” 

“That’s fine. Easy to remember.” 

“Okay,” You nod to yourself, tucking the promise to memory before looking at him more seriously. “Are you okay with intimacy?” 

He stares at you. 

“The fuck…?” 

“Kissing and hand-holding and all that other stuff.” 

“Is it necessary?” 

“Strictly speaking, no,” You look at him knowingly this time. He’s taken aback, but you’re always like this. You look through him, not at him. “Are you okay with it?” 

The implication is there. Do you want it? is the question that goes unasked. Too direct for his tastes. He feels heat spread through his body, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Yeah…’m fine with it.” 

Your smile is more genuine this time around. He turns away from you a little. 

“Okay. That’s everything out of the way. I’m gonna cuff your arms,” You say. It all feels a little sudden. He figures you’d mean business, but still - he’s not all that prepared. He’s had a week to mentally prepared but that feels like nothing compared to now.  There’s an authority to the way you talk now he isn’t sure he’s going to get used too. “Repeat your safewords to me when you turn around.” 

He frowns but listens. He puts his hands together in front of him, waiting for you to cuff him, shyness making him hot. 

“Uh. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.” 

“Good boy,” You say so smoothly it almost rolls off of him. The cuffs go around his wrists, and Katsuki can feel the familiar sensation of losing his quirk. Now it’s just the both of you. “I’m expecting a little pushback, but generally - you’re to listen to me. Clear?” 

“God, fuck - yeah clear,” Katsuki says, feeling ticklish all of a sudden. “All this shitty foreplay is making me feel weird.” 

You wrap your arm around his midriff in a sudden movement, making him twitch. He can feel your cheek pressed against his chest as your hands hover over his waistband. He takes in a sharp inhale. 

“It’s good that you’re feeling anything.” You say, breath just barely above a whisper. “Gonna take this off,” 

He just nods, silently. It’s still on soft, but something is happening in his gut at least. You help him take his boxers down. You’ve probably seen him naked before, more than once. You two being attached at the hip was no joke. This time there’s this lingering anticipation that’s there, and that changes things. 

He steps out of his boxers. He’s naked and you’re clothed and his head feels like it’s spinning. Your hand guides him to the edge of the bed. He sits and watches you, but you don’t undress. 

The first kiss (second kiss) that you exchange with Katsuki is pleasant. You bend down to do it. It’s a chaste way to meet his lips, weirdly soothing while his stomach is starting to tie in knots. It’s a little surprising how..comfortable it is. Your mouth is soft, your lips taste a little like chapstick and you smell nice. You pull away to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw. 

Your thumbs draw over the shell of his ear, rubbing the lobe tender. You’re so different. The contrast in your normal personality is a little too much for him to reconcile with easily, but you brush over these things well enough. He looks away when you meet his eyes. 

“Do you wanna lay down or kneel?” 

His throat is tight. “...Don’t care.” 

You laugh a little to yourself, another kiss. “Lay down then. It’d probably be easier if you put your ass up but knowing you, I doubt it.” 

He blushes, annoyed that he’s so obviously predictable to you. 

The sheets are soft where he lays. You don’t join him on the bed at first. He just waits there cuffed as you shuffle around for things - lubes and toys and pillows. When you do return to him, you pat his side and slide a pillow underneath his back. He quickly regrets laying down, because god the position is fucking exposing. 

You get between his legs and settle there comfortably. A hand rests on his bare thigh, rubbing your thumb into smooth, muscled skin. His breath is hitched. You lean down and kiss his hip. Still no dice on the erection, but you don’t seem discouraged. 

You flip the lube open and let it pour onto your fingertips. It’s pink lube. This is mildly irritating, but saying anything will feed into your satisfaction so Katsuki bites his tongue. He watches it as you warm it in your hands, patting his leg with your clean hand. 

“Legs up,” You instruct. “And deep breath. Try not to tense.” 

“Just goin’ for it, huh?”

You don’t reply to that, but you do smile. 

It’s not his first rodeo. His second or third, but certainly not his first - but he’s never had it done for a reason like this. There was an exchange prior, that someone was putting something in him for their pleasure too. This isn’t for that. This is just for him, with your skilled hands and your oddly gentle tendencies that he doesn’t see any other time. That proves to be too much, makes his belly feel honeyed with lust. 

The warm, thick sensation of lubed fingers presses against the tight rim of muscle. He breathes and unclenches. Tries not to think too hard about anything. He’s desperate, too desperate. At this point, it’s hard to be prideful. Your hands are noticeably daintier than the ones he’s had in him prior. It’s…weirdly nice. Makes the process easier somehow. He’s reminded that you’re just you, and that makes him more nervous. 

“That’s it, baby,”  You hum, so soft it’s startling. The way the blood starts to rush in that familiar way nearly makes him sick. Oh, fuck. No way. “Oh?” 

No way. No fucking way. No way that’s what does him in. 

You pause. He takes in a deep breath, ready to say anything to defend himself. Humiliation spreads through his whole body. He can feel how hard he’s starting to burn, like the blood in his body is struggling to keep up with the desire and pump of his heart. His chest and face start to flush a familiar rose as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes. 

Weeks. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure this out. And it was you calling him baby, of all things, to get him at half-mast. 

He’s too afraid to open his eyes, but forces himself too. He’s expecting a smug laugh or sarcastic jab but instead you just look surprised. You stare at him, unblinking. He’s so startled he stares back. 

“Do you wanna…keep going?” 

He gets hard. Fuck. 

“S-shit,” He says, wishing he could cover his face with his hands properly. “Yeah,” 

He can’t read your expression at all. Annoying. You don’t brush over it though - but you don’t force him to acknowledge it either. Maybe you’re just focused on the fact he finally has something to work with and don’t want to ruin it by making him talk about his feelings. 

“Baby,” You say again, smooth and deliberate. There’s that twitch again, something pooling in his gut. He starts to feel nervous. You’re doing the same as before, stretching him and teasing the rim - getting him ready for something else. “You like bein’ my baby, Katsuki?” 

He opens his mouth, only to close it again. He tries to choke some word about, telling you go fuck yourself - but he always ends up looking at your face. Your lashes on your cheek. Soft touches and even softer words. He stops knowing what he wants at some point.

“Ugh,” His voice grows thicker. “Don’t ask me that,” 

(If he were more apt at honesty, he could admit to you that he just wants you. In whatever way. Sometimes you get like this, when you’re not screwing around - and you’re so good to him that it hurts. He likes your sarcasm and dryness. 

But he likes too when you’re this sweet on him too - even if that feels shameful as fuck. That feels like it’s crossing so many more lines that you’re usual self. He knows that better than anyone. It is crossing more lines than usual. 

He can’t help but think about it anyway.)

You laugh a little. His eyes go lidded as you continue to work him open. It’s a slow process. You circle his hole with your thumb each time before pushing in. You get one finger in without effort. The second one takes a little more. Another heaved breath and unclenching of his muscles. 

He hasn’t felt the sensation of something entering him in so long. He can’t remember when the last time was. He’s antsy as you pump your fingers in and out, stretching him slowly. You find the bottle with your free hand, flicking it open with your teeth and pouring lube onto him directly before you keep going. 

“That feel okay?” You mumbles

“Y-yeah. Feels fine,” He huffs, closing his eyes “Feels…good,” 

“It’ll feel better soon. Just need to,” You curve the two fingers inside of him up. They search and search and search until—

There. Shit, there. 

“Oh, shit,” He gasps, arching himself up as you rub it. You smile at him, pleased. “Fuck,” 

You whistle. Katsuki can feel his cock throb properly now, up at full attention. You don’t touch him though. Your other hand grips his thigh for support as you focus your wrist and energy on curling your fingers against his prostate. His stomach flutters, waist tightening.

He’s been fucked before, damn it, but this is different. This is controlled and concentrated. Your fingers are perfect in their motion, pinpoint pleasure making him break out into a feverishness. You’re annoyingly good at this. His whole nervous system feels like it’s being unraveled so slowly. Pulled apart like the slices of a fruit, something for you to pick off and eat.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton, tongue too big for his mouth. Thoughts clouded and inhibition lowered. Real pleasure. He hasn’t felt that in what has to be more than a month now. It’s overwhelming. He’s sensitive and muddy and acting stupidly - he’s well aware. It’s an out of body experience being so unwound in general but this after everything is overstimulating. 

God it feels good. How can anything feel this fucking good? 

His breathing is erratic, heart pumping trying to keep up with it. Euphoric little pricks start at his abdomen and shoot off through his whole body. Like the splintering ends of a falling star. 

He’s never had any orgasm that feels like it needs every muscle in his body to pump through him. It starts in his center and spreads out, melts him slowly. Usually the feeling of needing to cum is passing - just building pleasure until the orgasm hits and the high relaxes. His cock is leaking now with every little press along his insides. Little white dribbles of pre-cum sliding down his shift all the way down to his ass. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks, so he focuses on how it feels. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” His voice almost gives. “Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.”

“You can cum if you want to, Katsuki,” As if to drive the point home by massaging his inner thigh, neglecting his cock “Guess you’re pretty sensitive inside, hm? Gonna make you cum like a girl,” 

His blush deepens.. 

“Haah, fuck - fuck I’m not sensitive. It’s just, hng. Been a while,” 

“Don’t be a liar or I won’t let you cum,” You tease. 

His eyes shoot wide, brows touching his hairline.  “Fuck, d-don’t you dare. .” 

You have the nerve to laugh at him. All things considered, maybe you’ve earned. “Just teasing. I’m awful but not that awful. “ 

“You’re not awful, fuck - just really,” He throws his head back against the sheets. “Need to cum, really need to—” 

“Gonna cum without even touching your cock,” You say, half-amused. He shudders when the realization dawns on him.“You’re so sweet.” 

He’s drooling. The strength goes out in his jaw as the feeling just builds and builds and builds. It goes on like it’ll never topple. 

When it does, it doesn’t feel so much like a rope unsnapping as much as it feels like everything is being pulled from under him. Like the loss of gravity. His abdomen goes tight, the anticipation of it making it impossible to breathe. So close, so close, so close. His brain feels shut off, mindlessly humping along air to capitalize on everything. You’re encouraging only eggs him on further. He lets out a garbled little noise, choking. His voice rasps as electricity flows through him. 

And he cums, there’s an orgasm - but nothing comes out. He cums so hard but his balls still feel so tight and full. It feels good but he’s still so fucking hard. It snaps him awake as his eyes open, and you’re staring at his cock a little awestruck. 

“Oh, poor baby,” You say - not exactly mocking him but not exactly being kind either. Katsuki stares at you lost and hazy. “A dry orgasm after all of that. That’s just cruel. 

He heaves. “What the….how am I supposed to?” 

His dick aches. Fuck he almost wants to cry. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft in a sudden movement, making him hiss. He almost cusses you out. Sensitive, too sensitive. You put your thumb over the tip of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from it as you. You look mesmerized as it dribbles against your thumb

A long pause. 

“Hey,” Your expression is  serious. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“I’m really turned on right now, shit. I was planning on just helping you but, you didn’t cum yet and I’m...,” You’re looking at him so directly. His heart pounds. “You can say no,” 

Of course he wants to fuck you. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t know where he’d find the fucking gall. 

“....’s sensitive,” He says instead, flushing with embarrassment. You brighten up. “Just… give me a minute,” 

“I will but first,” You rummage through your items and pull out a plug. His eyes widen. “It’ll feel good, I promise.” 

He grumbles, but doesn’t reject you. You have some kind of miracle in you - so he feels more inclined to just give in to whatever you say. You look eager to do it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

It’s easy enough to put the plug in when he’s already all soft. He’s still sensitive and swollen. He hisses as the cool metal of the plug slides into softened hole, before settling. You give him a little tap on his which he glares at you for. Your only response is laughter. 

There’s nothing to talk about while Katsuki watches you undress. You don’t take it all off - just your bottoms. It’s not that he has nothing on his mind. Just that… seeing you like that isn’t making him any less hard. He just… looks at you. Dumbly. You slide your shorts off in one go and your underwear along with it, and you’re all on display. 

It’s pretty. Your pussy is really pretty. A horrifyingly embarrassing thing for him to think but it’s true. There’s a fine layer of hair on your mound that he likes. You’re dripping wet like you said you were, and that doesn’t make the situation any easier. You give him a little smug grin as you settle over his lap. He stares at you completely absent-minded, flushed. 

“Like what you see?” You tease. He’s too struck to lie to you. 

“Yeah,” He rasps. He’s out of his mind right now. He blames it on his dick. “I wish I could take these fuckin’ cuffs off.” 

You look at him a little surprised. “You don’t like being cuffed and restrained?” 

His ears feel hot, heat prickling up his skin. “Didn’t say that just,” He groans even trying to say it. “...Wanna touch you,” 

He trails off. You use your hand to turn his face back to you, cupping his jaw as you bend forward to kiss him. He stares at you wide-eyed, making a noise of surprise. This kiss is different from all the others. Deeper, with more feeling. He gets into it, lifting his head to kiss you back. 

When you pull away, you’re all fluttered lashes and adoration. 

“After I drain your dick dry,” You say with a confidence that astounds him. “I’ll take them off and let you fuck me proper. But you have to tell me you want that, first. Do you wanna fuck me, baby?” 

“Shit. Y-yeah,” He nods, feeling absolutely swept up in your pace. 

“Say it.” 

“I wanna fuck you, dammit,” He stutters through the last of his sentence. “Don’t make me beg, my dick is going to blow off if you keep torturing me.” 

You laugh good naturedly and he feels a little proud that he made you laugh. The thought that he’s beyond whipped wipes the smile off his face completely, but whatever. 

You pull back, sitting up as you examine his cock. You hold it up to you, weighing your options. 

“I’m too horny to open myself up. I’m just gonna sit on it, ‘kay? Don’t buck your hips up,” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his mouth. The warm, wet heat of your cunt is immediately overstimulating. He groans so gutterally it startles him. Like it’s punched out of him. This is the only pressure his hard cock has gotten in months and it’s making him feel like he’s on fire. 

You don’t give him a chance to cover. You lean over him as you maneuver his cock to your entrance with all disregard for his sanity. You hiss as the tip finds the spot. Fuck you’re wet. Your insides are so soft, so sticky - but you’re still so damn tight. 

As you promised you go slowly. It doesn’t help him losing his mind. Worsened by the fact he can see you on top of him, all bated breaths and shaky moans. There must be a dull pain, but you only give him a smile as you get the first inch. 

“You’re big,” You say breathlessly. His cock twitches to life. “Feels fucking good. Shit, that’s amazing. Haha, I can feel you so deep already.” 

“Please stop talking, before I, haah,” 

“Don’t cum yet,” You demand, lowering yourself further and further until you’ve bottomed out. Katsuki feels fucking crazy. “Let me get my fill first.” 

“Ngh, easier said than fucking done,” 

You just laugh. “Try your hardest, Mr. Hero. Show off your endurance, hm?” 

He groans as you start to move. You really don’t regard him at all. You lean over him with one hand and use your other to tease and toy with your clit as you ride his cock with reckless abandon. The room is quick to fill with noise - the sound of skin slapping skin, the skin sticking where your hips meet his thighs. 

 You’re moaning in little broken waves. He’s not going to last if he listens to you anymore. 

He’s biting the inside of his cheek trying not to cum, but you don’t make it easy. You’re riding him with so much force, using him. Your pussy is so tight it’s gripping him, sucking him dry. A vice-like grip, sticky and pliant over the hard curve of his cock. Everytime you bounce and throw your ass a little harder onto him, he can feel you. Feel himself and  how deep he is. His hands tighten into fists where they’re cuffed in front of him. 

He’s never been… used like this. But he doesn’t hate it the way you disregard him to chase your own pleasure while being so generally mindful of his own. You take and take and take but you make it feel so good. 

It’s not helped by the plug in his ass, brushing against his prostate every single time you move. Makes him jolt. Every fiber and nerve in his body is wound as tight as it can possibly go. All of his strength, sanity, and focus he has left in him is trying not to cum, not to buck his hips up and rut into you like a stupid animal no matter how much he wants too. 

He can feel you start to cum before you even tell him. Your walls pulse with need and your movement starts to get slower. The grip you have holding you up weakens slightly. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” You say with a pant. You open your eyes and look down on him “Cum with me, okay? Don’t hold it in,” 

The words alone trigger a reaction. But with everything else, it’s like Katsuki explodes. Weeks worth of tension in his body, in his muscles, in his everything  - burst at the seams. You cum and he follows you nearly in succession. The hard pulsing of your swollen cunt suck around him like a vice and he goes practically limp feeling his dick finally drain. 

He cums and he can’t stop cumming. Pumps out so much white hot seed his head starts to cloud. He fucks up into you, sloppy and dumb. Chasing his high as he pours every ounce of his load into your pussy without so much as a modicum of shame. A month of dryness overwritten by the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. He doesn't know how long he stays there, painting your walls with his spend. It just goes on forever, longer than he’s ever experienced. 

He has his eyes closed as he goes limp. Fucking hell. 

It takes him a while to go soft again. When he finally does and returns to consciousness, he’s still nestled inside you. You give him a smile when his eyes finally open, leaning forward to kiss his hairline. 

“Still all there?” 

His voice is hoarse like he’s been screaming. “I feel like I fucking died,” 

You giggle. 

“So… no?” 

“Kind of. Barely. What the fuck is up with you.” He says laying his head back, sweat dripping down his back. “Shit.” 

“Did you like it?” 

He gives you an unimpressed look as you laugh. 

“I’m glad.” You say softly. You’re warm. God he’s down bad. “We have a lot to talk about later. You should take a little break for now.” 

He nods in agreement to both things before pausing. “For now..?” 

“You thought we were done?” You say with a tilted head. He gapes. “I thought you knew I was more ruthless than that.” 

He groans. 

“You’re insane.” 

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him. 

“You love me.” 

He lets you kiss him some more and doesn’t bother denying it. 

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Touya hadn’t meant to miss the call, hadn’t meant to make you listen to his voicemail box one, two, three times.

Hadn’t meant to make you cry to a silent line.

But when he finally has time to click that voicemail, your sobs crackling through the speaker, he doesn’t let it finish after that first broken I need you.

It doesn’t matter that you haven’t talked in 6 months, doesn’t matter that he’s celebrating a great ride, doesn’t matter that he’s had a couple beers.

What matters is that you’re not picking up, one, two, three calls later.

Doesn’t matter that he’s tearing down the dark road way faster than he should, phone on speaker on his dash and fist beating the steering wheel so hard he’s sure it’ll bruise.

What matters is the one, two, three, four voicemails he leaves telling you he’ll be there in four, three, two minutes.

What matters is the one, two minutes he spends banging on your door before remembering he never returned your key, leaving it open when he tears it wide and rushes in.

The two, three, four leaps it takes to get up your stairs hardly register to him.

All that matters is the sight of you, just you, lying on the bathroom floor, crying so hard that it shakes your whole body.

Because it doesn’t matter if it takes one, two, three, four hours… he’ll be there until it stops.

[streimiv]

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: Omegaverse

Pairing: Omega!Gojo x Omega!Reader

:ꕥ: :ꕥ: :ꕥ: 

You had agreed to come back to this awful place to teach.

Actually teach.

None of the jujutsu nonsense that so many of your peers had fallen to, trying to climb the ranks of murderer and the murdered. Hunter and hunted. Like crabs in a bucket, you had at one point scrambled alongside them, pushing one another down in the hopes that you would reach the top. It was an awful sort of luck that had allowed you to peak over the rim. There had been nothing but death and devastation on the other side.

Out of a class of eight you’d been one of four to graduate. Out of the four to graduate, you alone had escaped the fate destined for so many sorcerers. But you’d always been lucky in the worst way.

Was there a bad way to be lucky?

You’d seen the awfulness of jujutsu society with your own two eyes and the first moves you’d made upon reaching adulthood had been getting out and then getting as far as hell from it as you could.

Maybe you were a coward. Maybe you just weren’t much for achieving anything of note. Maybe you really were a no good quitter, turning your back on years of training.

It didn’t matter if the truth, whatever it was, hurt your feelings. You had to be alive to feel bad, and that was good enough for you.

You’d gotten out of curses and killing and into something far less occupationally hazardous.

Education.

Or at least, you had been for a couple of years there. It’d been hard getting back into the normal world and earning a degree. But things hadn’t really worked out. You hadn't lost your license, but with the falling birthrate, you had lost your job. You weren't homeless but you were very much facing down the barrel of the possibility. You weren't struggling, but comfort was not a word you could ascribe to your lifestyle.

Another bad stroke of good luck to add to the collection, you supposed.

You hadn’t wanted to return here in the first place but teaching wasn’t the fun cushy job that outraged parents or cute hallmark-esque movies liked to think it was. Any placement was a good placement, as your old coworkers used to say.

When Jujutsu Tech’s Tokyo location had thrown in negligible cost housing, free utilities, and a surprisingly generous stipend for starting immediately, well, the choice had been largely out of your hands.

But you’d be fine, you had assured yourself. The job had stipulated that you’d be sectioned to teaching what passed as a few basic classes, if they could even be called that. It’d be surprising if you’d get so far as teaching these kids basic trig. You wouldn’t be expected to waddle within a hundred yards of a curse, much more pick up a weapon and fight.

Things would be fine here.

Or, as close to fine as things could get with a foot in the world of jujutsu and curse slaying.

You could handle the little bit of genuine educating that Tokyo campus afforded their students. Basic science and math. Some classical literature. It went without argument that traditional Japanese history, or even world history, wasn’t on the school’s curriculum - and so would be handled by the other, more hands on teachers.

Which was fine by you.

You were alive and free and away from him.

The real danger that had loomed over you when this offer had been extended your way. The monster that had been revealed to you on the other side of the bucket that had sent you scrambling down into the depths.

Gojo Satoru had been a year above you and the star student of Jujutsu Tech’s Tokyo location when you’d been studying in Kyoto. You’d come to the sister school competition just once to support your upperclassmen. It’d been a pointless endeavor for them, as you’d later learn. There was no beating Gojo.

He would continue to be untouchable, right up until the very end. You’d never seen anything like him, and you would have gawked longer if things hadn’t gone so horribly twisted. With your fellow Kyoto students, you’d watched that last match with terrified awe.

Your senpai- crumpled on the floor in a cloud of dirt and his opponent uninjured.

His opponent- standing above him without a speck of dust to mark his uniform. Immaculate. Unreachable.

The third year's only claim to some sort of success was that Gojo’s chest had heaved with exertion and excitement and- and suddenly it had stopped.

Gojo Satoru, who had seemed an uncontrollable blur of motion and sound, had come to a complete standstill. Seemingly not even breathing. Until all at once he’d inhaled. Deeply. Heavily. Deliberately. Filling his lungs and expanding his chest as if pulling his next breath deep into the very fiber of his being.

And then the world had become blue.

So starkly, startlingly blue as he had snapped his head in your direction and met your eyes. Despite the distance that had separated the two of you, you’d somehow noticed the way his pupils had blown, dark and black and nearly devouring that haunting azure.

You had moved to turn away. To break his stare. To run.

He hadn’t let you.

In less than a blink of an eye he had been there. In front of you. Stooped low so his face had nearly touched yours. You’d felt his breath on your lips as he'd exhaled- the brush of his long lashes against your skin. He had inhaled, pulling you in, in, in as if willing you to fall into his gravity well.

And, most shocking of all, he had suddenly become so terribly-

Touchable.

His hand had rested on your neck. The heat of his palm had been almost searing against pulse of your artery, the meat of his thumb digging in not un-gently against your trachea as you had swallowed instinctively. Nervously.

There’d been a moment of absolute stillness, or maybe all of this had happened in that moment, and then - as if unable to hold back any longer- time had been forced to rescind it’s dilation. In the second that followed that endless pause everything had fallen into chaos. Men shouting his name. Another student- black hair, black eyes, and a startled expression that didn’t seem accustomed to his face- jumping in to grab onto Gojo’s shoulders as you were pulled away from him.

You hadn’t been pried from his hold. He hadn’t been gripping on to you. He had let you go.

Maybe he’d been just as shocked as everyone else. Maybe he had simply been curious to see what was to happen next.

It hadn’t mattered.

You’d been ushered quickly away from him and, unable to help yourself, had taken a look back over your shoulder.

He hadn’t moved. Still standing there with another’s student’s arms around him and teachers unmistakably demanding answers of him that he either could not or would not give.

Hand still outstretched.

His eyes had locked with yours and that empty, hungry, expression had slipped from his face. Instead, the corner of his lip had quirked. His pupils had shrunk.

And finally, finally, he had closed his hand. Slowly and deliberately. Fingers curving into claws before curling into his palm- as if Gojo Satoru had taken hold of something intangibly yours for himself.

That hadn’t been your last night in Tokyo. Though it had been meant to be, but there had been no choice but to extend your stay. Despite your designation, you’d always been able to handle yourself. Your teachers had respected your independence. Your classmates had quickly learned that no biology would stop you from doing what you wanted.

But right then, when you'd wanted to leave most, it hadn't mattered how strong you were. How capable you'd proven yourself to be. Biology which you had believed to be just a minor roadblock had truly stopped you in your tracks.

No one with a lick of sense would allow an omega in heat to travel.

So you’d stayed in a Tokyo campus dorm and had drowned yourself in suppressants until the heat had broken just enough for you to not be a danger to yourself or others. You’d been half delirious, but you’d broken what would have been a seven day heat into a two day affair.

And then you had run.

But, be it by fate or by chance or sheer bad fucking luck, you’d rounded the track right back here. A closed loop of improbable chances made possible. Jujutsu Tech. Curses. Killing.

Gojo.

“Well, isn’t this lucky~” a voice sings from the door of the classroom. You spin, eyes wide and heart racing as you recognize that unforgettable shock of white hair. That impossibly larger than life frame. Lucky was the last word you’d use to describe this meeting as something about him set every hair on your body on edge. A bad sort of luck in your endless life of such things. “Thought you’d turn down the offer, Sensei.”

He laughs and takes a step forwards. You fight not to take a step back.

“Thought you’d run.”

Again.

The word sits between the two of you, unspoken and undeniable as you take a breath-

-and exhale sharply as you stumble back. His grin grows impossibly wider and, if such a word could be ascribed to a man, predatory in nature. Surprise has yet to reveal itself in your expression and yet Gojo grins and cants forwards, wafting the scent of him about the two of you.

“Gojo-,” you blurt, shock making your voice shake, “-are you-“

The disbelief sits heavy on your chest as he tilts his head knowingly. Mocking in its teasing action.

“An omega?” he hums and takes another step forwards. “Why, yes I am. Thank you for noticing.”

Your hip hits the edge of your desk and you turn just long enough for him to take advantage of your inattention. His arms slam down on either side of you as you finally stammer out the end of your question.

“-in heat?”

Gojo leans down and, in a familiarly haunting action, inhales you deep.

“Yeah,” he groans.

“That, too.”

[asjeontrw-deactivated20250507]

Credits to @UQUOOZZ on Twitter

@asjeontrw

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