2004 desecration

my honey’s heart is blue and a second offbeat

[stcinthru]

writing acc: @ynasomniaur

.☘︎ ݁˖ proceed with caution — this user reblogs lots of nsfw (18+ filth) and stories with dark content.

‿.‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ rules + byf about reqs miscellaneous

© 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 — all rights reserved. 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘪 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨!

[dirtyriver]

It's been a long long time since my last private eye/client commission but when I got a chance to get one by @bethfuller I couldn't resist. The idea of this series of commissions is to get two portrait pieces which combined together, like a wraparound cover or two interlocking covers, depict the interior of a private eye's office. The P.I.'s on the left, at his desk, and the client on the right, looking through window blinds. The classic, iconic scene.

So who are the P.I. and the client this time around? For the P.I. Beth was inspired by Fables/The Wolf Among Us's Bigby, and for the client this piece by Brian Stelfreeze I've been obsessed with since I first saw it in Noir Magazine way back in 1995. And as a special treat, Beth agreed to do three different colorings: greyscale, "her" colors (and oh boy, do I love the color schemes she uses in her own art), and "my" neon noir colors (as seen on that poor Brian Stelfreeze piece that deserved better).

I absolutely love this commission and Beth has been a pleasure to deal with. Thank you so much Beth!

[reignpage]

In which crazy gf!reader argues with Boyfriend!Sukuna on a bridge in broad daylight

“It was a fucking milkshake!” he roars. 

“It was cheating!” you shriek. People look and point. You ignore them. “You paid for a girl’s milkshake! That means you want her milkshake! I see your infidelity. Real eyes realise real lies, asshole!”

Sukuna groans, face in hands. This day was going from bad to worse — waking up late because you turned his alarms off, getting a ticket when you leaned over to beep the horn at a police car, almost getting into a fist fight after you shoved him into a random man, and now? 

Now, he’s stuck on a bridge because his vengeful girlfriend’s pissed he treated a classmate to a milkshake. Apparently, milkshakes are equivalent to head in your books. Suffice to say, he’s ready for the day to end.

And it’s not even 12pm yet.

“Jesus, you drive me fucking insane,” Sukuna grits out. His foot taps relentlessly against the cement, muscles in his face ticking, jaw flexing. “You’ve got a real skill for ruining my goddamn life, I swear to god, woman.”

“Oh? Well, if your life sucks so much, then make a new one without me!” you screech, arms flailing wildly. “In fact, lemme help you out by just, I don’t know, jumping off this goddamn bridge!”

“Yeah, please fucking do! I’ll join you!”

People passing by whisper: “Oh my god, they’re causing a scene,” “should we step in?”, and “are they actually going to jump?” Or some variations of those. Concerned, an old lady steps forward and offers, “My dear, if you need help, we’re here for you.”

You whirl around, throwing the death glare you had at them instead of your boyfriend. That isn’t enough for them to take the hint, it would seem. Taking a deep breath, you give Sukuna only a second to brace himself before you proceed to start…barking. Like a chihuaha. Yipping is probably more accurate. You bark and bark and bark until even more people stop to look. They flinch back, aghast. The old lady splutters, “What on Earth is wrong with you?”

“Fuck you, you old bat,” Sukuna snaps, angry for a new reason. “Never heard a woman bark before? Grow the fuck up and get the hell away from us — our foreplay’s none of your goddamn business.”

Blanching, they stumble back. Then, they march away from the train wreck of a couple making a scene on the bridge flustered and embarrassed. You watch them leave. “Ugh, people these days,” you scoff. “No manners.”

Sukuna grunts in agreement. “Weirdos.” He glances down at you. “Where were we?”

You hum in thought, then beam. “I was gonna jump off the bridge.”

“Oh, yeah.” Shaking tension back into his body, he moulds his face back into an angry scowl. “You can’t keep threatening to jump every time you don’t get your way!”

“Says who?” you yell.

Across the bridge, two policemen sigh and shake their heads at the people silently questioning if they’re going to do something. All they say is, “They’re here every week.”

Based off a couple I saw actually arguing on a bridge a couple days ago. Hope they’re doing well

[ynasomniaur]

when the dusk settles beneath.

— 18+ caleb xia (夏以昼) | masturbation, obsession, pseudocest implications

college changes people. caleb had seen it with others, his friends, and the people he surrounds himself with. its a bittersweet motion of life, the concept of changing. he too, changed of course. whether its for the better or for worse, sometimes he doesn’t know.

the dust motes swirled as the golden, sunken rays of the sun bled past his blinds. cache of your memorabilia decorated his table: messy, unyielding, and a reflection of his state: him, a heavy mass of a needing flesh and void.

dusk awaits beneath as his backlogs pile up on his table.

next to his manual and borrowed books was a spilled milk, now dried and yellowing. physics equations all discarded, papers crumpled and ripped stacked near his laptop that was nearing its looming battery drainage, the same fate his scientific calculator suffered. his most treasured cache, ransacked by his very own hands shaking from both the withdrawal and the primal need of you.

your purple beaded bracelet, part of his treasured stash, the one you made for him on a random wednesday afternoon, gleamed on his pale wrist, with a thin sheen of sweat extending to his arms.

the instax photo the two of you took on your birthday, cheeks pressed against his, both smiling, laid on top of his open notebook.

each languid stroke of his calloused hands on his aching cock is a deterioration of his promised restraint in the absence of your warmth. when his thumb swipes over his leaking pre on the head, your name rolls off of his tongue—both the salvation of his need and now a sin to confess.

there are still so many more inside his cherished altar he made for you—your scrunchie, your “lost” toothbrush, your favorite laced panties (now missing) with that little ribbon made his skin crawl whenever he imagines you wearing that—inhaling it wholly, nose buried on the fabric as he picks up the pace, grip tightening just a fraction. the thought of folding your knees to your chest as he rams himself deep in your cunt was intoxicatingly damning.

it makes his skin crawl. the hair at the back of his neck standing up every time the rapture overrides his brain—whether its from pleasure or guilt, he cannot distinguish it anymore.

the necklace you gifted him on his birthday laid heavy on his chest, next to his beating heart, clinking faintly as his hips buck to the movement of his own hands, thinking it was yours instead.

he wanted nothing more than to ruin you. to see you pliant beneath him—unsure whether to beg for more or for him to stop as he slowly pushes inside, feeling your warm and velvety walls clamp on him, desperate to fill the space with his name etched in forever.

his shirt clings uncomfortably on his skin, the heat and desperation finally catching up as sweat beaded on his temple, trickling down to his jaw, his bangs sticking to his forehead as the sun sets. the darkness of dusk hanging low and gradually swallowing his room and ultimately soonest— him.

caleb knew it was… well. wrong.

‘wrong’ to desire you. to ache for your warmth when you’re around and during your absence. ‘wrong’ to wish to give you everything you’d desire and ask for. to hope he’d be the one you’d call when things went to shit, like your partner suddenly broke up with you (totally not his doing), or when life happens for you in general. he often wished it would be him at your side at the end of every day. for you to depend on him in all ways possible. him. him. him.

him.

“ah—fuck,” he grunted. his body, now spent and trembling, stomach knotting as euphoria washes all over him and beneath his skin— dusk finally settling down and somehow, he’s still buzzing for more.

the stream of the streetlights flicking on outside illuminates past his blinds and on the mess he’d made of himself, for you and in the memory of you. tyndall particles hung suspended in the air he now suffocates with.

his heart thrummed against his throat as his stomach sinks deeper to the grave he dug himself as he stared on his desk full of you.

still so afraid to admit that his actual fear is losing you. of himself—consumed by his sickly sweet devotion of whatever you’d ask of him to be.

he’s afraid of his own greed too, his actions rooted in care and restraint and how he shows up for you. that eventually the two of you would have to part ways, worse than what college already did. he’s afraid of his resolve crumbling from the two possibilities: the more he gets from you or the less you give to him.

his own greed and love overflowing past what he’s supposed to just be. a brother. maybe.

college changes people—through various factors. distance. relationships. responsibilities and many more. he had seen it with others, his friends, and the people he surrounds himself with.

its nauseating, the concept of changing.

but he too, changed of course. whether its for the better or for worse, he doesn't know, or better yet, doesn't wanna face which is which, really.

“the dark,” is what he’d answer when you when you ask him what his biggest fear is. you’d roll your eyes at him and comment how silly it was, how natural his hands would find your hair and ruffle it as you lean on him. he could easily say your name, but how can he simply explain it to you that you’re both his undoing and salvation? he’d devour you if you want. one breath, one look, he’d willingly fuck himself up to appease you and the appetite to consume you.

his phone chimes and lights up— the thickness of charged silence and his rumination in the middle of his grim and dark room shatters.

rdr_whyn: r u going home this weekend? i saw a new cafe on my way home earlier. if you’re free we can go check it out. my treattt :p

he grabs a towel and wipes himself clean before standing up to stretch. the retch of his nausea and bliss settled beneath like a second skin.

xia_clb: yes

xia_clb: consider the date marked, see you soonest. :)

he turned off his phone with a click after staring at your conversation thread for a moment before slumping back in his chair again, running his hands on his hair and absentmindedly reaching for his necklace. the dusk has long settled beneath.

and it was only a matter of time until it settles beneath yours too.

yna’s note 𓍼ོ i was supposed to upload this with the zuko and sylus fic i’m working on rn lols but wtv anw congrats to those who got caleb last banner ): AAAA

© 𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔 — all rights reserved. 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘪 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.

[reignpage]

Crazy gf!reader changing bio to ‘single’ after Boyfriend!Sukuna doesn’t reply to a text immediately

The door slams open. 

“What the fuck is your problem? I didn’t respond for one fucking hour, and suddenly we’re done?” he asks, irritated beyond hell. He drops his heavy duffel bag on the floor and comes to sit behind you on the sofa. You’re lying on your stomach on the carpet, painting your nails. You don’t reply. He rolls his eyes and nudges your thigh with his foot. “Don’t ignore me, you stupid, pain in my ass. Put ‘Sukuna’s girl’ back in your bio. Now.”

Blankly, you turn to look at him. A challenging brow is cocked up. “Or what?”

Sukuna’s eye twitches. 

“Look, idiot, I would have texted back if I had my phone on me. You know I didn’t. I’ve got nothing to apologise for, so if that’s what you’re waiting for, you’ve got another thing coming. Now delete it, or I might start thinking we really are broken up, in which case I won’t be held accountable for the things I do.”

An eerie silence takes over. You put the nail polish down and sit up. Quietly, you mumble, “...so you hate me.” 

With a blank stare, he watches you wrap your hands around your neck and squeeze hard. Gurgling sounds escape into the air as you writhe on the floor, moving like a drying-out fish. Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose. “Quit it. I’m serious. You look constipated.”

“Shut…up,” you wheeze out. “I’m -hah- dy…ing.”

Impatiently, he pulls your hands away by the wrists, like you’re a misbehaving toddler who’s just picked up dog shit. “Enough.”

Realising the act isn’t working, you pause for a second, and he knows from that look in your eyes that you’re calculating your next step. Maybe you’ll try to make a run for the window again, or you’ll tackle him with your claws out, or maybe you’ll smash the TV up and pin it on him. It’s impossible to predict your next moves, even after how many years he’s been with you. 

Naturally, you do none of the things he anticipated, and you simply resume strangling yourself. 

Sukuna groans. “Fuck my fucking life. Was I a dictator in my past life or something? Christ.” Whilst you shamelessly discard any dignity you have, Sukuna picks up your phone and gets into your socials with ease. He changes your bio back, and replies with his own dick pics to the assholes who sent their micros, and calls it a day. “I’m hungry,” he suddenly says. “Wanna go to a drive-thru?”

As though nothing happened at all, you stop choking yourself out and shrug. “Yeah, actually. ‘was waiting for you to suggest it so I don’t look like a big back.”

A corner of his lips curve up. “I think that moment’s passed, sweetheart.”

“Ugh, I’d rather you call me a whore,” you reply, nose scrunched up. 

Sukuna snorts. “Yeah, bet you do.”

is this even coherent? I think I'm out of practice

[eirasera]

satoru gojo is quite literally the worst person on earth to try and have a silent treatment with.

of course, he knows you’re mad, he knows he fucked up - but he also knows that if he can make your life "unbelievably" inconvenient, you’ll eventually have to break the silence just to tell him to stop.

here's the thing; you haven’t spoken to him in twelve hours.

you are a fortress of solitude, him?

he is a persistent, white-haired fly that cannot be swatted away because of his infinity or maybe a mosquito; sucking your energy out instead of blood.

he realised (unfortunately he is capable of realising things) that as long as you are self-sufficient, you can keep ignoring him. therefore, he must delete your ability to function.

it's 9am, you wake up and try to get out of bed - you can't.

no, not because he’s holding you, but because he has lowered the friction of the floor around your bed to exactly zero; you try to step down and your foot just slides back like you’re on the world’s most invisible ice rink.

satoru is sitting in the corner, casually reading a magazine upside down, doesn't say a word. he just watches you glide helplessly back onto the mattress. 0-1.

10:30am, you manage to "crawl-surf" to the bathroom.

naturally, you reach for the faucet - it’s not there.

you blink, and the faucet is on the ceiling. water flowing upward into the pipes - you look in the mirror;

he’s standing behind you in the reflection, holding a toothbrush and looking incredibly "helpful," "innocent," waiting for you to snap - you don't.

you use bottled water instead, winning the second battle of this "silent treatment war". 1-1.

by midday, he realizes you’re more stubborn than a cursed spirit, so he goes full on nuisance mode. (special grade sorcerer edition).

you open your closet to get dressed; every single item of clothing, every shirt, every sock - is vibrating. if you touch a sleeve, it teleports to the other side of the room.

you are effectively locked out of your own wardrobe by a space-time anomaly.

you go to make tea to calm your nerves, thinking 'if you can't fight it, then adapt to it.'

the kettle is suddenly encased in a "red" orb that repels your hand every time you get within six inches.

the final straw for you was when you tried to leave the apartment to get some space;

you open the front door and walk out, only to find yourself stepping right back into your own living room.

confused, you try again. door → living room. door -> living room, an infinite loop. he’s turned your hallway into a localized version of the prison realm.

you stand in the middle of the room, hands on your hips, fuming.

satoru is now sitting on the couch comfortably, dramatically sighing and checking his watch as if he's the one being inconvenienced with this whole thing.

you take a deep breath. you tried - you really did.

"satoru," you growl, finally looking at him.

"oh! someone spoke!" he teleports directly into your personal space, his blindfold pushed up so his blue eyes are practically glowing with "i won" energy.

"was that the wind? or was that my favorite person finally realizing that they need a certain handsome sorcerer to fix the literal glitch in their reality?"

"fix the door," you snap, trying to hide the twitch of a smile. "the tea, and the floor. you’re such a fucking brat."

"i'm your brat," he chirps, snapping his fingers.

suddenly, the world stops vibrating and gravity returns to normal.

he leans down with no shame resting his chin on your head. "apology accepted! let’s go get lunch. i’m paying - mostly because you can't reach your wallet since i put it on the moon."

"you did.. what?"

"kidding! it’s in my pocket - come on."

it's on the moon. 1-100.

not proofread @hanaegoaway @justiceforkira @cassiee444 @pegginggojo @satoruslvut @starzbrii @mspinkpanties @swirlybunni @honeybunny4808

[macbethinchains]

you find out best friend!gojo likes you from his mii (sfw)

warnings: tomodachi life i guess idk.... and my first time writing something that didn't turn to smut or angst lmao

"Oh my god," you look over to your frosty haired best friend, his cheeks singed a light pink. "I'm wearing the dress I had on last week." Your own cheeks warm in the process, as it usually does when you remember that Gojo tends to memorize everything about you. 

You're sitting on his couch, feet (stuffed into a pair of his socks) tucked under your legs. Gojo sits next to you, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. His hands are circled around the controllers of his switch, the tv showing the little island he ditched you this week to make. A mini cartoon like version of you; everything from the hair color, hairstyle, the dimples that kiss into your cheeks, is running around his island. You're in awe of his eye of detail. 

He scoots closer to you, his leg touching yours. "I just looked back at that picture we took together," he responds, his usual voice that is always littered with laugher and jokes is slightly mild and calm. His blue eyes glued to the screen, his thumbs slowly moving the cursor around to take him around his utopia of an island. 

This version of his life shares so much with yours. A mii version of Geto reads on a green bench in a garden and you smile remembering you saw him do this exact thing last week in the quad. Copies of Shoko and Nanami chase each other on the beach, laughter bubbles hanging above their overgrown heads. You cant help but smile, a giggle slipping from your lips at the sweetness of this world he is choosing to share with you. 

"'Toru," you mumble, still staring at the screen as he tends to a fighting Choso and a baby Yuji arguing over a box of tissue. The cursor swipes quickly away from the miniature Gojo standing near his two islanders throw things at each other, dust and random particles like a chair thrown in their little circle. You hold back a loud laugh, picturing the real life brother pair fighting over something as small as the remote before Choso caves in. You wonder if that's going to happen here. 

You can't help but notice the blushing state that mii version Gojo is in. His hands behind his back as he stares at someone behind the fight, a bubble that matches the pink on his cheeks dresses his white head. "What is that pink speech bubble above your head?" 

He moves away from the crowd forming where his mii looks off helpless in love. "Nothing," he does not look back at you, even with your eyes glued to the side of his face at the moment. "Want to watch me put Suguru on the seesaw by himself?"

As much as you want to, you don't give him the satisfaction of evading your question. Your eyebrows raising and a teasing grin gracing your lips. "You're the only one with it," you scoot closer to him, your knee basically on top of his stiff thigh. "Cmon, show me."

"It's a game," you're itching to hear the joke that you know he wants to let out. A laugh track to follow behind the silliness that's on his island and making you smile. Instead, he coughs back a fake cough, the cursor quickly looking for Suguru's mii. 

"That you ditched me for," you remind, eyes bouncing from the screen to his tomato red face and his movements on the screen. Tilting your head, you swallow back another retort, just watching his odd body language.

He does a quick side glance at you, eyes focused on the smile on your plump lips. He wonders if he could ever have the mii actually replicate that smile. The one that makes his palms all sweaty when he finds you aimlessly sending it towards him. "Nanami is my friend here."

"Great reason to skip out on our best friend dinner on Friday," you roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder. Your palm warming his already hot shoulder like a kiss in the winter. "Show me, Satoru Gojo," voice playfully demanding. 

He turns to you, staring at your face for a second too long. Butterflies erupting in your stomach as his cerulean eyes rakes over the bridge of your nose and the lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks. He sighs, more to himself, before he turns to the screen moving the cursor to find his twin — mii Gojo laying on the beach, his eyes closed and a huge smile on his lips. That pink bubble still bouncing near his head. 

He reluctantly clicks it. 

A squeaky voice that automatically makes you start laughing breaks into the room, your name name rolling from mii Gojo's huge grin:

"I want to ask her out. What should I do?"

His blushing mii matching his blushing face next to you. 

Options pop up on the corner, waititng for Gojo to choose what will work best for the mii versions of you. 

And at the moment, you can't help but finally notice your best friend. His keen eye of detail for you, his blushing cheeks whenever you so much as rub against his arm, and the way your stomach drops whenever he looks at you when making you laugh. 

He stares ahead, a hand scratching the back of his neck that's now dressed in a red hue as well. All you can do is smile, wide and big. "I wouldn't say no," finally breaking the silence, voice soft and gentle. "Ask me out."

"Are you speaking for Purple Hollow you or," he looks over at you, snowy eyebrows raised so high they're almost touching his hairline. "You?"

"Both, I will like to think that you made sure Purple Hollow me has taste."

© all writing belongs to @macbethinchains. characters belong to gege akutami. do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or feed my writing into ai

[stcinthru]

sobbing crying rn i missed fluffs like these oh god

[macbethinchains]

you find out best friend!gojo likes you from his mii (sfw)

warnings: tomodachi life i guess idk.... and my first time writing something that didn't turn to smut or angst lmao

"Oh my god," you look over to your frosty haired best friend, his cheeks singed a light pink. "I'm wearing the dress I had on last week." Your own cheeks warm in the process, as it usually does when you remember that Gojo tends to memorize everything about you. 

You're sitting on his couch, feet (stuffed into a pair of his socks) tucked under your legs. Gojo sits next to you, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. His hands are circled around the controllers of his switch, the tv showing the little island he ditched you this week to make. A mini cartoon like version of you; everything from the hair color, hairstyle, the dimples that kiss into your cheeks, is running around his island. You're in awe of his eye of detail. 

He scoots closer to you, his leg touching yours. "I just looked back at that picture we took together," he responds, his usual voice that is always littered with laugher and jokes is slightly mild and calm. His blue eyes glued to the screen, his thumbs slowly moving the cursor around to take him around his utopia of an island. 

This version of his life shares so much with yours. A mii version of Geto reads on a green bench in a garden and you smile remembering you saw him do this exact thing last week in the quad. Copies of Shoko and Nanami chase each other on the beach, laughter bubbles hanging above their overgrown heads. You cant help but smile, a giggle slipping from your lips at the sweetness of this world he is choosing to share with you. 

"'Toru," you mumble, still staring at the screen as he tends to a fighting Choso and a baby Yuji arguing over a box of tissue. The cursor swipes quickly away from the miniature Gojo standing near his two islanders throw things at each other, dust and random particles like a chair thrown in their little circle. You hold back a loud laugh, picturing the real life brother pair fighting over something as small as the remote before Choso caves in. You wonder if that's going to happen here. 

You can't help but notice the blushing state that mii version Gojo is in. His hands behind his back as he stares at someone behind the fight, a bubble that matches the pink on his cheeks dresses his white head. "What is that pink speech bubble above your head?" 

He moves away from the crowd forming where his mii looks off helpless in love. "Nothing," he does not look back at you, even with your eyes glued to the side of his face at the moment. "Want to watch me put Suguru on the seesaw by himself?"

As much as you want to, you don't give him the satisfaction of evading your question. Your eyebrows raising and a teasing grin gracing your lips. "You're the only one with it," you scoot closer to him, your knee basically on top of his stiff thigh. "Cmon, show me."

"It's a game," you're itching to hear the joke that you know he wants to let out. A laugh track to follow behind the silliness that's on his island and making you smile. Instead, he coughs back a fake cough, the cursor quickly looking for Suguru's mii. 

"That you ditched me for," you remind, eyes bouncing from the screen to his tomato red face and his movements on the screen. Tilting your head, you swallow back another retort, just watching his odd body language.

He does a quick side glance at you, eyes focused on the smile on your plump lips. He wonders if he could ever have the mii actually replicate that smile. The one that makes his palms all sweaty when he finds you aimlessly sending it towards him. "Nanami is my friend here."

"Great reason to skip out on our best friend dinner on Friday," you roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder. Your palm warming his already hot shoulder like a kiss in the winter. "Show me, Satoru Gojo," voice playfully demanding. 

He turns to you, staring at your face for a second too long. Butterflies erupting in your stomach as his cerulean eyes rakes over the bridge of your nose and the lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks. He sighs, more to himself, before he turns to the screen moving the cursor to find his twin — mii Gojo laying on the beach, his eyes closed and a huge smile on his lips. That pink bubble still bouncing near his head. 

He reluctantly clicks it. 

A squeaky voice that automatically makes you start laughing breaks into the room, your name name rolling from mii Gojo's huge grin:

"I want to ask her out. What should I do?"

His blushing mii matching his blushing face next to you. 

Options pop up on the corner, waititng for Gojo to choose what will work best for the mii versions of you. 

And at the moment, you can't help but finally notice your best friend. His keen eye of detail for you, his blushing cheeks whenever you so much as rub against his arm, and the way your stomach drops whenever he looks at you when making you laugh. 

He stares ahead, a hand scratching the back of his neck that's now dressed in a red hue as well. All you can do is smile, wide and big. "I wouldn't say no," finally breaking the silence, voice soft and gentle. "Ask me out."

"Are you speaking for Purple Hollow you or," he looks over at you, snowy eyebrows raised so high they're almost touching his hairline. "You?"

"Both, I will like to think that you made sure Purple Hollow me has taste."

© all writing belongs to @macbethinchains. characters belong to gege akutami. do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or feed my writing into ai

[voxslut3434]

cw: BJ

bully!gojo teaching you how to give head

he has you on your knees in front of him in the library he told you to come to. it's late at night and there's hardly anyone around. you were a little nervous but he assured you that "it's fine" and to "stop being a baby."

he leans back and spreads his legs, revealing his hard cock through his pants.

"alright. first step, get it out." he says, broad smile on his face. you look up at him, eyes wide before you reach a shaky hand out to his belt. undoing it slowly, you take it off and place it on the ground.

gojo watches almost endearingly as you nervously unbutton and unzip his pants. he sighs softly and ruffles your hair with a lazy hand. after lifting his hips to pull down his pants a little, his boxers remain the only barrier.

"come on, i didn't think it would take this long."

"s-shut up, i-i, i just-"

"i know you're nervous. it's cute. so scared of me and yet you're still willing to suck my dick."

your face reddens as you slightly pull down his boxers and take out his cock. it's heavy in your hand and pink at the tip, already weeping a little. you swallow nervously, to which gojo laughs soflty.

"relax, i'm not gonna hit you with it. now, spit on your hand and rub it alllll over."

you hesitate only for a moment before listening, covering his cock in your spit until it is glistening. he grunts whilst you run your hand up and down his cock, containing his moans.

"okay, now pump it, up and down. slow at first."

he shuts his eyes as you listen, shifting his hips forward. he tilts his head back and breathes deeply.

"a-am i doing it right?"

"you're doing perfectly well, honey." he says, looking back down at you. "now, put your little tongue on the tip of it. that's right."

you take in your mouth and grimace slightly at the salty taste. letting your tongue explore the ridges and dips, gojo has to try and contain himself.

"now do that, and the hand thing at the same time." he grunts. you continue licking his tip and pumping his shaft at the same time, looking up at him as you do so. he makes eye contact with you and you notice the way his cheeks have slightly reddened, and how his brows crease. you pick up the speed and he curses, hands gripping the chairs handles.

"f-fuck, that's it. keep going." he struggles to keep himself in his chair as he grows closer. his hand nearly reaches out to push your head down, but instead he gently grips your hair, caressing.

"i'm gonna, i'm gonna cum, okay? swallow it." you keep your mouth on his cock as he bucks, letting out strangled moans and growls. his eyes roll back as he cums into your mouth, hips bucking with desperation. you close your eyes and swallow his cum, face contorting in slight disgust.

you pant a little when you lean back, face flushed. he pants too, looking down at you.

"good job honey, didn't know you had it in you." he says with a smirk. you wipe your mouth and stand up and he grips your wrist.

"hey, i gotta do you now. common courtesy."

[indiewritesxoxo]

GETO KNOWS BEST!

who better to possess protect you than your devoted knight?

synopsis: you've spent most of your life sheltered and spoiled as the youngest member of the royal family. a pretty princess protected by the palace's highly-trained knights. including a certain dark-haired one who appears to have taken his duties a little too seriously. when suguru geto steals you away from your home and sticks you in a replica of your room at the top of a tower with no one but your captor for company, you soon realized that no one is coming to find you. will you try to escape? return to the world he swears is out to get you? or perhaps chose the man who put you here in the first place?

pairing: yandere!geto x rapunzel!reader

content: mdni. angst. smut. porn with plot. dubcon. HEAVY YANDERE ELEMENTS, kidnapping, imprisonment, heavy petting, no physical descriptions except reader has long hair, reader is a bit oblivious and spoiled, getting a really fucked up version of the princess treatment, geto is a gaslighting girlboss, prolonged captivity, stockholm syndrome, falling in love, geto is devoted and delusional, unprotected piv sex, breeding kink, discussions of baby trapping, degradation, pet names (princess, angel), mating press, creampie, bad ending

a/n: part of this event by @jazzthatonewriterchick !! art is by @/xxgojoxx on x btw :3

The sad thing was you didn't even realize you weren't home the first time you woke up.

He'd gotten almost every detail right. Down to the little scuffs in the floor and the jewelry scattered across your nightstand.

The dimensions were wrong though.

A subtle feeling of something being off when you yawned and stood up, squinting around at your stuff until you realized that somehow your room had shrunk in your sleep.

The last thing you remembered was stumbling back to your bedroom, drunk on the wine your family had served at dinner, celebrating your betrothment to a prince from a neighboring kingdom. Clumsily kicking off your heels and nearly falling over, your knight sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to your bed, tucking you in and softly scolding you when you asked for a goodnight kiss.

Geto had whispered that you were supposed to save those for your soon-to-be husband.

You told him that you didn’t want him.

How could you when your heart was promised to the man who’d sworn to save you from anything?

Your head was throbbing.

Aching as you rubbed your temples and tried to sort out why you felt so strange.

It was only really when you glanced to the side and found only a small curved window where your balcony should be, that it struck you that you weren't just suffering from a hangover.

Your legs felt like jelly, wobbling underneath you as you struggled with each step between you and the door. Leaning against the wall as your fingers shakily wrapped around the knob.

You twisted.

But it didn't give.

"Hello?" You called out, your voice coming out surprisingly small. Not scared. Yet.

No, that didn't come until later.

After pacing the floor had led you back over to that strange window, and peering out of it revealed a stomach-churning drop far fucking higher than the normal view out of your second story bedroom.

You think you screamed.

Made some strangled sound, at least, tripping on your own feet and falling backwards, scraping your hands on a rough plank on the floor, a subtle sign of hasty construction, you were sure.

You didn't recognize any of the landscape around you. Had never seen the thick, tall trees that appeared to surround this...tower you were in. No sign of the salty ocean or sandy beaches you'd grown up beside.

"Princess," a warm voice spoke up behind you, familiar hands on your side hoisting you back up, dusting off your dress as your head whipped around.

Relief flooded you at the sight of your favorite knight's face. The soft crinkles by his pretty purple eyes, the tender upturn of the corner of his mouth as he looked down at you.

Suguru would know what was going on.

He'd never let anything bad happen to you.

If he was here, than surely, things couldn't be that bad.

"What's happening?" You huffed at him, attempting to reclaim a fraction of your dignity despite him seeing you in far worse states than this before. He'd held you when you were disheveled, thighs pinned to your chest as he prepared you for things you were supposed to do with your future husband one day. With sweat sticking to your forehead and your body shaking, face scrunched up with pure pleasure from his nimble fingers and tongues. He didn't even react at your obvious worry, watching you swallow hard as the panic still freely pounded in your chest, holding onto his strong forearm to steady yourself. "Where are we?"

He smiled at you, letting go of your side to caress your cheek, your heart stupidly fluttering at the gesture you both knew he shouldn't be doing. Not when he was meant to stand guard for you.

You were his duty. His life.

He was only ever supposed to be a supporting role in yours.

"Somewhere safe."

“Safe?” You echoed, blinking up at him without understanding.

“I brought your favorite books,” he murmured, softly stroking your hair as he looked down at you. “And more of those paints I got you last year for your birthday.”

“But why are we-”

“Your parents were about to sell you off to a brute,” he grimaced, even when he was speaking to you so tenderly. Dark eyes hardening as they narrowed just enough to let you know he was serious.

"He wasn't-" You started to protest, thinking back to the single time you'd actually seen him at a banquet a handful of months ago. Sure, you hadn't spoken directly to you, not when you were so closely supervised, but you watched him from across the room.

There were men far worse than that.

“He would have just used you for heirs while he slept with half his court,” he dismissively scoffed.

But, wasn’t that you were meant for?

A pretty tool to be purchased as a means for peace between kingdoms?

You always knew it would happen to you. The arranged marriage, having heirs, living in a foreign place with no friends.

All your manners classes, the rigid rules you'd spent your life learning, they were all leading up to this.

You were born to be a queen.

"I can't just run from my duty," you murmured, reaching back up to drag your thumb over his defined jaw, attempting to soften the blow of disappointment. He must've spent a long time preparing this place for you, ready to commit treason just to do what he thought was best.

Forever your knight, always thinking of you when you both knew that the feelings you harbored for each other would never amount to more than the handful of nights you'd stolen together.

"And you can't expect me not to do mine."

Your mouth hung open, not sure what to do with his defiance. Just staring at his unchanging expression, resolve etched into every strong line of his face while your hand fell from it.

“This is for your own good,” he promised, leaning close enough to press a chaste kiss to the top of your forehead. “You’ll see.”

You hadn't seen three months in.

He wouldn't let you leave.

Refused to budge even when you begged with your best set of puppy dog eyes as you asked about how your family was doing, if you'd been declared missing, what was happening back at home.

His jaw would always clench, dark eyes swirling as he cupped your face and told you that you worried too much.

Solemnly swore your parents weren't even looking for their missing princess.

No, apparently, they'd just sent someone who looked enough like you to not arouse suspicion to the prince you were meant to marry.

Suguru dried your tears with kisses, dragging his tongue over the damp spots they left, his honeyed voice reassuring you that no one could replace you to him.

An imposter was out there in your place, pretending to be you, and you were in a tower trying to find the positive in this...monotony.

It wasn't like it was so terrible being trapped here with him.

Homemade meals. No more awful meetings or balls you were forced to attend. Nights spent in the warmth of Suguru's body with no fear of getting caught and condemned for what your heart wanted.

The days drifted by lazily. Napping in your bed. Reading the books he brought you. Painting by the small window.

Pacing your floor when the minutes started to drag, counting how many steps it took to get from one side of the room to the other. You even started to teach yourself how to sew, although you had to practically plead with Suguru to bring you the supplies for them.

The tower itself was cramped. Your room led directly out to a spiraling staircase, with uneven stone steps and a nauseating drop down the middle. The steps widened as you went down, but you'd barely been able to bring yourself to make it further than Suguru's living space below yours.

It was bigger than yours, but more...quaint, you supposed?

Rickety wooden furniture. A thin blanket over his bed. A single table with two chairs for you to eat with him.

He knew you hated heights.

So Suguru usually ended up coming to you instead.

A picnic blanket spread on your floor. Flowers freshly plucked from the forest below. A candle lit like it made this romantic.

And despite your determination to convince him that you could both still return to the palace, or even start a new life in a quiet port town somewhere, you were the one starting to crumble under his coaxing.

What was so great about your old life anyway?

No one could make you do anything up here. For the first time, your life was now yours.

It took you another year to realize your life was actually his.

Well, considering you lost track of time, you could only guess it had been a year. Watching the seasons come and go, leaves falling off the trees and snow capping the branches until the weather warmed again.

There was only so much painting to pass the time you could do before everything became boring.

Staring out the window waiting for something to happen, Suguru's hand on the small of your back while he delicately brushed your hair off your shoulder.

There weren't any scissors for you to trim it with. Not a single sharp item left anywhere within reach. He refused to entertain the idea of chopping some of it off either, insisting on taking care of it himself, toying and twirling the ridiculously long strands down as they cascaded over your worn dress.

It had always been long, but whatever was in the food he'd been feeding you had made it grow far faster here, trailing along the floor wherever you walked. He brushed it out for you, washed it and dried it while he made excuse after excuse not to cut it.

"Let down your hair, princess," Suguru called out from below, and for a brief second, you considered telling him that his joke wasn't funny - even though you suspected after another year or two, it might really be long enough to reach the ground. You stared down at him as he shielded his face from the sun, a hand on your hip as your brows scrunched together.

"Come inside," you shouted, struggling not to frown as you watched him walk out of your line of vision, a basket slung over his shoulder, probably with food from the closest town - not that he'd ever let you see it for yourself.

No, he locked your door when he left.

Kissed your forehead and promised to be back as soon as possible whenever he had errands to run.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to make it back up to your door, the keys clinking as he unlocked it from the outside, swinging it open with a loud creak as you refused to look back at him.

"How's my beautiful girl?" He murmured as he approached, lips grazing against the shell of your ear while his hands traced your frame.

"I'm getting sick of being up in here," you half-whispered as you confessed what had been plaguing you for weeks, your voice raw from how little you'd been using it lately. "Can't we go to a village? Just for a day? We could wear disguises or-"

"No," he firmly said, pressing a kiss on your collarbone as you let out an annoyed huff.

"Please, Suguru," you whined. "It's been so long-"

"I'm not taking any risks when it comes to you," he scoffed a little, as if you were asking him for something absurd.

"Didn't you say no one was even looking for me?" You tilted your head to the side, pushing out your bottom lip like it would make his impenetrable resolve finally fracture.

"Anyone who saw your hair-"

"So cut it," you stomped your foot, swallowing hard as your lashes fluttered up at him.

"No," he repeated, refusing to budge.

His fingers were already unlacing the back of your dress, making quick work of loosening it while you struggled to come up with an argument that might sway him just for him to spin you around to face him.

Could you somehow convince him to take you on just a single outing?

Was it truly too much? Were you a moron for wanting more than just this?

Your dress was falling by your feet before you could think of anything - and his mouth was on your throat to make sure you wouldn't be able to.

Kiss after kiss pressed against your skin, lips tantalizingly skimming along the tendon until his teeth were grazing over your jaw. His hands making their way over your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he suddenly hoisted you up.

Carrying you back to your bed, careful not to step on your hair as he continued to pepper you with his gentle affection.

"Did I not make it perfect for you here, princess?" He purred, tenderly placing you back down on the soft mattress, making sure to drape your hair off the side. His own was falling in his face as his mouth slowly traveled down the valley of your breasts, across your belly button and pausing just below it to peek up at you. "I try so hard."

He did, didn't he?

Suguru had risked his head just by bringing you here. Did his best to make sure you weren't wanting for anything - that you wouldn't go without the luxuries you'd be lavished in your entire life.

Couldn't you just be happy for him when he was working so hard for you?

"I know," you muttered softly, guilt creeping in while his soft purple eyes bore into you. "I just-"

"Want to throw away everything I've given you for what? You'd rather hang around some peasants than me?" He grumbled, stare narrowing as he pushed your thighs up against your chest, like he had some point to prove.

"No, that's not-" You started again, but then his fingers slipped inside you, two thick digits digging deeper to stretch you out - and shut you up.

"Not what?" He dryly mocked, cocking his head to the side, well aware you would't be able to answer as he shoved his fingers deeper, dragging them against your walls.

"Don't be mean," you hissed at him, chest constricting as your lungs squeezed in time with your cunt. Unable to breathe when his digits felt like they were forcing all the air out with each consecutive thrust.

"It hurts my feelings when you want to leave me," he said, but his condescending tone didn't exactly lend any credence to what he was saying. Still, your heart stalled anyway, mind instinctively working to win him back.

"I don't want to leave you," you argued. "Just here. For a little bit."

"For a little bit," he sarcastically echoed, an anxious pit opening in the bottom of your stomach as you shook your head.

"Suguru," you whined, wiggling your hips as he drove those digits all the way in, working you open with an almost clinical precision.

"What, angel?" He hm-ed, knowing exactly what you wanted - and pretending he didn't.

You knew you should be mad. Put your foot down and demand that he take you out. But when he was looking at you like this, his fingers dimpling your skin and his mouth pampering you, you couldn't bring yourself to do either.

No matter how much you missed the sun. Smelling fresh flowers in your garden. Talking to a stranger instead of someone you knew every damn detail of.

"Come on, Sugu, would it be so bad?" You tried to charm him, but he just clicked his tongue.

"What do I have to do to keep you happy, hm?" He asked, sapping your strength without even trying. Drawing it out with every fast drag of his fingers. "Fuck you until you forget about these silly ideas?"

He pulled his fingers out, mouth pressed in a thin line just for him to tug his pants down enough to free his cock.

It bounced up against his shirt, pre-cum leaving a stain on it before he wrapped his fist around his thick base.

Watching it bob as he got back on top of you, one hand still pressing your thigh down to keep you open as he nudged his fat tip against your entrance.

His chin tilting up as he started pushing in, his jaw flexing as his shoulders tensed, testing his own self-control with each inch he slid inside of you.

You used to think your knight was an expert at restraining himself.

Back when he'd keep a straight face during banquets despite how often you'd pester him about sneaking away. Composed and collected until he finally got to claim you in private.

And now, he'd stolen you.

Turned your dreamy little secret into a reality that had started to stretch towards a forever.

You were still reaching up for him, tangling your fingers in his dark hair while he reached up to softly stroke the top of yours. The weight of him pressing down as he drove his cock in further, making sure to fill you up until he was fucking every thought that wasn't about him out of that pretty head of yours.

"My princess doesn't know what she needs," he murmured, his voice thick with hunger, all dark and dangerous as he dragged you down with him.

"I need you," you whispered, voice cracking when he abruptly bottomed out, his tip smushed against your cervix as your mouth parted in a broken gasp.

You needed him to let you breathe a little. To understand that you couldn't just spend eternity in this little world he crafted for the two of you.

But none of it actually came out.

Just more messy moans, your fingers clawing at the blankets while he just thrusted into you again and again.

The bed whined under your combined weight, your thighs trembling as his hips smacked down into you. His mouth was colliding into yours, sucking on your bottom lip while he wrecked you without hesitation.

Trying to ruin you.

Rip your heart out to have for himself. Hold it hostage too.

"Maybe I should put a baby in here," he grunted when the kiss broke, his breath warm on your cheek as he gritted his teeth. Stare drifting down to your stomach with a determination you knew you should be scared of. "You wouldn't leave our baby, would you?"

He knew exactly what to say to get to you.

Which strings to pull to turn you into his perfect puppet.

No better than a plaything. A doll to be dressed up in his very own dollhouse.

"I-I-" You stammered, but shit, when he was stuffing you so full, you couldn't find enough sanity left to string coherent words together. Left writhing and whimpering as his cock rocked and rutted into all your favorite spots.

"You what? Want one?" He teased, your heart hammering faster at the idea of actually being pregnant.

Carrying his child while you were still confined to this room.

Would he be so overprotective to confine you to the bed next?

"It's okay if you don't know," he cooed, his soft voice pitching lower while the hand on your thighs slipped down so he could have fun with your clit next.

Massing it with intention, drawing rough circles over the sensitive bud while he clicked his tongue at you again.

"That's why I have to take care of you," he continued, pressing down harder, his cock pistoning back in with more force, making sure you didn't even have the air in your lungs to tell him that you didn't need to depend on him.

You loved Suguru.

But the only way he knew how to love you back was to suffocate you. You knew you were his world. He just had to make sure he was yours.

Perhaps you were a fool for thinking that you'd be able to find a way to express that to him. To change a man who already made up his mind.

"I love you," you started, swallowing hard as you tried to gather your focus enough to get the right words out this time, get him to see your side.

But then his lips were connected with yours, barely parting enough to breathe, "I love you too."

His hips slammed against yours harder, his fingers working faster, your stomach tied together in knots as the pressure pushed you to a precipice you knew you'd fall from.

"C'mon, princess, cum for me," he groaned in between kisses, swallowing your moan as your body unravelled for him in a bright burst of pleasure. Stars you sorely missed splotching across your vision as you scrunched your eyes shut, feeling him buried to the hilt as something warm started to fill you up.

Had he-

"I hope it's a girl," he muttered, half-collapsing on top of you. His forehead pressed against yours as he sucked in heavy breaths, his cock still throbbing as his cum leaked out inside you. "Or twins."

"Twins?" You echoed, dazed as you blinked up at him.

"That should keep us busy," he smirked, one corner of his mouth curling up higher than the other as he refused to pull out. Still lodged deep inside you like he wanted to make sure his seed took.

He readjusted you, pulling your legs down so he could lay on top of you fully, his firm chest pressed against your softer one, his calloused fingers caressing your cheek as he looked at you with that lovestruck stare you'd grown accustomed to.

Had it always looked so sly?

Or were you starting to piece together something you missed once the haze of sex started to dissipate?

"I'll always keep you safe."

As your lover? Your knight? Your warden?

You still weren't sure which when you woke up the next morning. The smell of sex and sweat still sticking to your skin as you rubbed your exhausted eyes and rolled over with sticky thighs.

The left side of bed was empty.

Only a warm spot where Suguru was supposed to be. Had he gone to make breakfast? Perhaps decided to spare you of more discussions of raising children in this lonely room?

You pulled the covers up to your chest as you sat up, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared at the ghost of your past life in the form of furniture and books you used to enjoy before you read them a hundred times.

A piece of paper was left on the nightstand, a small note you supposed Suguru must've written for you, neat letters informing you that he'd be out for the day and he left meals pre-made for you on a tray outside.

Maybe on a different day, you might've found it sweet.

But an idea sprouted in the back of your head, blooming quickly enough that you were scurrying over to your dresser to find something to throw on, hurrying to get dressed before opening the door to find the tray he mentioned.

Instead of taking a bite, you just brought it inside - and slipped back out.

Bracing yourself for the long walk down, holding your breath as you crept down the stairs, a lump in your throat that seemed to get larger with every step you took.

You refused to look at the bottom.

Slowly making your way, attempting to remind yourself that with each step you took, you were another one closer to a way out.

It wasn't like you wanted to run away.

Not really.

You doubted your family would take kindly to you returning. Especially not if their unwed princess came with the unexpected baggage of a child they'd consider a bastard. With a man of no noble blood or important background.

But you were sure that you'd die if you didn't get some fresh air soon, wither and rot up there in your single-windowed cell.

The end came into sight - the last stair just a few feet away, your feet scampering down as your excitement started to bubble over, your head snapping up to the-

Door?

There was nothing there.

Just stone walls with no way in or out.

Was it magic? Some seal on the outside that stopped anyone else from intruding on something they shouldn't?

You were simply stuck.

And you sincerely doubted any prince would be coming to save you.

a/n: feel kinda meh about how this one turned out but hope you guys enjoyed anyway <3 reblogs + comments always appreciated

series | latest oneshots | patreon

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

@madamechrissy AND @indiewritesxoxo UPLOADING NEW SHIT FOR MY COLLAB??? I'LL FUCKING CRY

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!! I'm soooo excited to read this!! <3

[madamechrissy]

Jazz you're so cute ily!

Also indie I can't wait to read thisss

[yenayaps]

Rose Garden Dreams

Pairing: FireLord!Zuko x RoyalAdvisor!Reader

Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, slowburn, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit, jealous!zuko, we’re already married in his head, found family trope(ish), zuko has daddy issues] wc: 5.4k

notes: hi i was supposed to post this hours ago but my computer crashed and so did i 🙂 anyways be sure to check out the new tw's 😝 i feel like zuko's kind of a menace in this, kinda not?? idk lmk!

m.list | chapter one | chapter two | next chapter

Zuko goes through many, many different emotions upon waking up. 

First it’s confusion— he’s so hungover that he can barely remember his own name, let alone where he is. Then it’s annoyance because he feels someone tossing and turning beside him, which eventually makes him realize where he’s at, and that’s in between two of his concubines that he has no idea whether he fucked last night or not. 

Then it’s shame and embarrassment after remembering he basically threw himself at you last night and got kicked out of your room because of it. 

He sits up with a groan, rubbing the sleep off his eyes before looking both ways, wondering how to get out of bed without waking the two women up. He may not be that into them, but he wasn’t heartless enough to rip them out of their sleep. Eventually, he throws the sheets back and climbs over Saiyo since she seems to be in a deeper state of sleep, and then quickly covers her again, before stepping into the washroom to ready himself for the day. 

You and Hieto, the head of the Fire Nation’s Health and Wellness Department, were already waiting for him once he stepped inside the carriage. All Zuko offers is a light nod in his sorry state, too groggy to even say a simple good morning. Heito’s a true professional and greets the fire lord goodmorning, and you struggle to not look at him like he’s some diseased creature— which he’ll accept given what happened last night.

The ride to Republic City’s new rehabilitation center is quiet. The last time he was this quiet with you was the very first day you started working directly for him. He had already seen you around the palace grounds, but that was the first time you two had been face to face since you were children, before his father burned him and then banished him from the country. 

You were staring at it— the scar that was left behind. Not in judgement. If anything, it was more from sorrow. Having all of your attention left him feeling more shy than he’d like to admit— afraid to say the wrong thing, which he knows is ridiculous given his place in the hierarchy. 

One can never be too comfortable in his place, though. 

At times you’ll make fun of him for being too traditional, maybe even more traditional than his father in certain aspects, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. With the state his grandfather and father left the nation, there was a lot needed of him in order to appease all the sides that they had split up through years of war and tyranny. The most important being the relationships he kept with seven of the big clans.

It’s been difficult at times in the past, especially with yours, but it was still the easiest way to keep the peace. It was simple— keep a few concubines, pass a few harmless bills, meet people halfway. 

He’s gotten used to his duties over the years, yet he never truly gotten used to you. Or rather, the fact that he can’t have more. Having you as his advisor was the most Zuko was going to get. 

There was one point where he was dumb enough to think it might’ve worked, but now, it’d be a political death sentence if you two had gotten together. Not only did your family hold enough power and influence, but they also refused to align themselves with others— not even with the Fire Lord. It has always left the other clans feeling unsettled. 

For years, your clan has always gone along with the Fire Lord’s wishes— it has nothing to do with loyalty and all to do with the fact that they all just simply do their jobs, which they were scarily good at. Ozai wants war? Sure. Zuko wants peace amongst nations? No problem. 

Usually that’d be seen as a good thing, but given how the army itself has looked up to your grandfather and your father, that was an issue. Nobody would be surprised if half of them were secret loyalists, and that terrified everyone— the thought of your clan branching off one day and successfully staging a coup. 

Zuko choosing to have you as his advisor did absolutely nothing to ease their worries. You may have the same ideals as him, but no one forgot about the incident between you and your father when you turned 18 years old. You were young, ready for some freedom, and filled with rage after learning he signed you up for the military. Nobody forgot about the sheer amount of power they witnessed you exercise against him that day— sending bolts of lightning his way as you chased him down, yelling at him to take your name off of the roster. 

You were going to kill him.

It was just one of the many, many skeletons that are hidden in your family’s closet.

Zuko wasn’t there to witness it, but it didn’t surprise him one bit. The only time you were allowed to interact with kids your age was during school and training, you were never allowed to go outside and play. Of course you snapped the way you did. 

But that’s a story for another time. 

For now, just know the man has no idea what the hell to say to you after last night. Especially not with the expressionless look on your face at the moment, making him wonder if he should just pretend like nothing ever happened, too.  

He didn’t want to. You kissed him back with the same amount of eagerness before pushing him away, after all— he wasn’t going to forget that any time soon. 

. . . . . 

There’s a few rehabilitation centers scattered throughout the city, with each location having its own focus and goal. The one you arrive at is at the edge of the town, closer to the mountains, and can be considered to be a correctional facility. 

To your surprise, the first one to greet the three of you is a very sober Aang. You’d think he’d be a little hungover, but a night out clearly doesn’t stop the Avatar from being a morning person. 

Then there’s Zuko, who needs a fucking nap. You took one look at him in the carriage this morning and knew he didn’t even try. He tied his hair up in a bun and ditched the usual royal get-up for a tunic and training pants. The only thing that hints at him being the Fire Lord is the robe he threw on since it has the imperial symbol on the back, but even then, his demeanor was more of a prince slacking off on his duties. 

Good thing the Avatar was there to remind the entire staff who they were all in the presence of.

“Alright, on your knees everyone!” Aang looks around behind him and shouts, cupping his hands together at his mouth so everyone could hear him loud and clear. “Lord Big Dick has arrived. Mhm, yup— look at him.” 

There’s not a glint of joy in Zuko’s eyes as he walks further inside. It felt less like a government facility and more like a circus with all the clapping Aang is doing. As if he couldn’t be any more peeved at the moment, the employees do end up getting on their knees. 

“Please stop bowing,” he murmurs, feeling his brain start to pound against his skull harder.  

Aang crosses his arms and smiles rather proudly, further agitating the Lord. “Yeah, you see that? Sexy and humble.” 

“I—“ Zuko cuts himself off, then takes a long, deep breath in hopes to ground himself. “Hey, Aang?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.”

All the Avatar does in return is laugh. Getting on the Lord’s last nerve is fun, especially when you’re one of the very few individuals that can get away with it, but that grumpy Lord is still his friend, which is why he decides to lay off and take it easy on him for the rest of the tour. 

The main difference between this facility and the ones back in the Fire Nation is that this one actually tries to help correct behavior rather than punish it. 

Key word: Try. 

Not everyone wanted to be saved.

What immediately caught your attention was how clean the facility was. It wasn’t some cold, dusty place where people were left to rot. If anything, the natural lightning and addition of indoor plants made it feel more like a nice getaway.

Of course, there were people still in confinement, but you were pleasantly surprised to learn that a majority of the people in the program were free to walk around. They all looked happy to be there, too— whatever they were doing was clearly working.

You and Heito spoke to a handful of the members, all of whom were eager to share their stories and most importantly, proud to talk about how far they’ve come. Most had similar stories of trauma and hardships, with their crimes being a direct result of being forced to suffer through it all alone. 

Some have come to accept it, some have even forgiven themselves— then there was one guy that tried to take his anger out on Zuko. He wasn’t even mad about getting cussed out. His fathers reign of terror wasn’t that long ago— his family probably was the cause of all this poor man’s problem. 

You will never understand how Zuko can stay so calm while having someone practically bark in his face, let alone allow them to. He got a reaction out of him once, and that was when he told him he had a small dick— Zuko laughed, because it’s really fucking not, then apologized. 

The slew off insults ended with the one last final, “Fuck you— Your father ruined so many fuckin’ lives, I hope that evil bastard rots in hell.”

“Yeah, me too,” Zuko responds in a tone that’s way too casual, which throws the man off because he said a lot.

He was expecting him to respond with something more rehearsed. It didn’t even sound like he was trying to relate to the guy, his words just came off more as a parent tired of their child embarrassing them. 

You’d think his father would stop being less of a thorn in his side given how he’s been behind bars for years now, but he still finds ways to inconvenience Zuko. 

Just last week, he had to stand there and listen to another sob story about how he’s getting older and needed to be treated with dignity— his definition of dignity being released and put in a nice home, somewhere far away with lots of servants. His father does it every three moments. It’s the only time he requests to speak with him, actually. 

He usually comes up with a respectful way to turn him down, since he’s the one that wanted to treat that evil piece of shit with dignity in the first place— a big mistake by the way, dignity’s been his favorite fucking word ever since. 

Zuko wasn’t in the mood to fake being nice, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be rude, either. Instead he crouched down, looked him in the eye and made a joke that Ozai did not find funny. 

“How about this,” Zuko began to strike a deal with him, bringing a glint of hope in his old man’s eyes. “I’ll let you out of here when the scar around my eye magically disappears.”

It took a moment for his father to process those words. 

Zuko likes to describe his father as someone that gets deeply offended from the sight of joy— to the point where Ozai actually threatened to kill him once for laughing too hard when he was 7 years old. So, you can only imagine how enraged he was when he realized his son was poking fun at him and at the scar that was supposed to bring him shame. 

‘Worthless, deformed bastard’ was one of the many insults his father threw at him as he walked away, yet the only thing that stuck to him was the grating pitch in Ozai’s voice as continued to have a meltdown. He can just hear his father yelling now, and it’s hurting his fucking teeth. 

The member is still staring at Zuko in disbelief once he snaps out of it. 

“What was your name again?” Zuko asks. 

“…Haru?” 

“That’s easy to remember,” Zuko says to himself, not exactly paying attention to Haru's sudden change in attitude. He never really cared for it to begin with. “If you ever find yourself interested in becoming an imperial guard, I’ll have a spot waiting for you.” 

Haru looks at you and Heito in confusion, making you chime in. “You don’t have to. But, if you do, just know that everyone who works at the palace is well taken care of. Lots of opportunities for advancement, as well. I’m sure you’ll find it very rewarding.”

You couldn’t help but add that last part, knowing Zuko only offered him the job to fuck with Ozai a little. The former tyrant already has three big meals a day, clean clothes, a comfy futon and a couple of board games to keep him entertained, he can handle a little day to day banter.

The visit ends with a small chat with Aang and one of the program directors, Jin, in the courtyard. They were both aware of the rising tension in the Fire Nation, but didn’t know about the brothel incident in the Silk District until you told them— piquing Jin’s interest more than you had expected.

Zuko’s pretty much back to normal too, not that it makes much of a difference. He’s always been more of a listener and would rather let everyone else speak first. 

And when he does finally speak, it’s because you’re asking him a question. 

“What do you think of taking Jin back with us when we leave?” you ask him.

Zuko takes one look at the awkward man and almost rolls his eyes at how flattered he is that you want to take him home like he’s some kind of pet. He doesn’t even bother asking if he’d be okay with being borrowed, he’s clearly begging for it. 

“Yeah,” he nods, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, then turns to Heito. “You already have a location in mind, right?” 

Heito nods. “Yes, Sir.” 

“Alright, cool.”

His tone came out clipped as he side-eyed the director, ready to tell him that he’s standing too close to you and that he is not your fucking type. The only thing that stopped him was Heito, who asked if everyone was ready to go— Zuko’s answer being almost immediate.

“Let’s go.”

. . . 

The next day is spent visiting an orphanage.

At first, it brought that same heavy feeling the correction center brought, maybe even more since you’re around a bunch of innocent children. You’d say that it’s probably the highlight of your trip, though, thanks to all the little moments of joy they brought throughout the day.

From the start, you knew it’d be hard to leave once you saw how excited they were. Running up to you to show off their drawings, talking about their favorite subjects in school— also eager to tell their stories like the members from yesterday, just in their own way. 

“E-Excuse me!” A little boy begins to pat on Zuko’s leg, trying to get his attention. “What happened to your eye?” he asks, unable to hide his concern.

It’s a question he gets every time he’s around children— he was pretty much waiting just for it at that point. 

“Oh, this?” He crouches down with a smile. “I got burned in an accident when I was younger.” 

Obviously not the truth, but that’s not a story you tell a five year old.

The kid tilts his head. “Does it hurt?” 

“Nah, I’m alright,” he says, suppressing a laugh as he ruffles the kids' hair. 

“Yeah, he’s strong!” another kid says, and Zuko easily agrees with that. 

You would’ve laughed had you not noticed a girl, who had to be around three, trying to get your attention. She’s been staring at you for quite some time now and shuffled away when you tried to say hi, but you guess she finally mustered up the courage to say something. 

“I like pink,” she quietly reveals, pointing at the lining of your robe. You’re still not wearing your nation's colors and opted to wear white and light pinks today. 

“I like pink, too.” You smile as she makes herself comfortable, reaching out and touching your robe, intrigued by silky texture as well. “Is pink your favorite color?” 

“Yeah!” She smiles back, quickly warming up to you. “Are you a princess?” 

You laugh a little. “A princess? No, I’m just a normal girl.” Your mood’s immediately ruined when you hear Zuko snort at that— you don’t even know why he’s even trying to intrude on your conversation right now, this little girl clearly likes you more. “What?”

“You come from a family full of nobles,” he reminds you with a smug grin, then looks at the little girl. “She is a princess.” 

She giggles and jumps around a little. “Are you a prince?” 

He grins, like a fucking asshole. “Close— I’m a king.” 

You roll your eyes, muttering “whatever” under your breath before a bunch of kids start asking him different questions all at the same time. 

Aside from Heito, who left hours ago, the Fire Lord’s visit lasted the entire day. You were supposed to leave around lunch, yet you stayed for lunch and dinner. The little girl, who you came to know as Mira, stayed glued to your hip the entire time. At one point she took a nap in your arms after tiring herself out, but not before making sure you’d still be there when she woke up. 

You guess the good thing about working for Zuko is that he doesn’t rush you while you try and fail to say goodbye to Mira. He stayed back, leaning against the door as he quietly watched.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” she asks with a pout on her face. 

Zuko also sees a slight pout on your face as you hesitate to answer. “I don’t know… we have a lot of work to do tomorrow. If I can’t, do you want me to send you letters?” 

The kid lets out a defeated sigh. “But— but I don’t know how to read.” 

“That’s okay,” you hum and rub her arm. “Your teacher can read it to you and you can tell her what to write back.” 

Her eyes light up. “Really?” 

“Yeah, of course.” You easily promised the girl, unaware of the fond look that always manages to appear on Zuko's face whenever he sees you at the orphanage back home. “You can tell me all about school and what you’ve been up to.” 

Her little smile returns as she nods. “Okay!” 

The little agreement between you made it easier for her to go back to her caretaker afterwards without crying. The man you’re now sitting alone with on the way back could say the same for you. You’d never admit it, though. 

For a moment, he seriously thought you were going to bring her back home with you, given how quick you were to bring back the director from yesterday, too. 

“You should’ve seen the caretaker's face when you decided she was going to read and write those letters for Mira,” he says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that set in once you stepped out of the orphanage.

You curse under your breath, you never even asked if she’d be okay with that. “I hope she doesn’t get tired from it. Fuck— what if she just throws my letters away? She’s gonna think I lied to her.” 

“I doubt it,” he stifles a laugh. “You can always have one of the fire representatives make visits and handle the letters for her, if you want.” 

“You actually think they’d do that?” 

“Sure.” He shrugs. It’s not like they’d have much of a choice if it’s a direct order from him. “They deal with assholes all the time, it’d probably be a nice break for them.” 

“I guess,” you hum. “I want it to be someone that’s a little more gentle, though. They’re all so serious, it’d probably scare her.” 

“We’ll get someone that has daughters to do it, then,” he says, determined to help you keep your promise to the kid. 

“Thank you,” you quietly say— had he been any further, he probably wouldn’t have heard you.

More silence. The discomfort it brought made it difficult to fully breathe. You had no idea what to say to him— especially not when that kiss started to replay in your mind. Heat creeped up your neck as you continued to push the image away.

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that there was only one way out of this mental torture, and that was to apologize.

“So uhm…” You barely look at him, instead you mess with your robe. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for being cold towards you these last few weeks.” 

He raises his head, looking stupidly happy about being the one to receive an apology first. “You sure you’re not just saying that because you had fun today?” 

“…Maybe.” A smile starts to tug at your lips, just glad he responded with something lighthearted. “I shouldn’t have dragged it out for that long, though. Sorry for making everything more difficult than it should’ve been.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t exactly making it easy for you when you wanted to stay back.” He leans back in his seat, remembering how he went straight to demanding that you come along. “It wasn’t fair of me to try to talk to you when I was drunk and mad, either. I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, still playing with the lining of your robe, “...for the apology and for throwing out the chancellors' request to investigate the damages done in the east wing.” 

“No need to mention it.” He waves a hand, brushing it off as if he wasn’t startled by the sudden crack of lightning.

He’s going to pretend like he wasn’t considering filing charges against your clan, either— not because he felt that you needed to be reprimanded, but because he wanted to add a tally to his side of the scoreboard. 

The funny thing is you still have no idea about your clan paying for the damages. Your father didn’t even have to ask if it was you. All it took was one of his soldiers mentioning the incident for his fatherly intuition kicked in, making him extend the training break so he could slip the lord some hush money.

Zuko politely refused at first, hoping it’d build some sort of trust with your father, only to quickly realize there was absolutely nothing to build on. He truly didn’t care to form alliances with anyone outside of his family.

“I appreciate your forgiveness, but my daughter is still indebted to you. I won’t be able to sleep at night as her father knowing it could be used as leverage to turn her into some useless concubine—“ 

Zuko’s eyes widened. “No, I-I would never do that—“ 

“Right, right.” He doesn’t believe him one bit. “Unfortunately, your words bring me no comfort, but neither does the word of god. So please, allow me to soothe my spirit by taking responsibility for my daughter’s mistakes.” 

That entire interaction left Zuko staring at the wall for over half an hour, insulted and confused by the strategists' lack of trust in him. 

He clears his throat, pushing past the silence before it grows uncomfortable again. “I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you for today and yesterday.”

You blink a couple times. “...For what?” 

“You know.” Zuko does some awkward hand gesture and you still don’t know. “Like talking and getting to know everyone in the programs.” 

“Oh… thanks,” you say, still confused as to where this is coming from. “I haven’t been doing anything different, though.”

“I appreciate it either way,” he says, somehow managing to be both vague and straightforward. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” you nearly laugh, convinced he’s talking just to talk at this point.

“Fuck— everything,” he huffs, unsure where to even start— you’re fucking perfect. “Always asking the right questions, coming up with solutions with everyone's best interest in mind— all the thought and effort. Even in conversations, you always know what to say. Heito sucks at getting to know people.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get on my good side again?”

“No, I’m just— half the council doesn’t give a shit,” he admits. “At least you do.” 

His comment about the council pulls a small laugh out of you, then dies down into a hum. “Of course I do. I can’t take it out on the civilians. It’s not their fault that their Lord is—“

“Is what?” he murmurs, daring you to finish that statement.

You innocently shrug. “A little moody.”

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles. “Lucky for them his advisors on the public’s side.”

“Mhm— exactly.”

If only your father knew just how much Zuko agreed with him— it wouldn’t be fair to the world if he kept you locked away. He has you to thank for a majority of the good decisions he’s made. At this point, your opinion’s more valuable than his. He might get annoyed seeing other men stare at you sometimes, but it’s never stopped him from bringing you wherever he goes. He wanted you to be admired and remembered by others.  

The idea of taking you in as a concubine has always been out of the question, despite what that crazy old man thinks. 

“I can’t think of anyone more deserving of a crown.”

The carriage creaks.

You can’t help but just stare. 

And Zuko stares back, because he fucking means it. 

He’s also aware of how much you hate hearing this stuff. For some reason, it leaves you very, very vulnerable and that’s the one thing you don’t know how to handle. 

Unfortunately, Zuko knows exactly how to break you down a bit. He enjoys watching you spiral, too. He’s just not sure which one’s worse at this point.

“That’s not,” The words die out in your throat, you want to crawl out of your skin. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” The soothing tone he uses does nothing to settle you, there’s not one ounce of remorse in it. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I— are you dumb?” you struggle to find the words, and it’s an amusing sight to see. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask your Lord such disrespectful questions,” he playfully scolds you, hoping it makes you worse so he can show you just how little he cares. 

“You have an entire courtyard of women waiting for that crown.” 

“It’s not for them.”

“Yes, it is!” You can’t help but snap at him. “That’s the whole point of their families sending them here— to have your kids!”

“It’s not a requirement.”

“No, it’s not because it just happens when you do your part.” You continue to scold him, even more annoyed at fact that you even have to explain that “God, you’re so difficult— you have so many to choose from, why can’t you just fucking pick one?!”

“I like being difficult.” He looks away as he huffs out a laugh, knowing it’ll just get worse if he continues to look at you. “Nobody’s getting that crown.”

You let out a long sigh. “You can’t just joke about stuff like that.” 

Zuko just nods and lets you believe whatever you want to believe.

He wasn’t kidding, though— that crown is yours. He’ll melt that thing down to a useless rock before anyone else could have it. 

“I’m serious— the council’s already asking questions about the next heir.” 

It’s only been brought up once, but once is enough to get the ball rolling. The topic will only become more frequent with time, and if they heard him talking like this, there will be a push.

“As if I don't have bigger things to worry about, like the crime rate shooting up,” he laughs bitterly.

He decided a long time ago that everyone was going to have to wait for an heir. He already has millions of citizens to take care of and he’s clearly not doing enough with the Silk District plummeting to hell. 

It might be too late to try to look at the bright side, but you felt a little bad for the sudden wave of stress that topic brought over him. “At least you’re doing something about it.”

“I’m trying.” He turns to look outside the carriage and catches some of the moonlight peeking through. “Go easy on me in the mean time— I’m stressed.”

“Right.” You hold back a laugh and nod. “You say that as if I’m the one that starts the fights.” 

“You should probably start remembering how important you are, then. I need you around,” he reminds you, this time around it’s said with a certainty that leaves no room for extra questions.

For once, you allow yourself to look at the way it highlights the features of his face— from his nose, to his eyes, to his jaw. So sharp. Yet even now in all his seriousness, there’s still something so soft about him. For the longest time you wondered what it was, only for you to remember what Zuko was like as a kid. He had his moments like any other child— cried a lot, too— but he always tried to do the right thing, even after all of the suffering he’s gone through. 

He’s just a good person. 

Time has only proven his father wrong— a child born with a heart of gold was the luckiest of them all.

. . . . .

Time moves slow when you’re miserable. It explains why you’re already boarding the air ship to go back home— the rest of the trip went by in a blink of an eye once you finally settled things with Zuko. 

You didn’t expect much from this trip aside from touring facilities and learning about the new programs— now you’re leaving with more people than you came with. There’s a little over a dozen volunteers, one of them being Jin, the director from the correction facility. 

At first you were worried Zuko would be stand-offish with him. It’s hard not to after catching him glaring at the guy, multiple times, for no reason when they first met, but he ended up being more preoccupied with something else. 

He was more quiet than usual, troubled over whatever thoughts were running through his mind. Then from the corner of your eye, you catch him looking at you four separate times.

The fifth is when you finally give him attention.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the orphanage real quick and grab Mira?” 

“She’s a child,” you remind him, since he’s treating adoption like a grocery store run. “I can’t just rip her away from her home at the last minute. Besides, they probably won’t even allow that.” 

Zuko can’t say he’s too surprised at the way you immediately lashed out at him. It’s been well over an hour since you’ve said goodbye to the kid and your eyes are still puffy.

“What if they did allow it?” 

“Why are you even asking me this right now? I can’t adopt a child right now,” your eyes start to well up again, voice threatening to break in a whine. “Who’s going to watch her?”

He’s not used to seeing you cry and pauses in fear of saying something that’ll lead to actual tears. He probably should’ve worded it better from the start. This entire idea was last minute to begin with. 

“I don’t know I was just thinking, since she’s the youngest and nobody wants to play with her, we can just move her to the orphanage at the palace. Most of the kids there are on the younger side anyway.”

“Wait.” The tears stop, you take in a sharp breath. “She won’t have to play in the corner by herself anymore. Do you think they’d actually let us do that?” 

Zuko has spent the last 6 days watching you build a bond with a little girl who adored you from the start, then he had to watch your heart break in fucking half when you had to say goodbye— never again.

He will literally kidnap Mila if he has to. 

It probably won’t be that difficult in your case, though. Her caretakers already know how much you adore her. They’ve seen the way her eyes light up when you’re around. She might not be going to a traditional family, but for all the selfish reasons people can have children, he sees nothing wrong with you taking her back home so she doesn’t have to play alone anymore.

So, yes, he thinks they will let you do that.

chapter recap:

- we met zuko’s dad and he lw hates him 🙂‍↕️

- more of readers backstory. she pretty much refuses to be with zuko bc her clans seen as problematic and since she’s not a concubine, it’ll probably set some people off. if the clans aren’t balanced, it could lead to a rebellion/someone trying to take the throne. readers also annoyed that he won’t fuck his concubines because not having an heir also causes civil unrest and could also lead to someone else trying to take the throne lol so she cares! she just wants to live in a peaceful country

- zuko hated seeing reader cry so much he gave her a baby (there’s an orphanage in the palace grounds that reader can visit her in)

- im sure im missing something

‼️ TAG LIST IS CLOSED ‼️

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[wadigrove]

zuko bringing his tiny baby to council meetings, cradling her carefully in the crook of his arm like she’s the most precious treasure in the fire nation.

she keeps cooing and gurgling happily the whole time, little hands waving in the air. every few minutes she gets louder and zuko gently pats her round belly with two fingers, leaning down to murmur in the softest voice, “not now, my little valley dove… daddy’s trying to work.”

the baby just kicks her chubby legs harder and lets out the cutest squeal, completely unbothered.

and the entire council?

they’re absolutely melting. grown generals and advisors who usually look stern and serious are now fighting back smiles, exchanging soft glances, completely enchanted by their fire lord and his happy little daughter.

zuko keeps trying to stay composed and regal, but the tiny smile that keeps tugging at his lips gives him away completely.

[duxtch]

warning ladies !! do not spit in gojo’s mouth unless you’re ready for him to nut instantly!

“c’mon baby,” he whines, voice all breathy and cocky, his blue eyes sparkling looking greedy. “i’ve been good. spit in my mouth, please?”

you laugh, because this six-foot-whatever menace who can literally warp reality is pouting like a brat because he wants your spit.

“you’re so fucking weird, toru.”

“you are weird,” he corrects instantly, tongue already poking out a little. “now c’mon.... i’m dying here. my dick’s so hard it’s bout to file a complaint.”

you roll your eyes but lean in anyway, gripping his jaw with one hand, thumb pressing into the soft skin just under his bottom lip. he opens wider, eyes half-lidded, that signature gojo smirk twitching at the corners because he knows exactly how nasty this is.

you gather it slow on purpose, letting him watch, then spit directly onto his waiting tongue. thick, warm, right in the center.

the sound he makes is downright criminal. a broken little moan-groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours.

“fuck— again,” he gasps, “do it again. spit like you mean it.”

you do it again, messier this time, letting some of it miss and drip down his chin. he doesn’t even wipe it. just lets it slide while his eyes roll back.

“you’re actually getting off on this, huh?” you tease, grinding down slow on the massive bulge straining against the fabric. “big bad strongest and all it takes is a little spit to make you stupid?”

“shut up and degrade me properly,” he whines, but he’s grinning like an idiot, tongue still out. “call me a nasty little slut or sum. i’m literally leaking for you right now.”

you laugh again, i mean you can’t help it. before you do the request, you reach down and shove his sweats just low enough to free him. he’s flushed dark at the tip, already dripping down the shaft.

“open wider, pretty boy.”

he obeys instantly, loving every second of being absolutely humiliated by you.

you spit again, then lean down and lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue while you sink down onto his cock.

satoru’s whole body shudders. he moans into your mouth, hands scrambling on your hips, already babbling.

“more!! fuck— spit on me while you ride me. please baby i’ll do anything. i’ll buy you a country. i’ll cancel infinity for the rest of the night. just keep spitting in my fucking mouth—”

“shush it toru ~~~”

more subby!gojo?

[gojosconsort]

︵ ೀ mdni. satoru and suguru are losing their minds trying to fit inside you at the same time

it’s the first time you’ve all tried this, and the moment suguru starts pushing in alongside satoru, satoru lets out a shaky, breathless laugh.

“holy shit— this is so tight,” he whines, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed to your shoulder. his cock twitches hard as your pussy stretches around both of them, slick and burning. “i can feel you, suguru—oh my god, i can feel your dick rubbing against mine.”

“shut up,” suguru grits out, but his voice is weak, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. he’s trying to stay calm, but the way your walls flutter and squeeze around them both is driving him insane. every tiny shift makes him feel satoru’s cock sliding against his, hot and throbbing. “fuck… she’s taking us so well.”

you’re shaking between them, stuffed full, stretched to your limit. a broken moan spills from your lips and both men groan in unison.

satoru starts moving first—shallow, desperate little thrusts that make suguru curse under his breath. “slow down, you idiot— ahh, shit—” suguru’s hips jerk anyway, chasing the friction, the overwhelming heat. they’re both panting, sweat-slicked chests pressed to your body, hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.

you’re still shaking from the two orgasms they pulled out of you earlier with their tongues, licking and sucking until you were sobbing and oversensitive. now every single nerve feels raw and electric. the stretch of both cocks at once is almost too much — too intense, too full, every tiny movement sending sparks shooting up your spine.

“she’s so fucking wet,” satoru gasps, half-laughing, half-moaning. “i’m gonna cum so fast, this is embarrassing—”

“me too,” suguru admits through gritted teeth, voice dropping into that low, dangerous tone. his hips snap harder, chasing the tight drag of your cunt and the filthy slide of satoru’s cock against his own. “can’t— can’t hold it.”

they start moving together, messy and uncoordinated, both of them whimpering and cursing every time they thrust in at the same time. the pressure is insane. the feeling of being pressed so tightly against each other inside you is too much.

satoru comes first with a loud moan, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you. the moment his cock pulses, suguru follows right after—groaning long and low, burying himself to the hilt as he fills you too. they cum at the same time, thick and hot, both cocks twitching against each other while your pussy milks them dry.

they stay buried inside you, panting, trembling, foreheads pressed together above your shoulder.

satoru lets out a weak, almost delirious laugh.

“we’re doing that again… like… immediately.”

suguru just groans, still twitching. “shut up… but yeah.”

[aliienangel]

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎.𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬' 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞‎ ‎ | ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎𝒔.𝒈𝒐𝒋𝒐‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. ceo!gojo satoru / assistant!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎. you've been working at the same company for the last five years and you'd continue to do so if your circumstances hadn't suddenly changed. after you put in your resignation, your boss is doing everything he can to make you stay. . .

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ── .✦ mdni (18+), office au ; smut ; light angst ; making out ; porn with plot ; fíngeríng ; cünnilíngus ; biting ; hickeys ; praise kink ; piv ; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) ; dirty talk ; big díck gojo ; creampíes ; multiple orgasms ; tiny bit of overstim ; little bit of nípple play ; use of wrist restraints but like not really (it's readers shirt) ; makeshift restraint if you will ; gojo kinda pervy but that's how i like him ; gojo's a yearner (also how i like him) ; f!reader (she/her used) ; pet names used ; no use of y/n [11.6k]

For the past handful of years, you’ve been working at a large marketing company for the CEO as a personal assistant. The job is what it is and the pay makes up for any sort of… eccentricities from your boss. Despite this, it can’t change the fact that you’re struggling to pay rent and need to move back in with your parents.

You were coping before but your roommate… the guy you were… it’s complicated. Anyways he moved out and now things are just too expensive for you at the moment. It doesn’t help that anywhere else close to work is in the same range for rent, stupid fancy company in a stupid nice area. It’s frustrating because you’re attached to this job but it’s not feasible anymore.

So, as much as you’re unwilling to part from your current position, something has to give and you’ve chosen to resign. Steeling your resolve, you walk into Gojo’s empty office and gently place your two weeks’ notice on his desk. Lingering for a short moment, remembering your first day here and how intimidated you were by him.

It was never your plan to stay here so long in the first place but it’s nearly been five years now, maybe it is time to move on to something different. Think positive, you just have to think positive and things will be good. You’ll get a new job and you’ll make new friends and your boss will be kind and maybe not as weird.

Exiting the room, you sit back at your desk that’s located outside Gojo’s office. It’s hard to focus when you’ve got so much on your mind but sometimes you think that he wouldn’t get anything done if you weren’t around.

You’d gotten a text earlier about how he had an early meeting but you know he doesn’t, he’s probably just left the office to go get himself some sweets. He won’t be back for a while either because he’s going to sit in a park or somewhere quiet and eat the evidence before he gets back to the office.

Why he even bothers to lie to you at this point is beyond you but you’ll ignore it because sometimes you want to be alone for an hour too. Unlike him though, you simply don’t have the luxury of doing that on company time.

When he does get back to the office he stops by your desk and smiles at you like he wasn’t just shirking his responsibilities for the better half of the day. He waits very impatiently for you to acknowledge him, and you continue typing at your computer like he’s not there.

Gojo eventually speaks up, “Saying good morning to your boss is the polite thing to do, by the way.”

You hold up a hand while you finish up your email and send it off, only then do you look up and raise a brow at him, “Morning? Gojo… it’s nearly midday and you’re only just now coming into the office.”

“I told you I had a meeting,” he pouts because he knows he’s caught. “And how many times have I told you to call me Satoru?”

“If you had a meeting it’d go through me because no one trusts you to show up to the ones you agree to.” You look back down at your computer and continue working, ignoring the second thing he said.

Sighing dramatically at you, “You’re so mean to me.”

Not even looking up at him when you retort, “If I were nicer to you would your job get done?” He doesn’t answer and you add, “That’s what I thought.”

“I’ll get all my work done so quick you’ll be embarrassed about doubting me.”

“Uh huh,” as he walks off you call after him, “you’ve got chocolate on your tie.”

Gojo pauses, looks down to his tie and then uses his finger to try and swipe it off, “No, I don’t.” He scuttles away into his office.

It’s then that you’re remembering the letter you’d put on his desk and you decide it’s time for your break. Sneaking away, you hide a few floors down in the employee break room. Your hands cradling a cup of tea that was hot but has now gone cold in the time you’ve been holding onto it. You’re staring blankly at it, not knowing how you’re going to face Gojo when he’s read your resignation.

He’s a bit of a drama queen and you’re not sure… you don’t even want to leave so having him fuss over it might make you feel worse. Oh, but what if he doesn’t care. What if he doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t feel like you’re all that important to him. That might be worse. You’re in a hell of your own making.

You’re brought from your spiralling thoughts by a hand on your shoulder, jumping at the touch and looking up to see Nanami. His face is as stoic as ever but his eyes are laced with a mild concern for you.

You talk before he can ask, “I’m fine, just daydreaming.”

A sound of acknowledgement comes from him, not believing you but pacified enough to move on and make himself a cup of coffee. Not facing you when he says, “Gojo’s looking for you.”

Frowning, “What? How do you know?”

He sits down across from you and plainly states, “Because I walked past him and he asked where you were.”

A small grumble leaves you, it’s just not possible to avoid him for the whole day and even if you could, you couldn’t do it for two full weeks.

“What’s going on?”

Your tea is too cold to drink now and you push it away, “Do you really want to know or are you just being polite?”

He takes a sip of his coffee like he’s giving himself time to think about his answer, “…I want to know.”

“I have to resign,” is all you say.

Nanami nods, “Well, that explains the frantic look on his face.”

Scoffing at him because that sounds ridiculous, “I left the letter on his desk and then hid.”

“You can’t hide forever.”

“I can try,” you smile, “he’s always showing up late and sneaking out anyways, I’ll probably be able to avoid him.”

The look on his face conveys severe doubt but he doesn’t comment on your words, “Why are you leaving?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re the only reason why communicating with Gojo is bearable, you leaving is going to be a nightmare for so many people.”

Your eyes roll at the sentiment, “Well, gee, I’ll miss you too.” A silence falls over the two of you and you explain, “I gotta move home for financial reasons.” It’s not everything but you don’t feel like spilling your guts to him right now.

“Ask for a raise,” he shrugs, “you deserve it.”

“It’d have to be one hell of a raise,” you fold your arms on the table and lay your head on them.

His tone comes out monotonous, “There there.”

Mumbling against your arms in reply, “You’re such a comfort, Nanami.”

“I know.”

The clicking of heels alerts you to someone else in the room but you don’t bother lifting your head to look. Not that you need to, the voice letting you know it’s Shoko, “Gojo’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” you sigh.

She sits down next to you, “If you’re hiding from him, this was a poor choice because I’m pretty sure he’s on his way here.”

“Have I got time to run?”

There’s a hand on your head, a tight lipped, “No,” coming from above you.

Ah, you’re caught. Sitting up, you smile at Gojo like you’ve not been hiding from him, “Gojo, is there something you need me for?”

He doesn’t bother trying to get you somewhere private, “Why are you resigning?”

Shoko asks, “You’re resigning?”

Sighing out a tired, “Yes,” before getting to your feet and walking out the room.

Immediately, Gojo is hot on your tail, “Why? Why are you resigning?” He keeps pestering you despite the fact you’re not answering, “Is it something I did? Have I been a bad boss? Do you want me to show up on time more?” A pause, “Is it because I never bring you back any sweets? I’m sorry! I just get so excited to eat them…”

Your foot taps impatiently as you wait for the elevator, arms folded and feeling frustrated by him. “It’s nothing to do with you…” he’s generally a good boss, a bit odd but he’s a good person and you’re quite attached to him, “though, you should be showing up on time.”

“Are you really not going to tell me why you’re leaving me?”

“I think my letter covered it.” The elevator dings and his presence is felt looming over you as he follows you in.

“Your letter didn’t cover shit,” he grumbles, “it was all that polite corporate speak.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gojo.” Your eyes meet his properly for the first time and he looks so genuinely hurt, it’s making this harder for you. “It’s nothing you did, nothing the company did. No one did anything, it’s just time to move on.”

“I literally cannot survive without you.” He blinks, “My company is going to go bankrupt without you and then Suguru’s will be number one, is that what you want?”

“If Geto’s company is ever number one it’s because he shows up on time and doesn’t ignore calls from clients.”

He scowls. “They should be calling you anyways, the old bastards only call me because they enjoy pissing me off.”

“Poor, poor, rich boy,” you say, looking away from him.

Gojo’s brows pinch up. “There’s nothing I can do to make you stay?”

“Nope.”

The pair of you walk off the elevator together and he’s still closer than necessary, like you’re going to disappear at any minute. “I’ve got two weeks to change your mind,” he singsongs.

It’s been a few days since that awkward conversation with Gojo and he’s been in the office every day… on time. You thought maybe the first day was just a fluke but then he kept showing up and staying. His behaviour is unpredictable at the best of times but this is the first time in the five years that you’ve been here that he’s shown up on time for multiple consecutive days.  

Whatever, you’ve just been ignoring him and continuing your work. At least you would be but he’s not giving you anything to do. Suddenly, he’s interested in doing everything himself and actually staying on top of things. If this is his way of getting you to stay… it’s not working. Not only do you have nothing to do but you’re worried that he’s fucking things up.

A few hours since you’ve been in office and you’re officially bored, staring blankly at your quiet inbox. This isn’t going to work for you, you get up and walk into Gojo’s office. He’s tapping away at his keyboard and you’re a little surprised by the focus on his face.

Pursing your lips as you stand in front of his desk, feeling conflicted on whether or not you should disturb him when he’s like this. There’s papers spread out on the surface beside him, his usually clean desk now messy.

“Gojo, I’m still your assistant until the end of next week,” your voice is gentler than how you feel, taking pity on him.

He doesn’t look to you, eyes firmly on the screen. “Not if I can convince you to stay.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to say this,” you take a step closer, “but my resignation has nothing to do with you, so there is nothing you can do to change my mind.”

His eyes meet yours then, he looks tired.

Continuing to add, “All you’ve done is make me redundant, stop stealing my work and do your own.”

“I won’t hire anyone else.”

“The board will make you.” Tilting your head at him, trying to add some levity, “And there’s no way you’re not messing things up.”

He points at you, “Hey! I’ve been very diligent.”

“Which you won’t be able to keep doing long-term.” Reaching up, you tap the tip of his finger with your own.

That has him deflating, falling back into his chair and humming at you, “Okay, have all your stupid and tedious work back.”

“I will.” You glare at him as you lean over to pick up the papers off his desk.

Shuffling through them, you can see they’re a bunch of companies reaching out and trying to set up meetings or sending through complaints. Things you usually handle before he sees because it’s not worth his time.

“So much of that stuff shouldn’t be coming to me.” He’s leaned in closer, annoyance clear on his expression. “It shouldn’t even be going to you; they should be communicating through the team they’re dealing with.”

“Yes, well, a lot of companies overestimate their importance to you.” Picking through the stack quickly, you pull out the papers that are solely for him and put them down on his desk.

His brow raises to you, “Now, where did they get that idea?”

“Who knows?” You smile politely.

His people person skills are severely lacking, especially when it comes to dealing with formalities. You may or may not be making up for it.

“I’ll get back to you about these.” Hand shaking the papers, “Do not even try sneaking off, I’ll need you here while I sort through this mess you’ve no doubt made.”

“I told you I’ve been diligent.”

“And I have absolutely no reason to doubt that.” Turning to leave before stopping. “You should keep coming in on time and staying the whole day, it’s nice.”

Gojo’s groan is heard as you walk back out his office.

After you took back your workload, Gojo decided to try and make you stay through other means. It’s almost as flattering as it is distracting. The very next day and he’s taken to pulling a chair in front of your desk and sitting with you. His arm holding up his head, chin resting in his palm. It’s got you on edge, he’s just watching you. Eyes tracking your every movement, silent like he’s maybe trying to think of something to say.

“Is there something you need, sir?” Phrasing it in a certain way in hopes of reminding him he’s your boss with his own work to worry about.

“Nope.” The singular word popped back at you.

Looking to your screen, you pull up his calendar, “So… you’re all prepped for the meeting later today at three?”

It’s silent and it prompts you to look at him again. The reply you’d been expecting comes only when your eyes meet. “I’m so prepared,” his smile is easy-going and you don’t feel the same.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve just been sitting here doing nothing.”

“Don’t worry about what I’m up to.”

“All I do is worry,” you glare at him, “it’s like my whole job.”

Obviously able to tell you’re growing a bit exasperated now and switching to flattery, “And you’re very good at it.”

“I could be better at it if you’d be a more willing participant in your own company.”

“Bleh,” he pulls his head back and waves his hand at you, the expression on his face disgusted.

You ignore the fact that you don’t find him as annoying as you probably should and change the topic, “Well, while you’re here doing anything but your job, I have some applications you can look through.”

“Applications?” He looks at you curiously and takes the papers you’re handing him.

There isn’t an answer from you as he reads them, his face scrunching up more and becoming annoyed as he realises what it is he’s looking at.

“Resumes?” Gojo’s voice has lost its chirpiness, coming a bit strained, “I didn’t know we were hiring.”

“I know you won’t do it yourself, so I put up an advert yesterday,” you point at the resumes he’s holding, “those are the best applicants.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“I can’t stay, Gojo. It’s out of my control.”

It’s his turn to glare, it’s the first time he’s been this angry with you. You still won’t tell him why you’re leaving because you’re embarrassed and also, you’re becoming a little concerned that he’d actually give you an insane raise. You can do without that guilt.

“Fine.” He eventually says.

A breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding leaves you, “Thank you.”

He starts going through the pile, “This isn’t an entry level job,” he flicks away that applicant. “No references,” another chucked. “Wouldn’t be able to put up with me,” that one is crumpled. “This one’s messy,” gone. “This person has put under hobbies ‘organising’,” he squints like he’s weirded out before deciding, “trying too hard,” ultimately it’s chucked too. The rest of the pile discarded in much of the same manner.

You’ve watched him in disbelief, blinking at him, “They all had better resumes than I did.”

“I didn’t want an assistant before you and I won’t want one after,” he shrugs.

Fingers rubbing into your temples, “How did I even get hired when you’re this picky.”

“You’ve raised my standards,” he praises you, “and your resume was so ugly looking that I wanted to see who sent it in.”

You gape at him, shocked, “That’s why I got the interview!?”

“And you got the job because you put up with me during,” his tone has softened again, “you adjust to your surroundings well and it impressed me, even if your resume didn’t.” He thinks for a moment, “Well, your resume actually did impress me but only because it was awful—”

“—Stop,” holding a hand up, “I can’t believe you hired me because you hated my application that much.”

“Don’t leave me,” leaning in on your desk, “I don’t think I’ll ever see a resume that ugly ever again.”

Grumbling and falling back into your chair, you cross your arms. “I knew I shouldn’t have worked here.”

He grins and stands to his feet. “Don’t show me anymore applicants, they’ll immediately get thrown away.”

“Gojo—” You call after him.

“—Bye bye now.” He’d cut you off, done with this conversation and the direction it was headed.

It’s Monday again and you’re concerned about what Gojo’s going to pull this week. Last week he’d obviously stolen all your work rendering you redundant and stared at you disconcertingly for nearly an hour before revealing he’d hired you because of your shit application. He also brought you back various treats every time he left the office, not to mention the insane amounts of praise he kept sneaking into conversation.

It's not something entirely new from him but he’s taken to doing it far more often lately and you hate how much you don’t hate it. His compliments making you a little flustered every time, you weren’t aware how much you liked being reaffirmed until he started doing it so obviously and frequently.

Apparently, he must’ve caught on to you not hating it because he’s not stopped. The grin on his face self-satisfied every time he does it, pleased by your reactions. You don’t know if your heart is going to make it through this week but it’s your last, so you don’t have much of a choice either way.

In the lobby, you run into Shoko. Greeting her with a small smile, “Good morning.”

“Morning, quitter,” she smiles back.

“Ouch,” you hiss jokingly.

Her head tilts at you, “Ah, you lasted five years, it’s impressive really.”

“I’m not resigning because of him,” you roll your eyes.

The rumours in the office have been abundant to say the least, everyone blaming your leaving on Gojo. You correct people every time but they either don’t believe you or are too excited about gossip to let themselves really hear you.

“You’d be the first,” sucking on her teeth as she recounts, “I think there was… five? six? Before you. They all quit because they couldn’t put up with him.” She pauses. “Though, he didn’t hire them personally.”

“Didn’t you hear? He only hired me because he hated my resume.”

“Good luck finding another job with it then.”

You chuckle at that. “I’ll miss you, Shoko.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she brushes you off, “if you really were gonna miss me, you wouldn’t be quitting.”

“For someone who’s so unamused by Gojo, you sure sound like him sometimes.”

She side eyes you, “Take that back.”

“Nope!” You laugh as you walk away.

At your desk, the first thing you do is pull up Gojo’s calendar. Double checking that you’re remembering the itinerary for today properly. He’s got a meeting just before midday with a large company, you’ve been trying to secure a meet with them for months and they finally caved. Taking them on as a client would be a huge win for the company and it’d bring Gojo joy because he knows Geto has been trying to secure a deal with them too.

Competition isn’t something you invest a whole lot of your time in personally but you can’t help but feel happy when Gojo ‘wins’. This week is going to be gruelling; it’s getting harder to ignore how much you enjoy your job. You thought it wasn’t going to be such a big deal. It’s a job, you do it and if you need to, you find another.

Everyone here will be part of what you miss though, you won’t get to work alongside Gojo anymore… Pushing down those feelings of affection, you start your day how you often do and check your inbox. Seeing the first emails coming through as soon as business hours are official always amuses you as much as it pisses you off.

The sound of a soft tap on your desk startles you, it’s just Gojo but you’re still not quite used to his early (on time) arrivals. He’d set a coffee down for you, expression bright as he smiles at you.

You reach for the drink, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he singsongs. “Feel like staying?”

“Because you bought me a cup of coffee?”

“Among other things.”

You’re thinking of how to answer him when he yawns and stretches his shoulders back. He seems tireder than usual, “You been sleeping okay?”

He takes the opportunity to whine, “No, my favourite employee is leaving me.”

“That must be agony for you.”

“It is,” eyes sparkling, “it’s awful, I wish she would just see reason.”

Instead of replying to that, you remind, “Don’t forget your meeting at eleven.”

Dropping the pleading look, he replies, “How could I forget? Stingy bastards took forever just to agree to meet.”

“Try to have a better attitude when you talk with them.”

“You know what would make my attitude better?” Grin on his face showing that he’s clearly plotting something.

“Dare I ask?”

“You basically did.” He points at you and then himself, “You come with me.”

A range of emotions go through you at that but it’s mostly reluctance, “Do I have to?”

“I’m your boss… so, yes?” Not waiting for your reply. “Be ready by ten-thirty.”

It’s going to be a long week indeed.

By the time ten-thirty rolls around, you’re in the garage of the building with Gojo. He’s guiding you towards his car and you’re confused, “Where’s Ijichi?”

“I don’t know,” his answer is dismissive.

“Should we wait?” you frown and look at your phone, “…I don’t want you to be late.”

Clicking on the keys, the car beeps as it unlocks, “We’re not gonna be late.” He moves around to the driver’s side and opens it, stopping before getting in when he sees you’re not moving. “Get in.”

Incredulous look on you face, “Can you even drive?”

“That’s so insulting, I’m a fantastic driver.”

You’re sceptical but get in the car anyways, not willing to be late because you were squabbling with your boss.

“Why am I coming with you?”

He hums, “Because I have a surprise for after.”

“Couldn’t you have just picked me up after the meeting?”

“No. If I have to go then you do too.”

Grumbling back at him, “You’ve never made me come before.”

“If I leave you in the office you might run away before Friday,” his tone carries a playful lilt.

“You’re so dramatic.”

By the way, he is decidedly not a fantastic driver.

The surprise he was talking about was lunch, he’s taken you out for lunch. You’re overwhelmed and feel underdressed, it’s a nice place that you definitely cannot afford.

Just as he’s about to walk inside, you grab his sleeve and pull him back, “Gojo, I can’t afford lunch here.”

He snickers at you, “You thought I’d force you to a meeting with me and then take you out to lunch and make you pay?”

You say nothing.

“Seriously? What do you take me for?” A hand rests over his heart like you’ve wounded him.

Frowning at him, “I’m… I’m also a little underdressed.” Wearing business casual doesn’t feel appropriate for here.

“You look great,” he compliments, “you always look great.”

It feels like your skin grows hotter just from that simple compliment. You can’t linger on it for too long though. From just off to the side of Gojo, you spot Geto and you know this lunch is going to be on the rocks. “Please remain calm and remember that you just got new clients and how nice that feels.”

About to ask what the hell you’re going on about when Geto makes himself known, hand on Gojo’s shoulder. “What a coincidence, Satoru.” He smiles politely, nodding his head at you in acknowledgement.

You’ve always been neutral towards Geto, if you had to describe him in a word, you’d say he’s gracious. But you’re not stupid, you can tell he enjoys pressing peoples buttons. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was merely an accident but you do know better and you can tell he does it because he gets a kick out of it. He’s similar to Gojo in that way.

“Suguru,” Gojo gives a tight smile. “What are you doing on this side of town?”

Oh, he’s already annoyed by his presence.

“This and that,” answer kept vague deliberately. “You guys about to have lunch?”

“Yes.” You answer respectfully, not forgetting your manners.

At the same time, Gojo lies, “No.”

“Perfect,” Geto ignores Gojo’s lie, “I’ll join you.”

From what you know, Gojo and Geto used to be close friends working at the same company before Gojo moved up. Geto left after that and started his own company. Usually, Gojo isn’t so annoyed by him but he’s been a little extra touchy about things ever since you put in your resignation.

“That sounds great,” you reply before Gojo can. Geto walks in ahead of you both and you tug on Gojo to get him to lean down. “It’s just lunch, we’ll both survive.”

“I’m not so sure,” he mumbles back.

It’s awkward, incredibly so. Geto knows that Gojo got the client they’ve both been angling at and it’s all grins with hidden meanings and sly jabs. It’s hard to enjoy the food when you’re stuck observing this disaster of clashing egos.

After a lull in the conversation, Geto suddenly says, “I heard you’re quitting.”

You’re taken aback, you didn’t realise that company gossip would travel so far, “Yes… I am resigning.” Putting emphasis on the last word because you don’t appreciate the attachments to quitting.

Gojo’s tense, you can tell.

Geto pushes past your slight attitude. “May I ask why?”

“You may ask,” you smile politely, taking a page out of his book.

He doesn’t even blink, “Well, if you’re looking for a new job I’d be happy to take you off Satoru’s hands.”

Gojo scoffs at that, “She’s still my employee, you know?”

“From what I hear, not for much longer.”

You hate that you even semi consider Geto’s offer, he’s unfortunately closer to your parents’ home so you could live there and travel to his company. It’d upset Gojo though and you don’t know if you have it in you, even if it is just business.

Stopping their bickering with a simple refusal. “I’m fine, thank you for the offer.”

“It doesn’t expire,” Geto pushes, “if you change your mind, you’ve got a job with me.”

“I want to remind you I’m a personal assistant, Geto, not some highly sought-after marketing whizz.” You can’t understand the push for you, other than he knows it’ll piss off Gojo and you don’t play those games.

Clearly, not one to be shaken so easily, “Oh, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short.”

“Alright, I’m done being all civil now,” Gojo stands up abruptly, “We’re leaving and you can pay the bill for pissing me off, Suguru.”

“Gojo,” you scold him lightly but he’s not budging, “I’m very sorry, Geto,” standing up as well, “lunch was nice.”

Gojo grumbles, “Don’t apologise for me, I’m not sorry.”

Geto ignores Gojo and replies to your last statement, “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Over my dead body,” Gojo points at him.

And then you’re being tugged out of the restaurant, following after an uncharacteristically angry Gojo. It’s not like he’s especially polite and he’s always had little jabs with Geto but it always seemed more like a friendly rivalry to you. To have this kind of reaction isn’t usual and you don’t really know how to approach talking to him now.

It’s not until you’re back in the car that he’s huffing, “Can you believe that? He tried stealing you out from behind my back… in front of me!”

“It’s just business, don’t let it get to you.” You mean it as a comfort but his eyebrow twitches.

He starts the car and mutters, “Not to me.”

Today is your last day. It’s been a busy week so Gojo didn’t bother you as much, anytime you spoke it concerned work. Well, that’s not completely true, he was still trying to get you to stay and begged a little but otherwise.

You don’t feel ready to leave, you know all you’d have to do is say you want to stay and Gojo would welcome you with open arms but you can’t make it work… not right now. It’s already been hard on you physically with all the moving preparations and now it’s hard on you emotionally. You don’t think people usually feel this much regret about resigning, shouldn’t you be all relieved or something.

After work, you and your empty apartment have a date with lots of alcohol. Drinking before you move may not be a great idea but you thought living with a guy would be a good idea and look how that turned out. Fuck him. This situation is so draining and unfair and you wish you could go back and change things but you’re stuck with the cards you’re dealt.

It’s quitting time soon, the hour hand on the wall across from you slowly inching towards six. Your riveting clock watching is interrupted by Gojo standing in front of it, “Could you go down to the employee floor and give this to Nanami?”

He hands you over a file and you take it without complaint, what’s another few extra minutes on your last day. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

You’re restless, caught between wanting to get out of here and not wanting your last day to end. The elevator dings and opens to the employee floor, when you step out you’re confused by how dark it is. It’s borderline scary, you’ve seen enough scary movies to know that you don’t stay on an empty and ominous dark floor.

About to turn around and head back for the elevator when the lights flick on and people jump out at you. You don’t have a physical reaction aside from a slight jump, only staring blankly and screaming on the inside. Taking in your surroundings you realise it’s a bunch of familiar faces standing underneath a shoddily painted banner that reads ‘we’ll miss you’ with a very small ‘quitter’ written under that. It’s like it was added last minute in pen and you have a feeling Shoko did it.

Gojo runs up from behind you, “Holy fuck, we have so many stairs,” he looks to your face and then at everyone else, “did she scream?”

Nanami answers him, “No, she’s just been staring like that the whole time.”

Gojo moves to stand in front of you, asking, “You okay? Did we get you too good?”

Everyone starts murmuring and you’re very suddenly overwhelmed by all the emotions you’ve been stuffing down all week. Tears slipping from your waterline and trailing down your cheeks before you can stop them.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” he’s fussing over you, “Hey, I’m sorry, we just wanted to send you off properly.”

You use the back of your hands to wipe at your face, “Sorry, I need a moment.” Pushing the file Gojo had given you towards him before running off to hide in the bathroom.

Taking deep breaths, you try to calm down but it’s hard when you’re also dying of embarrassment. It was really nice of them; you weren’t expecting anything so to have so many people set up a going away party was really sweet but it’s just another reminder of your shitty situation and your reluctance to leave.

A soft tap on the door alerts you to someone’s presence, “Can I come in?” Gojo calls.

“No,” you call back.

It’s quiet and then he says, “I’m gonna come in anyways.” True to his word, he enters the bathroom but he doesn’t say anything more.

Unprompted you apologise, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t mean to cry,” sniffling, “I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he walks in closer to you, placing a hand on top of your head. “If you’re so upset you could always stay.”

You laugh a little bitterly at that. “I’m fine now, I’ll come out and we can celebrate.”

“I can send everyone home if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“No, I want to say goodbye to everyone,” you look up to him, “thank you for doing this.”

“Of course,” he tucks his hands into his pockets, expression a little shy, “I couldn’t not give my favourite employee a send-off.” His upper body moves in a little like he’s going to share a secret, “I wanted to do something bigger but Shoko told me not to.”

A smile is on your lips at that, it’s so like him to want to go big. You owe Shoko for that advice, if he’d done something grand you’d be even more embarrassed than you already are. “Let’s go back.”

It’s not rowdy, it’s an office party so it’s mostly mingling and eating some snacks but it’s nice and it beats the hell out of getting drunk alone in an empty apartment. Nanami is the only one you’d given a reason as to why you’re leaving and he’d kept it to himself so you get a bunch of questions but you field them all pretty easily.

Your eyes keep finding their way back to Gojo before you feel a pang of guilt or sadness and you look away. Things slowly die down as more and more people head home and before it becomes too obvious, you slip away back upstairs to your desk.

Gojo’s office is left slightly open and you walk inside; it’s dark. The only light entering the room is coming from the surrounding building lights. You move to stand in front of the large window and look out to appreciate the view. You’re going to miss this part of the city.

“You’re not planning on robbing me on your last day are you?” Gojo asks from the door.

Getting over the shock of him suddenly appearing, you joke, “Are you kidding? I’ve been robbing you blind since my first day here.”

He crosses the room to stand beside you, “Only cause I let you.”

“What a gentleman.”

“I’m gonna say it one more time,” he looks to you, “stay.”

You don’t know how to answer him so you just lean in and hug him.

His arms wrap around you, “This isn’t very professional of you.”

“Cause you’re so professional,” you murmur back, “also you’re not my boss anymore.”

The both of you don’t say anything, just holding each other. Probably far too intimate for a working relationship but… you really needed this. It’s nice, he’s big and warm and he holds you gently. It’s giving you a lot of comfort and at the same time it’s making you want to cry again.

“I’ll miss you, Gojo.”

“I think you’ll be the first to.”

“Not true.” As much grief as everyone gives him, they’d still miss him.

He laughs a little and lowers himself so his lips are by your ear, “I’ll miss you, too.”

A shiver goes down your spine at his voice and you pull back to look at him. His face is close to yours and your eyes linger on his lips. Doing your very best to look into his eyes, you say, “Don’t ruin the company just because I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work,” he grins.

You roll your eyes and move to untangle from him. He doesn’t let you. “What are you—”

Gojo’s closed the gap between the two of you with a kiss, a large hand cradling the side of your face. His thumb strokes high on your cheekbone as his lips implore yours. It doesn’t take you long at all to react, hands grabbing onto his jacket and kissing him back.

It’s overwhelming, his kiss all consuming. Almost like he’s been waiting for the perfect opportunity to kiss you like this. Lips insistent on yours, his body coming closer with a single step forward. His hand on your face tilts you up, thumb trailing to the hinge in your jaw and pressing.

You’re opening your mouth to him more and he sighs happily, licking to deepen the kiss as much as he can. It’s dizzying, mind slowly slipping of focus the longer he holds you. Your body shudders against your will because it’s never felt this good to be kissed before.

Pushing back on him, afraid you’re about to lose your mind and all he’s done is kiss you. Gojo pulls back with a suck of your tongue and your legs nearly falter, small whine leaving you. He’s stopped but he’s not moving back, hand still on the side of your face, the other having moved down to rest on your hip.

“You want me to stop here?” He asks, thumb pulling on your lower lip teasingly.

“This isn’t really—”

“Appropriate?” He asks, closer than he was before, lips almost touching yours, “Like you said… I’m not your boss anymore.”

Fuck it.

You’re the one to close the gap this time, kissing him again. It’s messier than before, an even more heated exchange and you’re realising he was being gentle with you a moment ago. Mood suddenly changed as it feels like he’s aiming to devour you whole.

He spins you so your back is against the cold glass of the window, his lower body pressing close to you. Able to feel his erection, it’s scandalous and making you tingle. You wrap your arms around his neck and he moves his hands down lower, sliding to your lower back. His fingers twitch against you like he’s holding back from touching you more.

Lips parting again so he can trail his kisses lower, burying his face into the side of your neck. Teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp, “Gojo!”

His smile reaches his eyes, “Something to remember me by,” he laves over the mark with his tongue.

Your heart twinges when you realise that your close relationship with him is ending and suddenly you’re asking, “Leave another?”

Gojo laughs a little breathlessly at that, “Hah, don’t have to tell me twice.”

He leaves another mark at your request, and then another lower down before trailing back up, his nose brushing against your neck until his lips meet yours. Words coming mumbled as he keeps kissing you, “You smell so fucking good.”

“Just shut up…” you grumble back, “and kiss me more.”

You know he wants to make another smartass comment but your shoving your tongue in his mouth to keep him quiet, he seems to be right where he wants to be though. Hands growing bolder as he grabs your ass and tugs you closer, grinding his erection against you.

Breaths coming heavy as you comment, “Pervert.”

“If I were a pervert…” he hums happily, “I’d do something more like this.” One of his hands is off your ass and slipping into the front of your pants, fingers swiping through your folds over your underwear.

A gasp leaves you, fingers digging into his shoulders as your knees grow weak. He’s prodding at your hole through your panties, almost penetrating if it weren’t for the material of them. It’s cruel, your arousal seeping into your underwear providing a slick glide for him to slide up to your clit.

“My,” he comments as if he’s shocked, “aren’t you a little too wet over a few kisses?”

“You can’t talk,” you pout, skin warming.

His eyes are bright with mischief. “Don’t be embarrassed,” finger carefully circling your clit and keeping you on edge, “it’s cute.” Sliding back to your dripping hole, “Though…” teasing you there too and then trailing back to your clit again, “you being embarrassed is cute too.”

“Are you– hff– gonna tease me the whole time?” You blink up at him.

“Probably.”

Hips rocking slightly, needy for him to touch you more, “Aren’t you being unreasonable?”

“I don’t think so.” He’s purposefully avoiding giving you what you’re seeking.

Your head falls to rest against him, hands gripping his shirt. Pleasure that feels just a little too distant running through you, making you weak and frustrated. Legs shaky to stand on with how antsy you’re getting. You should’ve guessed that he’d be a tease by how he acts regularly.

On the brink of asking him to touch you properly when he slips his hand under your panties, fingers immediately sliding inside your weeping cunt. You’re left gasping out a pathetic moan as he borderline whines. Clinging to him desperately as he angles his digits to hit the sweetest spots inside you. Slow in his pursuit, like he’s learning what gets the best reactions from you.

Gojo’s control is slipping, the tight grip you have on his fingers making it hard to think. Not to mention just how hot and wet you are, he’s not sure how he’s going to last fucking you when you feel this divine around his fingers alone.

Moans tumble from your lips and you struggle to stifle them back down, trying to rock your hips against his hand for anything more he’ll give you. It’s messy, dripping down into the palm of his hand, no doubt ruining your panties in the process. The sound of him finger fucking you obscene and too loud. Your skin is hot and you’re embarrassed from just how horny you’ve gotten, whimpering as he crooks his digits up and hits something sweet.

“Fuck– come over here,” Gojo pulls his fingers from you and tugs you over to his desk. He lifts you to sit on top of it effortlessly, hands tugging your pants and underwear off in one go. Movements rushed, impatience clear.

He’s sitting back into his desk chair and rolling forward a bit, hands resting atop your thighs. You ask him, “What are you doing?”

The answer comes incredibly blunt, “I’m gonna make out with your pretty pussy while you sit on my desk.” All smiles as he pushes your thighs apart, “I’m gonna think about this view every time I sit here from now on.”

Tongue boldly licking through your folds and making you squeal, your hand threads through his hair for something to hold onto. Quickly discovering just how good at this he really is, sliding his tongue inside your cunt and slurping at you lewdly.

Gojo eats you like a man starved, fingers digging into your plush skin as he holds you open. Your juices drip down his chin and onto his desk and all he can think about is how good you taste and how cute you are when you twitch around his tongue and how he’s probably going to get hard just thinking about this later.

Of course, he’s also going to be playing the whines and moans you’re letting out on repeat in his head later too. Finding everything about you completely endearing, even more so in your dishevelled and aroused state. To have you melting under his touch is almost too much for his poor heart to take.

Your lungs seize in your chest at how good it feels, his nose grinding into your clit with how close he’s pressed his face into you. If you had any higher brain function in this current moment, you’d be concerned if he could even breathe.

It’s getting harder and harder to sit still, desperate to move your hips in response to his stimulation. You’re falling back onto your elbows, hoping to leverage yourself better to rut against his face but he’s stronger than you anticipated. As if in punishment for your impatience, he pulls his tongue from you and trails it up to your clit. Licking it gently before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

The feelings that run through you are immense and head spinning, feet kicking at the shock of it. Your elbows shake and give out, back bowing up in response. Hand reaching back for his head, tugging on his hair which only has him moaning against you. The vibrations have your hole twitching. Ever observant, Gojo stuffs two of his fingers inside you. Hitting all those perfect little spots he’d found earlier. Apparently having learnt a lot about your body in a short time.

“Gojo– hng– you gotta stop– hff– I’m gonna—”

His eyes look up to you, glinting mischievously. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Mouth off you long enough to say, “I’m not gonna stop.”

Almost as soon as his lips are back around your clit are you cumming; twitching and writhing through the high flooding your senses. All sensitive and whingey as he keeps fucking you with his digits. You can’t hear anything but the blood rushing in your head, feeling as though you’re floating.

That is, until Gojo pushes you dangerously close to overstimulation. His mouth off your clit, only to stuff his tongue back inside your cunt along with his fingers. Stretching you open as he eats you in a completely debauched manner.

“Too much– hnn– Gojo.” You push back on his forehead and he relents. “Perv.”

“Sorry sorry.” He grins, looking a little less than sorry about it.

He keeps your thighs open, admiring the way fresh slick drips from you entrance. He really wants to lean in and tongue your hole some more but he’ll refrain, diverting his focus to kiss your inner thighs. Sucking hickeys into your skin as much as he can, starting on the left before moving to the right. Getting a little too into it and biting your thigh a couple times, you twitch and whine at it and he doesn’t miss the way your pussy clenches around nothing in response.

Gojo gets to his feet and leans over top of you, pecking your cheek before kissing you deep and slow. It’s not hurried, taking his time to explore your mouth carefully. You don’t even realise he’d been unbuttoning your shirt at the same time until he’s moving away and opening it. 

Hands quick to grope your tits over your bra, “Hmm… this is pretty,” he comments, fingers slipping under the strap and pulling back just to let it snap! back against your skin.

“Gojo!” you chastise, voice coming a little breathless.

He doesn’t even bother to take your bra off properly, just pushing it up and over your tits so he can gain direct access to your nipples. Head ducking back down to leave more marks on your soft skin, licking over your nipple to see what kind of reaction you’ll have. He’s not disappointed when you moan and tug at his hair.

Moving to rest his forehead against the valley between your breasts, he hums out, “You’re so perfect, from head to toe.”

“Don’t think flattery will get me to stay,” you joke, feeling bashful and trying to change his focus.

“How about a really good dick down?”

“Aren’t you a little too self-assured?”

Gojo stands up, shucking off his jacket and then beginning to unbutton his own shirt, “Ask me that again after we fuck.” He shrugs it off his shoulders and lets it fall to the ground.

You knew he was well built but seeing him shirtless is making you realise just how well built he is. All broad shoulders and toned abs, it’s a little hard to stay focused when you’re this horny and he’s that hot shirtless. Happy trail leading out of his pants to his belly button making your mouth water and you’re suddenly remembering that it’s rude to stare when you look back into his eyes.

Though obviously, Gojo takes it as a compliment. Large grin on his face at your blatant ogling. “Like what you see?” He asks.

“I didn’t say anything,” you turn away from him.

“You didn’t have to,” he laughs, “the hearts in your eyes said enough.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He starts unbuckling his belt, “Your pouting will only turn me on more.”

Sitting up as you tease, “You’ve got some weird kinks, huh?”

“Not at all, it’s just that I could get off to anything about you,” he replies smoothly.

You really shouldn’t find that as flattering as you do. “Not appropriate for the workplace, Gojo.”

“Getting tongue fucked on the CEO’s desk isn’t exactly appropriate either but here you are.” He reaches into his pants and pulls his cock out, hissing, “Plus, as you pointed out earlier, I’m not your boss anymore.”

There would definitely be some remark you’d make to that but your focus is kind of caught up on how big his dick is. You knew from it digging into you earlier that he was… well-endowed but to see it now is a little scary.

You point at it accusatorily, “There’s no way I’m taking that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs. “Don’t stress so much, it’ll fit.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him as if to ask, ‘you sure?’

“The foreplay wasn’t just for fun,” Gojo purrs, “though I definitely did have fun playing with your pussy—.”

Your hand slaps over his mouth, “Do you need to be so vulgar?”

He nods wordlessly from behind your hand, eyes bright with his enjoyment of this interaction.

You take too long to remove your palm and he’s licking it, your reaction immediate as you pull back with a grimace. “Ew, what the hell?”

“Ew? My tongue was literally in your mouth not five minutes ago,” his eyes roll at you.

“This and that are different things.”

“Uh huh,” brushing you off, “Open your legs more, I’m gonna blow my load before I even get inside you at this rate.”

Your legs cross at that, “Say pretty please.”

Gojo leans down and rests his hands on the desk either side of you, eyes level with yours, “Pretty please open your legs for me, sweetheart?”

There’s a bit of a begged tinge to his voice that makes you cave immediately, parting your legs again. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, humming happily,  “Thank you.”

The head of his cock is dragged from your clit to your opening and back again, sliding himself through your folds a few times just to make you desperate. Ignoring the fact that you’re already desperate, needy for him to fill you to the brim.

“Stop being a tease.”

“I thought you were worried about it fitting?” He asks.

Your retort is fast, “I thought you were going to give me a good dick down?”

“I believe I said a really good dick down,” notching the head at your pussy hole, “but I’ll forgive you this time.” He doesn’t push in immediately, instead leaving a chaste peck on your lips before he murmurs against them, “Deep breath.”

About to tell him he’s ridiculous and something about his ego being heavy to carry around when your lungs are struggling, the initial slide of his cock entering you making all air knock from you. Nails clawing at his forearms either side of you, not even able to make a noise as he splits you open.

Stopping not even half-way to give you a second to breathe, “I told you to take a deep breath.”

“Hnn– I– hng—” You can’t even reply yet, stopping your attempts to fill your lungs with air.

Gojo’s head dips as he looks at where you’re both connected, “Fuuuck—” he tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling, “I’m gonna cum too early if you don’t relax.”

He’d already held off on cumming just from touching you a couple times, finally being inside you is driving him crazy. Not even at the half-way point and his dick is twitching like crazy, your cunt sucking him in greedily and clenched so tight around him. You’re still panting and struggling to wrap your head around the stretch of him and as cute as it is, it’s also a massive fucking turn on that’s making his life harder.

You’re falling forward into him, head resting on his chest, hands clinging to him desperately. Managing out through moans, “Why– hff– why is your dick so huge?”

Breathless laugh leaving him, “You’re being really cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Getting cuter.”

He wraps his arms around you, lips pressed to your ear. With the movement his cock slides just that bit more inside you. The sound of his soft, needy whine is ringing in your head and making you twitch. Practically creaming around him already, it’s embarrassingly early to be this much of a mess but he’s worked you up so much and you can’t help but fall deeper into the pleasure.

Desire is overflowing from you and you have no idea what to do with it, holding onto him tighter as a result. Turning to the side, you kiss him wherever you can, it doesn’t take long at all for him to dip and kiss you back hard. Getting lost in his lips, wishing you could somehow pull him even closer.

While distracted, Gojo takes the opportunity to fuck the rest of the way into your tight pussy. Your mouth is dropping open with a whine, feeling the tip of his dick against your cervix has you trembling. You can’t tell if you’re imagining it but you’d swear you can feel the thump thump! of the veins on his cock throbbing against your walls.

He lowers you down onto the desk but the movement has him shifting inside you and you’re whining again, back arching against the wooden surface. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the need to cling to him even more.

Gojo’s head tucks into the crook of your neck, his words coming out mumbled, “Ooh, you’re gonna have me dreaming about this.”

“You– hng– you have to move.” You can’t take any more of this slow pace, your pussy begging you—and him—to be fucked.

His face comes into view, expression struggling to stay cool, “You need to keep your legs open nice and wide for me then.”

Pout making its way onto your face immediately because you really want to keep him this close but you also really want to do what he says. “This better be worth the embarrassment.”

“It will be.”

He’s pulling away from you at the same time that you’re parting your legs, hoping you’ll get away with resting your inner thighs against his hips. Clearly, that’s not satisfactory enough for Gojo because he’s grabbing behind your knees and pulling your legs further apart. Manhandling you lewdly into a position that exposes you to his greedy eyes.

Sighed moan leaving him, “You’ve got such a pretty cunt.”

“You’ve– ah– got such a dirty mouth.” A laugh moves through his chest at your retort and you don’t understand why you’re feeling butterflies over it.

“I’m gonna move now, sweetheart.”

“Please.”

The heavy drag of his cock pulling back gives you a visceral reaction, fingers digging into his desk, looking for something to hold onto. Every inch of him rubbing up against something delicious with each one of his movements, no matter how small. Tuned into every sensation you’re experiencing and feeling so sensitive with it. You’re feeling everything, pussy creaming around him at it, clearly in love with his dick.

On the other hand, Gojo’s losing his fucking mind about as much as you are—if not more. His cock throbbing, pulsing inside your hot cunt. Even though he’s going insane over how sweet your pussy is, he’s still pausing when he’s pulled out. Watching how your hole twitches and convulses around the head of his dick. Fresh slick dribbling from you and sliding down his shaft, he’s not sure he’s ever going to be normal again.

Slamming his hips to yours in one movement and as soon as he starts, he can’t stop. Repeatedly fucking into you over and over, his eyes glazing over as whimpers spill from him. You’re not doing any better, whining and grabbing onto whatever’s closest, obviously needing something to keep you grounded.

He’s bullying your womb with his tip and you’re so close to cumming, only a few more thrusts and you’re finishing around him. Surprised by your own high, hips meeting his to ride it out. Teeth digging into your lower lip as your eyes roll, too involved in yourself and the pleasure to be embarrassed.

“God– hah– you’re already?– fuck!” Gojo can’t believe it, his heart hammering in his chest at how you cum. Your pussy sucking him in divinely, begging him to keep stuffing you full.

In your fucked out bliss, you slip up, “Satoru– hmf—”

It’s the first time you’ve used his given name and his brain short circuits, everything inside him excited and he can’t help himself. Whining pathetically as he cums, not a hint of shame from him. Caught up in how pretty his name sounded coming from your lips, a little slurred in your messy state.

Not able to stop his thrusts either, your mixed cum drooling down the sides of his cock as he keeps fucking you. Keeping you both on cloud nine to the point of overstimulation. The pair of you buzzing and lost in each other. Everything is hot and messy and feels so fucking good.

His brain is stuck in a loop of your pitiful voice calling for him. “You’re unbelievable– hnn– you should stay– hah– don’t leave.”

“I can’t– ngh—”

“Breaking my heart,” he sulks, hips slowing to a steady rut.

You can feel tingling all the way down to your toes. “That’d– hff– be more believable if you weren’t balls deep inside me.”

He finally stops, pelvis flush to you. Looking down his nose as he replies,  “I’m multidimensional.” Sliding his hands from your legs to your waist, “And still horny.”

His dick slips from you and then he’s using his hold on you to flip you over so you’re face down on the desk. Taking a second to admire the way his seed drips from you before plugging it with his fat dick again. Shiver going down his spine, gaze trailing up your body. Disappointed by the lack of skin showing, you’re still wearing the unbuttoned shirt he neglected to properly remove in his impatience.

Touch gentle as he slides the sleeves down your arms, initially going to take it off but changing his mind at the last second. Instead, wrapping your wrists in it haphazardly and turning it into a makeshift restraint.

When you realise what he’s done, you struggle a little against it and then huff. Forehead resting against the wood, cunt overstuffed, and now restrained in your arm movements. You feel a little helpless and it makes your insides flutter.

Gojo checks in, “You good, sweetie?”

“Pervert,” you mutter in response.

“What was that?” Fingers unclasping your bra, sliding his hand over where it’d been fastened.

“I’m good,” you reply.

He pats your ass, smiling to himself, “Then this pervert’s gonna fuck you again.”

Pace instantly brutal, angling his hips so his dick drills into your weakest point. Already having figured out your body far better than you ever have, driving you to the brink of crying from how overwhelmingly good it feels.

You have nothing to hold onto, hands trapped behind you and forced to stay there. It’s got you squirmy, unable to ground yourself with anything and it’s manifesting as you wriggling and your toes curling. Panting and writhing below Gojo, digging your nails into the cotton of your shirt as a pitiful replacement for something sturdy.

Gojo groans, hands holding you still, his fingers digging into your plush skin. “Stay still, pretty.”

“Can’t– ngh– can’t help it.” Your eyes wet from unshed tears.

He moves one of his hands up to the back of your neck, putting just enough pressure there to stop your wriggling. Immobile under him now, taking what he’s giving you. Your pussy shaking around him, consumed by him and his presence. Trusting him wholly in this moment to do what will bring you both the most pleasure, a kind of trust you’ve not given to anyone before.

There’s a creamy ring around the base of his cock from your mixed cum, a sight that makes him even more aroused. Everything you do, everything about fucking you, is only working him up even more. Thinking he’s gotten as horny as he can possibly get only for you to whine, or call his name, or twitch, or pulse around him. Causing him to fall deeper and deeper into his own insanity, borderline unhinged from how you’re making him feel.

Everything feels so much more heightened now that you can’t take it out on the furniture, brain zeroing in on exactly where his tip is hitting or the sounds he’s making for you. The soft whines and moans from him are causing your brain to fry, tingling all over and smiling a little dumbly at how he sighs your name.

It feels so good, too good, it’s almost a little scary just how good it feels. Like you’re going to fall apart at any second and you have no idea of knowing when, kept on edge and waiting for the final thrust that will do you in.

Gojo can’t believe what’s in front of him, able to feel you so vividly but still feeling like he’s dreaming because it’s just too good to be true. But you are here below him, your pussy is crying around him and begging for more. It’s real and it’s heavenly and he’s greedy for more.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, “so pretty– hff– and smart and your cunt sucks me in so fucking nicely.”

Managing to pant back at him, “Don’t talk.” Your pussy betrays you though, jumping at his praise.

“Why not?” Soft laugh leaving him, “Feels like you like it.” He hums softly, hand tickling down your spine, “It’s– hah– like how you got flustered by me complimenting your work.”

You’d almost forgotten that, all his words of affirmation and the kindness he’d spilled in an attempt to get you to not resign. It didn’t work but it definitely did make you feel all fuzzy inside. “I don’t know what you’re– ah!– talking about.”

“I think someone has a thing for praise,” he giggles. “That’s okay, I can give you all the praise in the world.”

“I don’t,” you deny poorly. It’s hard to sound convincing when you’re full of his cock.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” you can hear the smile on his face, “you’re doing– haa– such a good job, pussy taking me so well. Being real nice to me too, all wet and needy.”

It’s fucked up how easily he reads you, it shouldn’t be allowed. “Stop– hm– I’m gonna cum if you keep—”

“—Gonna cum because you like being told what a hot cunt you have and how great it is to fuck.”

He’s so annoying, so persistent, so stubborn, and so good at getting you off. You’re cumming around him as he gives you his nasty version of a compliment, moans loud and embarrassing. It’s the hardest you’ve ever cum and it’s knocked the wind from your lungs. A mess of shivers and whines as you ride it out. His cock prolonging your high because he’s not stopped fucking you.

Gojo’s head tips back, eyes watching how you’re squeezing around him, “Fuck– fuck– oh my god– hah– that’s it, cum around me juuust like that.”

It feels fantastic, your bliss washing over you. It won’t stop feeling good, brain all mushy and thoughtless as you barely register his words. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, holding his own orgasm off through sheer willpower alone. “Satoru… you– hng– you gotta cum, please?”

“That’s not fair,” he whines.

You’re not playing fair. He’s trying his absolute hardest to prolong this moment, wanting it to never end and here you are asking him so very nicely to cum. He couldn’t possibly deny you, not when you’re so placid and sucking him in so lovingly. Pussy practically begging him for another one of his heavy loads.

Voice calling to him again, “Please, I want it.” And you do, you want to hear how his moans get even more pathetic as he finally lets himself go.

Not even all the way through your sentence does he fold for you, hands slamming down onto the desk as his hips jut forward, filling you to the brim with his achy dick. His pelvis keeps you so close to the edge of the desk, the wood digging into you.

Your hole flutters around him at his pretty moans and he feels every second of it, his sensitive cock reacting to it. “You feel sooo fucking good– ngh– I can’t take it, you’re killing me, sweetheart.”

He’s panting from above you, trying to catch his breath as his body shakes from aftershocks. The both of you twitchy messes, all heavy breaths and soft jerks. Your body is all limp on the desk, brain fuzzy and not thinking much of anything aside from how delightful everything feels.

In his hazy state, he manages to remember that you’re still restrained. Struggling a little to untangle the mess he made of your shirt and freeing your hands. Your arms fall to your sides, all lazy and fucked out.

Gojo slips from you and sits back onto his desk chair, taking you with him. Your head flops back onto his chest as you whine in protest but you’re too weak to stand. “Your cum is gonna get all over this chair.”

The laugh that he lets out vibrates against you, “It’s fine, I’m sure the owner won’t mind.” His big hands come around to your front, pulling your bra off properly before cupping your tits in them.

“The owner is a weird pervert.”

He’s playing with you, groping your tits how he pleases, “Oh, you’ve met him? Should I be jealous?”

You continue going along with his bit, “No, he’s some lazy guy who never shows up on time and always sneaks out to blow off work, I’d never have sex with him.”

“Wow, lucky I’m not him,” he tilts your head to the side and kisses you deep. Humming softly against you as he licks at your tongue. When he pulls back he asks, “So, was it a really good dick down or what?”

Your eyes grow wide and your skin heats up, “I refuse to answer that.”

“Because then you’d have to stay,” he grins back, arms moving to wrap around you.

There’s a quiet that goes over the both of you, “I can’t.”

He tucks his head into your neck, asking, “Are you finally going to tell me why?”

“If I told you why you’d want to help and I’m handling it on my own.” There’s a lot you can’t manage to tell him and needing to move is only the tip of the iceberg.

As much as he wants to argue back or push more information from you, he accepts your words, “There will always be a place here for you, I was serious about not hiring anyone else.”

These are your last moments with him, him being kind to you after giving you the best sex of your life and you can’t even be completely honest with him. Instead of mourning the moment before it’s over though, you let yourself be here. Held by him and warm.

𝒂ﾉ𝒏. thank you sm for reading !!! i'm sorry it took me so long to finish it 🥲 my writing speed fluctuates rapidly, i am who i ammmm. ngl i got most of this done ages ago and got stuck on the smut. ANYWAYS,, i have ideas for a second part with a little bit of angst and dramaaa but only if people want it smile ◡̈

also if it seems unrealistic to what working in marketing is like #sorry i've never worked corporate. i'm studying psych and worked as a lifeguard so i've got NO CLUE 😛

© all works are the intellectual property of aliienangel ──✧ do not plagiarise/translate/reupload/use for ai

[polaroidsex]

᭡୧ OFF LIMITS: Brother’s Best friend!Satoru Gojo

᭡୧ synopsis: in which your brother’s best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister he’s supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to “keep an eye on you,” the careful line he’s been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.

᭡୧ pairings: brother’s best friend!satoru x fem!reader

᭡୧ c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! — word count: 7.2k+

you’ve known satoru gojo since you were six years old and he was twelve, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.

back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unit almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.

your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.

you were never sure if satoru was your brother’s best friend or yours. he was just… satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.

years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of puberty.

satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyone’s eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.

everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friend’s little sister, which meant you’re off-limits. and by off-limits, you’re a forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.

nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways when you turned eighteen. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldn’t.

every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after he’s done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.

it was never the last time.

now you’re twenty-two and he’s twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you “boogers” sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.

the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when you’re getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.

this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldn’t get out of.

he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to “keep an eye on her.” satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked ‘yeah, ‘course, i got you man.’ but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself he’d just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you weren’t lonely and nothing more.

but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:

“movie night? the new horror one just dropped. brother’s gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)”

he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then that’s when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.

when he knocks on your door it’s a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like he’s the best part of your night.

shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.

“hey, you came,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.

“couldn’t let you watch horror alone,” he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. “brought the good stuff.”

you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.

maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you don’t seem to take sign on how you’re making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.

the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.

every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brother’s loud commentary. it’s just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.

halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoru’s eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesn’t move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.

“cold?” he asks, voice quieter than he means.

you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. “no. just getting comfortable.”

he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isn’t. at least that’s what satoru knows.

the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist for years.

satoru’s jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself you’re his best friend’s little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.

you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how he’s struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.

“satoru?”

he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. “yeah?”

you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.

“you’ve been really quiet tonight.”

fuck.

he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “am i?” he asks. “just focused on the movie.” his reply doesn’t satisfy you and you don’t look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. “liar.” you call him out.

liar…

the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, you’re a liar as well. and you’re pretending none of this is eating you alive when that’s exactly how it’s been for you since satoru came to your house.

you’ve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though you’re trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isn’t quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him, noticing every detail.

your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast it’s beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone who’s supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his — testing water — and that’s when you notice it full.

the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants he’s wearing. it’s not fully hard yet, but it’s definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. you’re doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.

the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.

every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.

satoru’s hand on your upper arm hasn’t stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like he’s fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.

you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.

your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. you’re suddenly aware of how little you’re wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.

satoru’s fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.

he doesn’t pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.

you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all you’ve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.

the years of quiet ‘wanting’ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isn’t here to act as a buffer. it’s just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that you’re both thinking about the same thing.

satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.

“uh… i need some water,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “or a coke. something cold.”

you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesn’t help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs you’re starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.

“oh yeah, okay. it’s in the fridge. you know your way around.”

satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like he’s forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.

you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like it’s happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake something off.

he’s too distracted to consider bringing you one.

he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesn’t help.

the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.

your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.

satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.

it seems he’s calmed a bit.. which means you’re the one who’s suffering hundred percent.

“you okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.

you nod, but it feels like a lie. “yeah… just warm in here.”

his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesn’t say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like you’re under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.

satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.

“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“so are you,” you whisper back.

the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if he’s high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“this is a bad idea,” he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesn’t sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.

“then why does it feel so good?” you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.

he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoru’s eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.

“fuck… you’re killing me.”

you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he’s anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.

satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.

his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until you’re straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoru’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.

you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.

he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesn’t push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.

the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.

he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.

“mmh… fuck,” he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. “look at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your body’s so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?”

he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.

you’re grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.

satoru’s cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.

he pulls back just enough to look at the mess he’s made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.

“so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “y’know how i’ve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got you… your brother will fuck me up.”

he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room — his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.

the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.

after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess he’s made of your shirt.

his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he can’t believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.

he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. “had to,” he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. “couldn’t risk it. not with you.”

you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. “you’ve always wanted to fuck me, huh?”

satoru’s brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. “that’s a vulgar word, boogers,” he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but there’s no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “i want to make you feel good. that’s all.”

you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. “stop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!”

he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.

he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.

satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.

his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.

you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesn’t stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now you’re completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.

satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.

he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.

your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.

satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think you’d be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.

satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.

“can i move?” he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.

you can’t find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that you’re okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.

at first it’s slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.

you’re vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. “satoru… toru…” the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.

“too big.. you’re– toru, fuuuck,” you cry out.

satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.

that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. that’s all he cares about right now.

“i got you, yeah? ‘m here.”

he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. “feel good? tell me if it’s too much.”

he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.

satoru’s eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.

he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation — his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast — makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.

“good girl,” he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. “taking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? that’s all i want.”

his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.

satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.

every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.

he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.

you’re riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out — “toru… satoru…” — the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until it’s all you can breathe.

your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.

satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while you’re still on top of him.

the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.

you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoru’s other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now he’s fully in control even though you’re on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.

“c’mon, you’re gonna bless me, baby?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. “come on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.”

your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one he’s holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesn’t slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.

you come hard.

your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers — “toru… fuck, toru…” — your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.

satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.

tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.

“i’m.. fuck, you’re so good to me.” the way he grunts those words out shows you he’s not done yet.

his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again — deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than you’ve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.

“shit… so deep,” he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. “can you feel me, baby? feel how deep i’m getting? that’s it… take every inch.”

he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.

satoru’s breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.

“gonna come,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. “gonna fill you up… fuck, you feel too good.”

he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.

“fuuuck,” a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.

for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.

satoru shifts so you’re both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didn’t notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips — gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. “did i hurt you? was it too much?”

you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where you’re still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.

and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:

“your brother told me to keep an eye on you,” the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “if this is what it takes… so be it.”

so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lov—

realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.

he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.

satoru holds you like that for a long time — warm, steady, protective — pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.

“toru, do you think this is okay?” your voice is muffled with how you’re both tangled together. he doesn’t reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. “what are we gonna do after this? what if my brot—”

“i’ve got you,” he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. “always have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.

the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.

feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.

guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!

[kkunai]

LOVEFOOL ˓˓ SATORU G.

𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags \\ cws. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. legal age gap. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once :: wc. 2.7k

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.”

you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears.

no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot—filling it with his kisses—to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words.

his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling.

“it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure.

he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that.

“keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully.

he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone.

“i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what.

he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips.

satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover.

“am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you.

“sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my princess to keep her mouth shut for me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace.

“it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough.

“take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”