synopsis: things were always easy between you and katsuki. until suddenly, they weren't. (aka you pull back and katsuki notices and hates it)
notes: ALWAYS w the unofficialbf!katsuki agenda. wc ~5k. childhood bffs bc duh. barely proofread sorry
ever since you were three years old with your scraped knees and sticky fingers to now, where teenage life could not be more confusing, there has always been one, unwavering, constant fact.
you're absolutely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with bakugo katsuki.
and you've never been afraid to show it! backhugs, tackling him to the floor, jumping on top of him and climbing him like a jungle gym, telling him you love him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. (it is)
he always scoffs and grumbles, but you'd never take it personally, because when he tells you to get off, he pulls you close. when he complains that you're annoying when you're sick, he brings you soup and medicine and cuddles you to sleep. when he blushes and tells you he hates you, his eyes tell a different story.
so what if he doesn't express it the same way you do? everyone has different ways of showing they care. even if he doesn't say it much, you know katsuki loves you.
right?
-
it was late when you accidentally overheard it. when you froze up and felt your heart drop to the floor. when you started shaking and sweating, eyes darting around for a trash can in case you threw up.
"bakugo, bro, when are you and y/n gonna make it official?" kirishima had teased, throwing an arm around katsuki.
katsuki scoffed and shoved him off. "tch. it's not like that."
"you suuure?" sero questioned. "you two seem awfully close for just friends."
"mannn, if i was bakugo, i'd be all over that. y/n is such a pretty girl!" kaminari chimed in, clearly jealous over his lack of love life.
the teasing continued. you couldn't see him from your angle, but you knew that katsuki definitely had a vein on his forehead that was getting larger by the second.
"you're always carrying her bag, walking her to class.."
"cuddling with her during movie nights, scratching her back.."
"oh! and don't forget how she never forgets to tell him she loooves him whenever they say goodbye!"
"c'mon, bakubro, just spit it out! you two are practically married already!"
the three laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the rise they were getting out of katsuki.
"all of you, shut the hell up!"
"just admit it. you're in love."
he gritted his teeth.
"i'm not in love." he grimaced, venomous anger bubbling to the surface.
"she's just there all the fucking time! always fucking doing girlfriend-y shit when she knows damn well she's not! always clinging and trying to cuddle and all that stupid sappy shit. she's just an annoying fuckin' habit ive learned to tolerate." he spat.
you froze.
what?
was he serious? like, really, truly, deadass serious? you knew he wasn't exactly the super affectionate type, but even still! you thought he really cared about you! clingy? annoying? tolerated?
your head spun as you broke out into a cold sweat. you could've sworn that that wasn't true. you and katsuki have been friends forever. surely he wouldve gotten rid of you by now if he hated you that much, right? and he cuddles you! and hangs out with you! he takes care of you when you're sick! there's just no way, right? he's just angry because he's being teased, right?
..right?
"damn, dude, that's pretty harsh," sero snickered. "you always take care of her, though, no?"
you held your breath.
"tch. doesn't fuckin' mean shit. just gotten used to her because she's been around so long."
your stomach dropped to the basement. he tolerated you. he thought of you as nothing more than an annoying habit.
insecurity pooled inside of you. now that you think about it, was he really cuddling you, or just not bothering to move you off when you laid on him? maybe he just thought you were too much of a hassle to get rid of when you came to hangout, so he just let you stay even thought he didn't want to. when he brought you medicine and stuff, maybe your sickness made you delirious and made you think he was being more affectionate and caring than he really was.
you felt nauseated. you recall all the times you threw a quick "i love you!" over your shoulder or while you clung to him. had he ever once said it back? ever? the room started spinning as you realized you couldn't think of a single time. he'd always deflected. gave you a classic "tch." rolled his eyes. messed up your hair. you dont think you'd ever even heard the word "love" from his lips.
had you just been deluding yourself all this time?
you couldn't take it anymore. sweating, you sprinted out before you could be spotted.
-
it's been two days since you overheard that conversation, and you'd been avoiding katsuki ever since. or rather, not quite avoiding completely, but there was an undeniable shift in your behavior. you stopped trying to cuddle with him. you stopped showing up to his dorm room to hangout. you especially stopped saying "i love you," even though it killed you every time.
katsuki hadn't shown much of a reaction to your change in behavior. he'd raise an eyebrow when your usual daily hugs disappeared or ask a gruff, "where were you?" when you didn't show up to your unofficial but completely established after school hangouts, but he had otherwise put up no protest.
you didn't know whether to be relieved or heartbroken.
on one hand, katsuki's kind of scary when he's confrontational. also, you don't know how you would be able to talk to him. "i overheard a conversation where you said you hate me but im madly in love with you and want to marry you and have your kids?" yeah right. you were sort of glad to be getting off easy.
but on the other hand, you were devastated. his apathy served as further confirmation that he meant every word he said. he really didn't mind that you were pulling back, and seemed perfectly content not being nearly as close as before.
you really had been deluding yourself. secretly, you had been hoping that he was just saying stuff in the heat of the moment and would actually be upset if you pulled back. because that would mean he cared. but he didn't give two shits about you. you really were just some stupid childhood habit he'd learned to tolerate.
you became less energetic as a person. not just with katsuki, but simply in general. your days seemed unbearably longer and darker without him. you had a hard time engaging and staying in the present, your mind wandering to katsuki again and again. it was pathetic, really. you two had never even dated. why were you so hung up about it? you two were just friends, and in fact, it seemed like he never even liked you in the first place. you were just stupidly hopeful and naive.
-
katsuki was dying.
two days. it had been two fucking days since you'd touched him or even just been remotely affectionate with him and he was going crazy. hell, he'd give the whole damn world even for just a smile at this point. he was desperate.
he didnt understand why you were being like this. it was like everything he knew about you had shifted, and he was just standing there, waiting for some kind of sign or something like an idiot.
katsuki had noticed the shift in your behavior immediately. of course he did. he knows you better than he knows himself, after all. at first, he thought you were just playing some dumb game or pulling some stunt to get his attention, but that wasn’t it. you waved instead of hugging. said a simple "bye" instead of "love you, bye bye!" it's not like you were completely avoiding him. you still talked. you still laughed. only now, it didn't quite reach your eyes.
and it was fucking killing him.
he hated that you were pulling back. he hated how off everything felt. he hated how fucking empty his dorm room felt when you weren't there to pester him. but most of all, he hated how he couldn’t even figure out what he'd done wrong. he couldn't think of any fights or reasons to be angry, but if that wasn't it, what was it? why were you suddenly just.. leaving?
he wanted to confront you. he wanted to pull you aside and demand to know where the fuck you went. but for the first time in his entire life, he didn't know how. because this wasn't like confronting stupid deku about his new powers. it wasn't about asking icyhot what his fuckin' deal was. it was you. his whole fucking world, even if he never said it out loud. he was nothing short of terrified to ask, because he feared it would drive you away even further, and he couldn't think of any alternate universe where he'd be able to handle that.
he found himself looking for excuses to be near you, to talk to you, to just be around you in any way possible. the last two days had been a torture of silence, of missed chances to sit next to you or casually reach out and tug you into his space like he used to. the times when he’d shove his arm around your shoulders or playfully mess with your hair, it had all stopped. he didn't feel like he could anymore. like he'd somehow lost the privilege. and now, all he was left with was this gnawing feeling in his gut that something was horribly wrong.
he had finally worked up the courage and tried asking you once, but you had shut him down with that all-too-familiar "nothing, just tired" bullshit and that damn closed-off look on your face that made him feel completely hollowed out.
he was desperate. he needed to feel you. needed to hear your bright laughter and see your stupid smile. it was so fucking stupid and sappy and so unlike him, but he couldn't even bring himself to care about that. he needed to cuddle with you until you fell asleep. have you curl up on his chest and get swallowed up by his much larger frame and watch you as your breathing quickly evened out from his touch. you could never stay awake long when cuddling with him. he found himself smiling at the thought.
he scowled. this is so fucking stupid. he thought to himself.
-
it all came to a bubbling point for him on friday. 5 whole days of "hi's" and a half-smile instead of "KATSUKIIIII's," and a running hug. he was losing his fucking mind.
usually, you convinced him to join the weekly 1a movie night by taking his hand and dragging him out of his room. he'd grumble about it, but he'd never refuse. he'd sit on the corner of the couch and you'd sit close to him before gradually inching closer, the night ending with you two cuddling. now, he willingly trudges to movie night of his own free will and sits in the same corner of the couch, but this time alone.
the room buzzed with quiet chatter and the flicker of the TV as the opening credits rolled and iida turned the lights off. it was some dumb romcom movie katsuki couldn't bring himself to care about in the slightest. you would definitely like it, though. kirishima passed around popcorn, sero argued with kaminari over which movie was the best, deku was doing his stupid nerd rambling as todoroki and hagakure gawked at him. and you? you sat on the other end of the couch.
not just away, but away from him.
the usual spot right beside katsuki, practically in his lap, head on his shoulder, knees draped over his thighs sat empty. you sat next to mina instead, curling into the armrest and pulling your legs up to your chest. you offered sweet smiles to everyone, laughed when something was funny, made conversation when prompted. but katsuki saw it. he saw you.
and he saw that you weren’t you.
he stared.
throughout the entire first half of the movie, he barely processed a single second of it. he kept looking over, waiting for you to glance at him, to shift closer, to give him a sign, anything, but you stayed curled in on yourself, legs angled away from him. he hated it. he hated how you looked like you were trying to make yourself smaller. like you were trying to disappear.
katsuki’s heart thundered. his leg bounced impatiently. his jaw was tight. he couldn’t take this shit anymore.
he stood up abruptly, catching your attention. he stalked straight over to you, jaw clenched and shoulders tense. he hovered over you, looking down and saying nothing.
you blinked up at him. "...what?"
his eyes were sharp and unreadable to most. but to you, who knew him better than he knew himself, you could see the anxiety and desperation swimming in his eyes.
no, no, no. remember, don't delude yourself. he doesn't like you, not even as a friend.
"are you okay..?"
"no." he snapped, his tone making you flinch. he softened at your reaction. "i just.. you've been.." he started, but his tone cracked, eyes flashing, and something in him snapped. "fuckin’ hell, just—"
he reached down and grabbed you.
gently, but with zero room for argument. strong arms slid under your knees and behind your back like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you barely had time to yelp before he was sitting down again, with you in his lap, pulled tight into his chest like you were his lifeline. (you are)
you froze, wide-eyed and stiff, but he just held you. his arms locked around you. he didn’t look at anyone else, didn’t give a shit about the stares or the knowing grins. he buried his face in your shoulder, muttering low and rough into your neck.
"i don't know what the fuck i did," he said. "but you don't get to just... take all that away. not from me."
you blinked, suddenly breathless.
he held you tighter. his voice cracked again, this time softer. "whatever i did, 'm sorry. i'll make it up t'ya, i swear. but don't just.." his voice trailed off. "dont stop loving me." he wanted to scream.
you felt your heart stutter, but you didn't say anything.
not at first, anyway.
because what is there to say when your heart is lodged in your throat and your body is caged in the arms of the person you swore you were going to get over?
you just sat there, crumpled in his lap like some lost puppy that finally found its way home again. your face is pressed into his shoulder, and you think if you speak, you’ll cry. so you don't. you just let yourself relax and melt into him.
he doesn’t say anything else either. his grip doesn’t loosen, not even a little. his fingers press into your back, not hard, just steady. grounding. enough to keep you pressed firmly against him. like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real.
the room’s still noisy with all the side conversations, but it's all background noise now with you two just in your little bubble away from the rest of the world. you feel safe and like you’re about to fall apart at the same time.
you shift a little in his lap and glance up at him.
“…you didn’t have to drag me across the room, you know,” you finally mutter, voice hoarse.
he scoffs, eyes flicking down to meet yours. “yeah, well. you weren’t comin’ on your own.”
you wrinkle your nose at him. “you could’ve asked.”
“whatever." he grumbles. "this is more efficient."
you snort. "the hell?"
he shrugs, completely unapologetic. “worked, didn’t it?”
you don’t answer. because yeah. it did.
instead, you rest your head back on his chest, and he immediately shifts to accommodate you. your legs drape over the couch, his arm hooked under your knees to keep you anchored, and his other hand settled at the base of your spine. he starts tracing slow, absentminded circles there, hand slipped under your hoodie to rub at the bare skin like nothing had ever changed. like you hadn’t just gone five whole days without touching him. like you hadn’t spent those five days trying to unravel every version of reality where he didn’t love you back.
you sit like that for a long time.
finally, he speaks up, his voice low.
"what did i do?" he asked, his voice oddly shy. "why'd ya stop.. you know..?"
your breath hitches. because you do know. but you don't know what to say or how to say it. "i thought you completely hated me" doesn't quite seem like an appropriate response.
"nothing," you settle with.
he gives you a look.
you sigh. you never could lie to katsuki. he's known you for too long and too well to fall for them.
"i just.. got insecure. overheard some conversation where you said i was, um, clingy and annoying." you murmur, your voice small. if katsuki wasn't pressed up against you and hanging on to your every word, he wouldn't have been able to catch it.
but he did.
and you swore you saw complete heartbreak in his eyes.
you let out a small gasp of surprise when he pulls you flush against him, arms tight around your body and face nuzzled deep into your neck. he holds you with such a gentle intensity you think you might cry. he holds you in a way that makes you feel loved and safe.
"'m sorry." he mumbles into your neck, voice watery. "didn't mean it. i was just.. mad that they were makin' fun of me. none of it was true. at all."
your breath hitches.
"you're.. so fuckin' special to me. i mean it. these last few days without you have been hell."
you think you might cry.
"been missin' your fuckin' smile and your damn laugh. and your stupid hugs that make me almost topple over."
you hold back a giggle.
"i love you."
the world stills.
you don’t move.
you don’t speak.
hell, you're scared to breathe.
your heart is beating so loud you’re worried he might hear it. your face is burning, your lungs feel tight, and your throat’s a warzone of words you can’t quite say.
he said it.
he said it.
and now he’s quiet. breathing you in. arms wrapped around you like you’re something precious. like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.
you pull back just enough to look at him. your hand comes up to brush his bangs from his eyes, and your fingers linger at his temple, trailing down his cheek like you’re memorizing him.
his expression is soft in a way you rarely get to see. wide-eyed. hopeful. a little scared.
you offer him a tiny, quiet smile.
no teasing.
no trying to be brave or play it all off.
just soft. honest. the kind that only he gets to see.
you lift your hand and touch his face. not dramatic, not shaky, just steady. fingers brushing along his cheekbone, thumb ghosting over the edge of his jaw like you’re memorizing the shape of him again.
his eyes close for a second and you swear you see him leaning into it a little.
you say nothing.
you don’t need to.
because you’re here. because he’s holding you. because you’re not pulling away, and he's pulling you in.
you nuzzle your face into his neck, like it's right where you belong, and you breathe in.
he breathes in too.
slow. like the world’s stopped spinning for a second just so you can exist like this, tangled up in each other without saying anything. no talking about what's going on, no complications, just.. being.
you both don't notice how mina and kirishima are gossiping wildly about how you two are practically married and wondering how you still claim not to be dating. you don't notice the way that ochaco squeals after glancing over at your position, and you don't notice the way izuku looks fondly at you two with soft eyes. (he's been shipping the two of you since childhood)
you and katsuki are the only two people in the world who matter.
"i love you," you whisper as you feel yourself dozing off.
you think you feel his lips press gently against your forehead.
Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation (M and f) back shots, threesomes on set w/ Suguru and Sukuna, cum drinking, weed smoking, drinking, lots of longing, reader is innocent DON'T read if you don't like that, pining, obsessive, he can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru because that's how I NEED HIM, a lot of mentions of sex, cum, etc- it's about porn so lol. A lil bit of angsttt, a lil bit of cuteness, demisexual reader, hoe Satoru what a pair.
Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC 10k!
Based on Pornstar Satoru- Playlist- Chapter Two>>>
Chapter One
Satoru Gojo was one of the most famous pornstars there are, and the baddie arched right in front of him, sucking on one of the other most famous stars’ cock - Satoru’s best friend Suguru Geto - shows exactly why he is. When he slams his latex covered cock so deep inside her she screams, squirting all down his cock while she chokes down Suguru…
That’s not just for the camera.
Satoru knows every spot on his co-stars, shouldn’t it be fun for them too? He never would let a single one of them not cum several times, hence the long, long line and insane demand he has. The amount of onlyfans collab requests he gets, along with shoot after shoot, he has to be extremely picky, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t eat up how desired he was.
Even now, he winks right into the camera, knowing how many people were watching this livestream, gripping his costar’s hips and slamming his cock so deep, while Suguru is gripping her face delicately, moaning. Blue eyes and violet eyes meet the camera, dual smirks while they make this girl shatter for them, until they know it’s time for the money shot.
She’s eagerly on her knees, at the most perfect angle in the room they use as a stage, fully lit with pro lighting, and the comments and tips from this livestream are going insane, all while she looks up at both of them. Satoru takes off his condom, while she strokes him, sucking his cock and then Suguru’s, so huge and heavy, though Satoru loves to brag that he’s just a little longer, and Suguru brags he’s thicker.
They love competing, including who cums more, both of them moaning, though Satoru is a little more occupied with how good his abs look in the camera, fuck they’re glistening really, as she starts jerking them off now with practiced hands. Suguru looks at Satoru then, brushing back dark locks.
“I’m gonna cum way more than you this time.” He murmurs, so that the camera’s couldn’t hear, but the girl stroking them giggles a bit, clearly fucked out.
Satoru stretches his arms up, folding them behind his head, as the strokes get faster, as she laps up his milky precum from his perfect pink tip. “Nah, no way, I will this time.”
“So competitive, hmm?” She says, drawing their attention, then she hits that twist just right, and Satoru and Suguru are cumming all over her eager face, her hands, her open mouth, shooting milky ropes and groaning out.
Satoru gets paid to cum on pretty girls faces, and he gets paid a lot, with his best fucking friend - just how do you beat that? He grins as the livestream is popping off, and Suguru is delicate in swiping their cum all over her for one more money shot, Satoru leans over, stroking himself right on camera once more, to the many happy tips and replies of all his fans.
“And that’s a wrap.” Satoru’s cocky voice follows a click, as he takes in just how much they made, whistling. “Goddamn, we should celebrate.”
“Um… guys…” Satoru turns then, as his co-star is covered, and he laughs a bit, rushing to grab soft wet wipes for her.
“I’m sorry, shit!” Him and Suguru carefully clean her up, and now her manager walks in, along with Satoru’s and Suguru’s, a freshly cleaned costar hugs the two of them.
“Thank you for letting me join, my OF is gonna blow up!” Satoru smiles then, while their managers all spread out the cut.
“Of course, you did great.” She beams, hugging Suguru now.
“Amazing, love.”
“You all are the best!” Soon it’s just Satoru and Suguru with their managers, and Satoru is yawning, bored, still not dressed, cock just swinging and still huge on semi hard, much to his manager’s annoyance.
“We have a big shoot tomorrow, don’t be out partying.” He says, avoiding Satoru’s cock in his vision so much Satoru laughs.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Satoru and Suguru absolutely listen…
Not.
They’re smoking a blunt right in the middle of a Hollywood party, lit off their asses, perhaps they partook in a little coke to celebrate, but who’s to say, just a residue of white in their nostrils to really know. They’re surrounded by women, free drinks all over of the highest quality, to celebrate breaking the bank with the star they shot with, why should they turn it down?
Satoru Gojo loves his life, really.
It feels good, it’s always busy, full of pretty women and an insane amount of money and fame, shit he loves to read comments on himself, but he wouldn’t admit it, about how badly everyone wants him. And why wouldn’t they? Satoru finds himself attractive as fuck, first and foremost. But at times, alone in that penthouse when Suguru would leave for days at a time…
Sometimes he got a little lonely, if he was being honest. Hollywood was full of fake and fleeting friends, and even costars wanted his fame, his cock, his money, not really him. But that was something Satoru shoves far, far back, instead returning his mind to the party at hand, a sea of bodies in a huge mansion right on the coast, littered with entangled and dancing bodies.
It all seems perfect, until Satoru sees someone walk in, a pretty girl who just doesn’t fit in, she just sticks out, nervously clutching a teddy bear cased phone, pushing up her tortoiseshell glasses. As Satoru leans forward, and Suguru hands him a blunt, he can’t get his fucking gaze of the girl, her baggie tan sweater, white pleated skirt and converse.
She stands out completely from the half naked women, many blondes with fake bodies, fake asses, fake tits… not that Satoru minded, he loves all tits and asses, silicon or not. But you look natural, your lips don’t have all that filler, the lips you’re biting, but when your teeth release them, they’re still full and fucking gorgeous, just a bit glossy, the low soft lights glinting off them.
The music of the party fades, everything fades, it’s like some stupid nineties rom com where the room parts, and it’s just this girl. A sweet girl with her hair falling over one shoulder, the other bare, and if Satoru could pick a body part that’s oddly turning him on, it’s your bare shoulder, your collarbones, with a pretty necklace that looks like it must be your zodiac sign.
Someone comes up to you then, handing you a glass of champagne, and he watches you shift a bit, looking down shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes traveling up and down your body, dying to know what your outfit is hiding. Your eyes catch his suddenly, a sweet, shy smile that just fucks him up, it’s like you’ve punched him in the fucking chest.
“Satoru… Satoru… earth to fucking Satoru… M’gonna smoke all this blunt myself, then-” Satoru finally realizes Suguru is calling for him, when he waves a hand in front of Satoru’s face, ruining his field of vision.
“Who is she?” Satoru and Suguru know most of the industry, sex workers and actors alike, and he sure the fuck has never seen you. Suguru eyes you then, his lips quirking up as you look down shyly once more, poking at your phone.
“I don’t know, she’s pretty though.” Satoru scowls, and Suguru leans back on the crushed velvet couch, purple as his eyes, handing Satoru the much smaller blunt than he previously saw.
How long had he been staring?
“Looks like a good girl, don’t corrupt her.” Satoru glares deeper, blue eyes glinting as he snatches up the blunt, wrapping his lips around the tip and inhaling that smoke deep in his lungs, leaning back and blowing the smoke up in a puffy cloud.
“Just curious, looks like she doesn’t belong here.” Suguru shrugs, taking the brown paper tube back, ashing it in a tray along a dark black table, humming a bit to himself.
“We don’t date.”
“And?”
“She doesn’t… she looks like… she dates.”
“Huh, you can tell that?” Satoru raises a thin brow, and Suguru sighs, smirking a bit.
“I know lots of things.”
“Yeah, whatever… I’m talking to her.” Satoru stands up now, brushing his hands down his white dress shirt a bit, taking a breath.
Fuck is he nervous!?
Satoru Gojo, who strokes his dick on the camera, who grins as people comment that they want it in their mouths, their cunts, fuck- their asses, all their holes - filled up with his white cum. Satoru Gojo who is the top .01% of anyone on his OF, who has pro roles in the highest quality porn there was, was not a shy or nervous man, especially with women.
Why are his hands sweating then? His blood rushing through his ears every step he takes closer to you, your eyes lower a bit, so shy and cute and fucking precious, he has to smile a bit at you, drink in his hand, his other in the pocket of his dark armani slacks. He casually leans over a bit, as your eyes meet his, behind dark shades, his grin bright and enigmatic.
“Hey sweetheart, Satoru Gojo.” He expects you to notice maybe, but you just smile, oblivious, holding out your hand, small in his huge grip, and Satoru has some insane urge to kiss it, that he gulps down.
The fuck is this.
This feeling just touching your skin, inhaling your scent, fuck you smell sweet like some cupcake, you have him intoxicated as his eyes dart to those lips, teeth indentations he feels an urge to run his thumb across. Your eyes look up from behind your own glasses, as the two of you just hold hands for a moment, just a moment, and Satoru can hardly describe just what it is drawing him like a magnet.
You give him your name, and he repeats it, making your own heart race just a bit at the tall stranger, when his blue eyes glint as he slides off his shades, snowy lashes lowering over beautiful blue irises, your breath is caught in your chest. Swirling blue storms unlike anything you’ve ever seen, so intense and beautiful it’s almost difficult to look right at.
“Are you new to the area? Or…” You giggle a bit, sipping on the bubbly champagne that tickles your nose just a bit.
“I look that out of place huh?”
“No, you’re cute. Very cute. Pretty.” He’s stuttering damn near, Satoru fucking Gojo, watching the flush that decorates your cheeks, as your lips touch the rim of the glass, and he can’t stop thinking how much he’d like to kiss those little bite marks away.
“Thank you, that’s sweet.”
“Sweet is not what I’m usually called.”
“Oh really? What are you usually called?”
“Daddy.” You nearly snort out your champagne then, covering your face in a fit of laughter, and he pouts now, swirling those shades casually.
“Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah. They all do, they can’t help it, you know.”
“Mmhmm.” You’re giggling so much you snort, so cute Satoru can’t help but laugh with you, the first genuine one he’s done in a minute, not so forced to always appear so carefree. “I snorted, oh no!”
“It’s cute.” He brushes your hair between two of his fingers, and the both of you pause now, taking a breath, your lids lower just a bit, stepping closer, like Satoru himself is pulling you with his gravity. “What brings you here?”
“My friend invited me! She said seven, so I came a little early… but she’s not even on her way.” You sigh then, and he smirks just a bit.
“LA time is different. Twenty minutes late is on time, and forty minutes late is ‘fashionable’. No one comes early.”
“Shit!” You smack yourself in the forehead, and he takes your hand once more, enveloping your little one in his own.
“I can keep you company, want another drink?”
“Um… sure.”
Soon the two of you are sitting on one of the many couches in the taupe and white decorated mansion, the splashing and screeching of people in the pool mixing in a cacophony with the people dancing and the music inside. Satoru’s enraptured as you begin to talk, soft and thoughtful, while sipping on another glass, his arm just a bit across from you, behind your neck, fingers brushing your soft cashmere.
Every time he does you heat up that much more, you haven’t been with someone you felt this comfortable with in… maybe, ever. The instant feeling that he’s a sweet guy, natural, funny, and you almost wonder why he’s wasting time on you, with all the elegant women in various states of undress. But his eyes don’t even leave yours, his beautiful azure depths.
You can’t be so interesting or beautiful, sure you are very pretty, but more soft and sweet and not the Hollywood babes that were all over. But he’s laughing right with you, he soon starts busting out purple and white fuzzy weed, breaking it up and starting to roll a blunt, and you’ve never thought about being a paper until you watch a wicked pink tongue dart across it, long fingers sealing it.
“What’s wrong, don’t smoke, sweets?” The nicknames make you shift nervously, he’s too charming, too handsome, fuck not even handsome…
Pretty.
He’s too pretty to be real.
“Are you an actor, or model?” You blurt out, you don’t have much… thought before your words. He blinks a bit in surprise, flipping that blunt to smoke it now, lighting it up, you watch the orange and red of the cherry as he inhales.
“Hmm, a bit of both.” He exhales the puff of smoke, leaning closer to you, so close his thigh brushes yours, just that alone has your tummy fluttering.
“What are you in? I’d love to see your work.” Satoru starts coughing now, uncontrollably, eyes wide, as you stare in concern, coming to tap on his back. “Are you okay!?”
“Shit… yeah…” He’s coughing more, covering his mouth before looking away a moment, taking a breath.
Satoru was not ashamed of what he does for a living, and he never fucking will be either, but suddenly he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, am I being nosy?”
“No, no… want a hit?” Clearly trying to avoid the question, you wonder… was he in some flop of a movie or something?
“I’ve never smoked.” You’re looking down again, those converse pointing in as you shift once more, so adorable he really can’t stand it.
“Never?” You shake your head, and he grins, teeth glinting as he leans even closer, holding the blunt up high, the smoke swirling around the two of you, creating an even headier atmosphere, like you could get high off him.
“No…”
“Let me be your first.”
“What now!? You’re teasing me!” You cross your arms as he bursts into laughter, taking another hit.
“You’re too adorable not to.” You can’t help how good that makes you feel, he makes you feel… reckless, this stranger. “I can blow it in your mouth?”
“Blow it in my…” You bite your lip again, Satoru leans forward, thumb releasing it from your row of teeth, and the action makes you both pause.
“You bite it too much.” He murmurs softly, and just touching your soft lips, thumb touching the plush of it, is hotter than cumming on a girl’s face this morning, in fact he’s not done something so sensual.
The man who last night was banging a co-star in a mating press, the night before he had two women, one on his face, one riding his cock. The other day, him and Suguru shared another girl, this time dual penetrating her, fuck they were both in her pussy- she clearly was miraculous to take it. This week alone he’d done six shoots, with the best Hollywood had to offer.
But this girl blushing, who’s never smoked a blunt, is so fucking sexy he barely holds back.
He’s leaking precum from your proximity.
“Will blowing in my mouth get me… um, high?” Your words shake him from his revelry, where he’s still touching your pretty little chin, making him clear his throat, plastering on a cocky smile like your scent alone doesn’t have him throbbing.
“A little, but not as intense as a hit yourself. Call it shotgun, you’ve really never heard of it?”
You shake your head, scooting closer and leaning forward, that tan and brown sweater falling just a little more over your shoulder, as your lips are too close. Any other girl by now Satoru would have on his OF, or have in a bedroom, a bathroom, maybe just here on this couch for everyone. He’d have his fingers on them, have them sucking him off.
But he’s just enjoying barely touching you.
Satoru shakes his head, wondering if he’s so high he’s imagining how intense this must be, but looking back down into your pretty eyes behind your glasses, he can’t shove it down. “Trust me?”
“Should I?” He wiggles his brows, grinning.
“Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe it’s a ploy to kiss you.” You’re giggling again, sighing now, and tilting your chin up, your hand resting on his thigh, while he cups your face.
“I doubt you need to ploy anyone into kissing them.”
“Never have before, no.”
“Then… I trust you.” You lean forward again, eyes fluttering shut, your lashes just barely brushing the glasses, and he pauses, before inhaling the blunt deep into his lungs, tilting your chin up and opening your lips.
“Suck in.” His words carry far too much intent, when he blows his smoke directly into your mouth, and you do just that, sucking in all the smoke you can, as he sighs into your sweet mouth, lips full and plush on your own.
Fuck.
Satoru blows all the smoke, and you’re sucking it in. “Good girl.”
Fuck.
You almost die then, coughing a bit, embarrassingly wet for him, and this is not normal. You’re a girl who has to have a relationship to have sex, you’re a girl who has to really know someone, feel so comfortable, but Satoru Gojo was completely wrecking you now. You let the smoke go, the fog rising, when he leans low once more, one hand pulling you closer.
“Another?” He asks in a whisper, you can’t stop but nodding, watching his plump lips circle that blunt again, and he’s blowing it back in your mouth, pulling you closer, while you inhale it deep. He pulls back a bit now, as you’re holding it, sighing. “Blow it back in my mouth.”
You do as he asks, and soon your tongues touch, sloppy and drippy wet, making you whine out from the back of your throat, the sound making Satoru fucking feral. You kiss fully, your hand slipping up his shirt now, lightheaded from the smoke and his ardent kiss, how he possesses your fucking mouth, and the blood rushes to your ears, your head so light and fuzzy.
“Fuck…” His words come out in a low growl, pulling you even closer, until one of your thighs is over his, and he’s pressing a kiss across your jaw, up to your ear, you’re gripping his soft, expensive shirt like your life depends on it, whimpering so softly only he can hear. “Taste so sweet, do you everywhere?”
“I… huh… I… mmm…” You’re dizzy when he nips your ear, a big hand brushing your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he pulls back, eyes so bright, his pupils shrunk to little pinpoints now. “Gojo…”
“Satoru.”
You’re blushing furiously, eyeing your surroundings, when you’re soaked now, it feels so… naughty but exciting, fuck. You have to gather yourself, taking several shaky breaths, as he’s leaning down further, your heat against one of his thighs now. “Satoru um… I need a moment. That was intense.”
“Shit, of course.” He pulls back, taking his own breath, putting out the blunt now, eyeing the glossy redness of your now swollen lips.
He can picture them so perfectly wrapped around the tip of his cock. So innocent, did you do that? Would he have to show you, direct you? The perfect angle of your eyes, the way to open your mouth, how to take him deep down that little throat, one he can imagine seeing his cock bulge out of. All the thoughts are running insane while you lean back a bit, hands loosening their grip on his shirt finally.
“Want a drink, sweets?” You nod now, your eyes are so dilated they look black, glasses just a little fogged from his breath and the smoke.
“Yes, please. You didn’t tell me um, what movies can I find you in?”
“Like looking at me?” He’s cocky, conceited, but you just nod a bit, making him falter now. “Indie films, low budget, obscure.”
“Oh? I love indie flicks!” He grimaces now, a girl who’s never smoked weed and screams inexperienced may not like him if she knew he cums on girls' tits and their faces for money.
He wants to just say it.
But…
“You’ve not heard of ‘em. Let’s get you a drink, hmm pretty?” You nod shyly, standing with his help, and soon the two of you have made it in the center of one of the main party rooms, there are women getting lines done off them, men with several women on them at once, all kissing, grinding, along with those dancing. And now Satoru has your hips in his grip, showing you how to roll them.
You’re not a dancer, a little awkward and off beat, but you’re laughing, a pretty peal of a sound that melts him, and he can’t remember the last time he has had so much fun, as he does working you in a figure eight, kissing your neck teasingly. You’re ticklish, he really notices when his fingertips graze your hips under your sweater, earning your little gasp and look up at him.
“Cute.”
“You keep saying that, like I’m a little kitten!”
“Maybe you are. Or a little bunny.”
“Oh!” You’re giggling though, when you turn and get just a little dizzy, but he captures you, and you finally say it. “Um… why talk to me?”
Satoru frowns now, thin brows together, as the song is slower, and you’re damn near grinding against his thigh, with how he holds you. “What do you mean why?”
“You’re so… there’s so many…”
“Shh.” He puts a fingertip to glossy lips, taking a breath. “I’m enjoying myself, are you sweetheart?”
“Yes but…”
“Want a secret?” You nod and he leans down, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re the prettiest girl here.”
“No way!”
“Mmhmm, and I’d know. Expert.” You tuck your face against his chest, giggling again, as your arms wrap his torso tighter.
“You’re being too nice.”
“No, just saying what I think. But your cheeks turn a really pretty color, don’t they?”
“Shh.” You look back up, eyes glittering, and it takes everything for Satoru not to take you then and there, lap up that heat he can feel emanating from your surely pretty little cunt. You peck a kiss on his neck, earning a little exhale, when Satoru pulls your little body even closer against his, so huge, tall, hard, everywhere. “Satoru…”
Suddenly your friend hits your field of vision, pausing and widening her pretty eyes as she takes in the sight of you two. You clear your throat, tapping Satoru then, whose hands are dangerously close to gripping your ass, your scent overtaking him, the feel of you in his arms driving him insane with need. He blinks a bit, as he then turns where you’re pointing.
“My friend!” You’re grinning then, and Satoru’s heart drops just a bit, when he recognizes her, since he’d been inside her just last week.
Shit.
“Come meet Satoru!” You’re bouncing practically as you drag Satoru by his hand, and your friend smiles just a bit, as Satoru clears his throat, and you’re adorable and oblivious.
“We’ve met.” You blink a bit in surprise at her words, looking at Satoru, who’s put back on his shades, hand that was on the small of your back falling.
“Oh, where? A movie set? She does some acting too!” Your best friend takes your hand then, as Satoru looks away.
“Yeah, a set. Um, can I steal you baby?” She asks, brushing your hair back, you nod with a pretty smile.
“I’ll be back!” Satoru smiles a bit, cursing softly, when Suguru comes walking up to him, sipping on a whiskey, eyeing the two girls.
“Didn’t you…”
“Fuck her friend? Yep.” He answers with a pop of his lips, hand brushing his hair back then, sighing. “Shit I really like her.”
“Like her or want her?”
“Both. More. Shit.” Suguru contemplates his friend, then eyes you and your friend together.
“Her friend is Jenna Juggs?”
Satoru’s lips quirk up a bit. “She is indeed. Fuck I need a drink, I am sure she won’t want to talk to me now.”
“Since when do you care?”
“Shut up.” Satoru’s all pouty, and you frown now, looking up at Jenna, who is tugging you far away.
“What’s going on? You always say I need to try to meet someone!”
“Yes, but…” She sighs now, looking over at him, then back down at you. “You really don’t recognize him?”
“He said he’s in like… indie films?” She snorts just a bit then, shaking her head and sighing.
“Indie films huh. Babe aren’t you on my OF?”
“To support you! I’ve never looked, oh god.” Jenna giggles, sighing.
“I thought you peeked a bit huh?”
“No. I read my porn.”
“So classy.” You both giggle, and you feel blue eyes boring across the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you look over your shoulder.
“I’m not any better than you because you like to watch or… participate. But anyway, what’s OF have to do with it?”
“We… collabed last week.” You watch her shift a bit, eyelashes lowering as she now giggles at the memory, and you feel your tummy clench just a bit, eyes catching Satoru’s again, he’s leaning against a counter, ignoring everyone that comes his way with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
“Collabed as in…” She nods a little, and you exhale. “Oh.”
“He’s a huge name, like the top porn star there is, him and his friend over there.” You see him now, long dark hair, as tall as Satoru, leaning against the counter right with him, but Satoru still hasn’t peeled his eyes off you. “It was a big deal to get him to join, and he’s really sweet but…”
“But?” You raise a brow now, and your friend brushes her hair back, looking in their direction again.
“He’s amazing in bed, like the best I’ve had.”
“Ah… that good?” You’re clearing your throat nervously, drinking your glass slowly, trying to ignore the odd feelings in your tummy.
Were you really envious right now?
You shouldn’t feel this way, she’s your best friend and you don’t even know him, but also you could never just…
Could you?
“He hasn’t dated a single girl in the eight years he’s done porn, him or his friend, notoriously single even for the industry.”
“Shit are they together?” She laughs a bit then.
“People certainly ship them but…”
“Ship, like characters, are they that famous?”
“Mmhmm. Now if you just want to have fun, he’s amazing but I know you.” She puts one of her hands on your shoulders now, cool thumb running little circles on your bare shoulder. “You’re sweet, innocent and you want love.”
“I’ve done things!”
“With how many people?”
You sigh now, drinking the rest of your drink in a gulp. “Just my ex.”
“That’s what I figured, and that’s fine baby, if you need a connection, or something deep? He’s not it. That’s all, I see how much fun you were having, and I don’t want you hurt if he gets… what he wants and goes. In this industry how you see sex is very different.”
“Ah. I get it, you think he just wants to…” You can’t even say it, fuck you’d been wet, ready, and you were never like that with a stranger, your experience as a demisexual just is limited, where you crave connection, comfort, and meaning behind sex, you can’t just ‘have fun’.
But he’d had you questioning it all, because you felt something in that kiss- was it just his experience?
“He’s walking sex, I can’t blame you one bit. And I support anything you do- shit I highly recommend it. But you…”
“Yeah no, I am not into hooking up. I’m glad you told me but… something about him…” You trail off then, swallowing nervously, as her hands come to your sides, and she hugs you closely.
“I know, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him, but you had to know.” She nibbles on a nail then, lashes lowering. “He gives mean backshots, if you go that route.”
“Jenna!” You’re both giggling, and the party goes on then, the two of you smiling and waving as you keep finding each other around the room, soon Jenna is good and sauced, and you know you need to make sure you both get home okay. But you can’t help but stop by Satoru before you go, nervously fidgeting with your hands in front of you.
“Hey sweets, heading out?” He asks softly, a hand coming to grip your wrist, swallowing it with his long fingers, you eye the connection, feeling yourself heat up at it, trying to remind yourself, it’s him ‘dripping sex’ it’s his job. Maybe he thinks you’re pretty enough not to fuck for a shoot, maybe he’d actually like to know you a bit, but her words hit hard.
“Satoru, do you date?” Your words make him pause. “Not me, just in general.”
“Do I date?” He blinks a bit, lips opening, then shutting. “She told you.”
“I would never judge, my best friend does it, if anything I’m envious that you all can just do that.” Your eyes are glimmering just a bit, now his hand slips up your wrist, thumb brushing the delicate veins there, sighing. “I just wanted to clarify that part.”
“I haven’t dated since like college, no.”
“And you’re…”
“Twenty eight.” You nod a bit now, calculating, a good eight years since he’s dated- since he’s been in the industry. “I was enjoying our time.”
“I was too, very much. Got me high you know.” He grins then, and you can’t help but smile back, heart racing in your chest - and you realize it, Jenna is right. What you’re feeling from one meeting could hurt you. “I’d still like to be friends?”
“Friends, hmm?” You nod as he leans down, his other hand pressing against the nip of your waist, pulling you against him, watching the catch of your breath, the dilation of your pupils. You’re biting that lower lip again, a little soft whine in the back of your throat escaping.
“I’d love to be. I really like you, Satoru.” He melts for you then, at your cute little smile, your hand slipping up his chest. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”
“So did I. Friends, then, I could use some.” He kisses your lips softly, a mere brush, that’s not what friends should feel from a little kiss, right? That ache between your thighs, your pulse racing, as he can’t stop thinking how good you feel in his arms, thinking he’d like you to stay.
“Me too, maybe you’ll make me a stoner, hmm?”
He laughs then, genuine and charming. It’s hard to think of him ‘giving Jenna backshots’ a mix of sweet and charming, you try to remember just that. “So she didn’t have a bad review for me?”
“Quite the opposite, you’re apparently the best in the industry.” The softness and break in your voice makes him pause, usually he’d be cocky about hearing that, but he doesn’t know just how that makes him feel. “I haven’t watched your kind of work, I’m afraid.”
“I didn’t think so. Too obscure.”
“Clearly.” You both laugh softly again, you are leaning back now, taking a breath, trying to remember yourself, but it’s hard when all you can think of is his lips.
“Can I have your number?” Satoru Gojo has never asked for a girl’s number, but he damn near gets giddy when you nod, slipping out your phone, giving it to him then, which he saves under your name.
“I don’t do casual, I’ve never even kissed someone I’m not serious about. Um… but I really had fun.”
That innocent?
He figured close to it but…
“Did I corrupt you so much in one night?”
“Maybe so. I have to get my friend home safe, so I will talk to you sometime?”
“Any time.” He brushes your hair back again, kissing your cheek once more, your eyes shut at how good it feels, sighing.
When you’re gone, Satoru does not like the feeling left.
The rest of the party is dimmed now, he can’t stop thinking about you, about watching you inhale that smoke, about watching your cute, shy little fucking smile, but why would you like him, he fucked your best friend last week. And you’re clearly a good girl, a sweet girl, and that’s what he would do - corrupt you.
But the thoughts of corrupting you start taking over, so intense he can hardly stand it, imagining teaching you everything. How to arch your ass up just right for him, have you cum so hard you’d squirt and drip down his cock, fuck he’d love to watch your eyes roll back in your head, as he hits spots he’s sure no one ever has, cumming so hard you cry pretty tears.
It’s so ridiculous he’s throbbing, and as some of his co-stars come and flirt with him, he can barely give them a little smile, a playful wink, turning down the endless opportunities tonight with one excuse- ‘he’s tired’ - is about all he can come up with. Because what is this!?
What’s the feeling that night when you’re laying in your bed, scrolling through your friend’s OF for the first time, heating up as you scroll, you’ve seen her naked a ton, you’ve taken her pictures, but when you see her bent over, and that sexy white haired man wrapping an arm around her waist? His other hand, wrapped around her throat, and her eyes rolled back?
The scene alone without clicking play is too much, you’re trembling, imagining pressing play, hesitating. You barely know him, but something clicked tonight, you had fun for the first time in forever, but to know that you maybe already developed a crush on someone unattainable seems a cruel joke.
Hopelessly single because you’re so picky, because a lot of time your interests don’t align - how could you like someone who doesn’t think Lord of the Rings is a classic, for example - or if you’re not feeling something. Your friends think you put too much into it, they think you should let go and have fun, and maybe you did, tonight, but that was because of him.
You keep furiously flushing as you go back and forth, thumb hovering over the screen, Jenna wouldn’t care if you saw, and maybe Satoru wouldn’t, but something feels so different to you, so naughty, like inhaling smoke from his mouth tonight. You keep shutting the phone off, then turning it back on, when suddenly you get a text from him.
Satoru’s laid up in his bed, picturing you, god he can taste your lips on his still, swiping a hand over his face as you send some little emoji, far, far too cute, so cute you make him ache. He wonders then just what is it about you, surely you’re beautiful, but it can’t just be that.
He can’t get you off his mind.
You can’t stop yourself from pressing play.
Your breath catches when you finally do, and you see it, him fucking Jenna, looking right at the fucking camera, a smirk and blue eyes, as he thrusts up inside of her. You don’t enjoy porn, it’s not intimate enough for you- but looking at him makes your cunt throb, you touch it to find it hopelessly drenched, watching him manhandle and flip her like she’s nothing, right on her back.
You watch him put your best fucking friend in a mating press, watch him smack his cock against her tummy, pulling his condom off, cumming on her then. When you get a good look at his pretty pink tip, veiny long cock and ropes of fucking cum, you mindlessly touch your cunt, soaking your sleep shorts, crying out before you catch yourself, cursing.
You shut it off, huffing and yanking the blankets over your face.
It must be… the drinks, the smoke, him, making you act this way. A good book with meaning, a perfect man in your head, that’s what you want, what you need, right? Not whatever he was doing to your mentality, fuck it’s your friend too, how could you ever get wet to that?
“Fuck this.” You grumble, swiping away from your friend’s OF, but the image is firmly burned into your mind, of Satoru moaning with his lips parted, jerking his cock along her in pretty patterns. You pull up your book instead, filling your mind with anything and everything else, when another text pops up.
Satoru - Good night, sweetheart.
You just watched him cum, now you feel horrible, ugh! What is up with you tonight!? He’s probably being friendly and you’re over here touching your sensitive little clit watching him. You struggle to compose yourself, finally having to go wipe up, splashing yourself with cold water in your little bathroom, you dry your hands on a towel, looking at yourself in the mirror for a moment.
You look fucked up.
You finally text him back.
You - Good night, Satoru, sweet dreams.
Satoru can’t stop the dopey smile on his face, cock annoying and throbbing, and instead of letting it get taken care of, he’d just focused on how badly he wanted you, how much he can’t get you off his mind. Fuck just your shampoo and whatever heavenly fucking body spray spritzed on you made him harder to remember, how pretty you’d look in his bed, under him.
‘Friends’, you’d like to be ‘friends’.
Satoru doesn’t think anything in his mind was friend appropriate currently, not when he’s stroking himself, crying out and picturing just peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses, biting you, marking you. Leaving bruises along a perfect neck while you grip his hair, crying out, head falling back. Having your heat he could still feel on his fingers.
As you’re struggling to calm down, Satoru’s giving up, jerking off for the first time maybe in forever alone, sure he does for videos, but he doesn’t have to make himself cum often when everyone was lining up to suck him. But instead he’s stroking a famous cock thinking of a sweet girl with a brown sweater that falls just so, hiding a body he’s dying to know.
As you’re finally asleep, mind racing, he’s cumming ropes into his palm, picturing much better places for this cum- like inside your sweet little cunt - and that’s one thing Satoru Gojo does not do. Trying to come down himself, cleaning up, he looks in the mirror, seeing the pink of his own cheeks, shaking his head then.
He looks fucked up off you.
*****
While you are at work that next monday, sitting at your desk typing away, Satoru Gojo has an entirely different sort of work to accomplish, this time with his costar Sukuna, who he frequently worked with, and the two of them either popped off on each other or competed for who could make the girl squirt the most. Sukuna was currently lapping at the co-star’s cunt with his pierced tongue.
She’s she’s bent over sucking Satoru’s cock with expert suction, and he should be loving it, he’s worked with her before and she is a sweetheart and highly fucking skilled, and this shoot pays extremely well. A win win, even with Sukuna running it, currently at least his mouth was occupied. The director zooms right in, maybe that’s what’s bothering him, the cameras, the bright lighting.
Satoru’s cock is not staying hard, even as she’s choking back moans with the pink haired munch of a man going so intense, her nails gripping Satoru’s thighs so tightly, pressing in. He tries to focus on how it feels, shutting his eyes, but all he can think of is you.
Your lips.
Your eyes.
Those glasses on the bridge of your nose.
How you shift your fucking thighs, heated from desire.
God, he can’t stop thinking of you, what if you saw him on a video? Would it make your surely pretty pussy wet? He’s suddenly hard fully once more, grabbing his co-star’s hair and shoving his cock so deep she’s choking, gasping, but he can’t manage to open those eyes until the director says something then.
“Gojo, the eyes- look at the camera.” He sighs now, they were part of his money, the eyes that no one had, the ones that entranced so many, he manages to open them, eyeing the camera, but instead of his usual smirk there is a pout, and his co-star pulls back, frowning just a bit, as Sukuna pulls away from her cunt, tattooed face glistening.
Amongst the most famous pornstars, Sukuna rivaled Satoru- the alternative, rougher version perhaps to the pretty boy, he slips two fingers in her cunt, and she moans, as he eyes Satoru. “Who’s fucking her first?”
“Me, of course.” Sukuna chuckles, her cunt is so loud it’s squishing and clicking, much to the delight of the director, and Satoru has her on top of him then, as Sukuna guides her onto his cock, slapping her ass loudly. Satoru struggles, gulping as she sinks on him over his condom.
It feels warm and good but…
He can’t even look at her.
She’s bouncing up and down him while Sukuna plays with her from the back, and Satoru forgets he’s even on a set, lips parted in a sigh as he looks away, and realizes he’s gone soft again. “Is something wrong?” She asks softly, he shakes his head now, gripping her hips.
“No, no it’s fine, wanna ride him for me?” She nods, and Satoru then helps her ride Sukuna’s cock, as he kisses down her shoulder, shutting his eyes once more, trying to hide how soft he is and failing.
“Cut.” The director calls, Satoru sighs, as Sukuna moans, yanking her down his length, and her head falls back. “I said cut.”
“We can fuck while we’re waiting for him to get on board.” Sukuna grins up at her as she giggles, and Satoru glares. “Go get a viagra.”
“I don’t need one, fuck it’s just… the lights.”
“Need a break Gojo?” His director asks, and he manages a nod. “Go ahead to the dressing room, we’ll… make sure they are ready to go when you come back.”
“She’ll be fucked out before you get it up.”
“Whatever Sukuna, fuck you.” Sukuna snorts in laughter, Satoru stomps over to the dressing room, cursing then and resting his head against that door, taking several breaths and scowling at his cock. “Work, shit…”
What is this!?
A pretty girl at a party shouldn’t ruin his whole cock, ruin his enjoyment, cloud his goddamn mind, a girl who’s a - friend - what’s his problem!? He’s sitting down on the couch then over a towel, still literally naked, stroking it, once, twice, three times. Nothing helps, the condom hanging just so off his cock, when he grimaces, pulling it off and tossing it in the trash, pulling out his phone, and he pauses at your name.
Satoru - Hey sweets, I don’t have a pic for your caller ID, could you send one?
He tenses as he sees you immediately typing, cock twitching right back to life from three stupid dots wiggling. He bets you’re biting that lip.
You are.
You’re nervous as you look around your quiet workplace, you’re a graphic designer and it’s a little late, so you’re nearly alone, finishing a project, when you see he wrote to you. The man you have not looked back up, but it’s taken every bit of self control not to watch his content, and boy does he have so much, up to and including his own asmr.
That’s dangerous.
He’s dangerous.
Because you could never just enjoy him for who he is, you would want more, fuck you already feel it, the odd sensation knowing he’s likely fucking someone constantly, picturing yourself wildly for a moment with him behind you. Surely you couldn’t be a co-star, you’d flip on camera, too shy, but you keep envisioning it regardless, him choking you as he sinks deep.
Stop that.
You turn in your big black chair, spinning it just a bit, seeing the beautiful soft lighting of the upcoming evening pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, deciding it’s good lighting. Your chest rises and falls with your nerves, you didn’t know how to be sexy in photos, but do you want to?
You do.
Fuck you do.
You’re leaning back and angling the phone just so, glasses off for a moment on your desk, since they’d been giving you a bit of a headache, throwing a peace sign and parting your lips, you don’t know exactly how to pose. You knew what art was, what beauty was, but a little clueless how to angle yourself like your friend Jenna has always been able to.
After peering through a few photos, brows drawn together in concentration, you send one his way, he’s viewed it and he instantly hearts it, making you exhale, relieved that maybe he thinks it’s cute enough. But little do you know, you have him full hard now, thumb brushing his leaky tip, making him whimper, picturing rubbing his cock right on those pretty lips of yours.
God you’re just in a blouse but he can see your nipples pressing from the material, begging for him to pluck them, suck them, and he can’t stand the longing, the need making his body ache. He curses softly, wiping a sticky thumb on his towel, trying to compose himself, he’s acting like some stupid lovesick boy, not the entire star he knows he is.
And your eyes, eyes he didn’t get a good enough look at, so fucking gorgeous, it’s hard to look away, but as he does, he notices more, your bitten lips, the gentle slope of your neck, the way you have little marks from the pads of your glasses on the sides of your pretty nose. God, all of you is delectable.
Satoru - Gorgeous, thank you. Saved.
You - Thank you, Satoru um, can I have one too?
He smirks now, because if he was good at anything - aside from making women cum - it was taking the perfect selfie. He’s lifting the camera high, showing far too much of his strong chest, his rippled, cut abdomen, down to those v cuts and his veins running just above his snowy white pubic hair. Not his cock, of course, but enough for you to get the idea.
He sends it with a smirk, and you open it with a gasp, eyeing a body you saw somewhat in the shoot, but nothing looks quite like what’s in front of you right now on your screen. He’s got his brilliant eyes bright and lidded, tousled white hair, lips parted just so, making your lips tingle at the memory. You touch them longingly as you study his body, glistening with sweat.
Fuck he’s sexy.
You shift in your office chair, sighing, putting back on your glasses for an even deeper inspection- and since when are you so turned on by looks? You’re into who someone is, of course looks are great, but to have your pussy clenching over a picture is insanity.
And for Satoru to have a raging hard cock over a selfie is batshit insane, but here the two of you are, you saving an obscenely sexual photo, and him saving a demure little picture, both smiling at them. But then you frown a bit, taking in the couch, the lighting, realizing it then.
You - Are you on a shoot?
Satoru - Yes.
Why does that make you feel just a little envious of whoever gets to kiss and touch on him?
Why does it make you a little jealous of who gets him on them, his plump lips on their skin?
You shake it off, smiling tremulously as your hands shake, typing a
I know you’ll kill it, have fun! Got the pic saved thanks. <3
Satoru leans his head back again, before looking at your photo once more, rushing out before his cock decides not to work again, slipping on another condom. When he’s gripping her hips and smiling at the camera as he does, however, he doesn’t know if he can keep it up, luckily he’s so huge she barely notices, while she’s gushing down his latex covered cock.
He’s encouraging her, pressing his thumb against her clit, while she’s sucking on Sukuna, and he tries to remember how amazing his life is, and focus, surely this is something that will pass. Some infatuation, and he’ll get back to normal in no time, he’s sure of it.
Right?
******
Wrong.
After a string of highly unsuccessful shoots that Satoru’s had to push off on Suguru and Sukuna, he’s decided the only hope for it is to give in and jerk his cock to your pictures. That week you’ve sent others, all cute and innocent, but how do you manage to make him so obsessed? Every pretty inch of skin you show he’d litter with bruises.
Not that there was much skin shown, the plush of your thighs over cute knitted knee high socks, and god you’re as hot with your glasses as you were without, he couldn’t figure out what he liked more. Your shoulders are just a little bare, begging for his teeth to sink into them, since when he is so turned on by hints of skin than soaking wet costars?
The first time he jerks it, he cums so much he knows the best solution, to focus on his solo career, at least until whatever the fuck this is - this obsession - could pass. He’s making bank as he does them, actually, and he can’t help but grin as he’s become the top onlyfans creator, stroking his cock for so many of his fans, all while he can prop his phone up and look at what new selfie you’ve sent.
“Hah- I know, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” He’s winking right at that camera, stroking faster and faster, spitting down on his tip, spreading it with a lewd squishing sound as the comments go insane.
Satoru cum for us!
It’s so pretty
Want a taste
Want it in me
What a win-win, making bank for stroking it to you, all while getting his ego filled by all the comments, he’s stroking his ego with his length, smirking as his free hand uses the mouse to scroll down. “Ah, I know, it’s huge, is it sensitive, mmm… a little bit if I do this.”
He’s twisting just so, eliciting a little cry, when he sees a name pop up, pausing his movements- and you’re staring right at Satoru Gojo’s live stream, heart hammering, worried he’d notice you. His little look of shock confirms it, as his hand finally slides back down his shaft, and your eyes follow the movement, so hungry for him you can’t stand it.
When Jenna teased Satoru had a live stream - she clearly knows now that you are infatuated with him, god he’s all you can think about, daydreaming at work, in your sleep he’s kissing you everywhere with those plump lips. You couldn’t help but talk to Jenna about him again, and she sighed, smiling at you.
“You never know, people change, maybe you two should at least hang out?” You’d repeated it softly, shaking your head. “No?”
“Why would he want to?”
“Well, I heard he’s had no shoots for a bit, and is doing solo things, maybe you could peek?”
You can’t believe you’re on Satoru Gojo’s onlyfans live.
You can’t believe you fucking subscribed to him, too.
And now it’s like he’s looking right fucking at you.
Shit.
He begins stroking his cock once more, murmuring - “I see a new subscriber here, like what you see?”
He’s so pretentious.
But…
You do love it, his veiny cock, which leaks precum on his flat belly button over tense abs, pale thighs spread, muscled and perfect, god all of him was. But something was a little more than just his looks, which sounds insane, but it wasn’t those looks that made you - fuck, lowkey obsessed!?- with him, it was so much more. His eyes elicit far, far too many feelings.
You take a breath for courage, before leaving a comment.
Do you taste sweet everywhere?
Your comment sends him as he reads it, blinking snowy lashes and pausing, while on the other side you’re covering your mouth, panicking- did you really just say that, shit!? You’re taking several breaths, hand on your mouse, ready to leave the chat, as the comments pop off, going insane, asking the question over and over, but Satoru strokes his pretty cock ever so slowly, leaning forward.
He cums when he starts picturing your cute little embarrassed face, he can’t stop himself, knowing you’re watching has him so sensitive, he’s cumming so much it feels so fucking good. His moans are low and gutteral as his cum starts pouring over his slick fist, and you’re watching avidly, breath caught in your chest, heart fucking hammering, so wet it’s dripping through your panties.
You’re on the edge of your seat when he finally opens those blue eyes, to the endless tips pouring in for him, but he’s thinking of just one viewer-
You.
“Do I taste sweet everywhere?” He’s murmuring your name- you’re so dumb to have it as your real name, shit- but the way he chuckles, his eyes going insane as he lifts his hand off his cock then? “Let’s see.”
He’s bringing a white, sticky coated finger to his mouth now, sucking his own milky seed off them, cheeks hollowing as he does, and you can’t help the soft whine that escapes, grinding against your seat, desperate for some fucking friction. He’s insane, surely, you’ve never even thought of it, a man sucking his cum up, it’s so sexy and just obscene it fucks you mentally.
Just who is this freaky ass porn star!?
He’s chuckling now, like he can somehow see your damn reaction from behind the screen, it’s like it’s just you and him, and not a fucking stream full of people, as the tips go insane. The comments are going so quickly he can’t keep up with them, grinning as he sucks more of his cum off another thick, long finger you’d love buried inside of you.
“Hmm, I do taste sweet.” He watches as you tip hundreds, smirking before you log completely off.
He pauses now, you’d had him so fucked up he went full out, he wonders if he’s scared your innocent ass off, sighing now, ending the stream with a laugh and a friendly little good bye, as he always does. He has made so much money it’s stupid, and surely you encouraging his little stunt helped, but now he can’t help but call you after he’s cleaned up the mess you’ve made of him.
You watch the phone vibrate and ring, jumping damn near, covering your hands with your mouth as you see his name, with his half naked fucking picture. Shit, shit, shit…
You slowly pick it up, eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what- did you like the show?” His voice is so arrogant and cocky, but you hear it then, the vulnerability under his layers. “I liked that you joined.”
“You did?” Your voice is practically a squeak, he chuckles a bit, laying back on his bed now, phone against his face.
“I did. Now, what did you think?”
“You’re… really… this is embarrassing!”
“It’s not, I promise. I’m flattered.” You sigh now, leaning back in your seat, wishing the air overhead would cool your overheated skin. “Answer me, be a good girl.”
“Satoru, god.” He’s chuckling, but your nipples are pressing out, taut and needy, cunt gushing so much it’s embarrassing. “I liked it but I never do these things.”
“Then I’m more flattered. I’m taking all your firsts.”
“Stop it, you're so ridiculous.” You’re laughing with him then, softly, shaking your head. “How’d you notice me with all those fans?”
“You certainly stand out.” His husky admittal makes you feel far too much, and the next thing out of your mouth makes you question everything.
“Satoru this is stupid and reckless-”
“Perfect, sounds fun!”
“Hush.” You sigh as he grows quiet, words stuck in his throat, how he’d do anything just to see how you taste. “I watched some of you with Jenna.”
He pauses, heart hammering. “Shit, yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re really good at it, um, pleasing.”
“I love to have a pussy drooling on my fingers,” he’s murmuring so fucking soft now, you’re struggling to compose yourself. “My mouth, my cock, fuck my whole face soaked, I love it.”
“Oh?”
He’s chuckling again. “Oh. Cute.”
“Shh. Give me a moment, what if you showed me some things? Off camera, please, I could never-”
“Huh!? What!?” You’re panicking again, embarrassed as he can’t believe his fucking ears.
A chance with you?
Fuck.
“Sorry it’s so rude- that’s your job, and I know you don’t date, but I thought maybe since I feel so comfortable-”
“You feel comfortable with me?” His words are softer now, your eyes shut, sucking in a breath.
“Very. Oddly comfortable, and well I’ve only been with one person, I am sitting here waiting for some romance book love I guess? It’s stupid.”
“Why’s it stupid?” He frowns as he leans his head against his mirror now, standing and trying to pull himself together, cock leaking already thinking of you in his bed.
“I don’t know if it’ll happen but, you’re so sweet and gorgeous and… I’m going on too much.”
“Just say what you want, sweetheart.”
“You to show me things.” You’re shutting your eyes again, waiting for the rejection, but he shocks you once more.
“Then I’ll send a car to get you.”
“Now!?”
“It’s LA, it’ll be thirty minutes at least, if you live where you said, over by that coffee shop on Main right?”
“You remember?”
Of course he does.
“You wanna learn, sweetheart? I’ll teach you anything.”
“Like, free?” He’s chuckling again, the sound so genuine it just makes the ache grow, you’re crazy for this, right?
“Yes free, you’re adorable. Okay then send your address and get ready. Eat something, drink something with electrolytes.”
“Wha-!?” He’s smirking as he eyes his shower, surely he has enough time to wash up for you first.
“Gonna need energy, sweetheart. Lots of it.”
When you’re standing there at the door of Satoru Gojo’s penthouse, and he leans down, his hand on the doorway, veins bulging from his bare arm, hair tousled and still damp, you know it then. When he brushes fingers across your damp hair, bringing it to his nostrils and inhaling your scent, you know it more. But especially when he tilts your chin up, and murmurs - come in.
He’s going to hurt you, but you’ll enjoy the pain.
Ahhh I can't believe all the love the hcs got, like that blew me away, I SO hope you love this, and will enjoy where these two go! I always say - oh this will be four parts- but they always go longer so lol. I hope you all enjoyy I'm so excited to hear what you think! Taglist is closed bc it's so long I'm sorryyy
summ. wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .
cw. eventual smut. 18+. fem!reader. alcohol/substance consumption. ex boyfriend!gojo. mild toxicity. breakup & makeup. girlhood ft jjk girlies. unreliable narrator sorta. sukuna slander. mild impact play. mild asphyxiation. oral (f). fíngering. backshōts. reader is a little questionable. self sabotaging my beloved. lowkey angsty. @/3aem on tumblr for art creds. most of these stories are real shit i’ve heard/experienced LOL. can you tell i’ve never used tinder a day in my life? 16.4k words. . oops.
rena’s note. @yung-notorious and her filthy mind. . .
“you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do.”
god, you do.
you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that had you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.
his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.
“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”
how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?
friday nights were meant to decompose after a long week. a cute tradition you followed— sipping on moscato wine and munching on takeout with your homegirls while the lamest horror movie played as background noise. the skincare bit happened every third friday of the month, which fell on this particular night, thin layers of korean products lathering at your skins while fluffy headbands sat atop your hairlines, keeping stray hairs away.
it was an easy way of recapping all of your week’s worth of bullshit and listing each girl’s new lineup of men of the season.
girlhood.
“i’m cool off men for a whileee,” you sigh, placing your third wine glass on the coffee table. you tuck your legs back onto the couch, propping your head into your palm. you watch as shoko, who’s seated on the floor, grabs your glass and fills it with another unsolicited round. you narrow your eyes at her, “after the shit kuna pulled— girl, slow down!”
“don’t watch me,” shoko chews at her unlit blunt tucked in her teeth, lifting an arm above her head to pass you your refill. despite the slight spin of the room, you accept the cup against better judgment, “keep talking. what the fuck did he do now?”
“you mean what didn’t he do,” seated in the pink bean bag rested on the floor, utahime quips. in between her teeth sits a wooden stick, drizzled in the honey-like wax residue she smeared over her shin. “i woulda left his ass the second i found out he— FUCK— lived with his mama at his big age.”
as utahime soothes her smoothened skin, yuki leans over the coffee table to grab at the blunt passed over to her. “y/n baby, you know i love you,” she starts off, taking a deep inhale before ghosting the smoke. you can tell she’s about the cook the shit out of you, “but come on— he lives in his parents’ basement. was that not a red flag in itself? is that seriously the kind of man you see yourself marrying.”
“nevermind the fact he’s pushing thirty and still unemployed,” shoko throws in her two cents, takeout back in her lap as she breaks open a new set of chopsticks, “he’s one more ‘tap in’ away from getting caught by the feds.”
“how much y’all wanna bet he’s at the club right now as we speak?” it’s a rhetorical question, but utahime pauses her waxing to check. with sticky fingers, she taps away at her phone, and with a knowing smile she yelps, tilting her screen towards you three, “aha!— and there goes the infamous money spread.”
“cornballllll.” shoko cringes.
you’re filled with dread and shame at the sight presented. god— every single chance you gave this man, he spun around and somehow does worse. it’s not like the two of you were together— never officially, but the sole fact that you’ve let this man treat you as if you were his girl haunts you. you’ve let countless of bullshit slide all because his stroke game came second within all the men you’ve dealt with.
the only thing you’ll give him besides a being a good lay is that you’ve never had issues concerning other women. he’s a very transparent guy— you’ve yet to receive a “hey girlie. . .” text from anybody. though, it isn’t like either of you have ever dropped any hard launches. it was mostly content that only close friends could catch onto— the interior design of his car, your latest set of nails, subtle shots of his tattoos, your purses and jewelry. nothing evident but pretty obvious to those who know.
if sukuna was still cool with him, however. . . yeah, he’d definitely know, considering the fact he purchased most of the purses you own. that’s excluding the fact your favorite necklace, the one with your name engraved, the one you always wear, was also bought by him.
“move,” you push utahime’s hand away from your peripheral, slumping further into the couch. embarrassment floods you yet again, and you drown it away with more wine. much to your chagrin, they spare no mercy as they giggle at your pout, “not too much on me— shoko, you’re literally the one who put me on!”
“don’t do that,” she rolls her eyes, picking at the orange chicken on her platter. you have half a mind at chucking your drink at her. “all i told you was to fuck him. nobody said anything about keeping him around.”
“instructions: unclear,” utahime giggles, smearing another coat of wax mixture onto her calves. “she’s now a year deep into a situationship with a man who files for disability checks to blow on parlays.”
you spring up in your seat, your wine nearly spilling on shoko in your excitement, “shit, i never told you guys!”
“told us what?” yuki kills the blunt in the ash tray, and stretches an arm to grab at her food. she knocks over a few emptied bottles as they roll on the carpet, and winces when one of them knock at shoko’s knee, “my fault girl.”
shoko clicks her tongue, but you loop your arms around her neck as you proceed, “before you bitches attacked me for literally just being a girl,” you decide ignore the way they all groan, “i was trying to tell you all why i finally ended shit with him.”
“well don’t hold back now!” utahime eggs on.
“guess what i found out,” you set the empty wine glass back onto the table. you’re most likely gonna need your hands in this specific conversation, “he bet thirty thousand dollars on the super bowl game— and lost.”
the room falls quiet. utahime pauses in her ripping, yuki drops her noodles from her chopsticks and shoko nearly chokes on her wine. amidst it all, three pairs of eyes slowly crawl to meet your gaze, in complete disbelief at what you’d told them.
“are you deadass?” shoko speaks first, her facial expression almost incredulous. her eyes are teary from her food slipping through the wrong tube. “you’re playing, right? right?”
“she has to be. . . this is a new level of low even for him.” yuki shakes her head, most likely in attempts to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t blame her— no sane person would drop thirty grand on a fucking betting app of all things— and on top of that, lose.
“i wish i was?!” you groan, still upset, “the worst part is that he told me that money was supposed to be deposit money for a condo he’d been,” you raise your fingers in air quotes, “looking into.”
“you know what though? this doesn’t actually surprise me,” utahime laughs, as if she hadn’t been in a daze for a solid minute. she rips at the strip, and winces, “didn’t i just say he was getting checks to place on parlays? frank gallagher looking ass.”
“but thirty thousand?” yuki emphasizes, blinking rapidly in her disbelief, “what the fuck would possess somebody to bet thirty grand on anything?”
“grown ass man, by the way.” shoko mumbles mindlessly, before chowing down some more food. you can’t find it in yourself to disagree.
utahime nods, blowing a puff of air, “on god, bro. don’t he got mortgages to pay off or some shit?”
yuki shoots her a deadpanned look, “girl, with what house.”
and that had been your final straw with him. not the fact he lived in his mother’s basement despite clearly having money to rent out a place, or the fact he was still flexing bands he allegedly has on the gram— but blowing all your money on a fucking football game. and losing. you do respect yourself, as much as these girls believe you don’t. a man with no ambitions and no money? you need to run and far.
“i’ll miss his dick though.” you pout, the alcohol already coursing through your body. being wine drunk always made you horny, that was a known fact, and letting go of one of your greatest eaters was not on your bingo card. naturally, the girls roll their eyes at your antics, “boo me all you want— he horsed me the fuck around in bed.”
“you used to say the same shit about gojo,” utahime points out, rising to her feet as she grabs the used strips in her hold, before circling around the couch, “and look how that ended up.”
technically. . . she wasn’t exactly wrong but that still stung a bit. “hime, seriously?” shoko rolls her eyes, and you feel her hand rubbing at your foot soothingly. her motions are a little stiff but you appreciate the sentiment, “we get you don’t fuck with him but he was still her man. and basically my friend, kinda.”
you hear her wince in the kitchen, followed by footsteps, “right. . . sorry girlie.” she runs back to you after throwing the waste away, and kisses at your temple. she doesn’t comment on the pout on your lips. “i didn’t mean it. . . okay maybe i did, but i’m still sorry!”
your history with gojo was complicated. you’d met him through shoko in your third year of college, at a kickback party hosted by his people. it’d been an invite only thing, but shoko had brought you along as a plus one, and you both instantly connected. as far as you were concerned, it was technically supposed to be a sneaky link vibe, but you soon learned gojo was anything but sneaky. in fact, he was so vocal in him wanting you, that he actually did end up getting you a couple months later.
he’s a year older than you, therefore he’d graduated a year ahead. the separation in itself was something you hadn’t looked forward to at all, but he had found himself a condo downtown, not too far from your residency, therefore seeing each other hadn’t been an issue. he always made it clear he wanted to see you— even after gruelling nine to five shifts in the office. his words matched his actions, driving you up to his place since yours had a stupid curfew policy for visitors.
(you’ve kept him in your dorm numerous times.) (your closet has suffered enough with his lanky ass.)
the first year worked out for the better. he was still welcomed to the parties you invited him to, he made time in his schedule help you with your studies, planned consist dates and even took you out on trips. he was physically, mentally and emotionally present— and you genuinely believed he would be your forever man when you’d introduced him to your parents at your graduation ceremony and he seemed thrilled. they adored him— and that says a lot considering they hated all your other exes. with good reason, but still.
it’d been the honeymoon phase until it wasn’t.
you expected arguments. those are inevitable in relationships, but with every argument he grew distant. you were now both graduated students juggling between jobs, rent and a relationship. it was a lot— your schedules never seemed to align which jumbled into multiple failed dates, which further escalated into more arguments. it hadn’t always been him, you could agree you were at fault too. that post graduation depression spiralled worst than you’d anticipated— the fear of falling behind when your boyfriend had already been successful so early into his career entirely consuming.
he reassured you plenty, but you could see it in his face as he spoke to you— he was exhausted. of work. of life. of you. he had bigger fish to fry than dealing with a workaholic girlfriend with low self esteem. the bigger the promotion, the less your value. you’d seen this play out before— it was less i love you’s and more hours in the office. less dinner dates and more project plannings.
the more time you spent by yourself, the more your mind began overthinking. you had no place in his life anymore. you didn’t resent him for it— you wish nothing but the best for him. he deserves to be successful in life, and he’s already so close to it. your slacking behind is nothing more than dead weight in his rise to the top.
the breakup had been anticipated. you’d broken up with him first. he never asked you to explain why. he nodded, never uttering a word. it’d been the first time you’d seen him in weeks. you kept it simple, “we should break up.” and he kept it even simpler, a curt bounce of the head in agreement. as quick as he’d entered your apartment, he left.
and that’d honestly been it. you’d been together for four years, and broken up for a year and a half. after all this time, you still don’t resent him for it. he made the rational choice in prioritizing himself and his future, and you simply didn’t fit in it. it took you quite some time to work on yourself as well, and you’re honestly satisfied with where you are in life. the breakup clearly worked in favour for you both.
it sucks that he was genuinely the only man you ever cared about. the only man you can confidently say you loved.
“look— now you got her thinking about him!” shoko complains, chucking the nearest thing— a throw pillow, at utahime. it hits her square in the face, to which she lets out a muffled oof! “way to fucking go.”
you blink out of your thoughts. well that’s embarrassing, you got caught up in the past again. you lift yourself from the slumping position you’d unintentionally fallen into the midst of daydreaming, “shit, my bad. got flashbacks to that time he ate me off the bone after his first promotion.”
“yo, what?!” yuki hollers, falling into a fit of laughter. shoko rolls her eyes so much you’re thinking it’ll get stuck at the back of her skull and utahime physically cringed from head to toe. “so fucking unserious— here we are, worried about your ass and here you go, upset you lost your best eater.”
not exactly, though there was some truth to her words. gojo was your best eater, and nobody’s topped him since. he really did tongue fuck you that night like you were the boss who raised his pay. but it wasn’t just the sex you missed— you wholeheartedly missed him. the closest thing to a soul bond you’ve experienced, now gone.
they don’t need to know all that though.
“oh come on,” utahime groans, picking at her nails. trust her to find any reason to slander your ex. for what reason? she’s never told you other than him annoying the fuck out of her, “he could not have been that great. it can’t be anything you can’t find elsewhere— plenty of men eat pussy.”
“okay but do they enjoy eating it or is it more of a duty thing?” yuki points out, rolling her thumb on her lighter mindlessly. she watches the flame arise, casting a soft glow on the sheet stuck to her face, “because you can definitely tell the difference. one eats for foreplay, the other eats for his own pleasure.”
shoko hums in agreement, still poking at her plate, “a man versus a munch,” and with a beat of silence, she takes a deep sigh, throwing her head back, “i should call him.”
“no! no you should not,” utahime laughs, before shooting you a glance. your smile quickly falters and is switched with a look of confusion as she points a nail filer in your direction, “and you,” you cock a brow, “stop thinking about him. we’re supposed to be independent women, y’all need to stand the fuck up.”
“hime, please, you were literally just complaining to your close friends about your latest dry spell.”
“irrelevant!” she dismisses yuki, waving a hand absentmindedly. you don’t see how it’s irrelevant exactly, but you let her proceed. “we are sexy, successful and strong women. stop relying on the past and focus on the future. there are bitches that fought for their lives for the freedom we have! you could literally get dick anywhere— they actually have apps for it, if you didn’t know—”
“so tell us, o’mighty one,” shoko cuts her off, “are you suggesting we download tinder to relieve our stress?”
she remains quiet, and you can see the gears churning in her head. you’re about ninety nine percent positive shoko was fucking around, but the scrunch in your friend’s eyebrows tells you she’s seriously contemplating the idea, “. . yes actually.” she finally decides.
“hime. . .” shoko groans, but is effectively cut off when she springs up to her knees to grab at her phone.
“no, seriously, think about it!” she scrolls through her phone like a maniac, searching through the app store and typing the name in. you all watch her incredulously, her enthusiasm in the matter as if she hadn’t been preaching about feminism half a minute ago, “i’ve met some of my best lays in college through tinder. i haven’t been on this app in years though.”
you don’t see why not. you were pretty tipsy and would never have agreed to this under typical conditions, however it could be regarded as a bonding activity. you also haven’t been on tinder since before your last relationship, and the shit sukuna put you through this past year was enough to make you want to deal with literally anything else.
“i’m down.” you pull out your phone, and shoko may have gotten whiplash with how quick she snaps her head back to eye you. you shrug your shoulders, “we don’t have to take this shit seriously— god knows i’m not entertaining anybody on this app for real.”
“exactly!” utahime nods, walking up to scoot herself beside you. she nudges at shoko with her foot, who flicks at her toes to keep her away, “it’s just for shits and giggles.”
“i’m definitely not doing this shit,” yuki crawls to sit at the couch’s feet, right at shoko’s side, and grabs at the remote sitting uselessly on the table, “but i will be watching you both embarrass yourselves.”
“the only other bitch with common sense here.” shoko sprawls her legs onto yuki’s lap. she receives a slap at the back of her head by utahime, and naturally she slaps the hand right back. “can’t stand that little fucker sometimes.”
“aweee, love you too!” she blows a kiss at her to which she receives a middle finger. you snort, eyes glued on your screen as you redownload that forsaken app back into your phone.
you’d probably regret it in the morning, but that was something saturday you would have to deal with. as of right now, with white wine in your system, logic was not an option. you were learning to live more in the moment, and apparently that starts with the corniest dating app in the world.
it’s not like you’d magically stumble upon your ex on the platform. now wouldn’t that be something? ha!
there’s no fucking way.
this had to be one big, fat cosmic joke. a cruel prank, even. and if it was, then the universe had a twisted sense of humour. you still don’t believe it— were the girls in on this? this kind of shit didn’t just happen to anybody.
it took about a total of twenty minutes between logging back into your old account, updating your password and bio, and swiping left on passing profiles until you landed on it. on. . . him.
you blink slowly. your phone is shaky beneath your unstable hands, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your breath in far longer than recommended for the average human. it’s quiet as fuck in the room— despite the three girls huddled over your shoulders, sticking their noses in all directions to get a clearer view of your illuminating screen— almost as if to confirm if what they were seeing was truly was they were seeing, as if this was all too fucking ironic to be true.
there’s a knot of anxiousness that simmers in the pits of your stomach. you’re pretentiously aware that even the slightest movement— one wrong click or swipe, would ultimately change everything. there was too much at risk here. “oh there’s no fucking way. . .” shoko speaks up first.
utahime leans in impossibly closer, a few centimetres away from fully emerging with your iphone as her nose scrunches, “way too sexy? fuck around and find out? god, he’s still so corny, i swear.”
your eyes trail over his biography, curiously. that “way2sexy” had been an inside joke you both shared years ago— back when drake had dropped one of gojo’s favourite albums, certified loverboy. he overplayed the shit out of that song when it came out, so much that you received multiple complaints from your RA for “public disturbance”, but he swore it worked as daily affirmations for him in the same sense crystals and tarot cards worked for spiritual girlies. you called him corny for it, but before you knew it, it’d shown up in your spotify wrapped the following year.
rapid memories of morning rays of light peeking through blinds, a groggy yet mysteriously clear “alexa, play way 2 sexy” as you fixed your sheets and lit your candles, fighting over who gets to spit toothpaste residue first, hearty laughter to fumbled lyrics, shared minty kisses paired with one “gimme one more” too many.
the ache clenching at your heart is hard to ignore.
“i would give him the benefit of the doubt in believing he hasn’t updated his account,” yuki draws out, eyes narrowing as a finger sticks out to point, “but his age matches. emoticons as a grown man. . . no shade though.”
his age did match. inside joke aside, none of it was adding up. if he already had his account set up years ago, had he willingly changed his bio to one of your most infamous gags after the breakup? if you were to swipe right right now, would it instantly match? you don’t think you want to figure it out— both possible outcomes scaring you shitless.
“should i swipe left?” you speak uncharacteristically softly, torn between the idea of tucking your tail inwards and running away from the opportunity or your typical it is what it is mentality.
“yes! obviously— mmmph?!”
“do you want to?” shoko, with a pillow stuffing an agitated utahime in the face, counters. between all the girls, she seemed to understand you the most, granted her own relationship with the man. you’re sure he had given her his own version of their breakup, how you’d opened the doors to endless opportunities for him, had given him the easy way out. you never bothered asking her, afraid of the illusion you’d created to shield yourself shattering, “only you have the answer to that.”
“i honestly don’t know,” you sigh, joints in your thumb aching from hovering over your screen for too long. swiping left meant completely abandoning any the possibility of the two of you as one. you don’t want that responsibility weighted on your shoulders again, “what if he’s moved on? the shit that’ll do to my ego if i swipe right and he passes on me?”
shoko finally grants her friend the permission of speech, freeing her off the couch decoration, though the look she gives her serves as a warning to tread lightly. with a heavy breath, utahime releases a puff, “i’d crashout, just sayin’.”
“but what if he hasn’t moved on?” yuki poses, and apparently that was all the confirmation you needed to swipe. fuck pride— pride wasn’t going to get your back blown out. pride wasn’t going to help you get the love of your life back. pride can go fuck itself.
“wait—”
utahime is cut off again, however, not by shoko but tinder itself. the notification pings loudly, resonating in depths of your ear cavity and shoots straight to your chest. you can feel your heart pounding wildly against your rib cage. it’s so silent you can hear a pin drop, and the way your gut churns gives away the end result to your spontaneity.
it’s a match.
“well. . . shit.” shoko slumps back into the couch nonchalantly, and you don’t need to see her to know she’s sporting a smirk. you do feel her knee knock into yours. fake ass idgafer.
you’re no better, biting down your bottom in order to suppress the smile itching to spread. a year later and the sole idea that he’d already came across the same mindset as you, willing to give whatever it was that needed a second shot, had you beyond delusional. god, you need help.
“look at youuu, cheesin’ and shit!” yuki pokes at your cheek and you swat her hand away, ultimately caving into the smile. fuck yeah you were geeked— it’s hard carrying a nonchalant attitude when you were an honest to god, soft hearted lovergirl. if you played your cards right, with a few lash bats and glossy lips, you’d be getting dicked down in no time.
“i’m gonna be sick.” utahime deadpans.
“and i’m getting dickkk,” you sing, jumping to your feet as you stood on the couch. you turn around, hands clutching onto the headrest, giving your ass a cute shake as it rotates in circular motions. you feel shoko’s hand tapping it encouragingly, her phone illuminating as it records while she rests her head on your moving thighs. you hear yuki cackle, pulling out her phone to film as well. you giggle, “rip that pussy!”
“ayeeee!” they complete the lyrics, and the vibes are restored yet again, girly giggles filling the room. when your legs begin to feel wobbly, you stop your twerking to plop yourself right back down, leaning your head onto shoko’s shoulder.
you hear her click her tongue as the recording of your ass graces her screen, and she groans, “gojo is one lucky bastard— he can’t handle all that.”
he most definitely can, and has. you’ll opt with shrugging in the meantime.
“with that being said,” utahime jumps in, crossing her legs, “what’s the next move here? you reaching out first?”
your lips straighten as your mind reflects. if you still know him as well as you think you do, he’s definitely going to text you first as soon as he sees the green light. sure, you were anxious for a reply, desperate to check what his temperature was— but you’d already sacrificed a grand amount of dignity just swiping right. he could do take on the role of texting first.
“nah, i’m almost a hundred percent sure he’ll—”
ping!
you all whip your heads to the source of the sound. your phone. the screen shines as it undergoes facial recognition, and exposes the messenger. from tinder. gojo. sending you a message. just as you’d expected.
you can’t help the cocky smile, eyes trailing at their perplexed faces, “—text me first.”
naturally, the girls are impressed. even you are— that timing? would it be insane to genuinely be considering gojo might honest to god be your soulmate? yuki blows a puff of air, followed by a laugh, “your pussy has to be magical cause what the fuck?”
“ladies and gentlemen,” utahime stands to her feet, fisting her hand into an imaginary microphone, and addresses her fake crowd. in the hostiest voice she can muster, she curtsies as she continues in comedic fashion, “miss pussy fairy in thee flesh.”
“put a stamp on it.” shoko shakes her head in acknowledgment, laying her own phone in her lap as she claps. yuki places two fingers in her mouth and whistles at you, to which you rise to your own feet and dramatically place a hand over your chest in faux humility.
“oh please!” you flatter yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear. you smile behind your palm, your improv classes in high school coming in clutch, “this is too much— thank you! thank you deeply.”
“girl, byeee,” utahime breaks character first, giggling as she sits back onto the abandoned bean bag. you mimic her motions, as she pops open a stray water bottle and swallows a big gulp, “open his text! i wanna see what he said!”
you’re in the same boat, thumbing at your phone to unlock it and open the app. naturally the girls hover over you yet again, just as eager to see how he finally broke the no contact phase. it took him less than three minutes to slide in your messages, as the option had finally been granted.
right as your thumb hovers the message, a hum draws out your throat, “how much y’all wanna bet it’s something corny?” you tease, something close to a hunch giving it away. seeing as your assumptions were deemed accurate just a few minutes ago, the only way he’d think of clearing the ice would be with something plausibly lame.
“open itttt!” utahime ushers you, hands clamping at your shoulders. you roll your eyes, letting her dramatics sway your body back and forth before she lets up. you let out a sigh, and open the unanswered message.
and just as you’d predicted. . .
@gsatoru: they say shooters shoot 👀
“oh brotherrrr,” the girls groan in sync, and even you can’t stop the cringe that stiffens your face. if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s the fact he still doesn’t act his age. he needs to let those college days go.
“now, what’d i tell y’all.” you tut, leaving out the part of nostalgia simmering deep and warmly in your bones at his predictability. ever the goofy he was, gojo satoru. jeez.
“i was really found myself rooting for him too,” shoko sighs, rising to her feet. she dusts at her lap then stretches her limbs lazily, “i’m gonna go pee— hime, i swear to god, don’t take my seat.” she doesn’t look back to flip her off when she hears utahime blow raspberries her way. to which, against shoko’s wishes, leaps over to snatch her seat.
both you and yuki give her a deadpanned look, but yuki voices out your thoughts, “she’s gonna get on your ass and i’m not helping you out.”
“girl, boo.” utahime rolls her eyes, “more importantly, what the fuck do you answer to that?” her nail taps at your phone screen, peering at you expectantly through lashes.
you consider your options. do you reciprocate the same energy or do you call him out on his corniness? matching his vibe would be like starting off a blank slate— a new start, new conversations, something almost superficial. like a fling you meet at the bars for one night of fuckery that you regret the next morning. but calling him out would induce in falling into familiar patterns— calling him a cornball while he attempts to sweet talk you, old conversations brought up, risking broken boundaries for the sake of reminiscing.
decisions, decisions, decisions.
“i’m thinking taking the easy way out.” you nod your head, readying your fingers as you type your response out.
you miss the exchanged glances between utahime and yuki, too busy trying to format how to come off playful but not forgetful. flirty but not desperate. come pull up on me but demurely. well you’ll be damned— in what world had you ever expected second guessing yourself for gojo?
“what’s the easy way out?” yuki asks, and you hit send. where this confidence comes from is beyond you, but any error you make you can blame on the wine (you’re hardly fazed but it’s nice to have something to pin the blame on instead of yourself) (old habits die hard).
you tilt your phone, holding it out as you watch the girls’ brows furrow, eyes scanning over the screen. when their faces contort into a look of amusement mixed with horror, a girly giggle escapes your throat.
@yourstrulyname: sukuna ryomen wsp with you?? 🙈
“you didn’t!” utahime hollers, her laughter so intense she doubled over to clutch at her stomach. yuki sways her body back and forth as she finds herself in a hysterical fit as well. “goddd, i would kill to see the look on his face right now.”
“yooo, that’s evil.” the blonde swipes at a tear. “woulda had me deactivating the whole account.”
“who’s deactivating?” shoko pops back in, not without slapping utahime upside the head. she ignores the way utahime complains in favour to swipe a nearly emptied bottle to pour.
“it’s not even that bad,” you defend yourself, flashing her your screen as she installs herself in the bean bag utahime once occupied. her eyes squint as she reads the conversation, nearly bulging out their sockets when she catches your message, “nahhh, don’t give me that!”
“if he gives you the time of day after that,” shoko swirls the wine in her glass, snorting, “he must really still be in love with you.”
“he should know i’m playing. . .” you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince the girls, him or yourself. you really were just joking around— albeit a terrible joke, but one regardless! sukuna was officially removed from the roster, a financially irresponsible man never standing a chance against you, “right?”
“don’t ask us?” utahime chimes in, uselessly, to which you roll your eyes. well shit, maybe you should double text? let him know you were just fooling around, trying to check temperatures and establish the mood. your phone pings again, and all unnecessary thoughts are thrown out the window.
@gsatoru: oh so you got jokes now?
as you’re about to let him know you’ve been had jokes, but never the goofy type, you see the bubbles pop up, a telltale that he’s got more to tell you. you let him have it, already having possibly fumbled the mission before even starting. it feels like an eternity and a half waiting on his text, the girls having huddled over you yet again, just as curious to see what he had to counter with.
@gsatoru: can’t be a joke if the guy had you outside on valentine’s day tho. stk steakhouse? really girl?
your jaw falls slack. you watch with burning eyes at your screen as your built up suspicions were ultimately confirmed. okay, so those two were still somehow connected. you didn’t like to question male friendships, the lack of loyalty not one you’d ever understand. god forbid you ever started fucking with utahime’s ex of many years.
“wait. .” said girl speaks up, drawing the word out as she processes his answer. her tongue rolls around in her mouth, face cringing as the next words follow, “i can’t lie, he kinda ate you up.”
“just sassy as fuck,” shoko laughs, and it’s one of those giggles reserved to shit she honestly finds hilarious, “really girl is crazy. all comfortably like he’s one of your homegirls.”
“now what’s wrong with stk’s?” yuki grumbles, picking at her nails with a childish pout on her lips, “everybody isn’t born with a silver spoon plugged up our asses. god, i can’t stand rich people.”
you don’t bother answering the girls, already aware he chewed with his response, that he’s as sassy as he was years ago and that he had found that particular steakhouse shabby despite it being a fucking steakhouse. these were things you already knew. your thumbs proceed before your mind can register,
@yourstrulyname: been keeping tabs on me?
“you don’t look too happy,” shoko pokes at your cheek. there’s an ache creasing in your forehead, and you relax the furrow of your brows. you’re not exactly upset, just a bit on edge with his approach— you can’t tell whether he’s on tens or not. whether he’s genuinely joking around or not.
“i’m fine.” you poke back, and she nods. she ushers the other girls to pick a new movie to play, and you clock this is her way of allowing you some privacy between exes. you shoot her a grateful look, and she offers a sly wink. you’ll make sure to update her on whatever happens as soon as it’s over.
you switch your ringer off, and open his new message.
@gsatoru: hard not to when he posts you like he has smth to prove
@yourstrulyname: who said it was me?
you knew it was you. you knew he knew it was you. but still, you wanted to hear it from him yourself, wanted to know if he really was keeping tabs on you ever since the breakup. it’d help ease your mind with unanswered questions.
@gsatoru: you mean besides the bags and jewelry i got you?
@gsatoru: your build was a dead giveaway. could recognize you blindfolded in a room full of women
you bit your lip. you could work with this text, play around with it and see if shit flips. would he fall for the bait? you’ll start off slow, create an opening and see if he decides to indulge.
@yourstrulyname: like what you saw?
he answers instantly and your heart sinks a bit.
@gsatoru: of course
@gsatoru: you’re as a beautiful as the day you left me
is that how he saw it? you assume you did leave him in a practical sense, but there was no way he hadn’t seen it coming miles away. you had both been caught up in your lives, the additional stress of romance an unwanted factor in the rise of your careers. so yeah, you’d given him the opportunity to leave. it’s not as if he fought it anyway, so did you really leave him if he’d closed the door on his merry way out?
this was starting to get personal. toeing between the line of uncharted territory and familiarity. everything you didn’t want— debriefing the logic behind the underwhelming breakup on tinder of all places was out of the fucking question.
@yourstrulyname: you still cool with sukuna?
@gsatoru: something like that
@gsatoru: he’s slimey as fuck for sliding on you tho
you figured as much. you couldn’t imagine a world where gojo wouldn’t feel some type of way at his friend going after his ex girlfriend a couple months fresh off a breakup. he probably felt the same way towards you, the difference being one owes him more loyalty than the other.
@yourstrulyname: and what does that make me?
@gsatoru: did he mean something to you?
he didn’t. you think of the importance of somebody meaning something to you— the fear of losing that person larger than life itself. the joy of waking up in that person’s arms on a rainy morning. the vulnerability in bonding souls with that person. the relief your body undergoes as it melts in that person’s embrace.
he didn’t mean shit to you.
@yourstrulyname: no
@gsatoru: then that makes you someone who made a choice
neutral and impassive. you wondered if he truly meant that. in a sense, you assume he really did mature.
@yourstrulyname: so he’s in the wrong but i’m not?
@gsatoru: who am i to assign right from wrong? you’re both adults at the end of the day
you don’t know what to answer to that. there was a lot of truth to his words— you were both consenting adults with choices made. jeez, just what had gojo gone through all these months that made him none the wiser? you’re considering leaving him on opened for a while, at least until you come up with an answer to that philosophical ass message, when he double texts you.
@gsatoru: this is so backwards lmaoo. what’s good with you? how’ve you been?
so he realized it too. thank fuck— skipping small talk and diving into the nitty gritty this late at night was not how you expected your night to go. the girls had completely forgotten your predicament, invested in the latest reality tv show flashing on your flat screen.
@yourstrulyname: been good. you?
@gsatoru: wow you’re as dry as ever
@gsatoru: life’s been blessed, could be better tho. too much to explain over text
oh? was this what you were thinking it was?
@yourstrulyname: what are you getting at, gojo?
@gsatoru: gojo? so it’s fuck me then
@gsatoru: not getting at anything. ball’s in your court, yn
so it was. you contemplate it for a second— should you invite him over tonight? the girls won’t be upset about kicking them out, and if anything they’d encourage you to call them as soon as it’s over. you suppose your doubts lie within the idea of having your ex boyfriend back into your territory. in the comfort of your home, a home he’d once already graced.
as scary as it sounded, you also desperately craved seeing him. it’d been a solid eighteen months since you’ve broken up, and thirteen since you’ve last seen him entirely. ironically, around the time you started getting involved with sukuna. you weren’t sure if it was your heart or pussy talking, but laying up in bed with this man was not something you were against.
fuck it.
@yourstrulyname: you know where i stay at
and his response comes instantly.
@gsatoru: be there in half an hour.
oh fuck.
“yo. . .” you speak up, for the first time in a few minutes. the girls turn their heads, acknowledging you, as you shut your phone close and chuck it across the sofa. “i love y’all but y’all gotta go, like now.”
shoko shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. utahime, as lost as ever, gives you a frown. yuki has most likely caught on, rising to her feet, dusting her lap, “say no more.”
the girls do you an immense favour as they excuse themselves. they pick at empty bottles and containers, throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher, rearrange the throw pillows and even light up your candles. you feel bad for kicking them out so late, so you pitch in some money for gas as well as the inconvenience.
as they cleaned out your living room and kitchen, you’d rushed to your shower for a mini cleanse. pulling out your bests, you wash over intimate parts thoroughly, lathering your limbs in scented soap, before rinsing, brushing your teeth and stepping out. you stare at your reflection through the haze of steam, the foggy mirror reminding you of the missing messages he used to leave on mornings you had to get to work.
no point in dwelling on the past when he was on his way over this moment. you swap your silk robe for the skimpiest loungewear you own— matching camisole and shorts, and let your hair cascade back down. you’re about your fifth spritz of body spray when the doorbell rings, and your stomach flutters.
you halt in your step when you notice how fast you’re going. yikes! the last thing he needs is his ego inflating, knowing you were rushing to get him inside, nevermind the fact you washed, pulled out your sexiest pyjamas and even wore a brand new pair of panties. you know. . . just for preparations. better safe than sorry.
after the third mindless lap around your kitchen, you make your way towards the door. you inhale sharply, clenching at your shaky fingers, easing your nerves. you quickly snap out of your daze, pulling the door open.
his eyes, momentarily distracted by the number engraved in the wall next to your door, glaze over your figure curiously. his hands are tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants. he lets out a breath, a sound borderlining a chuckle as it shoots straight to both heartbeats, shoulders drop from its hunch,
“hey.”
he’s thick.
no perverted shit. you’ve noticed he’s put on weight in the right places— not to say he’d been anything less than nicely built in the past, but his biceps are significantly fuller and the material of his compression tee stretched over bulging muscles in a telltale pattern.
somebody’s been at the gym one too many.
“you good with this?” he mumbles, hand running across the smooth skin of your calf. with every stroke of his palm are fleeting memories of the past, burning deep into your limb. you hate the way your stomach sinks st the thought, “me being here and shit.”
“wouldn’t have let you in if i wasn’t.” you answer honestly, back pressed into the arm of the couch. you don’t understand how fast he’d gotten comfortable with being in your personal space just like that— you don’t understand how you’d allowed him in your personal space just like that.
he nods, and the air is eerily quiet. you watch with furrowed brows as he traces shapes into your skin with his fingertip, a frenzy of emotions resembling those of turbulence all in cerulean eyes. he’s torn— you can see it in the way his nose scrunches, as if he’s debating on whether he should voice out his thoughts or not. whether it’s worth debriefing— if this is his last shot or not.
with all this time passed, he’s still so easy to read.
“what is it?” you sigh, albeit irritated. the last thing you’d planned when you got rid of your friends in favour of having your ex over was this weird ass tension roaming. crazy sentence to speak— you know, but you were really hoping it’d be less talking involved and more sexing. it wasn’t that you were against conversing with him, but the way he was choosing to go about it was just so. . . awkward .
he senses the irritation laced in your question and immediately chuckles. his laugh sounds breathless, almost dry, but he shakes his head. his free hand swipes at his nose, a tic of his you noticed years ago whenever he’s feeling bashful or caught, and clears his throat.
“how’d you and sukuna happen?” he rips off the bandaid, and asks you the last question you wanted to hear. the tracing on your leg slows down, and your arms tighten a bit around your torso.
you let out a puff of air. if gojo notices your discomfort, he doesn’t mention it. in fact, he doesn’t pull the question back at all— he stares at you intensely, as if baring into your soul, as if the answer to his question will determine whether the boulder weighted on his shoulders will free him of restraint or not.
as if he still stood a chance or not.
“not much to say,” you shrug, as dismissive as possible. he doesn’t budge, the same intensity in his gaze and you roll your eyes, “honest to god. we broke up, he was there at the right time and shit happened.”
the words simmer into the stillness of the night, and he swipes his tongue over his lips pensively, “were y’all ever official?” he pushes, and you click your tongue against your teeth, offering him a deadpanned look. seriously, as if he didn’t know his own friend— in what world was sukuna anything worthy of official?
“god, no.” you shudder, and he nods again. “you know your friend.”
“i don’t,” gojo counters, momentarily wrapping his hand around your ankle. it fits as perfectly as it did all those years ago, where thumbs at your anklet— another prized possession he’d gotten you. your face heats in embarrassment, and he flicks his eyes to glance at you, a fleeting smirk on his lips, before staring back at the jewelry, “going after my ex girlfriend is not something i expected. i don’t know him at all.”
fair enough, you think to yourself. there has to be some lingering resentment towards you for the same reason. had the tables been turned and he’d gone after one of your closest friends, you would’ve cut him off from your life completely. you were being truthful— it wasn’t anything remotely serious with sukuna, not even close to how it’d been with gojo, but you could see it as a matter of principle. you’d already taken the initiative to break up with him first, and going after his homeboy?
god, you had questionable morals.
“it’s different with you,” he feeds in, as if he could read your thoughts. it was probably written all over your face, the scrunch in your brows never letting up. his index finger slides beneath the band of your anklet, the contrast of the silver shade lining perfectly against his complexion, “‘s hard to explain, but you broke up with me so you technically owe me no loyalty— besides, i get why you ended things. never blamed you.”
now that peaks your interest. he gets why you ended things with him? he never blamed you? you clear your throat, forcing the question out, “you do?”
“of course,” he shrugs naturally, as if it hadn’t taken you eons to conclude. as if it hadn’t broke you apart when you’d realized how unneeded you were, “i honestly expected it. you deserved better than what i was giving. you must’ve been lonely— work had always taken a big part of my time, and that left you behind in the dust.”
you’re waiting for the punchline. he continues, “i can’t lie to you— i was wishing you’d resort to cheating over breaking up. that way you’d still be mine, even if it was temporarily,” he chuckles, a soft shade of pink dusting over his cheekbones, as he sniffs, “corny, i know. but you didn’t deserve putting up with my bullshit, so you left. time is of the essence, and that was the one thing i never seemed to give you. you fell out of it— out of love, so. . . i’m sorry.”
words cannot seem to leave you. you’re left utterly speechless— that had been so far from the reason, the realization sitting bitterly at the pit of your stomach. anything, literally anything, would’ve been better than hearing him lie to you again.
“that. . .” you inhale a sharp breath, steadying yourself, “is nowhere near the reason why we broke up.”
he stops in his caress. you think he got whiplash from how fast his neck snaps, eyeing you incredulously. he genuinely seems so confused, and you hate it. to think he’d show up with some lame ass excuse, so far stretched from the truth of the matter, and expected you to believe that. to believe him.
he blinks slowly, “i don’t understand.”
you try to pull your leg away from his lap, feeling like he was stripping you bare of the last bit of dignity you had left, wanting to rip you open. he presses the weight of his hand lightly, urging you to stay near while simultaneously giving you the option to pull away. the ball was in your court yet again.
“wait— help me understand,” the pad of his thumb rolls over your ankle bone gently— far too intimately. your feet curl away, protectively, and his fingers stroke at the ball of your heel, “please. what drove you away? what was it i did?”
there’s a pang in your chest. does he really plan on keeping this up? right in your face? it was one thing wishing him well despite the obvious, but dragging it out even a year later was a bit much. inviting him over was starting to seem like a terrible idea.
“i fell out of love?” you parrot, unbelieving. “gojo— i’m not the one who fell out of anything. i gave you a way out, and you happily took it,” his face contorts into a deeper state of confusion. you huff, “i’m not blaming you for it or anything, but shit, don’t get up in here with lies to cover your ass.”
“lies?” he whispers, to himself, running his free fingers through tousled white locks. he stares at your anklet hardly, like the gift has all the answers he’s looking for. you don’t think he’s avoiding eye contact, but he seems so distraught, so out of the loop, that broadway ought to sign him to a new movie deal. what an actor.
“time is of the essence and you failed to give it?” you continue regardless, throat restricting as it burns in an emotion you’re far too familiar with. suddenly, you feel like you’re twenty five again, left to your own devices and thoughts in the emptiness of his apartment, dressed in your prettiest outfit and another failed date night. “i never gave a shit about that, i knew how much of a hardworking man you were. i took it to the chest— anything to keep you from leaving. you stopped loving me, gojo.”
his jaw falls slack, mouth gaping and you blink your lashes furiously to prevent tears from appearing. god, this was so humiliating, bearing your heart raw in front of your ex boyfriend, “y/n, i never—”
“spare me,” you scoff, mortified by the rush of emotions coursing through you. you take a deep breath in, calming yourself to avoid further explosive feelings, “this isn’t me saying i was the perfect girlfriend. i know i wasn’t— you know i wasn’t, and piling a spiralling partner on top of all the shit you were dealing with wasn’t an option. that’s fine,” it was fine. it didn’t matter, “doesn’t matter anymore. i broke up with you, you didn’t fight to stay, and we both moved on. shit happens.”
it hurt a lot. the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by the crack splitting in your chest. the run towards your bathroom, emptying your contents from both your stomach and heart. you were undeniably a mess, that period of time it took for you to recover. you would never voice it out loud, but you’d been praying he’d tell you just how wrong you were. how he needed you in his life. how you weren’t a burden to him. how he loved you enough to fight through it all.
he hadn’t.
there’s a soft hum in the silence. the sound of your clock ticking near the entrance door. the pounding of your heart against your rib cage. seconds turn into minutes of quietness, and it does no good to your mind. you’re focusing your gaze on the inanimate objects in your apartment, anything to dismiss the reality of the situation. your leg feels cold as his hand pulls away suddenly.
he rolls his tongue against his cheek. another tic of his— he’s formulating his word choice, carefully. you’d seen a ton of this before, though it usually followed a deep sigh and a you’re good baby, trust me. the more you’d see it, the more anxious you became. and christ, if that anxiety wasn’t forming right back.
it takes a while for him to speak, and every passing breath had your chest tightening. he runs his hand across his face, tiredly. when he pulls it away, there’s a melancholic smile on his face, “i think there’s a lot that needs to be addressed. jesus, i always knew you sucked at communicating but this is something else.”
you glare at him. he doesn’t mind it, continuing, “no, you weren’t the perfect girlfriend. but you were my girlfriend, and that’s all that mattered to me. you wanna talk about spiralling? nothing i’m not familiar with— you’re the only reason i didn’t let myself fall into that rabbit hole. you kept me going after graduation. i worked as hard as i did to make sure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger around me. that was the end goal— you were end goal.”
gagged is what you felt. nothing else pure shock. he doesn’t stop there. he isn’t merciful anymore.
“i know i didn’t go about it the right way,” a regretful puff of air is released, “i canceled on you often. our phone calls were shorter, our texts were vaguer and at some point i’d forgotten what you tasted like. but i never loved you any less. not once, even after we argued. not to say i’ve converted into those spiritual people, but you’re the closest thing to a soulmate i’ve experienced.”
shit, you weren’t tripping. he felt it too. fuck. the weight of his words made it impossible to steer him away. you want to intercept, to call him a liar and turn a blind ear at his confession, to shield yourself but how could you when every word he spoke broke the bricks you’d built down?
“i’m not an asshole— i could feel you slipping away. i did try my damned hardest to reel you back in, as you’d done with me. clearly that hadn’t worked how i was hoping it would,” a bitter laugh, or maybe a resentful one. towards you or himself? you wouldn’t know, “it’s because i loved you so much, i let you go. i knew i was losing you, and when you finally came to me, the right thing to do was agree. why keep you from reaching your fullest potential? you weren’t happy with me, trying to fight the inevitable was cruel.”
the inevitable. letting you go was the right choice to make because fighting the inevitable was cruel. he loved you so much he had to let you go because you deserved more than what he had to offer. you call bullshit— in what right did he have to make that choice for you? what right did you have to make that choice for him?
it’s too much at once. your eyes burn with a remorseful feeling, your heart aches in agony and your mind is clouded with thoughts. there your ex boyfriend sat, wide eyes still as blue as when he’d once been yours, presenting you his heart raw in cupped hands— and you still couldn’t find it in you to believe him fully. everything yet nothing made sense. vulnerability was a scary thing, and you weren’t ready to face it.
so, you kiss him.
his breath is taken out of his chest as you lean forward, sealing his mouth shut. you can’t take any more of his merciless words, and the only way to get your mind off it is by getting on it. he feels stiff against you, pupils dilating as you mould lips with his own. your hand travels to the back of his neck, sitting on your knees as you hold him still.
and with a faint lip smack, he pulls away ever so slightly, hands hovering awkwardly over your waist, his breath warm and fanning your cupid’s bow, “wait—”
“don’t wanna talk,” you interrupt, placing another chaste kiss on his lips. he tastes as good as the day you left him. and with another soft smack, your voice lowers, reduced to a whisper, “you gonna fuck me or not?”
he blinks and you stare back at him, full of conviction. a simple yes or no question— and he could gladly see himself out if his answer didn’t satisfy you. his hands finally rest on your waist, and you take it as an invitation to straddle over his hips. he eases your movements by aiding, lifting you just barely to sit on him. his hands fit just as they did all those times ago. a sour, bittersweet feeling— fingertips caressing the nakedness of your torso beneath your camisole.
your back arches as he finds your sensitive spots with quickness. he’d always been great at that, leaving trails of goosebumps past his teasing touches.
“you’re doing it again,” he mumbles against your lips, ever the hypocrite, fingers gripping at your waist like a vice. he rolls your hips over his own, reeling in the softness of your palms cupping at his face. you ignore him when he continues, still nibbling on his bottom lip the way he loves, “you can’t— mmh, avoid this forever.”
maybe not, but you sure as hell could right now. the tip of your noses bump into one another as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss. you want to rid your mind of these plaguing thoughts, ones that made you doubt everything you thought you knew. losing control was out of the question, so naturally you needed it back into your grasp.
sex was an easy way to do that.
“yes or no, gojo.” you give him one last chance, grinding your hips down on his awakening dick. you feel his bulge through his pair of sweats, the print so evident you wondered why he was trying to fight it. the sight alone had your panties dampening in your arousal, uncomfortably sticky against your loungewear.
he hums in between kisses, a false pretend of debating his options. his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts and past your panties, fondling at the flesh that sat beneath. he could fake it all he wants, but fuck chivalry— he was turning to mush the more you sucked at his tongue, licking at the crevice of the roof of his mouth.
it’s when you sink your teeth into the flesh of pink lips, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to draw a moan from him, he comes to a conclusion. he nods his head, snaking his arms to wrap at your waist tighter as finally kisses you back.
“it’s always a yes.” for you. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to, but you hear it and dismiss it. no more lovey doveyness and time to get to the nitty gritty of shit— getting your back blown out. the very thought alone is enough to put a smile on your lips.
bingo.
your bedroom door hardly shuts before he pins you against it. he’s annoyingly big— tall in height and wide in weight. he towers over you comically, hands roaming at every inch of your body as he drinks you up. his lips seek yours desperately, sliding over your glossy ones with practice that suggests hints of comfort.
your arms loop at his neck, and his at your waist. his mouth hardly lets up of yours, mumbling a little jump, as you comply with ease. thighs trapping him in your hold, you then find yourself face to face with him as he lifts you, large palms cupping at your ass. you fit just as perfectly in his hands as you did years ago, flesh so fat he gropes it tenderly.
the walk from the door to your bed passes in the blink of an eye, a timeframe you find pointless to recall as you indulge in the taste of him through his tongue. his presence is so overwhelmingly powerful— every touch and caress at your body reducing your limbs to mush. you cling to him, either out of safety reasons or desire, tilting your head from side to side to deepen the lip-to-lip action.
when he gets to the edge of your bed, he lowers you until your toes reach the floor. due to the difference in height, your lips part, a thin string of saliva connecting from both your mouths as proof of your unison. the blue shade of his orbs darken with desire, eyelids lowering as he drinks up the sight of you— lips plump and swollen, slick in saliva, chest heaving from lack of oxygen.
he raises a hand from your waist to cup at your face, and you detest the way your lean into his touch. your cheek fits in his large palm, and he swipes a thumb at your bottom lip, collecting your shared spit onto the pad of his digit. as he smears the fluid further across your mouth, he prods his thumb a little further— testing out the waters, wanting to see if you’d cave into old habits.
naturally, you allow it, his thumb swallowed by your puckered lips. you roll your tongue over his finger and your eyes never leave his— hoping to convey the rush of emotions you feel through your sultry gaze. your core throbs in want, your stomach erupting in butterflies and your heart pounding unnecessarily. unspoken words you’re positive he understood, if the way he groans when your teeth sink lightly into his digit said anything.
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, popping his finger back out. it’s coated in saliva, and like the freak he is, pops it into his own mouth. once he’s had his fill, he removes his hand from his mouth, and lowers it to your fleshy waist, slipping past the waistband of your panties, “take these off— ‘m hungry, need a taste of that pussy.”
your cheeks nearly split from your excitement, and you comply to his order, gripping at the hem of your shorts to pull them down to your ankle. he assists you despite the previous demand, his own hands atop of yours, a warmth and sense of security so familiar. when your shorts reach past your mid thigh, you allow him to meet you halfway.
he pulls your shorts down to your ankles, lowering himself to a knee. his movements are agonizingly slow, basking in the sight of your thighs in contrast of the shade of your loungewear. he steadies a hand onto your calf, patting it lightly, and you lift your leg just barely, permitting him to slide the shorts off your ankle and tossing it aside.
when the item is discarded, he redirects his focus back to you. he pampers your skin in kisses— delicate but hungry, trails of moisture crawling back up at your inner thighs and shooting right to your core. he looked unexplainably sexy on his knees, littering your body in hushed praises, the tip of his nose nudging at your soft skin. you bit your lip in attempts to cease it from wobbling at the intimacy he was providing.
“god, you smell so good,” he speaks into you, hands snaking to the back of your thighs, pressing you forward into him. your panty covered cunt presents itself right before him, and he plants his nose right into your intimates, your body shuddering as his nose bumps into your clit deliciously. a shaky breath escapes you, and his hands travel upwards to play with your ass. “turn around, wanna eat it from the back.”
the words are taken from you when his hand slaps your ass encouragingly, releasing a mini squeal, “you’re still too freaked out.”
“mhm, something like that,” you don’t see it, as you’re occupied on spinning on your feet to plant your hands on your matters for stability, but you’re positive he’s smirking. your arch your back for him, wanting to properly present the meal he plans on devouring. your cunt oozes slick against your thong just thinking about how he’s going to do you in, “there’s that arch,” a hand slides in the curve of your lower back, before snapping the band of your thong. it recoils against your cheek and you jerk forward at the sting.
“oh? did that hurt?” he taunts, and as you’re about to protest, he does it yet again. the snap is intense but never painful, but the nerve he had to play around like your pussy wasn’t a few centimetres away from his face. you don’t acknowledge how your panties cling even tighter to your folds.
“fuck off,” you curse through gritted teeth, but your hips wiggle backwards in attempt to get him to hurry it up. as if now was any time to tease— you couldn’t stand it when he did it all those years ago, and your feelings haven’t changed since, “get on with it. . . the fuck?”
you hear him sigh, almost disappointedly, and it only aggravates you further. your brows furrow in annoyance and you think you feel a vein tick at your temple.
“still so disrespectful,” gojo tuts, rubbing at your booty tenderly. so he wasn’t exactly wrong, but how was he expecting you to react when he’d just said he was going to eat you out, and proceeds to do anything but that? of course there’s going to be a little pout on your lips, “we gotta work on that attitude of yours.”
your face twists into a look of further aggravation, and you tilt your head back, readying whatever other bratty objections you had— though you’re ultimately interrupted by a sharp sting that spreads across your ass.
the strike of his palm against your cheek sprawls into an intense heat, the pain oddly pleasurable, and the moan that rips out of your chest is impossible to suppress. your eyes nearly jump out of their sockets at the audacity, and right as you’re about to complain, he does it again. and again.
“o-okay, shit!” you attempt to voice out, but he’s relentless, delivering blow after blow onto the same ground. there’s a curve in his palm, and it amplified the sound across the room. despite your protests, you can’t deny every jolt of pain rushes to your clit. you’re positive he knows you’re enjoying this, “gojo— fuck, okayyy!”
to your pleasure, he eases the slaps, opting to smoothen his hand flat across the reddened flesh. he hums pensively, the heat of your skin radiating against his palm in a way that forces a smile on his lips, “ ‘okay?’ what do you mean by that, baby?”
you clench your teeth at his faux ignorance. you know exactly what he wants from you, and you’re not sure if you’re able to give it to him as you are. an apology— he wants you to apologize, that bastard. your left cheek stings like a bitch, even with his now gentle touches, and your core is begging you to cooperate with him, in order for that attention it was neglected of. he is such a dickhead— putting you in a predicament like this one.
you swallow the last bit of dignity you hold, a constant reminder in the back of your mind that this was for the greater good— for the sake of your pussy. with a pained sigh, you tilt your head backwards to meet his playful gaze that stares back at you, right below the plump of your ass, and you muster the cutest look you can give.
doe eyes paired with a little pout, “‘m sorry. . . for the attitude,” you’re not sorry at all, but you desperately want your cunt in his mouth, so you do what you have to do, “can you eat it now? please?”
he flashes you a million dollar smile, all thirty twos on full display, and it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to roll your eyes right then and there. he was so full of shit, his eyes might as well brown. but still, you knew he got off on this kind of thing, and when he presses a quick kiss at the print of your lips, he replies, “of course, sweet girl— only because you asked so nicely.”
there’s no further need to speak, as you feel your thong being pushed to the side, followed by a cold breeze hitting your bare cunt, meshed with warm breathe as he feasts .
gojo eats you out like he has something to prove, and you know what— maybe he does. to prevent you from straying from him, he grounds you with two firm hands gripping at your ass. he spreads the flesh apart, his tongue lapping at your slick greedily. you can’t tell who’s moans are louder— yours or his, the man so engaged in sucking at your clit, nibbling on the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. you hold onto the sheets on your bed with dear life, thighs trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.
“fuck, don’t stop,” you whine, pushing your hips further back, your mind overcame with utter greediness for more of that insatiable pleasure. you might as well have swallowed him whole into you, just as he’s swallowing you whole into him, his tongue diving deep past your hole and into your folds. he flicks his tongue expertly, licking at every crevice and nook of your cave, his jaw working overtime as his bottom lip never lets up at your clit.
your entire pussy is consumed by him, no area going neglected— drool slips past his mouth and spills onto your floor. a familiar heat licks at the pit of your stomach, a telltale that your dam is bound to burst anytime soon. he remedies your ache with another painful spank at your ass, groaning into your pussy when you clamp down on his tongue.
he was so fucking nasty— fucking into you with his tongue like he needed this more than you did. he makes out with your cunt, like he was a starving man on death row. at a particular cruel angle of his tongue fucking, your body would react with an all consuming tremble, fingers clawing at your duvets, your lungs releasing pathetic mewls. and the further you pushed back into his merciless mouth, the closer his nose nudged at your puckered forbidden hole.
he pulls away with a gasp, subbing his mouth out for his fingers, the pads of three fingers rubbing messily at your sloppy lips. the sound it creates is downright filthy, so painfully loud that it damn near drowns out your own moans.
“pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he spits a wad of saliva at your already soaked cunt, further amplifying the squelching sounds. he drags his fingers down to your clit, pinching at the bud with enough pressure to have your knees buckling, before sliding back upwards to your clenching hole. he slides into your entrance, index and middle fingers twisting in with ease, “bet she missed me, hm?”
“y-yes!” you nod mindlessly, your high creeping up on you as he works himself into you. taking six inches of fingers twice was a task in itself— the average length of a man’s dick serving purpose as fingering was just downright disrespectful. his knuckles poke at your silky walls, stretching you out to the best of his abilities, “shit— oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum!”
to your statement, he latches his lips back to your neglected clit, sucking on the bud as if he were intentionally trying to milk you dry. he hums at your taste, the vibrations shooting right up your alley and into the knot tightening in your guts— and when he curls his fingers upwards, at that spot that has stars dancing beneath your eyelids, the dam breaks. that knot stood no chance.
“oh goddd,” you cry out, spraying your release all over. it dribbles out your pussy and past the lower half of his face, to which his jaw widens as his mouth gapes— greedily aiming to slurp at your juices while simultaneously flicking your bean. the stimulation has your brain going dumb, as you fall flat onto your bed, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth and staining your sheets damp.
he lets you ride out the euphoric bliss, the movements of his fingers and the lapping of his tongue slowing down the more your body reacted to the overstimulation. when he deems you well spent, he lets up, slipping his fingers out and popping them back in his mouth, swirling your taste across his pallets, “as sweet as ever,” rising back to his full height.
you haven’t came that hard in a while, limbs reduced to nothing as you merge into one with your bed. your legs are still trembling, and your chest heaves as you exhale deep breaths. letting your eyelids close shut, you take the time to regroup yourself from that mind shattering orgasm. who the fuck had he been fucking that forced him to keep this skill? granted, you had no right to complain but holy shit, he was no fucking noob.
you feel the weight of his body press on top of you, a well-built chest meeting your moist back. it doesn’t take much to realize he’s hovering over you. his lips litter kisses at the column of your neck, moving up to the shell of your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps after each embrace, “you tappin’ out already?” gojo snickers at your shell of a body, and you kiss your teeth at his typical mockery, “what happened to my champ while i was gone?”
“fuck off,” you pout, a little embarrassed by the fact that you really were retired from the game. sure, you were getting dicked down real good by your previous partner (question mark), but it never had you as exhausted as you currently were. there was absolutely nothing gojo satoru couldn’t do, and that ticked you off to no end, “nobody said shit about tappin’ out.”
“hm. . .” he hums, nuzzling his nose into your jugular, his hips grinding into the cleft of your ass. it’s impossible to ignore the bulge poking into you, and you doubt he was trying to hide it regardless, his hips rolling against the plushness of your behind, “guess sukuna didn’t do as good of job as he should’ve.”
that has your eyelids opening right back up. talk about an awkward situation— bringing up you and your ex’s (question mark) sex life while having sex with your other ex was a double edged predicament in itself. had you agreed, which lowkey wasn’t entirely wrong, you’d be stroking the fuck out of gojo’s ego and be disrespecting sukuna. but had you disagreed, you could end up on gojo’s wrong side and fumble an entire night worth of dicking.
so, once more, you take the easy way out, at the expense of inflating the white haired man’s ego, much to your dismay, “think you can do better?”
he stays silent for a while. in what you assume is him coming up with an answer to your question, his kisses travel to the dead centre of your shoulder blades, wet and open mouthed, as they crawl lower down your spine. with every kiss, your body caves into a state of relaxation, as if he was undoing every stress clouding at your hazed mind with his mouth alone.
he lands at the middle of your back, before he pulls away abruptly. and just as soon as he started, he was finished— removing himself off your body entirely. panic settles quickly in your stomach, as you turn your head around to see what he was up to. had you unintentionally hurt his feelings? damn, and here you were enjoying the body worship.
“what are you—” your words are cut off as his hands cup at your waist. he slides you back towards the edge of the bed, your feet planted on the floor once more. you feel some residue of your previous orgasm beneath your heels, eugh. you don’t have much time to spend thinking about how gross it feels when a hand holds your shoulders, and lifts you right back up.
your brows jump to your hairline in surprise at the sudden manhandling, though you can’t deny you found just a bit sexy. with his chest pressed into your back once more, you can feel his heartbeat thudding at the blade of your left shoulder, the organ withholding a steady rhythm— the tempo of a lullaby you’d once been accustomed to. and then big arms wrap around your frame, and holds you.
you hate the way your body folds so easily to his touch. it’s been an entire year, and despite your mind shouting at you for the intimacy you’re allowing to gallop right back into your life, your heart craves it. the sense of security his embrace offers you alone makes the least of sense, but you blindly lean into him, allowing yourself to be deluded for the time being. he won’t be yours as soon as this is over, so you might as well take the most advantage of the situation.
it takes a minute for either of you to speak. here you stood— half naked and legs sore, but still happily in his arms. his cologne is still as rich and dominating as it’d been all those times ago. he breaks the silence first, his chin resting above your shoulder, as he mumbles, “you really hurt my feelings, you know.”
to some degree, you know you did. about what exactly? you weren’t sure, but still, you offer him what you believe he wants, the realization leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, “i’m sorry.”
“‘s all good,” he kisses your cheek so tenderly that your neck cranes to the side to meet his gaze. gojo had always been so readable when it came to emotions, as he always wore his heart on his sleeve, but even with all the knowledge you knew about, you weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes. raw, unfiltered emotions. you only notice the close proximity between you both when your noses bump into one another. he shoots you a warm smile, “could never be upset with you. you hold that power over me.”
it’s you who kisses him first, and he returns the favour with more intensity. it’s an awkward positioning for your neck, but you don’t let up regardless of the ache in your joints. his mouth stays on yours as if you were his lifeline, tongues sloshing one over the other, brushing your lips together so gingerly.
in the midst of his tongue down your throat, he slips a hand in between your thighs, cupping at your abandoned pussy. the casual brush of his fingers at your core sent a breathy whine from your throat right into his mouth, and it only motivated him to work harder, rubbing slow patterns into your throbbing clit. your hips chase the feeling, riding the wave of his fingers.
he pulls away from your mouth, just barely, mumbling against your kiss bitten lips, “one of these days you’re gonna let me finish speaking,” followed by a knowing smile. sure, it could be seen as a flaw, but it was the only way you could protect yourself while keeping him within arm’s reach. never ready to have him but never prepared to let him go, “we can do that later— gotta blow your back out first.”
you couldn’t agree more.
it all happens so quickly— he retrieves his hand from between your thighs, having collected your juices at his fingertips, before lubricating his dick. he pumps at the length leisurely, his bottom lip tugged by his top row of teeth, and the groans he lets out are enough to have you squeezing your thighs eagerly, your cunt aching and ready to go. in the midst of your eagerness, you slip your hand behind you and catch his twitching cock, working your wrist right above his own, jerking him off.
a deep groan grumbles from his chest, and he instantly stops your hand from moving any further. you frown at his ceasing, but when you tilt your head to voice out your confusion, he offers a sheepish smile, “don’t wanna cum too soon,” ever the minute man, he was.
though, you soon find yourself regretting your own thoughts the very instant you feel the tip of his dick pushing past your entrance.
there’s a blended harmony of both your moans that bounces off the walls. his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips, holding onto you so tightly you’re positive you’ll bruise, and you clamp down on his intruding dick so tightly you’re positive you never want to let him go. the initial stretch is a feeling you’ll never get used to, but the sensation is all but unwanted.
“fuckkk, y/n,” he moans right into your ear, his voice so full of want, you can’t help but understand exactly where he’s coming from. he pulls his hips back, almost entirely, though his tip stays inside. it takes him a second to regroup, mumbling incoherent words under his breath, before he plunges back into your cunt.
and from that point on, it’s wraps. he fucks into you like a madman— as if he’d been punishing you for your crimes. punishing you for sleeping with another man. punishing you for leaving him a year and a half ago. punishing you for punishing him. his pace is ruthless— hips meeting your ass as fast as he’d pull out, pounding into your little hole to mould it into the shape of him.
he’s thick, this time on perverted shit.
you’re so painfully full of him, and despite your arms stretched outwards to grip at the sheets that had suffered more than enough of your abuse on them, your walls never let go of him. you don’t want him to pull out ever, utterly obsessed with the rough pace he set from the jump. it feels impossible keeping the curve of your back when the tip of his length repetitively attacks at your golden spots.
“ohmygoddd,” you words come out slurry, head lolling forward uselessly. if he kept fucking you like this, you weren’t going to let him leave again. stuck in an endless loop of bliss, with every thrust into your folds, his balls would slap at your clit and drive you insane, “y’re d-doing me s’gooddd,”
“yeah?” he eggs on, his voice as breathless as you’d been, though his pacing would never suggest so. there’s a hypnotic recoil of your ass bouncing back onto his pelvis that indulges him into disrupting it, delivering a new spank at your cheeks. you cry out at the feeling, and he strikes again, hips never letting up, “tell me more baby.”
you rise at your tip toes when you feel yourself sinking, legs giving out yet again. you hold yourself up at your elbows, a newfound confidence pushing your hips back to match his pace. when he heaves out a loud moan, you’re encouraged to keep going. the melody of your skins slapping against each other echoes into the stillness of the night, arching your back the further he plunges into your guts. you’re so turned on, the evidence creaming around the perimeter of his cock, easing the slides of his dick inside of you.
“toruuu,” you whine, too fucked out to notice your first mistake— calling him by his favorite nickname. at that given moment, you couldn’t care any less, the intense heat in your guts growing once more. the curve of his dick reaches spots you don’t think anybody could reach, almost as if he was made entirely for you, “you’re so big— can feel you, nghhh, everywhere!”
“that’s cause i am everywhere,” you think you can hear him smirking behind you. though, he has every right to feel entitled, with how much of a mess he’s reduced you to. he rolls his hips deep, a firm bulge forming into your tummy. as if he’s got a sixth sense or eye, he leans forward to rest his chest against your back— your eyes rolling back from the new angle. he slides a hand beneath your stomach and presses at the bulge hard. you can’t help the squeal you let out, “that’s me right there.”
you nod your head feverishly, the applied pressure on your stomach pushing his cock right at your cervix. oh god, he was going to kill you. what a wonderful way to go— all judgements clouded in favour of an eight inched dick penetrating your walls, “‘s all yours— mmh, always been.”
and that’d been your final mistake.
because the chuckle he lets out right into your ear is dark. the sounds shoot right up to your spine, shivers crawling up your back deliciously. he might as well be back stabbing you with how his cock plunged so sloppily out of your gaping cunt, “you always knew how to, fuck, pillowtalk,” he pants into your neck, his additional weight onto your shaking frame nothing short on welcoming. the hand pressing into your stomach lowers to your clit, and pinches meanly at the bud, “you know i’d, mmh, give you the world if you asked— my smart girl, shit.”
he’s so cruel, talking to you so lovingly despite it all. you tighten your eyes, in poor attempts to ignore the tenderness of the words fleeting his lips and focus instead on the stretch of your cunt down his dick. you feel yourself creaming on him, further proof of both your unison through his diabolical thrusts. he pinned you into place like this— unable to do anything but take what he gave you gratefully.
at a particular stroke at your abused golden spot, your body releases another tremor of shudders. it overtakes you from head to toe, a moan so ripe escaping your lips as you claw at ruined sheets. gojo works into aiming at that spot over and over again, each thrust more intense than the previous one. the change of his pace, slowing for a minute, draws you near the end of the line quicker than you’d anticipated.
“oh?” he grunts playfully, swaying his hips back and forth into your poor pussy. mercy is nowhere to be found, however, “you like it when i fuck you like this?” another agonizingly beautiful thrust at the same place, you can’t help but reward him with a cry. he’s fucking you into the damn mattress, and he has the balls to ask this question knowing the answer. still, you nod your head mutely, tears collecting at your lash line, and he nips at the skin on your jaw, “yeahhh you do.”
god, you do.
and suddenly, you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that would have you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.
in the midst of your delusions, he pulls you both back up from the bed, standing once again. at this new position, he reaches impossibly further into you, the difference in your heights making up for the inches he’s dug into you. his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.
or was it you were feigning you don’t? because as he works himself back into you, at a pace so tender yet cruel, the line of boundaries you’d once set has been entirely deterred. a force so overwhelming, just like his entire being, bringing you right back to him as if you’d never left— nevermind the fact your thighs could barely support themselves, quaking pathetically. it was getting too much— everything was a lot.
“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. you were a trooper, but there was only so much pleasurable torture you could handle. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, he coos, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”
how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?
oh right. . . tinder. you had a bone to pick with the ceo of that app right after you come back to your senses.
“i— i can’t,” you fumble at your words, the lack of oxygen catching up to you. you’re bound to his mercy— hands tied, breath nearly restricted, pussy obliterated, and yet, there’s nowhere else you’d want to be. the pressure on your throat lolls your head backwards, chin facing the ceiling as your eyes fall onto snowy lashes, “gonna cum again— oh fuckfuckfuck,”
and despite his brutality, he shoots you a sweet smile, the contrast in his words versus his actions grand, “right behind you, baby.”
you cum, and hard . much harder than you had before. you gush your fluids down his piercing cock, your folds squeezing him tight as you release. you think your mind blanks for a minute, an orgasm so powerful, you fear your eyes would stay stuck at the back of your skull. you shiver in his embrace, the insatiable desire racking your body from top to bottom.
when he pulls out, you fall flat yet again onto your stomach, face first. you assume you look like a puddle of nothingness, your limbs spent from the overexhaustion. but still, you find yourself in a similar position to prior, as gojo leans over your body, a hand holding him up as the other works on his jerking him cum out. smart move, not finishing inside, though a weird feeling of disappointment sits in your stomach, swapping the fiery heat from your orgasm.
he sinks his teeth into your shoulders as you wince, emptying himself right onto your lower back. it runs hot and smooth into the dimples of your back, that you can’t help but stretch your limp arm towards the mess to collect the residue on your fingers. you pop them into your mouth, his taste still so familiar as he plops right at your side, face up.
there’s a thick silence that fills the sex scented room. you wonder what is going through his brain now that the lust demon that was half his ego had been taken care of. was he on the same page as you were? had he realized just how messy this could turn out? he’s too quiet for a man of his nature— and that terrified you shitless. no matter the outcome, you’re ready to kick him out. post nut clarity was a scary thing— it revealed the violent truth of how tempting the flesh could be, even with consequences on the line.
you want to beat him to it. the last thing you need on your consciousness is your ex boyfriend who’d you invited into your home a year after you broke up with him, leaving you. he seemed petty enough to do the eye for an eye shtick— it wasn’t too out of character for him.
with a heavy heart and sigh, you turn your head to the side where he lays comfortably. the words want to die in your throat, but your urge them out, the sooner the better, “you should—”
“no.” he interrupts, followed by a yawn.
you frown at that, brows scrunching as you insist that yet again, “you need to—”
“nah.” gojo cuts you off yet again, rolling onto his side. his dick falls limp onto your bed, and you don’t think about the mess it’s making. to be fair, you’d done far worse. and it was proven difficult to care about that mess when he brought a finger to play with your loose hairs, cerulean eyes zeroing in on them, “i’m tired. let’s get you cleaned up and go to bed.”
“you’re not listening to me.” you click your tongue, a little desperate to have him hear you. you’re scared to keep him around longer, because you know you’ll grow attached again and that already ended terribly once, and took you forever and a half to get over. he has to leave and right now, “you have to go.”
gojo hums at that. he stops the twirling of your hair, rather reluctantly, and finally meets your sharp gaze. he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “why?”
you narrow your eyes, “you know why,” you shouldn’t have to explain why two exes cozying up after indulging into each other was a bad idea. common sense, you figured, but was it common sense to have him over in the first place? a flurry of various emotions coursing over you laced with exhaustion had you overthinking like a motherfucker, “this was a bad idea.”
he trails his finger along the slope of your clenched jaw, and you don’t think about the fact it immediately relaxed at his touch. the longer he traced your skin, the longer he kept looking at you like that, you were wavering in your own logic. you’d both gotten what you wanted in the first place, so why was it he was still here? the rational decision would be to pretend this never happened and part ways again, but why was the thought of him locking the door behind him once again at your expense making you feel sick to your stomach?
when his finger lands at your pouty lips, he taps his index finger twice against the flesh. naturally, your pout deepens. his eyes flick from your mouth to your shying gaze, and his index swaps for his thumb. he runs the pad of his finger across the reddened surface, and his voice falls a few octaves lower, hushed for nobody else but you to hear, “you don’t want me to leave.”
you don’t.
he takes your silence as acceptance, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. it’s enough to rid your mind of its plaguing doubts in the meanwhile. and when his hand slides to cup at the back of your neck, ultimately deepening it, you can’t find it in you to care about the consequences for the time being. not when he was swallowing you whole like he was the one terrified to feel you slip from his fingers. you melt into him far too easily.
well. . . that was something you’d deal with in the morning.
Can you do Katsuki x female reader where reader's daughter (who she had with another man years ago, her ex turned out to be abusive) finally warms up to Katsuki enough to start calling him her dad? The girl has traumas about her dad so it's a big step.
author's note: never mind about the GIF library—it only seems to work with certain tags. Katsuki's tag takes 5 minutes to load before throwing me with an error. I'll try adding GIFs to posts that actually load for me.
Piece by Piece
Katsuki had always been patient, in his own rough-edged way. He knew better than to force anything, especially when it came to your daughter, Aimi. She had every reason to be wary of men, of father figures, and he never blamed her for keeping her distance. He had seen the haunted look in her eyes when she flinched at loud voices, how she hesitated before speaking, always gauging if she was safe.
At first, she barely acknowledged him, only ever referring to him as "Mom’s boyfriend" or simply "Katsuki." It stung a little, but he never let it show. Instead, he showed up—again and again. Helping her with homework, cooking meals when you were busy, staying up with her when she had nightmares, and never pushing when she needed space. He wasn’t trying to replace anyone. He just wanted her to know that he wasn’t going anywhere.
There were tough days. Days where she barely spoke a word to him, locking herself in her room, the old memories dragging her down. On those nights, he’d stay up, making sure she knew he was around if she needed anything. Some nights she had nightmares. He heard her muffled cries through the door but never forced his way in. Instead, he left a cup of tea outside her door, a small note scrawled on it: "You’re safe. We’ve got you."
Slowly, she started warming up. Small things—like watching TV in the same room as him instead of avoiding him altogether. Asking him to pass the salt at dinner instead of pretending he didn’t exist. He took every small win, knowing trust took time.
Tonight was no different. You had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day, leaving Aimi and Katsuki alone in the kitchen. She sat at the table, lazily pushing around the remains of her dinner while Katsuki stood at the sink, washing dishes.
“You don’t have to do that,” Aimi mumbled, staring at the soapy water. “Mom’ll do it in the morning.”
Katsuki huffed, rinsing off a plate. “Tch. Ain’t lettin’ her wake up to a mess. She does enough as it is.”
Aimi was quiet for a moment, watching him. He knew that look—like she was debating something, turning it over in her mind. “You always help,” she said finally, almost accusingly.
Katsuki dried his hands and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Yeah. So?”
She fidgeted, picking at the edge of her sleeve. “My real dad never did.”
His chest tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Just let her talk.
“He used to yell at Mom a lot. At me, too.” Her voice was small, but steady. “I used to wish he’d just leave us alone. But when he finally did, I still felt…wrong. Like maybe I wasn’t good enough.”
Katsuki’s hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. The urge to track down that bastard and make him regret every word, every bruise, every scar he’d left on them—it burned hot inside him. But this moment wasn’t about his anger. It was about Aimi.
He forced himself to take a slow breath. “That asshole had nothin’ to do with your worth, kid. He was just a piece of shit who didn’t deserve you or your mom.”
Aimi looked up at him then, really looked at him. “You’re different.”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his heart was hammering. “Damn right, I am.”
She gave a small, almost shy smile. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “Thanks, Dad.”
Katsuki froze. The plate in his hand nearly slipped. He turned to her slowly, his throat tight. “What’d you just say?”
She shifted, suddenly nervous. “I mean—only if you want me to call you that—”
He was across the room before she could finish, pulling her into a hug. He felt her stiffen at first, but then she melted into him, clutching his shirt with small hands.
“You’re damn right I do,” he murmured, his voice rough, thick with emotion. “You’re my kid now, got it?”
Aimi sniffled against his chest. “Okay…Dad.”
Katsuki held her tighter, pressing his chin against her head. He stayed like that, letting her feel the steady strength of his arms. After a few moments, she let out a small laugh, muffled against his chest.
“You’re squishing me.”
He grunted but loosened his grip slightly. “Tch. You’ll live.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her expression softer than he’d ever seen. “I think I’m really lucky.”
Katsuki’s throat tightened again, and he ruffled her hair roughly to hide the way his eyes burned. “Damn right you are. Best damn dad you coulda picked.”
She giggled, a sound so rare it made his heart ache. “Yeah. I think so too.”
Yeah, he’d never let her or you go. Not for anything.
summary: A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent drops out, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki.
contents: The classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar Bakugou, soft dom Bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush, slight bondage, descriptions of afab genitalia, nipple sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, pet names used: angel and sweetheart, porn with surprise feelings, 18+, 8.2k words
notes: This is my Bakugou x Reader commitment for @ficsforgaza, and I am sorry it is late enough to also count for Valentine's Day (but also Happy Valentine's Day!!) Additionally, a special thank you to my angel princess @ofmermaidstories for handing me the nerd + pornstar combo when I was worried about Bakugou's characterization. I think this is the only way I could have ever written a pornstar Bakugou that felt right to me. Love you, Mermie.
The studio was churning in chaos by the time you arrived.
The first sign that things weren’t right was Komori, one of your fellow production assistants, propped against the wall outside. Her cellphone was pressed against her ear, and she looked nervous, her foot tapping a thousand miles a minute. She had a thumbnail pressed to her mouth and was chewing steadily through the nail like a rabbit through a lettuce leaf.
You didn’t want to disturb her, so you buzzed inside the studio, only to find the hallways filled with an equally nervous energy. Yaoyorozu, one of the production managers, hovered in the doorway of a dressing room. She looked to be arguing with someone, her normally sweet expression pinched in profile. A small circle of people took up the hallway behind her, shifting apprehensively.
A shrill voice filtered out of the dressing room as you tried to wedge yourself by. “I said I’m not doing it. We’re getting married and we agreed I wouldn’t do this anymore.”
You stopped in your tracks, blinking as you turned back to the doorway, peering over Sato’s shoulder.
Bibimi Kenranzaki was one of the studio’s top actresses, the very performer scheduled to shoot the production you were working on this afternoon. The shoot was a Valentine’s Day special, and had already been delayed at Bibimi’s request several times. If you’d understood Yaoyorozu’s previous concerns correctly, today was the last possible day to shoot it with enough time for it to make it through editing to post on Valentine’s.
This was not good.
“Bibimi, of course we would never force you to do something you did not consent to,” Yaoyorozu said patiently. “But you can see how having delayed this shoot many times already puts us in danger of not delivering on our commitments.”
You heard a dismissive snort issue from the room, and peered over one of Yaoyorozu’s slender shoulders. Bibimi lounged across one of the waiting room couches, arms crossed over her chest. An enormous diamond ring you’d never seen before glinted from one of her fingers, clearly the source of today’s change of heart.
Oh, production was not going to be happy.
You winced as you ducked out from behind Yaoyorozu, heading back down the hall to stuff your things into one of the vacant lockers. It was a struggle to fit everything in as today you’d come directly from a lecture—two textbooks the size and weight of cinderblocks choking up all the space in your bag. You would have thought that, considering that a wide swath of the production staff were college students—including several of the performers themselves—the studio would have had a better set up. But it was often a fight to the death to even find an open locker amongst the many other bookbags, and an equally Sisyphean struggle to get the door shut on the tiny cubbies.
Once you finally managed to finagle the door shut on your backpack, you made a beeline for the supply room. Typically, your first task of any shoot was acquisition of about a million pounds of baby wipes and lube, though you wondered if they would be needed today, given the scene with Bibimi you’d just witnessed.
You checked the film schedule posted in the staff entry to find the allotted set room. Then you made your way down the twisting maze halls carpeted with ancient olefin to the set for You Cumplete Me, the obnoxious working title Kaminari had come up with for this particular Valentine’s Day project.
The room was set up like some generic apartment, a large bed with a wire-framed headboard dominating the majority of the space. A cherry wood nightstand cluttered with fake knick knacks stood diligently at the bedside, and two fake windows with their curtains drawn shut overlooked the whole affair, red dressings fluttering slightly in the breeze from a fan.
Most of the production staff was already inside the room, the cameramen and director huddled together in the corner, whispering nervously. You spotted Mina, the wardrobe coordinator and makeup artist, fussing with her phone in the other corner, her various products and brushes spread out across a plastic folding table, looking put out.
“You know if we’re going to be able to sub anyone in for Bibimi?” you asked as you approached her, flopping down in one of the chairs set up at her makeshift dressing table. You arrayed your armful of lube and plastic packs of wipes at the corner so as not to disturb her arrangement.
Mina’s eyes flicked up to yours and she grinned, the upturn of her mouth accented with perfectly-applied hot pink lipstick.
“Komori’s called like ten other actresses so far and can’t get anyone,” Mina answered. “And Shiozaki and Kendo are in-studio but both just got off another shoot so we contractually can’t use them. I think Yaomomo is ready to start shaking people down.”
You winced. Yaoyorozu never lost her cool, but the pressure must be mounting. You knew marketing materials had already been put out on the studio’s website, specifically promising the return of the studio’s highest-grossing star—Bakugou Katsuki—opposite Bibimi.
While Bibimi might be the highest paid actress, Bakugou was the real draw of UA Productions. UA churned out projects that were largely targeted towards less traditional markets—largely women—porn that was often of higher production value, higher quality scripting, and careful coordination showcasing enthusiasm and consent. It also subsequently employed more than its fair share of beautiful men.
And Bakugou Katsuki crowned that pile of performers. Though foul-mouthed and often irascible, he was undeniably breathtaking to behold, both on screen and in person. He was the typical blend of tall, strong, and well-muscled that most UA actors were. But he moved with a singular precision and intention that drove fans wild, and came equipped with bed-rumpled blond hair, mile-long lashes, a surly, pouty mouth, and a facial symmetry that Euclid himself would have wept over.
He was also nearing the end of his doctoral and would not be filming for much longer, you were given to understand. So the studio stood to lose a significant amount of audience trust and money, should this production fall through.
As if on cue, Bakugou Katsuki himself stomped through the doorway. The expression on his face told you he was already well-aware of what was happening with Bibimi, and he was getting annoyed with the hold up. He set a direct line for you and Mina, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction.
Your ears promptly went hot, the way they always did when Bakugou was in your line of vision.
You’d unfortunately had something of a crush on him from the minute you’d become a production assistant at UA, your third year of college. Funds were tight and your masters program loomed large in front of you, its meager stipend like a slap in the face. You’d needed something else flexible, and you’d found UA through the friend of a friend—its proximity to the university, and ever changing schedule of ongoing productions offering the perfect amount of flexibility for your situation.
Bakugou had been there that first day as Yaoyorozu gave you the tour, too. He’d been tucked up on the couch of the waiting room as you passed through, blonde hair rumpled, someone’s lip gloss still smeared at the corner of his jaw. He looked like a soft, relaxed mess—clothes askew like he’d pulled them back on after a shoot and immediately migrated to the couch—though his scarlet eyes tracked intently across the page of an enormous engineering text spread across his thighs. His long fingers twirled a pen absently, tapping against a notebook peeking out from just under the textbook, headphones jammed over his ears.
He did not look up as you made your way inside, but your stomach had flared to life with a sudden flutter of butterflies. You were startled by the pretty set of his mouth, the long lashes that swept over his cheeks as he read, the flex of those long, beautiful fingers on his pen. You had never seen a person so perfect in real life, and the effect was dumbing.
“That’s Bakugou, one of our performers,” Yaoyorozu had told you, leading you through the room. She did not stop to introduce you. “He’s working on a PhD in chemical engineering, and performs once every couple of months for us. He’s—erm—not quite friendly, so we’ll skip the introduction today.”
You’d followed her, nodding obediently, leaving Bakugou behind. You’d dutifully concluded your tour and signed all the paperwork, and met several other members of the staff. It was only when you’d been released from your onboarding obligations that you saw Bakugou again, as you ran out into the parking lot to start your car.
It was raining out, a torrential downpour much worse than when you’d arrived that came down in thick, pelting sheets. Visibility was bad enough that you almost missed the tuft of blonde hair across the parking lot, ducking under the awning of the nearby bus stop.
You knew the route headed back towards your university, and subsequently your apartment, and it dawned on you that Bakugou’s would most likely be attaining his cited PhD at your same college. You felt your mouth twist, impressed. PhD tracks were notoriously difficult to attain at Musutafu University—no wonder Bakugou needed a job that was, for lack of better phrasing, quick and dirty. He probably was drowning in post-grad labs and dissertation materials.
The memory of those long fingers tapping at the edge of his text suddenly flickered again in your brain, and something possessed you as you started up your engine. Before you knew what you were doing, you had pulled your car around into the bus stop bay, leaning out to call out to him.
“Hey—Bakugou, right?” you said, watching as scarlet eyes found yours, narrowing suspiciously. His pretty mouth lifted in an immediate, reflexive snarl, and those broad shoulders squared off, like he was getting ready for trouble.
You cut in, quickly explaining yourself when you realized he had no context for the rando hanging out of their car window at him. “I’m Yaoyorozu’s new production staff. Just joined today. Are you headed towards Musutafu U and do you want a ride?”
A blonde eyebrow lifted. “You’re with UA?” he asked. His voice was a kind of low growl, not unlike the thunder suddenly echoing overhead, and the sound shot through you like a bolt of lightning.
“I—yeah. Just signed the paperwork this afternoon.”
Several spatters of rain dampened your cheeks where you had your head poked out of the window, and Bakugou’s eyes tracked them closely as he leaned in. “Then let’s get one thing straight right off the bat—I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”
You recoiled, horrified at the conclusion he’d immediately brought himself to. “No! That’s not what I—I didn’t mean like—! I just thought because it’s raining out, you might want—”
“I want you to fuck right off, is what I want,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made a show of leaning back against the glass wall of the bus stop, its interior papered over with moldering ads. It was a clear dismissal.
You blinked at him stupidly for a moment, mind reeling that your gesture had been received so poorly. But then you realized he hadn’t seen you, in your trek through the staff room during your afternoon tour. You’d only just seen him, and you hadn’t spoken to him besides. Despite your immediate interest in and respect for him, he knew nothing about you.
And he was a pornstar, come to think of it. He probably had had a fair number of creeps proposition him out of the blue. Enough that he was suspicious now, as you might have been, were you in his position.
Your cheeks heated, suddenly ashamed. You nodded, gritting your teeth as you ducked back inside your car.
“Right, fucking off, as requested,” you said, turning your blinker on to move back out into the road. “Sorry to scare you. See you, um—see you at work sometime.”
“Oi—I ain’t fuckin’ scared,” you heard him growl, but then you were turning back out into the street. You rolled your window back up as you sped up, resisting the urge to look back at Bakugou in the rearview.
What a humiliating first impression that had been.
You'd fretted about it for another week before your first official day at UA, and for several weeks more when you didn’t immediately run into Bakugou. When you’d finally met him properly, however, Bakugou acted like he’d never even seen you before in his life, and you somewhat gratefully followed his lead. He treated you like anyone else, with the same kind of universal severity he turned on the other production staff. You discovered very quickly that he was impatient, brusque, no-nonsense. He stalked onto every set with all the latent energy of a nuclear missile strike, and never softened until after the shoot was over.
His general attitude, and your humiliating first encounter should have been enough to turn you off of him. But the occasional glimpse of him after a shoot—rumpled, relaxed, open in a way he normally wasn’t, in the way that you'd first seen him—was unfortunately enough to keep those initial butterflies aflutter.
The fact that he was smart—and annoyingly adept in the bedroom, considering the number of reshoots his costars often needed after they accidently came too early—did not help matters.
“Where the fuck is Yaoyorozu?” he demanded of you and Mina, as he approached you in the set room now.
You met his scarlet gaze, holding very still under his regard.
“She was negotiating with Bibimi just now when I came in,” you told him, cheeks heating as his eyes flicked over you. He had a very direct way of evaluating people, and rarely missed a detail. You hoped your makeup wasn’t smudged from where you’d had your head propped up in your hand, valiantly resisting falling asleep in your earlier lecture.
“Bibimi’s a waste of fuckin’ time,” Bakugou growled.
You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t very well act opposite his own hand, so someone was going to have to fill in.
“Well Mina says we’re not having luck finding anyone else either so Bibimi is your best bet,” you told him.
Bakugou looked down his perfect nose at you. “Anyone in this damn studio could do better than she does.”
You felt your eyebrows raise. Bibimi was popular with a variety of audiences for her exaggeratedly dollish features—you doubted just anyone could fill in for her and look as good. You said as much to Bakugou, and he scoffed.
“‘S not about looking good, it’s about showing that you’re feeling good,” he said plainly, igniting a wave of fire across your cheeks. The flames worsened when he crossed his arms over his chest and you had occasion to notice he was in nothing but a workout tank, his bare biceps flexing enticingly in the studio lighting.
You were thankfully spared from having to form a coherent response by Yaoyorozu stepping into the room. She was tailed by Komori, and wore a troubled expression. She waved an elegant hand that encompassed both your camp in the corner and the directors on the other side of the room.
“Bibimi is unfortunately out. And we cannot use Shiozaki or Kendo. I am afraid we may have to call off the shoot this afternoon,” she said.
“So get someone else in,” Bakugou said, with his usual brisk directness. He turned to face her. You caught the whiff of something light and clean on him as he did so, laundry detergent and recently-applied shampoo.
Yaoyorozu fixed him with an expectant look. “We’ve unfortunately worked our way through the roster of available performers. Unless you know someone else?”
Bakugou stared back at her evenly, arching a blonde brow. “There’re a bunch of extras already here, aren’t there?”
A little shock went through you. Extras. As in the…people in the room right now? Did he really mean the production staff?
Yaoyorozu blinked, apparently taken aback. Then her gaze slid thoughtfully between Komori, Mina, and you. Another little thrill raced through you, like you’d suddenly missed a step. Surely they both could not actually be considering that.
“I’m a hoe but I’m a loyal hoe,” Mina said from next to you, immediately putting up a rosy palm. “Eiji is my one and only, sorry babes.”
Yaoyorozu nodded. “Of course, I would not expect you to violate any commitments you already had to a significant other.”
“I am also seeing someone,” Komori volunteered, a shy little blush sweeping across her cheeks. You smiled a bit at her obvious regard for whoever it was—until you sensed a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly turning to you.
Your stomach dropped—less of a missed step then and more of a sudden push off a cliff.
Worst of all was the pair of scarlet eyes suddenly burning with undue regard in your direction. You stared straight at Yaoyorozu, unable to meet Bakugou’s gaze. You still felt like you might burn up under his scrutiny, like an ant under a magnifying glass.
“I—uh—” you said dumbly, floundering for the right set of words to explain yourself. “Uhh.”
“You seeing anybody?” Bakugou prodded, prompting a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks.
“Well—no—”
“You clean?” he asked.
Your face burned hotter. “Yes, if you must know—-but uh—”
“Then what?” he prompted.
“Is it that easy for you? To just switch partners like that?” you asked. You weren’t exactly a blushing virgin but you still had only slept with partners you had cared for. Bakugou had worked with you for years and never signaled anything beyond dismissal and semi-professionalism—so it wasn’t like he had that same level of interest in you, despite your enormous crush on him. How could he just switch, just like that?
Bakugou uncrossed his arms to settle his hands on slim hips instead, and he gave you another evaluating once over. “Something the matter with you?” he asked. You noticed he did not ask if you thought something was the matter with him. You wondered if your crush on him was that apparent.
“No,” you said defensively. “Just—I don’t know that I’d be any good on camera.”
“You’ve been in videos before,” Mina pointed out, tugging playfully on your belt loop. “You were in Bibimi’s Christmas special a couple years ago.”
“That was different,” you said, staring at her. “I was her evil coworker who sent her running into Tetsutetsu’s muscular arms. I didn’t have to get naked.”
“We can give you time to get prepared,” Yaoyorozu promised kindly. “If you wanted to um, clean up or trim—”
“It’s not that!” you said quickly, waving your arms. Your ears burned. “I just mean I would be shy.”
Bakugou watched you silently for another long moment, his full mouth pursed in thought. His gaze dragged down your body and then back up to your face, and you felt it like a physical touch.
“Then if you forgot you were on camera?” he asked, a rasp in his tone.
You blinked at him dumbly. “If I—forgot?”
“If I made you forget,” he said, flashing a sharp smirk. The arrogance looked so good on him, zinging through your veins like an electric current. Your cheeks and ears flared even hotter, until you thought you might actually be emitting smoke from them.
You tried to form words but seemed to have trouble shaping the proper ones with your tongue, making a series of choking noises before you managed. “There is no way you could—you’re not that good.”
Something hot flared to life behind Bakugou’s eyes, and his smirk curled even sharper. “We’ll see about that.”
“What if Bakugou helps you get over your nerves, and we just try it and see how you do.” Yaoyorozu prompted gently. “Is that something you would be willing to do? Of course we won’t pressure you.”
Your gaze jerked back to her as you startled. For just a second you’d sort of forgotten there was anyone in the room but Bakugou.
“I sort of doubt—but if you really need—I mean I could—try…” you fumbled out.
Yaoyorozu nodded gratefully, looking pleased again. “Alright, then let’s at least try it. Mina please find proper costuming and help get Y/N ready. I will draw up a short contract with the same terms we promise all our on camera talent for you to look over when you’re done.”
You nodded, a little dazed. Had you really just agreed to—?
But then Mina was laughing, grabbing you by the elbow and drawing you out of the room. She marched you towards the back of the studio building where she’d amassed a respectable wardrobe, racks upon racks of clothes. “Alright, this is going to be so fun! I love dressing new talent! It’s always fun to work out what’s going to work with your coloring and style on screen.”
The mention of you doing anything on screen had all the blood draining from your veins, but Mina didn’t seem to mind. She kept up a stream of happy, easy chatter as she pecked around in the racks like a chicken hunting a grasshopper. Eventually she emerged with a robe in a deep pink, slippery and silky and glistening faintly under the overheads.
“Okay so you’re supposed to be a loving couple celebrating your anniversary and looking for ways to spice things up,” she said. “So you’ll be waiting for him to come home, looking delicious in this little slip of a thing. He can unwrap you like a V-Day present!”
Her callback to the plot of the shoot suddenly made you realize there were way more things involved in the project than just being pawed at on screen—and you did not know any of Bibimi’s lines. How the hell were you supposed to deliver any kind of performance?
“Don’t worry about it, I assure you the gears are already churning in Momo’s big brain,” Mina said when you asked as much. She peeled you out of your sweater and jeans, and ushered you into the robe. Cheeks burning, you let her look you over to make sure you were properly groomed for the camera.
Then before you could get cold feet, she bundled you up and shepherded you back into the set room and set to work on you with her various pots of paint and ointments. She worked a couple things into your hair, applied something glossy and sticky to your mouth, and adjusted the fit of your robe to her liking until she pronounced you ready.
Yaoyorozu was already leaning over you by the time Mina released you, laying out a packet of sheets in front of you. She detailed the terms to you in the professional, clipped tone you’d heard her conduct business in before, and soon enough you were penning in your own name in a shaky hand. The strokes looked almost foreign on the page, and you felt a little more than lightheaded thinking about what you’d just signed yourself into.
“So—what am I supposed to do about Bibimi’s lines?” you asked, your voice coming out kind of dry and crackly.
“We’re going to improvise,” Yaoyorozu said. “Bakugou will guide you. Try to respond as best you can to what he says, along the framework of being a couple celebrating their anniversary. It’s most important to capture your intimacy, however, so we can always come back and reshoot any dialog as needed after. You can call him Katsuki, there are no aliases for this shoot.”
You nodded, feeling even more nervous now that all the prerequisites had been completed.
That left Komori waiting for you. She was apparently assuming the duties you’d abandoned by becoming the star of this absurd alternate dimension. She led you over to what had been meant to be Bibimi’s starting mark on the bed and helped you spread your pink robe out enticingly. You almost laughed as you helped her, feeling foolish and distinctly unsexy for the deliberateness of it all.
There was nothing less romantic than half a dozen other people in the room with you, cameras and hot lights trained on you like you were an escaped convict under a helicopter floodlight. You got the impression that it was going to be a monumental task to work up the nerve to even loosen the tie on your robe, nevermind remove it.
Except then Bakugou walked in.
He’d changed, sometime in the half hour or so Mina had had you in her clutches. He prowled into the room in a dark charcoal suit, the consummate businessman home from his generic businessman job.
He looked unfairly good in it too—the close cut of it highlighted how his broad shoulders slashed inwards into a trim waist, and his pants showcased the flex of a strong, hard thigh. He’d acquired a chunky wristwatch in a dark metal, and it glinted dully under the overhead lights.
He looked sleek and dangerous, even though you’d just seen him stomping around in sweatpants not thirty minutes prior. You felt your breath escape you in a whoosh, your heartbeat kicking up as he prowled closer.
“I’m home, angel,” he said, a smoky rasp curling on the end of his voice. Despite the pet name, he sounded enough like his usual self that you almost answered him in turn.
You vaguely remembered you were obliged to playact with him, and you summoned up your nerve. “Hi, Katsuki,” you said. You hoped your voice did not sound too shaky. “Happy Anniversary.”
Bakugou’s scarlet eyes dipped down to your robe, fastening to the spot where it gaped open suggestively over one thigh. Your skin buzzed like a hive of bees was trapped beneath it.
“This my present?” he asked, stalking closer. He snagged the tie of your robe in his long fingers, toying with it speculatively.
“It should be easy to open,” you joked, then almost cringed.
Sexy. You were supposed to be sexy, not goofy as hell. And what happened when he really did try to open it?
A small amount of panic crept up your spine again, seeping into your veins. You did not feel ready to be naked before all of the eyes in this room, nevermind the roving gaze of the internet. What had you been thinking, signing up for this?
Your hand came up defensively to tug the robe tie back out of Bakugou’s hand, only for it to be captured too. Bakugou tugged you up and to him, and your face broke out in another sweeping wave of flame as you felt the hard planes of him against you. He was so warm, and smelled so good up close and you could not even begin to know what to do or where to put your hands—
Before you could ask him what the heck he was doing, however, he brought your captured hand to his mouth. You almost leapt out of your skin when you felt the gentle press of his lips on the inside of your wrist, the careful flicker of a tongue. Those scarlet eyes slid over you knowingly, near enough that you could see tiny flecks of deep purple in them.
His other hand came up to take your chin, his thumb stroking over the side of your jaw. The feeling made you shiver slightly, and it must have been clearly visible because the corner of Bakugou's mouth lifted into a smirk against your wrist. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every inch of your skin thrilling with the feeling of your longtime crush doing something this to you.
“Think I’m gonna enjoying opening you alright,” Bakugou intoned.
You struggled to remember what he was talking about, giving up almost immediately as his mouth trailed along the inside of your arm. It traced up and up and up, until he was hovering dangerously close to your face. His fingers tightened on your chin, tilting your face up to his.
And then he bent his head, and crushed his mouth to yours.
Immediately, everything else disappeared.
Kissing Bakugou was three thousand zillion times hotter than you could have ever even imagined. You’d sort of imagined that with an attitude like his, he would be all power and impatience. And the power was there, but leashed, somehow. His mouth was hot and shockingly sweet on yours, and his fingers cupped your face to his, holding you there like he planned to kiss you for hours yet.
Your head was spinning by the time he let your mouth free, and the dip of his blonde lashes as he looked you over was extraordinarily self-satisfied.
His hand on your chin went to your robe instead, pulling the collar wide so that he could lower his mouth inside instead, kissing over your throat. You seized fistfuls of his suit, clinging to him, as he mapped a hot path across your shoulder and collarbone, one of his hands coming up to up your chest.
You heard yourself let out a soft hiss as his thumb pressed over your nipple through the silky fabric. Bakugou sucked a careful bruise into the side of your neck as he did it again, letting out a barely audible snort when you jerked in his hold, unconsciously arching into his hand.
“So sensitive for me, angel,” he drawled as his other hand came up to carefully pinch your other nipple.
You heard yourself make a small, choked off noise like a whine, and you could feel Bakugou’s lips pull into an answering smirk against your throat. You didn’t think you had been quite this responsive to a partner before—but something about the careful, purposeful way he was touching you had your blood running quicker in your veins.
Bakugou’s thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles over your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make you groan. He teased you again and again as his mouth traced higher on your neck.
Within minutes you were panting, a slow, syrupy pleasure dripping down into your core.
Bakugou tugged your robe wider, then bent his head. You felt the tickle of his hair against your collarbone, softer than you would have thought, as his mouth closed over the point of one nipple. The draw of his mouth had you arching up into him immediately, pleasure zinging through your veins.
“Oh my god,” you said, seizing a fistful of that blonde hair.
Bakugou’s tongue teased at the nipple, and you writhed in his hold. Then he did the same to your other one, and you thought you might die. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you already wanted to crawl out of your skin with impatience.
“Katsuki—please,” you heard yourself say, almost distantly. “Katsuki—oh!”
“Please what, angel?” he said into the skin of your chest, before laying his mouth back over your nipple and giving a sweet suck.
“Oh my god—please!” you said, stupidly. Not an answer to his question but you’d forgotten how to string words together, your brain-to-mouth connection running on autopilot.
“Gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” Bakugou said, and you heard the relish in it. Your face burned, and you yanked his hair a little more firmly. He just groaned, and then sucked you a little harder.
“Touch me! Please—Katsuki,” you panted out, hips flexing unconsciously with the pull of your nipple.
“Thought this was my gift, angel. I can’t enjoy it how I want?” he asked.
You considered his words muzzily, having no idea what he was talking about. Gift? What gift was he talking about?
Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, and something in your expression must have told him you had no idea what he was on about. His mouth pulled up into a self-satisfied grin, and he leaned up to kiss you again.
You flattened yourself out against his chest, all but velcroing yourself to him. You wanted to feel every inch of that hard body against you, wanted to climb as far into him as you could. Something gratifyingly hard pressed against your stomach as you kissed him, and he grunted, locking you to him with a muscled arm across your back.
“Want me to touch you, angel?” he asked.
You nodded. A smile played across his lips.
“Get on the bed for me then, sweetheart.”
It took a minute for you to process but then you were scrambling to obey, scrabbling your way onto the bed, turning and watching as Bakugou stepped nearer.
He shed his jacket as he approached, yanking off his tie too and flinging it somewhere behind him. Then he crawled over you, his fingers seizing the ties of your robe as he did. He pulled it open gently, then yanked a little harder until the silk tie slid free.
His eyes picked over it speculatively, then flashed back up to you. A look of intent interest settled over his features.
“You ever been tied up before, angel?” he asked.
You shook your head, even as it swam with the implication. Your skin prickled, somehow growing even hotter. He didn’t mean to…?
“You gonna let me?” he asked.
You rather thought you would let him do anything he wanted with you. The question was barely out of his mouth before you were nodding hurriedly. A shocked laugh punched out of him, and he gathered up your wrists, scooting you backwards until they pressed against the headboard.
He looped the silk around your wrists, gathering it into a series of complicated knots. He moved with a purpose and precision, his movements sure and practiced. You tested the give of the ties when he sat back on his haunches, finding that they held firm, even when you put a little more muscle into it.
Bakugou’s gaze blazed over you, hot like coals. His eyes traced over your body, spread out under him now, your silk robe pooling at either side of you in a pink puddle.
He bent his head and kissed you again, until you were fuzzy with the feeling once more. Then he worked his way downwards, softly biting your shoulder, licking over one nipple, pressing deep kisses into your belly and then indent of your left hip.
A shock of pleasure raced through you when you realized where he was going with this, and you let out an involuntarily little gasp as he hooked your thighs over his broad shoulders.
“Katsuki,” you began, though you had no idea what you meant to follow it up with. Bakugou didn’t wait for you to finish, ducking his head and licking a hot stripe up the cleft of you.
Immediately you arched, thighs flexing under his hands. Your face heated when he laughed again, but any embarrassment was instantly forgotten when he licked over you again, slower and more deliberate this time.
“Oh my god,” you said again, biting off into a groan when his tongue dipped deeper between your folds, flicking up over your clit.
“Yeah, angel?” Bakugou asked, his voice a heady rasp. “You like that?” He layered another open mouthed kiss over you, slow and thorough, until you were arching up into his mouth again.
It would have been evident to anyone on earth how much you liked it from the noises you made, the way you kicked and squirmed with the movement of his mouth. He sucked your clit gently into his mouth, then laved over it firmly as he pressed his fingers to you, the pads of his index and middle slowly sinking into you.
Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he gave another slow suck, the feeling almost too much. His fingers pressed deeper into you, easily slipping in with how comically wet you were for him. The gentle suction of his mouth made everything a million times better, everything a million times worse, as he carefully curled his fingers within you. He seemed to immediately find a spot within you that felt like he was touching your clit from the other side too, and the feeling was immediately far too much.
“Holy shit,” you heard yourself say, cutting off into an honest to god whine when his tongue swirled around your clit, just as he teased a finger along you from the inside too. “Katsuki—oh! Katsuki please! Please oh my god oh my god.”
Bakugou’s ministrations grew a fraction firmer, and you heard him groan too as he kissed you messily.
“So fucking hot for me, sweetheart. So sweet,” he said, then sucked again, a tiny bit harder this time. His fingers stroked you from the inside, a firm, deliberate rhythm that had you turning your face and muffling a keen into the meat of your arm.
Your hips flexed against his face, wild and uncontrolled, wanting less, more, not enough, too much, oh my god—
“Katsuki!” you cried, as you suddenly hit the crest of your pleasure. Your wrists pulled against their bonds, and the feeling of helpless restraint suddenly made everything feel a thousand times more intense. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, so that even the air of the room seemed too harsh on your skin. You screamed as you rode out your pleasure against Bakugou’s face.
He worked you through it diligently, licking and sucking until you collapsed back to the mattress, panting like you’d just run a marathon.
“Good, angel?” Bakugou asked.
You nodded breathlessly, turning your face to his when he crawled up your body to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on him was both embarrassing and thrilling, but Bakugou didn’t give you much leeway to consider it, kissing you into a stupid, pliant little puddle against the mattress.
You could feel him hard and hot against your hip as he did so, but he didn’t make any move to get inside you yet. Instead, his hands moved over you, slowly teasing you from satiation back into want. His fingers played with your nipples again, pinching them softly and rolling them. It felt like he'd rigged up some kind of wire, leading from your nipples right to your core, that lit the pilot flame of your interest again.
A couple minutes of diligent teasing, and easy, unhurried kisses had you wiggling under him again soon enough. It was only then, when you realized you were unconsciously rocking your hips against Bakugou’s, that he finally sat back to shuck off his shirt and pants.
He was so unfairly beautiful, bared in the bright light of the room. You’d known he was gorgeous, of course, but up close he was something else entirely. He was chiseled with thick muscle, his chest and arms hard and glowing faintly with perspiration. The light and the shadows of the room played over the divots of his muscles with a deliberate care, like he was a painting instead of a man, highlighting him in loving shades. A set of perfect abs trailed down into the hard jut of hip bones over his pelvis, and his cock was just as upsettingly gorgeous as the rest of him. It was thick and full and flush with his arousal, and he wasted no time crawling back between your thighs.
“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice had gone even more gravelly than usual, and it plucked at your core like a string.
“Please, Katsuki,” you said, your voice embarrassingly breathy. You couldn’t help yourself though, couldn’t be ashamed with the easy way your thighs fell apart for him. Your ankles hooked across his back, trying to pull him closer still.
He groaned and surged up over you to grab a condom off the nightstand. He quickly rolled it onto himself in one practiced movement, before immediately pressing himself into you.
He sank in mortifyingly easily, you already half out of your mind with want. He didn’t seem to mind, though—you heard the soft, sibilant hiss of his own pleasure as he filled you, and your robe tugged the skin of your shoulder as he fisted a hand in it, just beside your head.
“Been dying to fuck you, angel,” he said. “Thinking about how hot and tight and sweet you would be for me. Been thinking about it nonstop.”
You made a vague noise of agreement, moving your hips with his as he drew back and pressed inside of you again. The slide of him inside you was mind-numbingly good, the pressure against your stomach as he pressed back in almost sparking stars in your vision. The flex of his abs between your thighs as he found his pace was almost immediately too much for you, and you had to turn your face away. You tilted your face up to his, watching him as he watched you.
Bakugou seemed to read your expression easily, finding the angle and pace you liked incredibly quickly. He slid an arm under the small of your back to angle your hips up into him, yanking you up like you were nothing, and the show of easy strength had your toes flexing and curling against his back.
He kissed you again, catching the sounds of your pleasure in his mouth as he rocked into you. You moved against him, hips bucking, delirious with the feeling of him. Eventually he freed his arm from under you, pressing his thumb to your slit again with deadly precision.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned into his mouth, legs tightening on him as he played with your clit. The almost-too-gentle sensation of his thumb on your clit, coupled with the relentless drive of him inside you had your vision sparking and greying at the edges. His face swam in front of yours, and all of your limbs began to feel shivery, almost too weak to lift yourself into him the way you needed, to rock against him and find relief from the friction.
Bakugou continued to tease at you, carefully pinching and petting. His hips drove into you tirelessly, slapping the bottoms of your thighs, as you strained in your silk bonds, wanting to grab him, pull him even harder into you.
“Katsuki, please please please,” you heard yourself begging. You felt him smile against your mouth, tasted his reply more than heard it.
“You want me to let you cum, angel?” he asked, doing something with his fingers that made your breath catch in your lungs.
“Unhh, yes—please!” you cried, desperation coming over you in a white haze.
You had never—never—been so desperate for anything in your entire life. You didn’t know how Bakugou was doing it, why his touch felt like so much more than anything else you’d ever felt in your life. If he didn’t let you cum you were certain you were going to die, right here and right now.
“You gonna scream for me, sweetheart?” Bakugou asked, his voice raspier than you’d ever heard it. He grit the words out, like he too was on the edge of his own climax, barely staving it off.
“Anything, I will do anything,” you babbled senselessly. “Yes—going to scream for you—Katsuki!”
Bakugou’s gaze was hotter than you’d ever seen it, scarlet eyes clouded with pleasure, glowing like banked coals. “Then you can come for me, angel. Come on, sweetheart.”
“Oh!” you cried in answer, your feet planting themselves on the bed to jut your hips up hard. Bakugou’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, then, firm and merciless, and he fucked into you harder, his pace growing faster, furious.
Your second orgasm hit you like a truck, snapping your spine into alignment, locking all your limbs up as if in rigor mortis.
“Katsuki!” you wailed as you writhed against him, clenching and fluttering around him as you sobbed.
“Oh fuck,” you heard him say, and his hips stuttered. You realized he was coming too, fucking into you sloppily and disjointedly as he rode out his own pleasure. You arched and spasmed with him, clawing uselessly at the silk that bound you, twisting in blissful agony.
When you finally came back to yourself you found yourself slumped on the bed, Bakugou’s weight pinning you down into the mattress. His chest was slicked to yours with sweat, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of it against you as he caught his breath.
“That good, angel?” he asked, his voice heady with satisfaction.
You nodded, absently turning your face back up to his for a kiss. He granted it, kissing you almost possessively. He looked soft and rumpled, just the way you'd always liked him, and something in you purred with satisfaction at finally getting to have him like this for you.
Gradually, you became aware of other sounds in the room as you came down from your high. Quiet murmuring and the sounds of shuffling met your ears, the shutter click of a camera lens slicing through the atmosphere like a knife.
A sudden shock raced through you when you realized you and Bakugou were not alone—and you were on the set of a porn film, half a dozen eyes glued to you just over one of Bakugou’s thick shoulders.
A porn film. You had been shooting a porn film!
“And cut!” you heard the director’s voice ring out, like a bucket of water dumped over your head.
You tensed up beneath Bakugou, mind racing. Holy shit, he had actually managed to make you forget, exactly the way he'd promised.
You could tell Bakugou was thinking the same thing as he went to untie you, looking extremely satisfied with himself.
“Told you, angel,” he said, flashing something of a feral grin. You hated how good the self-conceit looked on him.
You went to draw your wrists back to yourself as he let them free. But Bakugou caught them instead, carefully massaging the skin there as if to make sure things were circulating properly. It was a startling note of unexpected care, as was the way he drew your robe closed around you again against the sudden chill of the room.
You found yourself saying wonderingly, “Wow. It was just that easy for you to switch partners like that.”
The thought somehow stung, even though you’d known going into this what you were getting yourself into. Somehow, the latent care and intention with which Bakugou had fucked you had addled your brain, made you think your connection had been something more. He had felt like he had feelings, beyond those mimed for the camera.
But here was evidence to the contrary, plain and simple. There literally was a camera.
Except then Bakugou looked down at you, a frown marring his pouty mouth. “Well yeah. ‘Course it was gonna be that easy when it’s you we’re talking about.”
You blinked at him, not understanding what he was saying. “Uh. When it’s—me?”
A crease came in between Bakugou’s blonde brows. “I said it, didn’t I? While we were fucking? Wanted to fuck you for a long time. Of course it was easy.”
Your stomach dropped, like a rug had just been yanked out from beneath you. “You—have? What? Since when?” you demanded.
Bakugou leveled you with an unimpressed stare. “Since the second time we met,” he said, and your mind flashed back to the way he’d seemed not to recognize you, that second time you'd spoken to him. “Once I realized you did work for UA and weren’t actually a little fucking creep trying to lure me into your car.”
You felt your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline. “Then—? For years? You cannot be serious. You never acted like we were anything other than coworkers!”
Bakugou scoffed. “We fucking were coworkers. And I told you, I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”
You blinked again, startled by the level of professionalism couched in the crassess of his statement. It made sense, you supposed, for a pornstar of Bakugou’s caliber to have put boundaries like that in place. Probably everyone in the world would just be dying for a shot at him.
“Wow,” you said, almost to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, wondered how it was going to be possible to behave professionally with Bakugou at all going forward. It was probably obvious to him how big your crush on him was, given that he’d known all along he could make you forget you were on camera. Given the way you reacted to him embarrassingly easily.
Except then Bakugou leaned forward, putting his face startlingly close to yours. “Emphasis on were, since this is my last shoot,” he said.
You stared at him, wondering if you were interpreting the implication correctly. There was no way he meant—?
“Uhhhh, meaning what, exactly?” you prompted, heart beating just a little bit quicker despite yourself.
Bakugou’s mouth turned up into a gorgeous smirk, and he ducked his head even closer, voice going softer.
“Meaning you’re going to get dressed and I’m going to take us to get something to eat,” he said, fingers playing at the edge of your robe. “And then you’re going to give me that ride home in your car after all. And we are going to do this all over again.”
Flames erupted across your face, sweeping across your cheeks. And you were up out of the bed before you even realized what you were doing, catching yourself on the bedside table as you stumbled.
Bakugou’s laugh chased out of the set room as you raced towards the wardrobe again. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, this time.
Not when your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You smothered a smile as you ran down the hallway.
Much like Bakugou had just done to you—it looked like your hopes and dreams were finally lining themselves up and filling themselves in.
In simple theory, you have your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, wrapped around your finger. And he can fight it all he wants, but it’s nothing if not the wholehearted truth.
“Hey, can you grab me some coffee?”
Bakugou didn’t even look up from his phone. “No. Get your own damn coffee.”
“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, turning your attention back to your work. You didn’t miss the way Bakugou grumbled under his breath as he stood up a few moments later. When he returned, he placed a steaming cup of coffee on your desk without a word.
You hid your smile behind the rim of the cup. “Thanks, Katsuki.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, glaring at you.
-
Later that afternoon, you two were sparring in the gym in the comfort of your home—courtesy to your husband insisting that it’s a non-negotiable when arranging the first designs of your dream home together. You were struggling to move one of the heavier training dummies back into its original position, and once again you had the brilliant idea of putting your theory to the test.
What’s the point of having a husband if he doesn’t let you do things like these?
You let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to Bakugou, who was wiping sweat from his brow. For a moment, you forgot what you were about to say—momentarily distracted by how good he looks, muscles glistening and all with his signature black tank top.
Goddamn, you scored a hottie.
“Katsuki, help me move this,” you called, pointing at the dummy.
“No way,” he shot back immediately. “You’re the one who moved it there, so you deal with it.”
“Fine,” you sighed, turning back to the dummy and giving it an exaggerated shove. Before you could try again, Bakugou had stormed over, cursing at the dummy under his breath. He grabbed the dummy with one hand and effortlessly dragged it back into place.
“There. Happy now?” he grunted.
Oh, so it could be resist, then actually do it, or refuse while doing it anyway.
You smiled. “Very. Thanks, Katsuki.”
“Shut up,” he growled, his ears slightly tinged with pink.
-
By the end of the week, it had become a game for you. You’d ask for the simplest things, knowing full well that Bakugou would always refuse—only to do it anyway. Maybe it’s his love language to refuse but comply nevertheless.
“Can you pass me the remote?”
“No. Use your legs.” Hands it over.
“Can you open this jar for me?”
“Do it yourself.” Opens it in one twist.
“Can you get groceries on your way home?”
“Fuck no.” What do you mean he’s already loading the grocery bags in his car?
“Can you carry my bag for a second?”
“Die. I’m not your damn pack mule.” Carries it all the way home.
-
One evening, you two were sitting on the couch of your home, eating takeout and watching a movie. You were cuddled up with a freshly ironed blanket—thanks to Bakugou, who had done the laundry yesterday while you did the ironing when everything had dried enough—poking at your food lazily. You turned to Bakugou, your head resting on the couch cushion.
“Hey, can you grab me some water?” you asked with a sweet smile.
Bakugou glared at you, pausing mid-bite, his usual scowl in place. “No. You’ve got legs. Use ‘em.”
“Okay,” you said simply, turning your attention back to the movie.
You decided that you’ll get water once you finish this specific scene.
Bakugou lasted all of five minutes before he let out a loud groan, stomping to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. He shoved it into your hands, his expression equal parts annoyed and resigned.
“There,” he grumbled. “Happy now?”
You took the glass with a smug grin. “Thanks, Katsuki. You’re the best.”
He sank back onto the couch, crossing his arms and glaring at the screen. “You’re so damn annoying.”
“You love me,” you said teasingly.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his ears turning red. But he didn’t deny it.
“Married me, too. So I don’t think you mind at all.”
“Die.”
“‘til death do we part, Kats.”
And despite all his protests, you knew the truth. Katsuki Bakugou might have sworn you’d never have him wrapped around your finger, but with every little thing he did for you—grudgingly or not—you knew you had your conclusion.
bakugou x reader where the reader is the only one who can calm him down? he is arguing with kiri and she only has to look at him to calm him down and everyone is stunned by it
author's note: Thank you <3
Serenity
It was a normal day at U.A., or at least as normal as it could get with Class 1-A. Training had gone well enough, and everyone was winding down, gathering in the common room after dinner. That peace, however, didn’t last long—because Katsuki Bakugou and Eijiro Kirishima were at each other’s throats.
Again.
“You’re so damn stubborn, Bakugou!” Kirishima snapped, his usual easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. His sharp teeth bared slightly, frustration clear in the way his brows furrowed. “Why can’t you just let someone help you once in a while?”
“I don’t fucking need help!” Bakugou growled, hands twitching at his sides as small explosions crackled from his palms. His crimson eyes burned with intensity, shoulders tense and jaw clenched. “I’m not some weakling who needs to be babysat, shitty hair!”
It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to get like this. He had a short fuse, and sometimes, even Kirishima’s patience couldn’t keep up. The rest of the class had learned to steer clear when the blond was in one of his moods, but tonight, something felt different. His explosions were sparking closer to the ground, the air crackling with the raw energy of his anger.
“Dude, we’re your friends!” Kirishima pressed on, his voice rising to match Bakugou’s. “We’re not saying you’re weak, but—”
“I don’t need a damn pep talk!” Bakugou interrupted, his voice nearly a roar now. His fists clenched tightly, explosions bursting erratically at his sides. “I—”
You sighed.
You had been sitting on the couch, watching the argument unfold, but now, you decided it had gone on long enough. Without a word, you stood up and stepped between them, placing yourself directly in front of Bakugou.
And then—
You looked at him.
Not with fear. Not with exasperation. Just looked at him.
His breath hitched. The tension in his shoulders sagged almost instantly, and the crackling explosions from his hands flickered before fizzling out completely. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers flexing as though searching for something to do now that they weren’t radiating anger. His brows knitted together, his lips parted slightly, and a deep exhale left his chest as if he had been holding it in this whole time.
The entire room went silent.
The rest of Class 1-A exchanged glances, stunned beyond words.
Kirishima blinked, taking half a step back. “Uh… what the hell just happened?” he muttered, looking between you and Bakugou like he had just witnessed an act of sorcery.
“Did… did Y/N just calm Bakugou down?” Kaminari whispered, eyes wide.
“No way…” Mina breathed, leaning forward as if she needed to see it closer to believe it. “That’s impossible.”
Yet, it was happening.
Bakugou, who had been one second away from either blowing up the room or storming off in rage, now stood completely still, his face unreadable. His sharp, furious crimson eyes had softened, the tension in his body had drained away, and the only thing that had changed was that you had looked at him.
You tilted your head slightly, your eyes searching his, waiting for him to say something.
His jaw clenched. Then unclenched. Then, in a voice much quieter than before, he muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”
That was as close to an admission of surrender as anyone would ever get from him.
Your lips curled into the smallest of smiles, and that alone made Bakugou avert his gaze with a scowl, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed.
The silence stretched, thick with disbelief.
Sero was the first to break it. “Holy shit,” he said, staring at you with newfound awe. “That was… insane.”
“Right?” Kaminari agreed, his mouth slightly agape. “I’ve literally never seen Bakugou calm down that fast in my life.”
“You might actually have superpowers,” Mina whispered, completely serious.
“Forget heroes,” Kirishima said, blinking at you. “You might be a damn miracle worker.”
Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Shut up,” he grumbled, though there was no bite to his words. His usual anger had dimmed into something else—something quieter. Something softer.
You simply shrugged, turning back to the couch and sitting down again like nothing had happened. “You guys overreact too much,” you said lightly, leaning back into the cushions.
“We overreact?” Mina scoffed. “You just tamed a whole-ass dragon with one look.”
Kirishima shook his head with a small chuckle. “Man, that was wild.” He crossed his arms, his frustration from before already forgotten. “But hey, at least it worked.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou grumbled, rubbing his temples. He was still looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure out exactly how you did what you just did.
The others continued murmuring about it, but you just shot Bakugou a small smirk before focusing back on your phone.
And despite himself, despite all the eyes on him, despite how infuriatingly obvious it was that you had some kind of effect on him—Bakugou didn’t look away.
He just sighed, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sat down next to you, the tension completely gone.
the arrangement: gojo satoru was a notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his marriage. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he’s beginning to want you. (18+)
drabbles: (act one)
gojo never wanted to marry
gojo finds out you weren't supposed to marry him
watching him train
the moments after you two got married
he sees you not wearing your ring
he interrupts you while you're baking
he leaves and you think he won't be coming back
lovey gojo
when you two first met
he's huge
what he thinks
another moment from your teens
a little inexperienced (and that's ok!)
gojo is hyper-masculine
you see him with another girl
what happens after you see him with another girl
gojo introduces you to shoko
what happens when gojo's forced to put up with your family
jealous reader (petty gojo)
your birthday
drabbles (act two)
the news
arranged marriage!gojo tag (everything to do with him)
A/N: inspired by the manwha ‘Childhood Friend Complex’
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI.
satoru never liked using his brain too much when it came to relationships. people came in and out of his life and he just went with it. so knowing you for twenty-two years now was natural to him. your moms were best friends so it was just a thing to always see you. you were comfortable, he didn’t have to do anything. you argued and fought but it was never anything serious aftet a week. yes the longest you’ve argued was exactly seven days and you made up after that. why? because that was just how your relationship was.
so how did he end up here, watching your face twist in absolute pleasure as you cried for him to be more gentle….did it just happen or was it the small things…?
“wanna go eat?” satoru easily leaned against you as you studied.
your jaw clenched. “ow!” you dramatically snap, elbowing him in the gut. “get off me.”
“ow!” he grits his teeth, shoving you so you slid slightly off the bench.
“you’re so annoying, seriously!—“ you kicked him, completely throwing him off the bench. neither of you caring about the students passing around campus staring at you. his nerve twitched aggressively on his forehead making you break out laughing, only for him to grab the back of your shirt and yank you down. the one thing he did easily was cup the back of your head so it wouldn’t slam against the concrete. “what the hell!” you yell, not even noticing that little gesture.
“are you on your period or something, why’re you so mean today!” he shouts, rubbing his side.
but he notices you sitting up, slapping your hands to your face as you start shaking with frustration. “I’m just studying.” you fake gag, to which he jumps back. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this exam! It’s so bad! LIKE REALLY BAD!!!” satoru sits back on his hands as he listens to your crying rant until you’re sitting across from each other eating cheap pizza.
“stop i like these,” satoru tries to slap your hand away as you pick the olives from his pizza.
“no i like them more, stop being a baby,” you huff when he grabs your wrist and eats your whole finger taking the olive. you jerk back in disgust, he’s laughing as you wipe your hand on his shirt. “disgusting.”
because it was disgusting. you never thought about satoru, other than the fact that he was an annoying parasite that you doubt will ever leave your life. people doubted your friendship. it started in middle school when the question of if you like each other first came up. you both almost threw up at even being asked that question. but eventually it turned into even more of nuance, especially with the women that whispered about satoru, people highly doubted something platonic can be around someone that beautiful. but even so, nothing changed.
even as it came to the last year of university, all you could do was focus on your studies and the growing anxiety of graduating and actually finding a job. satoru was just someone that you spent a lot of time with. that’s it.
“you have to!” your friend, noah, groans, glaring at you as you both sit in the computer lab editing your final films.
“stopppp I don’t have time for this,” you whine, crying on the table as you push her face away from you.
your other friends take their headphones off as they join the conversation. and that conversation is about your nonexistent sex life.
your head falls back on the chair, staring up at the ceiling.
“just lose it tonight.” noah grabs your hand.
you glare at her, “ya definitely with the boyfriend I don’t have?”
“with anyone!”
you frown.
“everyone does it. seriously the first is just the ice breaker then you can do it with someone you actually like. the first guy just has to be attractive,” shoko — who’s not even a film student but is just here to bother you guys — says.
you whine, covering your ears because you already know how hot your face is and this was the only way you can preserve some of your dignity. “i…I don’t wanna talk about this.” you flush even more hiding in your shirt.
“why, do you want it to be romantic with rose petals everywhere—“
“no!” you blurt. “I-i just want it with someone i can trust…I don’t want anyone seeing me naked.”
“you’re such a baby. I’ve seen you naked a billion times, you’ve got a great body!—“
“I ate a lot during thanksgiving!” you whine, “no one is gonna like that, and I don’t have pretty lingerie—“
noah goes quiet as does shoko because standing by the door is satoru, his lips between his teeth, desperately trying to stifle his laughter.
you notice their eyes and glance up.
your vein snaps the second he breaks out laughing. tears fill his eyes as he cries, it was almost painful how much he’s laughing. “shut up!” you stand up, punching him hard in the stomach.
he buckles over, gasping, but it turns into more laughing on the ground. your jaw clenches, as you grab the back of his collar and pull him along with you. “shut the fuck up!” you groan as he continues laughing.
but eventually you end up at his apartment eating his moms cookies, because she of course gave them to him to give to you.
“do you have something to drink….like alcohol or something?” you mutter, stuffing your face in the kitchen.
satoru raises a brow, “since when do you drink?”
“UGHHHHHH can I do anything anymore!”
satoru cringes. “what the fuck…” he grabs some vodka, soda and two cups. the second he pours them together you snatch it from him and chug the entire thing. you slam the cup on the table.
you stare at him.
he stares back. his brow quirks.
“have you had sex?”
your question definitely flew out of your mouth faster than you could think, but then again, it’s just satoru so who cares.
he sighs, relaxing on the stool grabbing his own cup. you watch him as he takes a long time pouring himself a drink, then watch him slowly drink it. your eyes narrow in annoyance until he meets your eyes.
“i don’t wanna talk about it.”
your nose scrunches. “so you haven’t.” you roll your eyes.
“no! I didn’t say that!” he screeches, whining even more when you shrug him off grabbing some more alcohol to empty your brain.
“everyone’s obsessed with having sex. but guess what! not all of us can do it that easy! i have—i have….” you grab your head, screaming internally as you whine. he watches in amusement, you’ve gotten drunk a couple of times and it always made you do the stupidest shit which you’d regret the very next day.
“I don’t wanna hear it—“
“whatever,” you continue drinking. the topic changing with your mood as you both start bickering again then laughing, but you’re getting even more drunk. and maybe worse than you was satoru. satoru was now thinking about what you were going to say earlier. you have what? you have…needs? expectations?….but that made him start thinking about who would be your first. would they be a nice guy or a mean guy? would you kiss him? would you let them kiss you? what if they use you? what if they break your heart? what if they hurt you…
“fuck I’m drunk,” he grumbles out loud. glancing up at you who is scrolling through your phone. “what’re you doing?”
“huh?” you look up eyes heavy before going back to your phone. “noah and me are going on a blind date tomorrow with some guys.”
“what?!” he shouts, eyes wide. “are you horny or something?! just touch yourself to that ugly ass mma dude with the scar on his mouth—don’t sell your body!”
“I’m not selling anything,” you mutter lazily, still drunk texting your friend to confirm the date. “and nothings gonna happen, I’m not that easy.” you glare at him to which he rolls his eyes, yeah yeah.
satoru was many things. truly. but spying on your date was not one of them. it was an honest coincidence that him and suguru passed by a restaurant and he noticed you sitting by the window. he didn’t even think twice before slamming his hands against the glass scaring the living shit out of you.
you and noah both scream. but the second you recognize the idiot he’s already laughing, rubbing his face on the glass as if he isn’t the one getting all the germs on him. you flip him off and bang on the glass making him jump back laughing harder.
“leave,” you groan when he comes inside standing in front of the table as suguru stands a couple feet away giving you an amused wave. “take him with you.”
“what! I wanna eat here too, is that a crime?? you don’t own the place,” he smiles at you, only for you to scrunch your face in ugly annoyance, especially because it was embarrassing for him to see you on this stupid blind date. you stand up, apologizing to the men as you grab him by the collar pulling him with you.
he coughs, “you’re choking me.”
“I’m not,” you sigh when you manage to get him outside. your lips part as you cover your face suddenly.
his eyes go wide. “woah, i was just messing around, don’t be upset—“
“is this embarrassing?” you mutter through your hands. his brow rises, eyes growing even more when he sees your eyes peak between your fingers, almost seeing the steam coming off your face. what’s with this reaction? why did you kinda look cute?
“is it embarrassing that I’m going on a blind date with randos and I’m in my senior year of college?”
“it’s more embarrassing that you’re embarrassed,” you cover your face again.
you whine, “I know! I’m so nervous, this feels so weird.” you feel so out of your comfort zone. It’s never been hard to talk to people or guys, but in a setting where it’s a date, it was so foreign. “I’m gonna die alone, satoru.”
“ya probably,” he laughs, but then you lean your head against his chest.
“don’t say that,” you mutter. “I can do this.” unbeknownst to satoru who’s suddenly realizing that you actually want to be in a relationship with someone. maybe he shouldn’t be so mean then.
he pats your head. growing even more conflicted when he squints to see the guys you’re having dinner with. you weren’t the naive type, that’s unless it came to relationships and actually engaging with the opposite sex romantically. i mean he can still remember the first time a guy hugged you back in elementary school. the way you were having fun playing jump rope during recess and some boy suddenly stood in front of you stopping the game and then hugged you out of nowhere. you started screaming and hitting him back which resulted in you standing outside the principals office and satoru laughed.
albeit you were still young then so you didn’t know that meant that boy liked you. if he was to remember something more recent then maybe the time you went to the amusement park as a group and satoru knew for a fact one of his friends liked you. and yet the entire time you were absolutely dumb as a brick. laughing and having fun with him not realizing you were basically matching his energy until he tried to lean for a kiss and you backed away stumbling into satoru. it turned into a very awkward moment and satoru’s friend saying that you were leading him on. and now you’re here saying you want a serious relationship but could never take a hint even if it slapped you in the face?
satoru takes a deep breath. patting your head by accident. you look up, eyes so bright under the moonlight that it leaves him momentarily speechless. woah.
he looks away. rather too quickly to be subtle that you lean on your tippy toes grabbing his face with your hands.
“what is it?” you’re staring into his soul.
“nothing!” he tries to pull your wrists away, but why were your hands so soft against his cheek and strong?
“you just stared at me then jerked your head away. what were you thinking??”
“nothing! I just didn’t wanna see you cry like an ugly baby again!”
“I wasn’t crying!” you whine loudly, shoving him.
“you so were.”
“no!”
“yaaa!”
that went on for a couple seconds until you gave up with a scoff. “go, you’re so annoying.”
“gladly.”
satoru turns sharply, only to look over his shoulder again, you were walking back to the restaurant, his eyes skim down your outfit. you were wearing a pretty cute skirt, something he’d rarely ever seen you wear. you were always afraid of the wind or running and your skirt lifting up so you rarely wore them. but he’s never seen this one before, it was a cute black one. he’d definitely be all over it if it wasn’t you who was wearing it. you with your surprisingly soft hands, and big doe eyes. were your thighs just as soft? would they fill his palms if he squeezes them?
his mind easily remembered the question you asked him yesterday. have you ever had sex? why’re you thinking about things like that? is that why you’re on this blind date? did you wanna fuck one of these guys? if he was thinking about how nice the skirt made your thighs look, what’s stopping those guys from thinking the same thing—
“here.”
you pause as you feel satoru tie his jacket around your waist.
“it’s not cold.”
“whatever, take it, it doesn’t match my outfit anyways.” he lies, and you shrug taking it aggressively, trying to say you’re still annoyed by him as you walk inside. that’s when satoru steps in again, grabbing your wrist gently.
“don’t drink too much.”
“okay, dad,” you scoff.
satoru mimics you before rolling his eyes. “I’m just being considerate, idiot. you’re the one that says you wanna wake up early this entire week to finish editing.” you fall silent, frowning as you pucker your lips.
“ya ya.” you give in.
however even though he told you not to drink, that didn’t stop him from worrying. especially when he was in a private karaoke suite with a bunch of hot women and suguru.
“she’s probably still out with those uglies,” satoru mutters, knee bouncing as one of the other girls gets up to sing. that’s when satoru notices she’s wearing the same skirt as you, but it’s not nearly as fitting on her as it was on you.
suguru raises the can to his lips. “if you’re so worried, call her.”
“we’re in a fight right now. she has to call me first.” he crosses his arms leaning back into the couch, legs spread wide.
“how’re you fighting?”
“we just are.”
suguru met satoru in middle school. he was also one of the kids that assumed satoru had a crush on you or was dating you. how would he know? the two of you were inseparable. but the confirmation you two weren’t dating, only opened more stupid thoughts in suguru’s head, such as: you will date in the future then. but that idea became spotty. he no longer understood your relationship especially during high school and especially in college. you were childhood friends since birth, you knew basically everything about each other, both of you swearing up and down that you can’t stand to look at the other, both of you almost throwing up (no joke) when you were put in a closet for seven minutes in heaven back in eleventh grade….and yet satoru seems to have a very specific type.
satoru arrived back at his apartment pretty late. but nonetheless as he leaned back into his bed after a nice shower he easily opened up his phone and scrolled to his messages where suguru sent him another video on x.
“fuck.”
satoru teased himself over his shorts as he watched the explicit video of a girl laying on her back, legs spread as she’s getting fingered while sucking her lover off. it was one of the many videos satoru would watch, even asking suguru to send him more videos of women that look like her. it was subconscious. the sudden spark that would ignite in him when he’d watch videos of women that look like this. he didn’t know why, but that didn’t stop him from tightening his grip on his cock as he tugged and squeezed his painful dick.
his eyes were growing heavy as he felt the arousal buildup, his fat cock desperately wanting to release but then—
BUZZ BUZZ
his breath hitched seeing your face on his screen.
why the fuck are you FaceTiming him?? he clicks decline. cheeks flush as he tries to get in the mood again, but you’re calling again. he declines. that’s when a rapid number of texts start coming one after the other. your messages were spotty. broken words, the sentences weren’t even making sense except for a couple that would say ‘answer’ or in all caps ‘HELLOOOO’ .
his blood level is spiking, cheeks flooding red seeing your stupid face on his screen again that he finally answers.
“WHAT?!”
you’re walking outside, brows pinched as you finally see his face fill your screen.
“i drank too much. and missed the last train…come, satoruu.” you’re whining and throwing a tantrum as you plead with him.
his throat bobs as he sees you squat by a bench. your neckline dipping to show a little of your cleavage and he accidentally squeezes his cock. a choked grunt escapes his lips as you frown even more. your cute face scrunching and your cheeks flushed adorably, fuck you looked completely wasted.
“why is your face all red?”
his heart stops. “it’s not.”
“your face is all flushed.”
“no. you’re just fucking drunk.”
you frown, “come get me, please please pleaseee”
….fucking idiot.
your eyes light up as you see the familiar motorcycle pull up. you bounce up to your feet, with a huge smile as the rain pours down, you were using his jacket as a cover as you run over to him. “satoru!” you cry, hugging him tight as he pats your back, annoyed.
it took almost an hour for him to find you because you had no idea where you were. he couldn’t even go to the restaurant because you all went to another bar, but you weren’t paying attention to the name when you walked in and after you all walked by the water before everyone went their separate ways. so satoru was driving around the entire city, growing annoyed by each passing second, especially when your phone died and it started raining.
“what happened to that fucking portable charger you used with my money?”
“i lent it to noah,” you lean against his leg as thunder starts cracking above pouring even more. you definitely were wearing the worst outfit for the rain. your skirt was dripping wet, stinking to your thighs, and as for the baby blue blouse that was tied with two dingy strings in the back, well it was sticking to your very full chest so that he could see your black bra so easily through the thin material.
his cheeks went hot.
“get on,” he pulls the extra helmet out from the seat handing it to you. it fit perfectly, considering that when he bought the motorcycle he also bought two helmets. one for him and one for you.
you’re a little unsteady, his hand holding your arm as you slip his jacket on, and climb behind him. your stomach growling. “im hungry.”
“shut up.”
he makes sure your arms are secure around his torso. “don’t let go.”
“obviously.” you huff, squeezing tighter as you come closer to him, he can feel you shivering behind him as more rain pours down. he’s silent as he starts his engine again his hand giving yours a squeeze. in response you squeeze back, signaling that you’re ready.
the city was still awake as you drove. your eyes bright under the mask as you looked at the lights. your mind so in the clouds that you didn’t even regret drinking so much, even though it was still pouring, you felt so alive. you were so lost in your head that you even pushed back that feeling you felt earlier. especially after what happened at the bar…
“are you okay?” satoru yells as he feels you squeeze him a little tighter,
you hum, before realizing that he can’t hear you. “ya!” your sing song voice has him laughing, driving just a little faster. he didn’t think about the satisfying feeling that stirred inside him when you pressed yourself fully against his back. your thighs squeezed the seat, as you came closer to him, moving your arms from his torso to stretch your arms out.
satoru was quick to grab your arm and put it back around his torso, gripping your wrist tight:
“idiot!”
you laugh as he drives faster the rain was lighting up, no longer pouring like before. you yell for him to go faster and he does just a little almost running a red light before stopping at the next one. this gave him the chance to look over his shoulder.
“i told you not to move.”
“i was stretching, idiot.”
he tsks, “same thing.” your arms wrap around his torso fully as you press your chest against his shoulder blades, whining in the helmet. “don’t fucking cry.”
“im not crying. my clothes are all soaked because of the seat and my panties are wet too now!”
what the fuck?! satoru mentally screams, are you dumb? you can’t say things like that to him. he’s still a man at the end of the day. asking him about sex, wearing a short skirt. you’re you! the stupid idiot that’s been stuck by his side since practically ever. but now there is an explicit image in his head of your panties being soaked to transparency. were they black like your bra. what if they’re blue like your blouse? and now they’re so wet from the rain and sitting on his seat that it’s stuck to your folds—
“s-shut up!” he stammers, so hyperaware of your proximity that he feels his lower stomach burning up. your legs were all wet and your thighs were pressing into his side.
satoru wanted to drive faster to finally get you away from him, but he was also aware of your safety.
“finally!” you sigh, arms in the air as he parks his motorcycle in front of his high end apartment complex. “help me.”
satoru sighs, taking off his helmet and turning in the seat to help you. your leg casually moves on his thigh as he tilts your chin up, undoing the clip. he can feel your eyes on him under the mask, but his own mistakenly drift down to your skirt which was lifted high up your thigh revealing a glimpse of your very soaked panties.
you take the helmet off. your eyes blinking as satoru remains sitting, turning away from you. “let’s go inside, I’m hungry.” you move off the bike as satoru still remains seated ,his hand covering his face. your brow quirks. “satoru.” you move to touch his shoulder when he grabs your wrist. your eyes wide. “woah, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
he lets go, grabbing his helmet and going inside.
sometimes he thanks god that there is no such thing as mind readers. because if their was one, he’d definitely be labeled as a fucking pervert. the image of your panties was imprinted in the front of his brain as he replayed that image over and over. have you ever had sex? your stupid question sent him into a spiral. who’s gonna be the one to see your panties? were they gonna treat you well? would he treat you well? would they peal your panties to the side and see your wet glistening pussy—
“satoru, go make some ramen,” you push him into the kitchen. your arms stretching above your head as you groan. “i had such a long day. I’ll need to get up early tomorrow too. I don’t think i can.”
the way you were talking sounds like you’ve sobered up some more. you were still pretty hyper and in a good mood, which he found interesting. that’s when he finally asked about your date.
“oh it was good. he’s an architecture major. they’re always doing projects and their classes are just as long as my film classes,” satoru hums. “oh i should call my mom. i told her I’d tell her when I’m home.”
satoru doesn’t even respond because you’re stupid date is now on his mind. did you tell him about your projects too? but you usually brainstorm with him. you probably didn’t. you don’t know how to talk to guys anyways. but you still looked to be in a good mood. satoru poured the ramen into two bowls as he dropped a hard boiled egg in each. “here you go.”
he places your bowl in front of you. he glances up and his heart nearly stops.
your eyes are wide as you stare at his phone screen and he knew exactly what you were looking at because he could hear it. the lewd sounds of some girl choking on a guys cock and the squelching of her pussy as she’s getting finger-fucked to tears, even the clap of his palm hitting her pussy rang in his ears and made him see bright pink—
“christ, y/n!” satoru yanks his phone from your grasp as he x’s out. his ears were bright red. as he feels his face unbelievably flushed. “what the hell.”
satoru can’t even bare to look up to see your face and wait to hear your loud laugh. but he still does. his eyes go wide.
you’re not laughing. your eyes were down as you stared at your lap and your hands balled into fists around your wet skirt. you looked like the most flustered person in the world. satoru felt another wave of pink wash his face as he stared at you’re flustered face. he can’t remember ever seeing that reaction from you.
“sorry.” you finally mutter. “i was just gonna text my mom. but i opened and um…yea.”
satoru felt even more embarrassed just hearing you explain and apologize.
“it’s fine. just eat.”
he shoves your bowl closer to you as he also starts shoving his face. you awkwardly take the chopsticks and start eating. the sound of your slurping echos in the living room which made your mind wander back to what just happened and the tension only grew. satoru grabbed the remote and turned on the most random show you both have seen before just to fill the awkward silence.
you felt so sober. like the video snapped you back to sanity that even you could process what you’d seen.
“do you watch porn a lot?”
satoru chokes. he coughs violently, glancing at you. “shut up.”
“it’s just a question.” you huff.
satoru keeps his eyes on the tv, “it’s a stupid fucking question.”
“you didn’t even bother swiping out, kinda makes it seem like you watch it a lot.”
“I don’t!” satoru’s face is bright red, almost flaring so bright he might catch on fire. you feel overwhelmed seeing him like this, especially when he runs a hand through his hair almost pulling at it.
but a few more minutes pass. after you finish your food. the next episode playing, and you open your mouth again.
“she kinda looks like me..”
“huh?”
“the girl in the video kinda looks like me.”
satoru snickers, loudly. you narrow your eyes. “no she doesn’t.”
“ya she does, her hair is the same and she’s the same size as me too-“
satoru rolls his eyes shaking his head, what kind of assumption even is that? “her boobs are much bigger than yours.”
“they literally aren’t!”
“oh ya? then prove it!”
“fine!”
it seems that both of you have lost some brain cells, because your arms are pulling at the wet strings of your blouse, tossing it off, leaving you in your tight skimpy black bra. satoru swallows thickly as he feels his cheeks flush again. your skin was damp, and your chest was heaving slightly from the fueled fight.
“same size.”
satoru leans his chin in his hand. eyes looking at your chest. “I can’t see.”
fuck, he really is a pervert. it’s you for crying out loud. just yell at him and call him a fucking weirdo. but instead you’re grumbling and moving your arms behind your back, unclasping the material until your bra is landing on your lap letting your full tits hang out. satoru’s hand envelopes his chin and mouth as he stares. your nipples were pretty, his mouth salivating as they turned hard.
“now you can’t say anything.” you feel warm. you want to cover yourself, but he was staring so hard, he’s never stared this hard before. and at you nonetheless. it was making you feel warm all over.
satoru rubs his chin, his chest was hammering as he felt so fucking confused. you look so fucking hot, and your eyes were not looking away from him.
“satoru?”
“hmm?”
“admit it.”
he grins, “admit what?”
“that the girl looks like me.”
“what girl?”
“the one in the video!” you slap his chest, and he’d slap you back if he didn’t catch the way your boobs bounced slightly from the action.
he leaned forward, hand placed in front as his hand moves to your tit. “the girl in the video doesn’t have this.” his thumb brushes a small mole under your nipple, one that he’s never seen before.
you hold his wrist, confused. you’re always confused, but never about satoru. no he was the only thing you’re ever sure about. you knew everything about him, seriously everything. but you don’t know about his sex life, or that he watches porn, or what kind of face he’s making right now…you didn’t want to admit it, but you liked not knowing something about him.
“what?” your head tilts, wet hair swaying that satoru can’t help but smile nervously.
“you have a couple moles here,” he’s staring up at you. still leaning against his arm. his eyes fall down to your perky tits. “let me…” his words are stopped by his own actions. his lips wrapping around your nipple sucking gently.
you gasp in shock, hand falling behind you as the other touches his shoulder. his lips suck like a greedy baby until it feels like he’s kissing you and swirling his tongue around the bud. “s-satoru…” you gasp in pleasure. “what’re you doing?” your fist tightens on his shirt.
he’s not drunk. but his head is filled with heat, his lips can’t stop attacking your boobs. fuck he loved hearing your little gasp, and sucking your nipple was making him so fucking turned on. he wanted more.
you whine under your breath, gently pushing his shoulder back away from your chest until his lips unattach, leaving a string of spit connecting his lower lip and your nipple. “you’re being weird.” you’re slightly out of breath, especially when you’re staring down at your best friend, his face completely flushed and his eyes darker than usual. “it’s not fair that you’re seeing me like this.”
“you’re the one who wanted to compare,” satoru snickers, sitting up. “are you embarrassed?”
“no.” you frown, moving to cover your tits up but he moves to grab your chin, his thumb caressing your cheek unexpectedly.
“we didn’t finish comparing?”
you raise a brow, only to feel satoru moves his arms around your waist pulling you forward letting you fall back, catching yourself with your arms. “wait, what’re you—satoru!”
fuck. his eyes were big, staring between your spread legs. your panties were still wet and completely transparent that he felt himself grow more pre-cum into his boxers.
“I’m surprised you didn’t wanna change,” he’s almost mumbling, dragging his hands across your thighs, squeezing the flesh making you flush deep. you move a hand to his shoulder again, especially when he leans down, kissing your sternum. it was surreal hearing the sounds of his lips leave wet kisses across your breasts. your legs were spreading unconsciously the more he leaned down, his hand rubbing your thighs.
“you never wear low tops, is it because of your tits?” he laughs against your skin, making your cheeks hot.
“you’re not being fair,” you push him back, sitting up.
he frowns, “what?”
once you’re sat, your hand moves down under his shirt. you immediately feel his abs, your cheeks grow warm as you caresses his skin. “do you jerk off a lot?”
his head falls back. “quit asking about that.”
“why?”
“because I don’t wanna tell you.”
“but why?”
“because!”
“because why?!”
“because it’s fucking nasty, you don’t need to hear it!”
your eyes narrow. his cheeks are red and his own brows are creased together. you lean forward, hand going up his chest, until it rests on his sternum. “you never talk about sex….are you a prude or something?”
his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly as he feels your hand push his shirt up, helping him take it off. seeing your satoru so flustered was making you jittery. since when was he so cute and fucking hot. his body was definitely bigger than the average guy. was he always this big? i mean you were taller when you were younger but he basically hit the ceiling in eighth grade and just got taller since. but for some reason you didn’t notice him building so much muscle. “did you get bigger?”
his eyes stare at every move you’re doing. “ya I guess,” he took up mma earlier this year too for no apparent reason. “you like?”
you hum, “it’s hot.” you eye his firm abs, your legs squeezing together as you watch the way his stomach flexes, your finger circling his nipple.
“shit.” your lips connect with his nipple, sucking gently making him jump. you hum around him in pleasure as he lets you suck for a couple seconds before pulling you off. his face beat red, holding your shoulder back. “what’re you doing??”
“I’m just doing what you did?”
were you really clueless?
“you…” he feels so flustered, the way your cute lips wrapped around his nipple, arching over him as you sucked. “i can only do that.”
“why? i liked it, so i did it to you??” you were annoyed with him. why is he being so confusing? “what—hey!”
his hand covers your eyes because he couldn’t handle the way you’re staring up at him topless and dumb brained. “stop talking.”
“what’re you—“ his lips brush yours, hesitating for a second before kissing you.
you’re frozen, lips part as he continues kissing you. “kiss me back.” he whispers. you feel like burning through your skin as you kiss him back. his hand still over your eyes as he kisses your bottom lip, sucking it, only for you to hold his wrist . fuck you’re so submissive.
you pull away, lips wet as you remove his hand. his eyes flick down to your chest as you stare up at him.
“how was it?”
your cheeks are so cute and full, and he almost has to bite his tongue when you lean forward and hold his face. “another one.”
ah fuck. his lips crash into yours again. it was messier this time. your lips felt so inexperienced against his, but feeling your tongue try and play with him and follow his lead had him yearning for more. you’re so cute. his hand moves to grab your boob again, squeezing it in his palm as you whine, hand moving up to grab his fluffy hair. “ach…toru,” you pant, catching your breath. “I like kissing.”
“i bet.”
you’re still panting, lips grazing his again as you move closer to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “have you kissed anyone before?”
why’re you asking him these questions?!
“it doesn’t matter.”
you’re so drunk off his lips that you kiss him again and again. his arms move to wrap around you, hoisting you on his lap as you pant, hands holding his cheeks as he feels your ass. his mind was going crazy as his palms groped you. your cheeks were so soft as he kneaded the flesh.
you wanted more….why have you never experienced this before? and satoru was here the whole time. if you knew he would be here you should’ve brought it up sooner. wait…what’re you thinking? should you be doing this? this isn’t something you should do with him—
“satoru,” your arms wrap around his shoulders, face hot as you press yourself against his chest. dodging his lips so it connects with your cheek.
he groans, the deep low rumble making you flush. “don’t turn away from me.” he huffs, grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks together.
you squirm, hitting his forearm as you shake your head, but he just laughs. “stoph hit.” he laughs even more as you talk with your cheeks squished until you start pulling his hair, hard.
“ack!” he winces as you tug harshly making him loosen his grip on your face and reach for his head. you’re laughing, until you feel something hard between your legs.
your face bursts with heat as you freeze. satoru grunts, yanking your wrist from his hair. he then notices your tense body, your eyes looking down at your seat. he immediately realizes what’s going on and feels more heat rush to his head. “are you gonna do something?”
your words had him staring at you with wide eyes. “oh um ya.”
he does a cautious roll of his hips, pushing his bulge against your wet panties, the feeling wasn’t foreign. you’ve touched yourself more than once, but it definitely was different. you had more of a reaction, especially as you smelled his aroma. you’ve never been affected by his scent till now. you remember all through middle school when you’d both finish soccer practice, but satoru reeked like no other. especially when he’d come back from jujutsu practice in high school and would purposely bother you. however seeing his face so flush now, and the small beads of sweats sent a new kind of pleasure flooding between your legs.
“can you take your pants off?”
his throat bobs as he hums lifting his hips up as you move to sit next to him watching him shuffle out of his cargo pants. your eyes focused on the prominent outline of his dick through his boxers. he turns back after discarding the annoying material, his breath catches.
you looked so flustered.
his mind was recalibrating. is this a good idea? will this ruin your friendship?
“I’ll take mine off too.” you mutter, only for satoru to almost faint. his hand stretching out to hold your wrist. you glance up, and he immediately realizes how confusing this ordeal is and he doesn’t care. his lips attack yours again. the moan that comes from the back of your throat has him groaning. he cradles your head, tongue playing with yours as you whine, touching his chest as you feel his muscles under your palm. it was electric, the chills that broke across your body as the sudden pulse between your legs the more satoru’s hands squeezed and caressed.
“spread your legs.”
you obey so easily you’re immediately embarrassed. cheeks hot as you stare up at satoru as he licks his lips. your hands fall on your chest, tummy warm as he trails his palm down until his finger plays with the waistband of your panties.
he glances up. “why didn’t you wear any shorts?”
“they were in the laundry…” you flush. satoru hums, still fiddling with your panties, the tension rising even more. you moved to close your legs, but he pushes his body between them, preventing you from achieving your goal. his arm wraps around one of your legs, hoisting it up on his shoulder and kissing your calf.
why the fuck?! your skin broke into a hot mess, eyes dizzy as his thumb caressed your clothed pussy, as he left kisses up your legs. his thumb pushing your transparent panties between your wet folds, smiling at the squeak you let out once he found your clit. “ya look so dumb.” he laughs, making you huff — you cover your face, but his hand reflectively catches your wrist pulling it down.
“you just made fun of me.”
“it was a joke.” he sighs, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “i was just joking, idiot.”
you scoff, moving your hand to grab his hair until he catches it again. your brows pinch in annoyance. why is he suddenly using his strength against you? he’s never like that. satoru liked being messed with, and now that you’re thinking about it, he’s manhandled you a couple times without you even noticing. but why are you suddenly aware of it now?
satoru’s eyes narrow once you turn your face away, closing your eyes. “what the hell?”
“what?”
“why’re you looking away?”
“your face is ugly.”
he scoffs, “so why am I staring at you?”
“cuz im not ugly.”
he laughs loud. “as if.” he notices the vein popping in your head. “lemme see that ugly face.”
his hand grabs your face, once again, forcing you to look at him against your will, your eyes remained shut, so he decided to lean even closer, and lick your eye.
“ew, satoru!” your eyes blink open as you try to wipe your eye, but satoru can only lick your cheek then. even spitting. “what the hell?!” you whine as he continues to litter your face with his salvia. the licks turn into very wet kisses as he licks your ear and cheek, biting your bottom lip and running his tongue over it. you’re initial disgust oddly and quickly, morphes into surprising pleasure. your nails scratching his undercut, dragging them to his damp curls as he grunts in pleasure.
his hips start to rock into you again, it felt even better without his pants. he felt like a dog, so desperate for relief, but also finding more pleasure in the slow burn of it.
“you’re so disgusting,” you sigh into his lips.
his lips curl, “fine by me.” his tongue laps at your lips dramatically, making you flush because you weren’t disgusted by it. “not gonna push me off?” he chuckles.
“no,” you sigh, holding his neck as you pull him to your lips again. your tongue sticks out as he smiles, licking yours as he lets a small amount of spit go into your mouth. you tug his hair, but not in the usual way.
his judgement now completely clouded, he suddenly pushes his body up and grabs your legs easily. your lower half is on his lap giving him easy access to bury his face between your legs.
you gasp, back arching in surprise. “satoru!” you cry, eyes wide as he pushes your panties to the side, kissing your folds. what the fuck is this look? he looked completely hypnotized. eyes drunk as his tongue pushed between your folds, licking a bold strip up to your clit, making your whole body shudder.
“did ya learn this from p-porn?” you gasp, pushing his hair back as he moans into your pussy. your arousal fills his tastebuds as he slurps more.
“stop asking about that.” he groans, especially when you start tugging his hair, but instead of his usual annoyed face, his eyes flutter shut, the tugging egging him on. “taste so good.” he moans, pushing his tongue into your pussy hole as his nails dig into your thighs. the sounds of his lips against your pussy were lewd. your eyes fluttering shut as you felt something inside you. your pussy was drenched, the sweet taste of your arousal coating satoru’s tongue filling his head. his best friend tastes like heaven!
“sa-ah-toru—more, ungh ngh more,” you whine, tugging his hair harder as you buck your hips to meet his lips, eyes hazy as you gasp, moans getting a little more high pitched as satoru sucks your clit into his mouth. he was being greedy, hearing you cry out loudly, pulling his hair hard until you cum.
your legs shake as you press his face against your pussy, feeling him groan, not realizing he was looking at you the entire time until you’re pushing his head back.
“fuck, you’re mean,” he groans rubbing his head from the harsh tugging. your chest is heaving as you stare up at the ceiling. you’ve never cum that hard when you touched yourself. “y/n?”
satoru moves into your line of vision. his face flushed as he stares down at you. his mouth and chin covered in your juices making your pussy clench. fuck his dick really hurts. your hand reaches up, and satoru leans down licking your palm as you wipe the mess off his face. “you’re such a dog,” you tsk. his eyes lighting up as he leans down, kissing your neck.
“but you’re the one being such a good girl,” his words sent a red hot blaze pierce through your veins.
your hand moves to your face covering your mouth as you look away. “s-shut up, dog.”
satoru’s eyes go dark, you were so fucking hot. his arms easily lift your legs up, pulling your skirt and panties off, tossing them aside. you glance up, heart beating rapidly, he was pushing his boxers down—
what the fuck.
s-satoru was big.
fuck, why was he so big?? your tummy felt hot as you reach for his neck. “sat—“ his tongue pushes into your lips, swallowing your words as he pumps his cock, wincing slightly as he drags his tip between your folds making you gasp.
“wrap your arms around me.”
his command was easily obeyed, and in seconds, his arm wraps under your ass lifting you both up. you press your cheek to his as you pant. “he really is strong”.
“i know,” he laughs, making you speechless at the cockiness. fuck he really is a dick. satoru is kissing you nonstop. eyes open as he makes his way to his bathroom, leaning you on the counter, arm still around your waist as he rummages through the cabinet and ripping open the condom box. it was messy. he falls back on the ground where your clothes are and rips the condom open.
“you’re so fucking wet,” he points pushing his tip inside without warning. he’s kneeling with spread legs, holding your thigh and lower back angling your hips up. this was unlike anything ever.
your throat is dry, full of shocked gasps and surprised moans. “w-wait…” your lashes flutter, chest heaving as you stare up at your best friend. “you wanna have sex with me?”
satoru snorts, nails digging into your flesh as he leans over, bending you up so he can be up in your space. “i know you’re slow, dummy.” he bites your cheek. “but we’re both naked right now. I just sucked on your fat tits, and my dick is really fucking hard because of you so ya, we’re gonna have sex.”
“ookay.”
satoru melts.
he buries his face in your neck. your heart beating quicker as he turns his face to your neck as you feel his lips move. “one word?”
“ya. I wanna do it.” satoru trails his lips to your ear. his breath was hot and heavy especially with his annoying dick poking its tip on your clit.
“do you wanna do it with me?”
you can’t pinpoint the reason your heart skipped a beat. but you hum to his question. “please.” you roughly tug his hair up, a groan escapes his lips as he sits up, grabbing your thigh and dragging his cock between your folds. his eyes are laser focused on the first stretch of your hole, pushing his pink tip inside.
you squirm, head turning at the painful stretch. satoru however groans in absolute pleasure, your soft walls squeezing him so beautifully. “fuck you’re amazing.” your tits heave, hand holding his wrist as he drags his cock out and back in. your body feels hot as satoru starts fucking his hips faster, the pace picking up making your body squirm as you whimper.
“s…slow—slow please—“ you reach for his bicep, eyes wide as you feel the stretch sting, a shock running up your spine.
“you’ve never liked anything slow before,” his devilish smile makes you dizzy. you knew satoru was a cocky bastard, but seeing him like this was making your mind cloudy. but he still slides his hand below to the dimple of your lower back, smiling the second he pressed into it making your back arch like a button. “ha good girl.”
“satoru!” you moan out as you feel him slide deeper, his words were mean, like always, but his touch was gentle and intimate.
how else would he handle you? he wasn’t even conscious of it, because he always handled you with care. your soft skin like smooth glass, your whimpers like soft melodies — he wanted to hear you more clearly, his best friend that sounds so fucking hot whimpering and crying because of him. he leaned back lifting your legs up as he kissed your inner knee, pressing his cheek against your leg as he watched the drag of his fat cock disappear into his childhood friends pussy.
your eyes were big and full of bliss as he thrusted into you. your pussy sucking him in with each clap, as he groans. fuck you were beautiful to look at. you pussy crying as he hammered himself deeper into you, his mind going hazy as he saw another side of you. one so intimate it was only fitting for him to see.
“ngh ugh, wha-toru, I’m gonna c-cum!” a sudden glint shot in his eyes, your moans making his stomach flip with excitement as he smiled so big you crashed out.
“s-shit!” he swore loudly— you cried, squeezing him to death as you shook with pleasure. satoru released the coil he was holding back, filling the condom with his hot seed. “didn’t think you’d cum that fast.” he chuckled, pulling out and wrapping the condom and tossing it to the side. you were panting, but you felt his arm lift your legs up, staring down at your messy hole.
he slid your body to the side, it was embarrassing how easy he handles your body. you were a heaving mess, not realizing he was rubbing his raw cock between your folds again. until he grunts a gentle… “take it again.”
your hand shoots out grabbing his forearm, your nails digging into his skin as you gasp, cheeks flush as you look up at him and your breath fucking catches. his cheeks were just as flushed, his chest sweaty and hair pushed back as he gripped your thighs, with one single muscular arm, keeping your legs together and to the side as he kept his own big thighs spread apart as he pressed his still erect dick against you. has he always been this hot?
“you wanna take it again, right?” satoru rests his cheek against your legs, hugging them close like you were the most precious thing in the world.
“h-how can you go again?” you pant, still holding his arm as you glance away from him. suddenly feeling embarrassed by his unwavering gaze.
satoru slides his engorged tip past your folds, rubbing his pre-cum with your slick. “because i thought about being inside you again…” his jaw clenches as pushes in feeling you squirm again. “and ngh fuck it made me wanna fuck you again. feel you clench around me raw.”
you choke as he slides deeper than before. “I wanna see ugh if i can put it-it all in this time—fuck!” satoru throws his head back as he pushes in your tight fucking pussy. keeping your legs together like this was making you even tighter and it felt so delicious.
“y-you put it in before—“
“not all of it, pretty.”
even though your childhood friend’s dick is currently inside you, pulsing and stretching you out in ways you couldn’t even imagine, the thing that made your skin break into a hot mess was hearing that one silly nickname. “shit, you’re squeezing me to death, pretty girl,” satoru chokes as you clench around him again. “fuck.”
you’re burying your face to the side, face hot as satoru grips your legs, abs clenching as he feels your gummy walls tighten around him. “s-shut up.”
his eyes flick over to your turned face. “wh-what?” his jaw is clenched as he grunts again, jamming his cock deeper making you claw at your shirt on the floor. “fuck-you’re fucking tight, baby.”
your hand goes up to his face, covering his mouth as you squeeze around him again and that’s when the realization dawns on his flushed face.
you feel a devilish smile form under your hand which drops when he pulls out, grabbing your legs and hoisting them up. he slides his entire length in causing your arm to fall. he grabs your wrist, swearing with a smile as he pants. “what is it, pretty?”
“d-don’t!” your eyes flutter , as you try to turn your face again but his grip on your wrist was tight as he pulls out, glancing down at the slick that fully coats the base of his throbbing cock, and pushing it back inside you hearing the squelch. he starts to pick up an even pace that sends shocks of pleasure through your body.
“ah fuck, you’re such an idiot,” satoru grunts, leaning down as he fucks you harder, the claps of his thighs meeting your ass made your head spin. his hand slid to hold your cheek the drool coating his palm as he turned your face over. “ah..aha ya that’s it.” he felt your hot breath fan right on his face as he stared at how pretty you are letting him fuck you. and you were getting soo turned on by silly nicknames, your pussy felt even sweeter. “cmon, praise me too. ngh tell me how much ya like it, baby.”
“i-i like it,” you gasp, whining when he pushed one leg down and holding one up to his chest fucking you deep. “angh tor-u fuck I like it—I like it!—you’re dick is fucking me so good! angh so big—“
you can’t even register the fact that you’re climaxing until you were gasping in his kisses. “you’re so hot when you cum, pretty girl.” your thighs clench together as he drools in your kiss until you’re meeting his same energy and force. his kisses were so messy and mean, like you were going to disappear, but his hand cradled the back of your head like his most precious thing. you whine in his mouth, hand going to wrap around his shoulders. “easy,” he sighs, once again handling you gently as he turns you around, kissing your shoulder as he keeps a secure arm around your waist, right under your tits.
“j-just tell me to turn,” you heave, chest rising and falling as you come down from the previous orgasms. you feel satoru smile as he rests his cheek on your shoulder looking up at you as you glance down.
“but you’re just my dumb pretty girl. I haveta do everything for ya. ain’t that right?” you glare at him, of course he’s still a fucking smartass. but still it makes your cheeks hot and your eyes roll. “no comeback?”
“you want me to say something?”
satoru smiles, kneeing your legs apart as he presses his leaky dick against your pussy. “my name wouldn’t be bad..,.angh haha there we go, you’re so sensitive,” he chuckles feeling your pussy flutter against his tip.
your arm holds his as you squirm. “fuck, angh why are you so big?”
“you almost sound like you’re complaining?”
you whine as he pushes in again, the stretch was fucking thrilling, “because I amm!”
“ah!” you yell, the spank to your clit pulsing. “what the fuck!” you glare at him, and he breaks into a laugh as he kisses your neck, his tongue running in circles as he pushes his painfully hard cock even deeper, groaning as he slaps your clit again to be even more mean.
“ahh!” you cry, nails digging into the forearm under your tits. your pussy was twitching like crazy, gripping him much tighter than before, clearly sensitive from the abuse he was giving your poor swollen clit. “s-satoru, stop hitting it.”
“holy fuck, you feel like heaven,” he continues to play with your clit no longer slapping it, but rubbing harsh circles and occasionally pinching it to invoke a deathly squeeze that left his entire body shaking from the edging.
your eyes begin to cross as he starts going faster again, his pace was always building up, but he was going for much longer than you were expecting. his arm moved up, grabbing a handful of your tits as he scratched and twisted your nipple making you cry, head falling back on his shoulder.
“just like that, babygirl,” he laughed, bouncing you on his dick as you grow dumber by the second. “my dumb baby! fuck your pussy is so good!” your juices coat his thighs and balls, it was so cute how much of a mess you were making.
your head is spinning at the relief and pleasure coursing through your veins.
“ngh fuck, toru, you’re so big, faster—pleaseplease…nghh ha ha!” you were absolutely delirious.
satoru was fucking pussy whipped, his cock hurt with the edging he was doing, slowling the pace when he’d feel himself about to cum, then picking it up again to make you cum on his dick. he was selfish. very much so that he needed you on every level, including this, and he didn’t even realize how starved he was until he got a taste of you.
“scream my name, shit—I’m gonna cum, fuck wanna fill you up!” satoru’s deep grunts and moans was fucking hypnotizing,
your insides tightening, stomach clenching as you cry, turning your face to kiss him. it was messy, and barely a kiss as you moaned into his mouth, tears running down your face as you felt his fat cock start to twitch and grow inside you, every vein sliding against your walls as he holds you up with his strong arm.
“come on—cmon hngh cum with me,” satoru was shaking as he held you unbelievably close fucking his hips even harsher and faster the clapping filled your ears until he started groaning loudly.
“satoru!”
he couldn’t even register what happened.
the relief that burst in white ropes filled his soul. his drawn out groan became hiccups as he groaned with each thrust into your tight fucking pussy, feeling more ropes of his hot white cum spill into your tight walls, his cock engulfed by sticky warmth as you shook.
“fuck me,” his presses his face into your neck as he shakes, his balls tightening as you squeeze around him. “shit, too much.” he whimpers. only to realize how limp your body is. “baby?” his arms relax around you, only for you to fall back into his chest, “shit.” he holds you up, his hand coming up to your face, slapping your cheek lightly trying to wake you back up. “open your eyes,” he continues slapping you until you’re blinking. “there we go.”
“wha—ah,” you jump at the sticky mess. your insides making you squeeze around him as satoru held your face to the side looking at him. “what happened?”
“you passed out is what,” he looked angry. your lips frown. “did you feel me cumming inside ya?”
your face burns. “what the hell?!”
“did you??”
“shut up, oh my god,” you groan, flustered by the question. but he doesn’t stop, instead he lifts you off him, his soft cock sliding out as more cum oozes out of your hole, but instead of placing you down, he keeps you up, arm hooked under your legs, as his free hand cups your pussy, shoving two fingers deep inside.
“wait!” you cry, shaking as satoru starts fingering his cum back inside, making you cry out. “I said wait! I can’t—satoru,” you cry out, nails digging into his arm as you feel him press his thumb against your clit until you’re shaking with pleasure.
“fucking dumped so much cum in you and you weren’t even conscious for it,” satoru grunts, he really sounded annoyed, but you didn’t care, because you were coming undone, legs shaking as you suddenly felt a new feeling start to come over you.
“sa—toru—wait wait!—angh!” you’re entire body shakes, as your pussy squirts aggressively. satoru’s eyes grow wide, hand drenched. “what the fuck,” you cry, covering your face as satoru puts you down, rubbing your pussy gently.
“fuck you,” you slap his arm hard. your chest heaving and your legs shaking, as you keep them closed.
“you just squirted.”
“ew shut up,” you’re beyond embarrassed. that’s not a flex. you just made a mess! but your best friend didn’t look upset, especially as he loomed over you, his eyes looking over every inch of your body. his hand coming up to rub your belly. “you better only do that for me.”
“weirdo,” you cover your chest but he pushes your arms open, hand gropping your boobs. “you really like my boobs?”
“hmm.”
satoru leans down, tongue falling open to suck on your tits again. “if only there was milk.”
“the fuck! oh my god,” you slap his head, making him laugh, but continues sucking. his hips roll slightly, put you manage to reach a hand down to grab his semi hard cock, he moans around your nipple. his cock was sticky but you didn’t mind, it made you blush just holding it, you were holding your best friends dick and he was moaning. you whine as satoru sinks his teeth into your nipple as you squeeze his tip, thumb pressing on his slit as you pump it. his fingers slide back to your pussy, playing with your fat lips and then your bundle, his fingers getting coated in his cum.
after a few seconds satoru pulled his lips away, a long string of spit fell as he sat up, moving your hand as he aggressively pumped his dick in front of your face.
you were mesmerized. his face was red as he shook like crazy, his abs were clenched, every muscle of his body flexing, his thighs were apart and you could see his heavy balls shake, he was completely overstimulated, was he going to come on your face? your boobs? please you wanted a taste. but instead he pushed your legs open—
“wait no—Im too full! angh!!”
satoru slammed his cock back inside your pussy and came right there. his cock bursting cum as you cried, closing your knees together squeezing him as you felt his cum fill your tummy up. satoru fell on top of you, his body shaking as he buried his face in your neck. his body jumping more cum into you as he whimpered.
“you’re so warm, did you feel me cum?”
“mhm,” you sniffle, the warmth inside you sent flutters around your head. you loved it. his cock inside you, his cum filling your insides, how selfish he was being. “do you like it when girls feel your cum?”
satoru rolls off you, his hand sliding down to hold his oozing cock, as you roll to your side when he ignores you. “satoruuuuu.”
“what?”
“how many girls have you cum in?” satoru covers his face with his arm. you sit up, leaning over his body. “why’re you ignoring me?”
“because it doesn’t matter.”
“but why?” you frown. “was I not good? I literally took so much of your cum!” satoru’s face goes bright red. “you never talk to me about your sex life-“
“because I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable!” he tries to turn away but you press both arms down on his chest, moving to sit on top of him, fighting to push his arms away. but it was useless, so you move your face under his arm, tongue licking his lips making him squirm, and finally releasing his arm so you were kissing him. all wet and messy just like you like it. “why do you care about my sex life?”
you look down at him, his eyes trying to find answers in yours. “because…i don’t know anything about it.”
“so?”
you frown. “do you not wanna know about my sex life?”
satoru smirks. “i already know this is your first time. you have nice tits and a tight pussy. you like it when i bite your nipples. you also get turned on when i spit—“
“stop,” you cover his mouth, face so hot. “w-well, why do you get to know everything?”
“because you’re my best friend.” he smiles, leaning up, hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you to his lips. you whine, kissing him deeply as you press your hand to his chest. why is your best friend so skilled?
“I want to know everything about you, too,” you mutter. “i wanna know why you watch porn. why you don’t talk about sex? I’m not stupid—“
“I’ve only had sex a few times. barely,” he groans. “I stopped because it’s not fun. and it’s your fault.”
“what!!” you jump back.
“every time i realize the girls don’t have hair like yours, or boobs like yours…I get turned off…happy?”
your stomach is flipping as you look at your best friend. his face is red and his eyes are darting everywhere else.
“say something,”
“don’t ever say that with a straight face. you’re so fucking weird.” you’re burying your face in your hands. “that’s not even a real answer.”
“whatever,” he squeezes your waist. “you’re just jealous I’m more skilled than you.”
“what? you came just as fast as i did the first round.” you glare at him.
satoru licks his teeth leaning back on his palms, his head cocked to the side. it was almost a crime how hot he looked right now. “at least I didnt squirt all over my friends carpet.”
your face bursts to flames as you slap his chest. “what the fuck!” you’re so embarrassed, moving to get off him, but he only holds you down.
“I’m kidding! It’s a joke—“
“it’s not funny,” you squirm in his grip. why is he so strong?!
“I like that your pussy gushed for me,” he kisses your hot cheek. “it’s hot. I definitely hit the jackpot.” his lips kiss your neck repeatedly, as you heart beats a little faster.
the reality of what just happened was a process. your mind not even fully realizing what you’d just done even as after you took turns showering, or when satoru tossed your clothes in the washing machine, or when you laid on his bed as he brushed his teeth, or when he crawled behind you, pressing himself into your back.
“we should probably talk some more in the morning.” his low voice sent shivers down your spine as you hum. “just tell me now if you’re happy your first was with me.”
your heart thumps a little louder, almost afraid he can hear. you can feel his chest rising and falling against your back, his hold around your waist loosening when you don’t respond.
“i am…”
his body relaxes.
“good.”
tomorrow was a mystery and you didn’t know if the pit in your stomach was guilt or fear. guilt that you don’t know if you just used your best friend for sex, or fear that you might actually have a different kind of feeling for someone you’ve known your whole life.
a/n: sorry i fell off the face of the earth, im kinda tryna to figure stuff out. i wrote this in Aug/sept but just wrapped it up now so i hope u guys enjoy <3 and happy holidays!!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: in honor of reaching my first milestone on this account, I have decided to host an event centered around everybody’s favorite tense trope: “what are we?”
in addition to this, i will be hosting a fanfic giveaway after posting all the stories related to the event, so stay tuned!
now before, we proceed, I want to sincerely thank you all for your support and kindness throughout my journey so far; I hope that the stories in this event and everything that follows will be up to your liking 🩷
expanding on this drabble (don't worry if you haven't read it, it's included in this post too)
car sex after training with Dynamite
Even pro heroes have to do training sometimes. Unlucky for you, in your semi-monthly training you've been paired up to work with Dynamite from the agency next door. You're absolutely convinced you'll end up dead.
After an hour of ruthless sparing, you accept you'll probably lose this match. Bakugo hasn't let up a bit.
Finally, in your exhaustion, he pins you to the ground. Arms held over your head, one of his legs pinning both of yours down. Then you feel it.
He's hard.
You laugh. Looks like you did win after all.
When you initially felt it, you weren’t sure if his erection was from winning or his proximity to you. Katsuki Bakugo would definitely get a victory boner, right? But when he hung his head in embarrassment, cheeks flushed as red as a strawberry, you took a wild guess. Looking up at him while he bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut cursing himself, you decided to go for it.
Afterall, you’re not the one with anything to lose at this point.
One of your hands, clasped under his, reached to brush lightly on his wrist. At this he looked up, eyes making contact with yours. You glanced towards the door and back at him. He nodded.
The shuffle out was the most awkward part. While standing back up, he pulled you up with him. Grabbing both hands and keeping you close. To anyone else, it looked polite. Sportsman-like. But you knew better.
Then, you turned, still allowing him to stay close and cover his very obvious arousal while you made the increasingly long walk to the coat rack. Once he had his jacket in hand, you were good to go.
The two of you rushed down the stairs to the parking garage. As soon as he pulled you into his car, you knew neither of you could wait any longer.
He climbed in after you, tipping the passenger seat as far back as it would go.
Now he has you in the same position as earlier. One of his arms pressing both of yours into the headrest above you while the other grips your hip to position you closer to him. You can feel him through his hero suit as he relentlessly grinds into you.
Good thing his windows are tinted.
Your combined breath makes the windows fog up. You feel yourself getting close, and the two of you are still fully clothed.
Almost like he could read your mind, Bakugo groans at you. “Take these off,” pulling at your pants. He presses up, giving you just enough space to slide them to your feet while he unbuckles his belt and pulls himself out.
Leaning back in, his tip explores your entrance.
“This okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you tip your hips in an effort to push him in.
“Always wanted to do this,” he breathes into your ear, “fuck in my car.”
“You haven’t?”
In a quick but smooth motion, he slides halfway into you.
“Have now,” he smirks as you gasp, gripping his shoulders.
After a solid hour of non-stop sparing, being pressed into his comfortable passenger seat while he stretches you around him feels amazing. You need more of him.
“What, are you going to actually fuck me or just stay there?” you watch his crimson eyes light up at your taunt.
“You gotta be patient, [your hero name],” he says but you couldn’t miss that he shoves himself fully in you. Leaning back in, he’s so close you can feel his breath against your neck as he whispers, “don’t worry, I’ll fuck you better than any extra ever has.”
“We’ll see about that.”
A lot of talk, but he doesn’t disappoint.
He starts slow but rough. Spacing his thrusts out to tease you, once he realizes how much you want it. His hero costume has so many straps and buckles to hold onto. You grip the orange ones crossing his chest, desperately pulling him harder into you. Within a few minutes, you’ve given up any front you once had and practically beg for it.
“Faster,” you moan in his ear, “need more of you.”
That’s all he needed to hear. At that, doubles his speed. Fucking you even harder into the seat while you wrap your legs around his back. Your hands move down to the sides of the plush seat, gripping them as you half scream in his ear. Toes curling as you cream hard on him.
Now that his job is done, he takes it as a cue that it’s his turn. Humping hard into you while you practically convulse under him. You feel yourself gushing with both of your cum, suddenly aware of how much of a mess you both made.
“It’s fine,” he laughs sliding out of you and pulling his pants up, “the seats are leather. I can just clean it.”
He climbs over to the driver’s seat, giving you a chance to put your own clothes back on.
“I’ll give you a ride to your agency,”
“That’s fine, it’s three blocks away. I can walk.”
He pretends not to hear you, backing out of the spot anyway.
After a block of comfortable silence, he breaks it.
“The best?” he asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.
“Best what?”
“Was I the best, yes or no?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” you tease, “maybe we’ll have to try again and see.”
m.list
thanks @amande-mochin @bakemonogatarii and @blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh for asking for this one
Warnings: reader has a traumatized past, mentions of death, angst, mentions of abuse, bad family past, and cursing. Reader is in the hero course, and has slight eating disorders, issues with gore, and hates seeing loved ones hurt.
Contains: platonic!Aizawa x reader, fluff, comfort, crack, Katsuki is a simp for reader, protective Aizawa. Eri is your younger adopted sister, and Hitoshi is basically your brother.
A/n: This is pretty long, lmao. I've been craving a father figure, and I love dadzawa, so this is for all of my dadzawa lovers!
☆°~ Shouta has been in love with your mother since his first year at UA. But unfortunately, she had to move away and was forced into a marriage with a man she didn't love. Shouta was heartbroken, to say the least, and lost contact with her for five years.
☆°~ She became pregnant with you while she was in an abusive relationship with her older husband. After she died in an accident, your biological father became a drunk and started mistreating you. You ran away at a very young age near when Shouta was patrolling, and that's when he met you.
☆°~ Shouta was taken aback when he saw you crying near an alleyway. You looked just like your mother, and he felt his heart shatter to pieces for so many reasons. After taking you in, he realized that your mother had died and your father had been abusing you. The poor man never felt so broken in his life, but he had to take care of you.
☆°~ After arresting your father, Shouta decided to adopt you since he had grown and had a soft spot for you. Not only because you looked like the woman he loved, but also because he could see how pure you were. Your eyes had this hope and innocence in them, and your smile was so bright when you felt happy.
☆°~ After taking you to therapy sessions, you basically clung onto Shouta. You saw him as your guardian angel and protecter. You never had to worry about anything with him because he always made you feel so safe and warm and happy.
☆°~ Shouta never thought he could love again after your mother died, but then you came along. You were like a breath of fresh air, bringing him peace and hope. Yet you were also like sunlight. Shining down on him while showing him kindness and a positive view of the world he never knew existed. Shouta felt like he could truly live again whenever he saw you. His little sunshine.
☆°~ You're the reason Shouta comes home every day. It doesn't matter if you're biological or not. You're his sweet little angel, and you're gonna stay that way.
☆°~ Shouta is very protective of you. He knows about your bad past and how you grew up in a dysfunctional family. He doesn't want you to have that.
☆°~ This man would go to the depths of the earth for you. You've managed to make your way into a special place in Shouta's heart, and he would be damned if he didn't do his best to make you safe and happy.
☆°~ Although words of affirmation aren't his best thing, he does make an effort to let you know that he loves you and that he's proud of you. This includes acts of service, quality time, and belief or not, physical touch! I think Shouta would be touch starved, but he would be too scared to say anything.
☆°~ He enjoys cuddles. Sometimes, he would drag you away from whatever you're doing and roll you up in a fluffy blanket! He would then proceed to cradle you in his lap while watching a movie on the couch with you. Sometimes, you would complain, then he would just play with your hair to shut you up.
☆°~ You have a habit of biting him when you're bored or just feel like being annoying. He could be grading papers, and you come out of nowhere and just chomp onto his arm. You call them love bites, but he just sighs and shakes his head. He secretly likes them because you remind him of a grumpy cat.
☆°~ He would definitely use petnames like honey, sweetheart, baby, silly, love, sunshine, child, etc. He means this in a fatherly way, which you like because it makes you feel happy inside.
☆°~ When you were younger, Shouta would always play games or do activities with you. Wether it was going to the park, giving you a piggyback, reluctantly getting you All Might merch, or even just talking about whatever was going through your head.
☆°~ One of his favorite games he liked to play with you was the tickle monster. His heart always swelled by your happy giggles and whenever you would try to run away from him. It never worked though, he would just scoop you up in his arms and blow raspberries into your neck and tummy.
☆°~ He unfortunately found out that you were a master at hide-and-seek. He started to panic when he couldn't find you anywhere in the house. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he found you giggling inside a small drawer. Shouta never doubted your hiding skills after that.
☆°~ You also played dead a little too well. Let's just say that Shouta found out how important you became to him after that. The poor man never thought he could cry so much when he found you laying on the ground with bruises all over your skin. You tripped and fell off your bike. You decided to take a nap on the grass near the park you were at.
☆°~ He's secretly terrified when you get hurt during hero training, missions, etc. It just gives him flashbacks of what happened to Oboro. Don't even get mention anything that happened during the war. You were both traumatized after what everyone had to suffer for.
☆°~ He hates it whenever you're in pain. Whether it is physical or emotional, he just can't bear to see his precious little girl hurt or sad. When he saw you almost during the war he felt his heart drop. Shouta probably won't tell anyone this but, he had nightmares for months seeing you in such a vulnerable state.
☆°~ When Shouta had to cut his leg off during the fight with Shigaraki, he would never forget the sounds of your screaming and sobs of horror in his ears. He felt his heart shatter at the thought of scaring you. Because not only you thought you had lost your father, you thought you had lost Katsuki.
☆°~ Shouta let you cry in his embrace when you visited him in the hospital. The pain of Katsuki almost dying twice, was too much for you. You hated seeing the people you loved get hurt. And Shouta's heart broke when you started having panic attacks after the war.
☆°~ He got a heart attack when you said that you had a crush on Bakugou. His sweet baby girl with that loud blonde!? Shouta passed out when you told him.
☆°~ He glared daggers at the explosive blonde for a month. Poor Katsuki was confused and slightly offended that Shouta made him do all of the dorm chores as well as doing extra training and homework.
☆°~ But Shouta is secretly proud of Bakugou and his growth. But that won't stop him from making fun of problem child number 2.
☆°~ He also grew a soft spot for Bakugou when the blonde practically died on the battle field in front of him.
☆°~ When he adopted Eri, he wanted to cry of how similar she was to you. He remembers how small and innocent you were and now you're growing up and you're not gonna be his little girl anymore, and, and-
☆°~ He totally doesn't wanna cry whenever he looks at your baby pictures.
☆°~ You two have rather have a playful relationship. Shouta seems intimidating and scary on the outside, but with you he's always teasing you and smiles a lot more. Even his students always seem perplexed when they see him give you affectionate headpats.
☆°~ He likes to annoy you and always snickers whenever you pout at him angrily. You're like a grumpy cat. But he can't help it! He loves cats and you act like a dramatic one with lots of attitude!
☆°~ He secretly takes pride when you get your deadpanned look from him. He feels his heart swell whenever you look like his mini-me. Hitoshi and you are learning his ways. Eri isn't there yet but she still looks cute when she tries to impersonate him.
☆°~ Shouta would definitely teach you self-defense and different ways to use weapons to protect yourself. He also teaches you survival tricks and basical yet important things like that.
☆°~ He's definitely a good cook, knowing how to make all sorts of recipes that he even wrote it all down for you to learn. Bakugou is surprised how good the food is when he comes over for the first time. And ever since he's been trying to steal your dad's recipes.
☆°~ Shouta hates it whenever you don't eat. You've had this bad habit ever since you were a child and he's doing his best to stop it. He knows that it's because of your past and he's always there to support you. Yet it doesn't stop him from worrying and occasionally, he has to ask Bakugou to help make sure you eat.
☆°~ Speaking of the explosive blonde, Shouta is rather grateful for whenever Katsuki helps out. Since he's a pro hero and a teacher, Shouta knows that he can't always be there for you, which he hates. But Katsuki has always been by your side no matter what. He knows that he can trust his student, and is grateful that you have Katsuki to lean on.
☆°~ Although Shouta is protective of you even if you're in a relationship with Katsuki, he trusts that you both won't do anything rash. Like getting drunk, doing something illegal, or getting into a teen pregnancy. Like Shouta would let that happen in the first place, lmao.
☆°~ The one time Shouta caught you two alone, he was mortified. You and Katsuki were practically making out on your bed. You gave your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek while the poor blonde turned completely red. Your father began to chase Katsuki around the house while you tried to tell your dad that he was being dramatic.
☆°~ It all ended up with Katsuki being tied upside-down with Shouta's scarf and a hit on the head from your dad throwing a shoe at him.
☆°~ Katsuki was afraid of your dad for two weeks and didn't make eye contact or said any snappy remarks. Shouta called it showing respect to which you just have your father a groan of embarrassment and an eye-roll.
☆°~ Shouta does not tolerate any disrespect towards you. If he hears any boys catcalling you, or anyone trying to bully you? He won't hesitate to expel them from whichever school they go to. Sometimes he lets Katsuki join in to deal with them depending on what these brats do to you.
☆°~ He always notices little details about you. The way you ramble to yourself, how you fidget whenever you get nervous or excited, little habits that you have that make him smile every time he catches you doing one of them.
☆°~ He's also the first person to know when somethings wrong. Your body language changes and you become more closed off. So when he starts to see the signs that's when he knows that you're upset about something or something happened to you. And you're always grateful for how observant he is.
☆°~ Shouta definitely would give the best comfort hugs and cuddles. He would just wrap his arms around you and pull you towards him, where it's so safe and warm and reassuring. Embracing him always tends to make you a bit sleepy because of how comforting his hugs are.
☆°~ I can see him teaching you how to play the bass or electric guitar. He definitely listens to alternative music or hard rock. Shouta is definitely a Nirvana fan and he passes this trait onto you.
☆°~ You two definitely gossip whenever you have free time. You could be braiding each other's hair, giving each other massages, or even painting each other's nails. Shouta doesn't really care as long as you're happy and comfortable.
☆°~ He will not let Mineta five feet near you. No exceptions.
☆°~ He treasures every single thing you give him. Drawings, father's day letters, birthday letters, handmade gifts, etc. And if you're a talented writer, best expect that he's gonna cry if you write him heartfelt letters.
☆°~ You both wear matching cat slippers as well as ear piercings. Shouta definitely has eyebrow and tongue piercings, too. He's cool like that.
☆°~ Believe it or not, he was the one who taught you how to do eyeliner. He was totally one of those grunge rock fans when he was younger. He still is to be honest, although he also likes metal.
☆°~ He does his best to help you train your quirk, wanting to support your journey of becoming even better while trying to push your limits more. Unlike his other students, Shouta secretly has more of a soft spot for you. You already try to push yourself harder to do more, and sometimes you overwork yourself. So it’s his job to make sure you also take care of yourself and make sure you know that you're already badass.
☆°~ Hizashi definitely helps take care of you, and Shouta's out in late patrol or missions. You two always have the best fun with karaoke and movie nights and also eat a ton of food that would leave you both with a stomach ache!
☆°~ When Shouta falls asleep during class, you would just walk over to him and cling onto him like a koala. You both agreed that the yellow sleeping bag was incredibly comfortable. Everyone else was terribly confused, but you both didn't care. Katsuki just sighed and shook his head.
☆°~ The first time Shouta shaved his beard and put his hair up for a hero meeting, you thought he was a complete stranger and tried to run away from him. The poor man was left confused while you ran away. Was it really that shocking to see him dressed formally??
☆°~ The first time you got your period, he panicked because you were crying while there was blood running down in between your legs. He rushed to your side when you started to feel lightheaded from the cramps and had to end up calling Nemuri to come over and help. She came over as fast as she could and comforted you while Shouta went out to buy pads, pain meds, and anything that would help you.
☆°~ Speaking of Nemuri, she was like a mother to you. And it broke the both of you when she died on the battlefield. Shouta lost another childhood friend while you had lost a mother figure.
☆°~ Nezu personally made everyone in UA go to therapy after the war. Including Shouta and his students. That's where Shouta said that he was terrified you would end up like Oboro. Because both of you were always looking to save others rather than save yourself. Shouta admitted that he didn't want that to be you.
☆°~ He will always see you as his little girl. Of course, he knows that you're growing up and becoming a hero. He will always be there to hold you as you cry or celebrate with you when you accomplish anything. Big, or small.
☆°~ Mitsuki Bakugou may want to have grand babies as soon as possible, but Shouta shudders at the thought of you growing up so fast. He also can't imagine having to teach or babysit mini versions of Katsuki. He doesn't mind taking care of mini versions of you, though. <3
☆°~ Shouta loves taking care of plants. He has a ton of them scattered around the house and has a greenhouse in the backyard, too. He taught you all sorts of plants and what they can be used for. Don't take his plants away from him.
☆°~ When he had to go to physical therapy for his prosthetic leg, not only were you there to support him, but all of Class 1-A, including Eri and the big three. Shouta was a bit overwhelmed, but he was happy on the inside.
☆°~ Sometimes him, Katsuki, and Hitoshi watch thriller or horror movies to bond. You don't do well with gore, and you would prefer to be with Eri, anyway. All three of them would just sit on the couch while eating food. You would be in another room upstairs watching Pink Panther with Eri.
☆°~ Whenever he gets injured during patrols or fights, you're always there to help him and put Hello Kitty bandaids on his wounds.
☆°~ He definitely has the strength to carry you around. Shouta's hero outfit and appearance are meant to make his opponents underestimate him. He's not weak by any means, and he even lets you sit on his back while he does a variety of push-ups. He lets you and Eri cling onto his arms while he does pull-ups, too.
☆°~ He always treats you with respect and is a total gentleman. He raises your standards high and always makes sure you know that you deserve the best of the best. Shouta doesn't tolerate any boy who's gonna half-ass anything in your relationship. Katsuki fits his standards, but he won't tell him that.
☆°~ I headcanon that Shouta likes sports. I can see him playing soccer/fútbol and being talented in tennis. Totally not saying this cuz I'm a tennis fan lmao.
☆°~ He knows he sounds super selfish when he says this, but if your biological father comes back for you, Shouta would keep you with him. You've become way too important to him and he'll be damned if he lets you go back to that son of a bitch.
☆°~ He would probably smell like sandalwood and vanilla, with hints of coffee. Very nice scent, especially when you hug him.
☆°~ Because you're his little baby princess, expect Shouta to treat you like his little girl whenever you need comforting, or if he just gets cuteness aggression. Which is most of the time. Deal with it.
☆°~ Over the years, your place in his heart grows bigger and bigger and deeper. Shouta loves you so much and is so proud to be you and Eri's father. The world could turn against you, and he would always be there to protect you. He wants you to live a long and happy life, and he would do anything for you.
☆°~ Biological or adopted, Shouta will always be your father and will always love you for who you are. No exceptions. He will care for you through thick and thin.
