#(I knew he was tall but I didn’t think he was that tall!)

[nativegirltapes]

trailerpark!mom!reader was just trying to go out to her favorite local bar when she met drew ........

warnings: i don’t think obx is actually filmed in outer banks but for this fic yes it is. this is basically just lots of dialogue but i’m just trying to fill in tp!mom!reader and drew’s lore. drew being tipsy + corniness & cliches

"we are getting fucked up tonight." your bestfriend shouted. it was thursday, which meant it was 'going out' night. your baby was safe with your sister, and you were in the passenger seat of your bestfriend's 2009 honda civic adjusting final touches to your makeup in the passenger seat mirror. "i fucking hope so. jason has been blowing up my phone all week, threatening to come steal baby." you applied another layer of lipgloss.

"are you fucking serious?" aubrey questioned, looking at you with loving eyes. even though you brought the topic up so casually, she knew it hurt you. "i love you." she branched her arms out over the car console, you accepted her embrace. "now let's get fucked up!" she gave you a kiss on your head. no one had ever made you feel as loved as she did.

ᡣ𐭩˙⋆.˚

"sorry ladies," your usual bouncer stopped you and aubrey, "bars closed tonight. some cast rented it out."

"what?" you realized he wasn't joking. "what cast?" you furrowed your brows, wondering who the fuck would rent out a bar in the middle of nowhere, north carolina. "don't know, some show that's filmed here though."

"you can't just let us in?" you bestfriend proposed. "we know we're you're favorite. cmonnnn." the bouncer giggled, you guys definitely were his favorite, but unfortunately he wouldn't budge. "i wish there was something i could do. sorry girls."

"it's okay." you sighed, grabbing aubrey by her arm and dragging her to the side. she was one to cause a scene and you weren't in the mood to deal with that right now. "this is bullshit." she groaned. "i bet they're rich. rich people always ruining some shit for normal people like us." she circled around you. "can't even enjoy our thursday night anymore."

"it's okay, we can go somewhere else."

"you wanna get in?" an unfamiliar voice interrupted, before you could yank aubrey back to the car. both of you jolting your heads towards the voice. it was a tall pale man, a lit cigarette hung from his lips.

"yeah, can you get us in?" aubrey took no time taking up the offer, interrupting the prolonged eye contact you were sharing with this guy; he was cute and that was hard to find around here. "this way." he tossed his unfinished cigarette in the floor and stomped on it.

"thank you." you said as he held the door for you. as soon as you entered the bar you realized that maybe you really didn't belong there. thursday's usually had a solid crowd, and a familiar one at that. but there wasn't one familiar face aside from yours or your bestfriend's. "shit." you mumbled under your breath, the guy who let you in now long gone, entertaining a group of who you assumed were his friends.

finding a seat at the bar with aubrey, you asked the bartender what the deal was, "so, what's going on?" he poured you your usual. "some netflix cast rented out the bar for the night. outer banks or something?"

“oh, i’ve heard that show.” you replied, trying your best to discreetly look around, seeing if you seen any famous faces from tv, although you didn’t watch much tv. “i didn’t think they actually filmed that here?”

“me neither,” the bartender agreed, before leaving you and aubrey to tend to another person.

you watched as people danced, they all seemed well bonded, almost like family. you giggled at them, hoping one day you’d find a bond like that. you spotted the guy who had let you in, he danced pretty okay for a white guy. “should we dance?” you turned back to aubrey, practically shouting over the loud music.

“why are you even asking?” aubrey laughed, you knew her better than to ask if she wanted to dance, she was always down to dance.

you both danced together as ‘yeah!’ by usher played over the speakers, before you both had roaming hands all over you. you felt big hands wrap around lower stomach, “was hoping i’d come across you again.” a somewhat familiar voice whispered in your ear. you kept your back and ass to him, but turned your head to see his face, selfishly hoping it was the man who’d let you in, relief washed over you when you realized it was. “i was thinking the same thing.” you flirted.

“oh yeah?” he whispered in your ear again. the way he had lean down to reach your ear had your stomach doing flips. “why’s that?” you noticed his breath smelled of liquor and mint.

“i wanted to thank you again.” you answered, pushing your ass even closer to his crotch. flirting with men at the bar definitely was not foreign to you. “you don’t have to thank me. anyone would have let a pretty girl like you in.” he spun you around so you were facing him. “there’s that face.” he smiled, his bloodshot and droopy eyes staring down at you like you were the only girl to ever exist. this felt too intimate for your liking.

“so, why’re you here?” you grabbed his hands from your waist, just holding them with your own, you both still feeling the rhythm of the music playing. “you’re famous or something?”

“something like that i guess.” he shrugged, like he didn’t really want to talk about it. “why are you here?”

“i live here.” you said confused, wondering if he has expected a different answer. “i don’t want to sound like a creep, but you’re like, insanely beautiful.” his lips grazed your ear as he whispered to you. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if he actually meant it, but nonetheless you were flattered. a sexy— famous guy saying you were insanely beautiful?

“thank you.” you blushed, pulling your jean skirt down. usually you were good at playing a man’s game but this time felt different. this time felt like something could actually come from this and you hated it.

after some more ramble jamble on the dance floor, the mysterious man asked if you wanted to go outside. “wanna step outside for a minute with me?” he extended his hand, you accepted.

you watched as he lit a cigarette. it seemed like every ounce of outgoingness left your body, you loved talking to and entertaining men, but he just made you flat out nervous. “so you’re from around here?” he offered you a swig of his cig, you declined.

“yeah, just down the street. me and my bestfriend come here every thursday.” you watched his lips as he took a swig, the way his eyebrows furrowed from the smoke was hot. you hated people who smoked but there you were getting turned on over it.

“sorry about that again. i seen the whole fiasco with the bouncer.” he looked down at you. “i mean it’s not your fault.” you reassured him.

“sorry i never asked. what’s your name?” his voice seemed so much deeper and clear now that you two were outside, almost like he was fully sober. it made you question how drunk he actually was, and how much of what you told you he actually meant. “y/n!”

“i’m drew.” he held his hand out, you shook it. his hands was so much bigger than yours. matter of fact, everything about him was so much bigger than you.

before you could question drew and his ‘famousness’ any further you heard his group yelling his name. they were all getting into a limo. how famous were these people? they needed a limo? but you couldn’t recognize literally any of their faces? “i guess that’s me.” drew again, flicked his unfinished cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “what’s your number y/n?” he pulled out his phone and pulled up the keypad.

you swiftly put in your number and called yourself. you never gave your phone number away to the men you entertained, it was your own personal rule you set for yourself. but something about this one was different and you just couldn’t say no. “i’ll see you around y/n.”

[black--sun]

Ichigo blinks then presses his lips. “It’s not permission. I’m saying I’ll go if it’s a problem for you to have another guy here when your boyfriend shows up.” Though, he forgets to keep snapping back the longer Shiro talks. Ichigo’s focus sharpens. “But cops are shooting at you,” he finishes when Shiro trails off. He’s been thinking about that too. He just figured it would get old if he kept bringing it up. And Shiro pegs him exactly, which isn’t a surprise. Ichigo offers a small self deprecating smirk. “I didn’t say I’d go far.” He eyes Shiro from the side, trying not to look like he’s studying him too closely. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I mean…we’re already here.” Ichigo steps further inside. He smirks and reaches for that sweater and a pair of black jeans that look like they might cut off his circulation as soon as Shiro waves that invitation. He pauses and glances over. “You didn’t like any of the favors I did you. You’re the one that said to leave the message somewhere you wouldn’t miss it.” Or that’s how Ichigo interpreted it. But he only takes the conversation in that direction because Shiro’s right. Ichigo could’ve done a better, less incriminating job of giving the knife back and of killing that asshole. He knew exactly what he was doing when he left that body. “If I was discreet, the story might not have gotten back to whoever was paying that backstabbing prick. I don’t like people in your house being comfortable plotting your murder.” But he also knows Shiro would’ve found the entire thing a lot funnier if it had been someone else’s place. And he might find it more amusing once a thousand different problems aren’t crowding him like an avalanche waiting to happen.

He slips the sweater over his head and shrugs it into place, hands smoothing down the front. “I saw that room. It’s spotless. There’s no chance any of these guys did that. Who’s your cleaner?” The jeans are next. They have just enough give to be comfortable. Still. He practically has to pour himself into them as they slide up his ass, then he slips on the boots. He kneels to lace them up. They’re tall enough for a good long knife and he knows exactly which one he’d put in there. Finished with the laces, he stands. Ichigo looks over, kind of surprised Shiro agreed so easily. “Yeah? Okay. But give me a minute. You hardly ever used to let me try on your clothes.”

Wandering his own halls by himself isn't exactly new or unusual, but it feels particularly hollow and lonely. He pauses to turn the temperature warmer by a couple of degrees when he passes the thermostat, but he's pretty sure it's not actually cold in his house. It's just him.

He detours to a sitting area he doesn't actually use often. It's used by party guests more than anything. But it has a needlessly large television, which he turns on just to flip through news stations for a few minutes, to see what's being said about him and the car bombing and the shooting. It pays to stay at least semi up to date on current events, especially the events that directly relate to him. He flips channels for fifteen minutes, but it's still so fresh that the stations are still mostly just replaying footage and describing the scene, not speculating or making things up. That'll change, he knows, but for now, replay after replay of what happened isn't really what he wants to see. It wasn't the first time his life has been threatened, nor the first time he's been shot at, but he's been feeling particularly fragile this whole day. He sighs, closes his eyes and scrubs at his face for a second, pushing away thoughts of everything he's got in this mansion that could help him slow down, mellow out. He told Ichigo he wouldn't. But Ichigo's another sore subject to think about.

He pulls his phone from his back pocket, glancing at the time absently as he dials. His on again/off again, not-boyfriend picks up on the first ring, sounding calm, but the kind of calm that comes from professionalism and not true calm. His voice is quiet, making Shiro think he must be either at work or around people that don't need to overhear who he's talking to.

Shiro feels distracted and isn't quite sure why he called. Because he needs a chaperone. Because he's stupid.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He says into the phone for a third time as he steps into his room to finally start digging out clothes for Ichigo.

His bathroom light is on and he pauses, free hand straying to the handle of his switch blade, before it occurs to him that it's probably Ichigo. There's a delay in his response that a cop wouldn't miss. "No, don't worry about it. I'm not gonna stay here." His not-boyfriend sounds worried in that controlled, trying not to sound worried way. It makes Shiro feel guilty as hell, especially when steps to a place in the room that lets him see into the bathroom and he confirms that it's Ichigo. "I dunno, I haven't decided. Might stay at the penthouse for a while, might get outta town for a few days- Yeah, I know... I'll text you, ok?" He waits a beat, then hangs up the call.

[aventurineswife]

aventurine x reader, but they both worked in the IPC together, until Reader faked their death to escape it. Aventurine kinda loses himself for a bit, but is sent on another planetary mission (idk what ipc assignments are called 😔) he notices one of the citizens looks a bit too much like a previous friend

Reader realizes Aventurine found them, and feeling too scared to face him after never saying goodbye, warning or anything, they run off to a secluded area aven follows them to, and boom we get angsty argument, bittersweet love confession, and happy or sad ending up to u!!

i hope this made sense

The Gamble of Lost Hearts

Summary: After faking your death to escape the IPC and live a quiet life, You encounters Aventurine years later on a remote planet. Desperate to avoid facing him after leaving without a word, You run, but Aventurine tracks you down to demand answers.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, reunion, faked death, confrontation, bittersweet, passionate kiss, unresolved feelings, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Warnings: Intense emotions, mention of grief and faked death, brief argument, bittersweet themes, kissing.

A/N: Thank for the request, Anon! Of course it made sense and I hope you like it!! I decided to go for a happy ending but lmk if you want a sad ending too 😇🤭

The tall silhouette of the IPC headquarters still felt like a ghostly shadow looming over you, even on this remote planet. You'd spent years running from it, from him, leaving behind everything you knew to escape the endless cycles of high-stakes deals and veiled dangers. Faking your death was your only way out. A drastic choice, but one that had kept you free.

For the most part, it had worked. You’d blended into a quiet, new life here, far from the frenetic energy and luxurious intrigue of IPC. But today was different. A mission had arrived from IPC. You hadn’t realized who would be leading it—hadn’t dared to imagine he would come to this far-flung place.

And yet, here you were, ducking down behind market stalls, holding your breath every time he brushed past. His sandy-blond hair, elegant stance, and that gambler’s grin that still haunted your memories—it was all here. And with him came a flood of feelings you'd kept buried for years.

Somewhere along the winding paths of this new city, you’d slipped. He'd caught sight of you, and that glimmer in his eyes told you he knew.

You didn’t waste time running. You veered down alleyways, taking shortcuts and dodging through side streets, ignoring the heart pounding in your chest. The cliffside path outside the city led to a hidden grove where you’d often retreat to watch the waves crash far below. Maybe there, he would lose your trail.

But there was no outrunning someone like him.

“Quite the bold tactic—faking your own death,” His smooth voice sounded just as you remembered, laced with that same easy charm but edged with something new—something raw. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

You took a breath before facing him, his piercing gaze pinning you down as soon as you met his eyes. He stood mere steps away, looking as striking as ever, the faint roulette motif on his overcoat catching the last of the setting sun.

“Aventurine, I…” The words failed you. How could you explain years of silence? Of leaving him to mourn?

“I grieved you, you know.” His voice was soft, nearly breaking. “I searched, hoping it was all some misstep. Until the day I accepted you were…gone.”

The ache in his words stung worse than you’d anticipated. “I didn’t have a choice...” you whispered, but your words sounded feeble, empty even to yourself.

“No choice?” Aventurine scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “We were supposed to be partners, weren’t we? You could have trusted me.” He took a step forward, anger blazing in his eyes. “But instead, you turned me into a fool. For years, I mourned a ghost while you built this quiet little life on the fringes.”

“You don’t understand,” you argued, feeling that familiar pang in your chest. “It wasn’t just about leaving IPC. I couldn’t… If I stayed, I would’ve lost myself. That place…it consumed everything.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Aventurine’s voice softened, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture that held the weight of all the things left unsaid between you. “Do you think I didn’t want to leave with you?”

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by his words. The idea of Aventurine—the gambler, the thrill-seeker—longing to escape had never crossed your mind. But here he was, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness that mirrored your own.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the sincerity in your voice mixing with the regret that had gnawed at you all these years. “But I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

“You didn’t give me the choice.” he whispered, voice barely above a murmur. His eyes searched yours, desperate to find a reason, a justification that could somehow absolve the pain he’d carried all this time. And then, with a hint of frustration, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, full of the emotions he’d held back, the years he’d spent believing you were lost.

The kiss stole the words from your mouth, every excuse, every apology dissolving in the intensity of that single, electric moment.

When he pulled back, his hand still lingered at the side of your face, thumb tracing the faint line of your jaw as he gazed at you with a newfound resolve. “If you run again, I’m coming with you.” he murmured, his voice steadier now.

You met his gaze, realizing he meant it. There would be no more running, no more hiding. Aventurine wouldn’t let you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised softly, the weight of your words sinking between you both. “Not without you.”

A flicker of a smile returned to his lips, tempered by the hurt that had yet to fully heal but brightened by the glimmer of hope that you could finally face whatever came next—together.

[cheekyvank]

ok i’ve had time to process. (relatively incoherent) thoughts/spoilers under the cut

Ok the first thing I noticed is Phil is fucking radiant. Like I knew that but experiencing it in person is a whole different thing. I genuinely could not keep my eyes off him, even in times when Dan was yapping, like I actually might have missed a couple things cause I just couldn’t stop staring at Phil. His hair was a bit mussed up and it made him look even prettier somehow.

The second thing I noticed is Phil really is the funniest man alive lmao. I knew this too but again, experiencing it irl is just so much. His timing is perfect and the parts that were improvised were so so good. I love him so much. King of comedy.

Third thing was Dan is so big. I don’t mean tall (though that too) but just big. Big personality, big movements, big ideas, big voice. Which again, I knew, but irl it’s just so much more and once again I am soooo hopelessly endeared by him. Danny boy I love you so much with your crazy movements and your huge expressions and your loud ass voice, please don’t ever change. You really are something special.

Also, they’re really fucking good at this. I didn’t noticed any major flubs (ie forgetting lines) but even the couple times where you could tell they got a bit tongue tied or something they played it off so smoothly. The whole thing was so fucking good, and having spoilers honestly didn’t make it any less so. And the song fucking slays they better record that shit (and make a music video… please I beg…)

other tidbits:

-no amount of spoilers prepares you for the dioramas irl. it was So Much and so funny. at one point phil made the dolls 69 and dan said no they said kissing on the mouth and turned them around to be kissing on the mouth instead of the . uh

-dan bent his doll over the breakfast bar and phil made his doll do the uh. motions. but his doll wasn’t close enough or at the right angle to dan’s to look like fucking so from where i was at it was honestly closer to looking like phil had his face in dan’s ass 💀

-conspiracies were toilet, sleepless night with phil, bus, and wedding (i do think people were shouting for vegas louder but they did wedding anyway)

-when dan got tangled in the lights he said ‘help me dad’ and continued to walk around and make it worse while phil kind of chased him around. dan literally could’ve just picked his foot up and he would’ve been out but he just kept doing it until phil got him out and made to spank him with them to which dan said something like ‘i asked you to help me i didn’t think you were gonna whip me’ or something

-at one point dan said something about getting down on our level and he got down on the floor and did something but I was too distracted staring at phil (lmao) and didn’t realize until everyone was laughing rip

-dan was doing absolutely crazy things with his body the whole time. especially that super wide stance squat he does. Phil kept asking what he’s doing and at one point seemed genuinely concerned that he was going to rip his pants which like. i was also genuinely concerned about idk how those things are still intact

-lawyer dan banned the gays, wrote erotic fiction about cheese curds, and went to jail for being horny. we killed him

-doctor phil - I can’t remember the first question AT ALL lmao but he liked to help old ladies piss and had a secret collection of Milphs. when they were on the screen the second time every answer had ‘and cum’ added to them lmao. So he helped old ladies piss and cum and had a secret collection of milphs and cum. we also killed him

-when they ran around the venue they went down an enclosed stairwell and a fan was in there and they had to plaster themself to the wall as dan and phil and the camera guy ran past lmao

-the silicone 6 pack was not as weird irl as it looked to me in pictures

-sister daniel’s shorts were invisible from the audience. once i looked closely i could see them but at first i genuinely thought she had her tiny underwear back and i nearly fell out of my seat.

-when they talked about people invading their privacy and bothering their families and stuff someone shouted ‘i’m so sorry phil!’ like they were personally responsible for all of it lmao it was very cute

-they slayed the song so severely. like it fucking slaps. honestly they can both sing pretty well and they both did so good with the dance too. so fucking good

-the ukulele broke before dan even smashed it. it just fell apart midair LMAO it was so funny

[yaut-jaknowit]

Predator x a former Weyland-Yutani researcher who does NOT want their children anywhere near a xenomorph at any point in time/is not so hot onnthe whole "hunting the most dangerous game" thing in general.

Monsters Under The Bed

Character: Woftik (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2077

Summary: On the north end of the planet, the cold weather is brutal. Only the strong survive. One of your children is nearing their chiva. The blooding ceremony where she could die. You didn't want her to go. She's still your baby to you. Still so small like the day she was born. But Woftik is the leader of the tribe. This must be done.

Author Note: This thought process for many of those who have children with Yautjas is probably high. Humans aren't used to such a thing. Sometimes it works in their favor, but others... not so much.

Masterlist

Ao3

“I will not allow our child to be slaughter by those, by those monsters!” you screamed off at the top of your head. Tears streamed down your sticky cheeks. A finger was shoved into Woftik’s chest, not even making the Yautja sway. “It’s one thing for you to go out there and hunt but it’s another to send our child to their deaths!”

Out of all the things he could’ve said today, you weren’t expecting him to state it’s time for your daughter to become a newly blooded. Woftik had been training her since she could walk how to hunt. Hunting normal things for food or necessity. Not going off to fight an eight-legged creature who only comes out at certain times in a year. This thing lives in caves. Caves. Limited space to fight. The beast was around twenty feet tall, scary beyond belief, and – oh, could kill your daughter! How did he not understand this?!

Woftik let you yell at him, let you take your anger out at him. An angry partner was bad. But he knew better from experience not to feed into the energy. After some time, you’ll wear yourself out eventually.

The nonreaction from him only pissed you off more. It gave you the wrong signals. As if, he didn’t care about you or your feelings or your daughter. Your fists trembled at your sides. You were red in the face, hot headed and all. “You don’t care?! You don’t care she could die because it’s part of your culture to send your children to death. But, I will not stand for this.” You put down your foot firmly and jabbed your finger into his chest again.

Only a brow lifted to acknowledge the jab. “Woftik, you will not send Vo to her death. I will not stand for this. I don’t care if its part of your culture.” With your past experience with Weyland-Yutani, you knew some of their culture and history. Dangerous. Death. That’s the foundations that you saw. Kill or be killed in their line of work.

Why in all the years did you decide to free this asshole and allow him to take you away from earth. You will never know what you were thinking back then. Young and stupid. Here comes this big, burly, monster who sweeps you off your feet and saves you after saving him. How idiotic you were. Cause now look at the trouble that’s put you in.

After all the yelling, releasing the pent up anger, the energy left your body. You panted, shoulders heaving while glaring up at the giant off white Yautja in front of you. His stance or features hadn’t even changed once since the start of the argument. You wanted to get angry all over again but saw no point. If he won’t budge, what’s the point to try again?

“Woftik,” you soft call his name. The glare on your face turning into a pleading expression. “Please.”

One of his upper mandibles twitched. “Sweetheart.” Woftik cupped your hot face in his hands and drew you in closer. “This is for her. She has trained since the moment she could stand. She must take this step in her life to continue to live within our tribe. Or else she’ll be forced out.” His thumbs rubbed at both the wet and dry tears stuck to your cheeks. “This is for her own good. Even our own daughter has to face the same challenges as any other Yautja.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces. Tears fell more constantly. You shook your head in his hands, trying to deny his words. “Woftik, please. Don’t do this. Don’t send her out there. She’ll die. She’s… she’s not like you. She’s human too.” As much as you hate to use your species in a demeaning way to yourself, if it helped. So be it.

A hybrid. A surprise you didn’t think was scientifically possible. Two different species, different DNA, different chromosomes. It shouldn’t be logical. But, here was your daughter, Vo-tok. She was living proof.

His mandibles drew up into his mouth. “And that will be her advantage to this. I believe in her skill and my skill. Remember, I taught her everything she knows. Do you trust me?” he asked, softening his voice and drawing your full attention to him.

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow down. Your gaze slipped down to the ground. Anywhere besides his dark brown eyes that could see into your very soul. His hands on your cheeks tilted your head up even more to find the thing you tried to hide from.

“Do you trust me?”  By his god, you did. A lot. It was your human nature to fret about your daughter though. He’s trained. Cleanly. You’ve seen him in action when he had to take down the base he had been locked up in. No human could stand in his path and live. All except yourself. That was because you had saved his life. The code all respected Yautjas follow to a T. He had been forced by said code to take you back with him, despite his want to slaughter you. Except, you had freed him from his bonds and gave him a chance to escape.

Pain was evident in your eyes. “Woftik,” you whined his name. The Yautja tightened his hold, silently demanding an answer from you. A sigh left you, eyes shutting softly with a wince. “You know I do.”

Despite your anger, your rage on the male, there wasn’t a doubt you trusted him. You had to in this line of work. Without him, being in the cold, freezing North Pole, you would’ve perished long ago.

Woftik released a deep rumble that sounded similar to a purr. His face grew close to nuzzle his temple to yours. “Then, trust my training. I’ve taught plenty before. Not all have returned from the hunt. I won’t lie to you. Her chances are greater than any other trainer,” he explained and pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open to find his nearly black eyes looking deep into yours.

“How can you expect from me to do this? I can’t. I can’t just turn a blind eye and let our daughter near such a thing. Why can’t she just hunt something normal? Like those deer-like creatures you bring home every once in a while,” you tried to reason with him one more time. Anything to get him to break. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

His eyes hardened for a moment. “And all of my children have gone through similar training either by me or their mother. They’ve endured the hunt. Not all have survived. It’s their final test to become a hunter. Vo-tok is half ooman but that may be an advantage to her.” How could he possibly think such a thing? Compared to his kind, Yautjas are weak, fragile. Plenty of other Yautjas have told you so despite who is your mate and what your position is in their clan.

From the determination in his eyes and voice, there was no way to win this verbal battle with him. As much as you hated it, his word was law. He led his clan with a mighty fist and ensured their survival through the harshest of months. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take your word or listen to you. He’s often done that. But, this was one thing he won’t budge on.

And that made you feel a hurricane of feelings for him.

You turned your head away, pulling away from his touch. “When does this ‘hunt’ begin?” you asked in a defeated tone, faced tucked to the side.

Woftik sighed and squared his shoulders. “Three days, at dusk. The beast only comes out at night.” Your heart clenched at the thought of your daughter fighting at night. This couldn’t get worse. You flinched and hugged yourself, trying to fight off the new wave of tears again.

Your shoulders were bunched. You forced yourself to take a few steps away from him. “Okay,” you softly said then turned around and walked away from him. Distance was needed. Space and time. You had to go spend time with your daughter. Before everything may change before your eyes.

Worst of all. You had three other children with him. Woftik was sentencing all of them to their deaths. And there’s nothing you could do to stop it. All he expected from you was to trust the training he puts all four of them through. But Woftik is… Woftik. He could handle himself. You’ve seen it personally, up front and personal. But this, this is completely different. Your children. This is your children you were talking about.

The eldest of your children wasn’t even home. She was out, training with another group of young bloods nearing their blooding ceremony. And none of their parents were objecting this. It was part of their culture. A hard pill to swallow for an outsider who wanted to protect your children from the monsters.

The others were in the playroom that branched off of from the common room. You walked through said space to find all of your little ones huddled together, eyes wide. Their whispering stopped immediately at your approach.

Unease had settled in their dark eyes. Your heart broke all the more at the sight. Instantly, you knelt before them, brows furrowed up. “Oh, babies,” you cooed to them in a soft, gentle tone.

None of them were babies anymore. The second oldest, Ma’ril, was thirteen in Yautja years, nearing his own blooding as well. Then, you had Tink-on. She was twelve. Lastly, was Veir. He was nine. The youngest in your family. Yet, all of them knew the basics at least of hunting. Each progressing in different weapons that suited them best. Woftik ensuring to hit every style to find what fits them. He was so careful about their training. That at first, you weren’t fretting about their upcoming hunts. Until the day comes.

It was closing in fast.

“You heard us yelling, didn’t you?” you asked, disappointed in yourself. This is one of your worst fears.

Veir nodded his head silently and looked at you from underneath his brows. You flinched as if he had struck you. It was one thing to shout at your partner but another to have your children hear it.

“Oh, babies, I’m so sorry. We were disagreeing on something. I’m… I’m just scared for your older sister. I can’t help it. It’s part of being human.” Something they were burdened with. The emotions of a human and the talents and skills of a Yautja. Two ideas that don’t mix well. “But, we came to an agreement. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

They all looked at each other before returning their eyes to you. Timidly, you opened your arms and waited with bated breath. One after another, Ma’ril, Veir, and Tink-on piled in on each other. All of them snugging you into a hug.

“You know I love you with all of my heart, right?” A question you couldn’t but ask in the aftermath. Each one nodded and voiced that they knew. “Good. Good. I’m very glad. I love you guys so much. You’re my world.”

And they were. They were your lifeline. Woftik was part of that as well. Pieces to the puzzle that made up your life. A life you didn’t want to see break up if a piece goes missing. You had to hold back the tears desperate to fall. The idea hurting more than you thought.

You felt the eyes before hearing the soft steps of Woftik. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the hulking, white giant stalk into the room quiet as ever. He moved with ease and lowered himself to his knees at your side. Your gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The pain was too fresh in your heart to forgive him just yet.

“They heard us,” you explained in soft voice that only he could hear. The off-white Yautja hummed and scooted closer, showering the four of you with his warmth. His muscular arms came around and encircled all of you. You leaned into him, taking the embrace to quell the pounding of your heart.

Nothing needed to be said about your family. Mismatched, imperfect as it was, you loved it more than anything.

[hywonuka]

keep that in mind | jww

every step that i take is a mistake to you, chapter 1

Sypnosis: After accepting the dare from his friends of making Y/N fall for him within 4 months, Wonwoo seems to realize how hard —and complicated— this is actually gonna be for him, due to awkward encounters and shared environments.

Pairing: college!wonwoo x college!fem!reader

Genre: college au, falling for a bet or dare trope, slow burn

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.086 k

intro | chapter 1 | chapter 2

9:30 in the morning. Wonwoo is late. Way too late. He wore the first thing he saw on his closet, and ran away to his faculty building, knowing he wouldn’t make it to his first class. He cursed at himself for not waking up in time, and promised himself he wouldn’t drink that much next time he went out with the guys, which was an obvious lie he always told himself.

As he was running to his destination, he couldn’t help but think about last night, and the damn dare he now had to fulfill. Why did he say yes? Firstly, he doesn’t know how to talk to women. Secondly, it’s not like she was unknown to him. In fact, they both were part of the same friend group, which, in Wonwoo's eyes, makes everything more awkward. And last (but not least), they both were part of the student council. Funniest part is that, even with all the opportunities he had have, he has barely ever talked to her, not because he didn’t like Y/N, but because he had no idea of what to say to her. He should just approach her, out of nowhere? No way, he couldn’t. Way too shy for that.

How was he gonna do this now? He only had 4 months, not enough time for him, but now he couldn’t back out. No, god, he couldn’t. The guys will mock him if he even thinks of backing out. He is fucked up and he knows it.

He glances at his phone, to check the hour. 9:45, and his next class isn’t until 10:30. He decided to keep walking, as the Engineering faculty building was nearby, and he already missed the first class of the day. He was passing by a small field with flowers, when he saw a familiar silhouette, which made him stop on his feet. “Hao? What are you doing here?

“Morning man. Just picking up some flowers for Asher”, Minghao said, as he showed Wonwoo a small bouquet he made himself. Asher was Minghao's partner and one of Y/N closest friends.

“Flowers, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“None at all, just felt like it”

“Huh?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand”

“W-why?” The tall one asked, startled. He knew his friend wasn’t fond of the idea of the dare, but he wouldn’t think that bad of him now, would he?

“Cuz you are a virgin and a loser who has never even touched a woman before”. Yeah, he thinks that bad of him now. On a normal day, Minghao would reassure Wonwoo about that topic, but seems like he won’t be doing it anymore.

“No need to be that harsh dude”

“And no need to say yes to such a dare. Wonwoo, have you thought of the consequences of this?”

“I… No, I haven’t. But is not like I’m gonna win it”. At this point, Wonwoo was trying to excuse himself, even though deep down he really thought he wouldn’t make it. He cannot make Y/N fall for him in 4 months. He needs more time for that. And it’s not like he knows how to make her fall for him.

“Whatever. When everything is messed up, if you come ask me for advice all I’m gonna say is ‘I told you so’, got it?”, as he said those words, he finished the bouquet, looking at it with a fond smile.

“You are giving it to her now?”

“Yeah, gonna see them before their classes start”

“Can I…?” Minghao gave a deathly glare to the tall one. He knew he was just asking as Asher and Y/N were classmates, which meant that Minghao was going to their faculty building.

“You are lucky you are my friend, cuz if not I would have kicked your ass at that question”

“But can I accompany you or not…?”

“Do as you please”, and with that, Minghao started walking towards the Art and Design faculty building. With no hesitation, Wonwoo ran after him, trying to make small talk, even if the other wasn’t really in the mood to talk to him.

They finally reached the Art and Design faculty building, which was just a couple minutes away from the Engineering faculty building. Minghao’s face changed completely as he was looking for his partner, which Wonwoo found endearing. And, if Minghao already seemed whipped while looking for Asher, the moment he landed his eyes on them, his whole expression lightened up. He quickly walked up to them, calling out their name. “Asher!!”

The goth stopped walking as they heard their boyfriend’s voice. The person accompanying them also stopped, which Wonwoo recognised even before she turned around. It was Y/N.

He suddenly felt his palms getting sweaty. Damn, how was he gonna do this now?? Should he approach herdirectly? Follow Minghao and just join the conversation?

“Hao!! What are you doing here?” Asher’s face lightened up at the sight of their boyfriend. It was that moment that Wonwoo noticed their makeup. He already knew they were goth, but never really looked at their makeup. It was pretty cool.

“Just wanted to give some flowers to my monarch”

“God, you know you can call me princess”

“Monarch sounds cooler”, he said as he leaned on to kiss their lips and give them the bouquet. Wonwoo couldn’t help but look away, feeling he was intruding on an intimate moment between the couple. His eyes landed on Y/N.

She was beautiful, that's something he always knew. It wasn’t a surprise she got many admirers. Damn, it’s gonna be impossible to win this dare. He didn’t realize he was staring at her, until she smiled at him, making him blush and look away. Great, now she will think he is even more of a loser than he already is.

“Are you going to this afternoon's student council meeting?” Her sweet voice surprised Wonwoo, not because he hadn't heard it before, but because it was directed at him. He winked a couple times before answering. “Y-yeah, gotta go”

Minghao looked briefly at the interaction between both of them, slightly annoyed, before turning back his attention to his partner.

“Oh, cool, I’ll see you there then!! It’s always good to see a familiar face at those places”, and she smiled at him. He could feel his heart race, due to the nervousness. He was about to say something, but the sudden sound of Minghao’s voice interrupted him. “Wonwoo, don’t you have to go to class?

Wonwoo looked at his phone. It was 10:27 and he, in fact, had to run to his next class. He waved them goodbye and ran to his faculty building, with the image of Y/N’s smile imprinted in his mind. These were gonna be the hardest 4 months of his life.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.

Being part of the student council wasn’t something he had planned when he started college, but somehow knew would end up happening. After all, he has been class president during middle and high school.

He didn’t mind being his class president in uni. Been there, done that, he thought himself as he was elected, but things escalated way too fast, and without even knowing how, he was stuck in the student council. It was fun, and he got to be around some of his friends, such as Jeonghan and Minghao. That’s how he got to meet Y/N, and to be in the huge friend group both of them were part of.

Bzzz, bzzz

The sudden phone buzz scared him as he was on his way to the student council. He took his phone from his back pocket, and wasn’t surprised when he saw the notifications.

[vernon 🥸 has added you to a gc]

[vernon 🥸 has changed the gc name to wonwoo being a loser pt 4]

Wonwoo rolled his eyes at the screen, knowing perfectly fine what this was about.

[minghao psycho]: pt 4??

[mingyu uni]: i think he already made a fool of himself like 3 times with one of our dares

[mingyu uni]: you werent there last time tho

[minghao psycho]: makes sense

There was an unspoken rule about their dares. If you weren’t at the hangout, you didn’t get to know what the others were dared to, and no one had ever complained about it. Except for that one time in which Jeonghan was dared to ignore Cheol for a week, and as Cheol couldn’t make it for the hangout, he was heavily confused if he had messed up or if it had just been a simple dare. He even had begged the rest of the guys to break their rule and tell him the truth.

So it wasn’t a surprise for Wonwoo that Vernon created a new group chat. In fact, he was kinda expecting it to happen.

[vernon 🥸]: well wonwoo, any update??

[vernon 🥸]: time is passing by~

[wonwoo]: vernon its been A DAY?!?!

[wonwoo]: lemme breathe haven’t recovered from the hangover yet lmao

[tiger wannabe]: morning?? tf is this about now😭😭

[mingyu uni]: its fucking 5 pm dude wdym morning

Wonwoo laughed at his friends, as they started a discussion over hoshi’s sleeping tendencies. He kept walking, as another notification appeared on his lockscreen.

[minghao psycho]: are u coming??

The tall one laughed at the contact name of Minghao in his phone. He wanted to add him as ‘Minghao psychology’ but it was too long and just writing psycho made everything funnier.

[wonwoo]: omw, will be there in 5 mins

[minghao psycho]: nice

[minghao psycho]: btw she is here

[minghao psycho]: and asked bout u

Wonwoo could feel his heart beating faster. Why on Earth would she ask about him? Did she know about the dare? No, that’s impossible. Wonwoo hasn’t even interacted at all with her.

[wonwoo]: what she asked?

[minghao psycho]: if u were coming

[minghao psycho]: i would say try flirting with her in front of me and ill kick your ass

[minghao psycho]: but lets be honest

[minghao psycho]: u wont even look her way

[wonwoo]: what a dickhead

[minghao psycho]: deserved

[minghao psycho]: best part of this dare u dont even have the guts to talk to women

Wonwoo put his phone in silence and back to one of his pockets, ignoring his friend's texts. He is kinda tired of the same jokes all the time, and now that Minghao has also started to say those comments, just because he accepted the stupid dare. He wouldn’t admit it out of loud, but it hurts his ego.

After a couple minutes, he finally arrived where the meeting was taking place, and quickly sat down next to Jeonghan, smiling at him and Minghao. He looked around and without noticing, his gaze landed on Y/N. She was happily chatting with some of her friends, as she was about to start the meeting. Wonwoo couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Both his friends sat next to him noticed, but said nothing about it.

“Well, now that everyone is here, the meeting can begin!!” The sweet voice of Y/N made Wonwoo come back to reality. He was at a student council meeting, in order to prepare this year’s university open days.

As the meeting progressed, Wonwoo could feel his concentration span diminished. All he could think about is getting back to his dorm to play league with Soobin, one of his classmates. He was already in the game, as Wonwoo saw on Discord. Agh, and he was stuck in that stupid meeting.

"Are you fine with the idea, Wonwoo?” Jeonghan’s voice startled the one with glasses, who had absolutely no idea of what was being discussed. Of course, he would do whoever in his same situation would do. “Yeah, sounds great”

Jeonghan smiled at his friend, and then at Y/N, nodding at her. Wonwoo was confused, what did that mean??

“Then it seems that we will be working together, Wonwoo!!”

Wonwoo looked at Y/N, and then at Jeonghan, trying not to look too confused. Working together in what? God, if only he hadn’t been lost in thought.

“Y-yeah, it will be great…”

As the meeting finished, Wonwoo ran to Minghao and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room they were in. Minghao already knew what his friend was gonna ask, and wanted to see him suffer a bit more.

“W-why am I working with Y/N at?!”

“Some collaboration between Computer Engineering and Design. I can’t wait to see Vernon’s reaction to this”

A/N: yaaay, 1st chapter published!! i hope yall enjoy it, i honestly had a lot of fun writing this and thinking of different ways to make wonwoo more embarrassed :3 ill try posting next chapter next week, so i hope yall stay tuned!! you can ask to be added to the tag list if you want to! im also posting a masterlist of my fics (and this one too) and posting to my profile so it can be easier to find the fics :)

Taglist: @adonisbtch @mydearhangel @wonvsmile @wonuilu @peachyaeger @minwonwoozi

[fratttymatty]

Greeked

(All characters are 18+)

Matty never thought college would be this much of a shock. Sure, he was excited for the experience, but he wasn’t really prepared for how much things would change—and how fast.

He was 18 now, heading into his freshman year with a sense of nervous optimism. Matty had spent the last year of high school pining after his crush, Kayla—now, Kayla was his girlfriend, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he wasn’t invisible. He was excited for college, but one thing was certain: no matter how crazy college life might get, he was happy to be with Kayla—er, Cassie, now.

That was the first thing that had changed.

They had arrived at college together, a little overwhelmed but ready to face the unknown. Cassie, though—she had already changed. Matty was still trying to make sense of it.

“I’m telling you, Matty,” Cassie said one afternoon, walking hand in hand across the campus. “I so need to join a sorority. I’m like, totally vibing with the idea of Delta Theta Phi. They have, like, the best parties and stuff.”

Matty smiled, squeezing her hand. He’d known Cassie—Kayla—since high school. She’d always been fun and confident, but not quite like this. There was something a little… more bubbly about her now. More... valley girl.

“I don’t know,” Matty said, shaking his head. “You weren’t really into that stuff in high school, though. Is this, like… really you?”

Cassie stopped, looking at him with a confused expression. “What do you mean, babe? Of course it’s me. I just… I don’t know, I feel like college is all about being your best self, you know? I’ve been thinking about, like, how much fun it would be to totally fit in. I just know I’d be amazing at it!”

Matty blinked. “Uh… okay, if you say so. But you don’t need to change, Cassie. I love you just the way you are.”

She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I know, babe. But this is just, like, the next level. You’ll see.”

They kept walking, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of Matty’s mind. Cassie? She was still the girl he loved, right? Then why did she feel… different? She wasn’t the quiet, introspective girl he knew. This new version of her was louder, bouncier, more caught up in appearances and parties.

Then it happened. The air around them shifted, and a strange swirl of energy seemed to surround them. Matty didn’t know what to make of it—he couldn’t see anything, but he felt it deep inside, like the world had just tilted slightly. Then, a voice that wasn’t quite there but somehow echoed in both their heads spoke:

“You’ve been chosen. The power of college life will transform you. No turning back. Embrace your new path.”

The wind rushed through the campus in an eerie hush, and for a moment, everything stood still. Matty glanced at Cassie. Her wide-eyed look mirrored his own confusion, but the magic was already working its way into their souls.

The Next Day

When Matty woke up the next morning, everything felt… off. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the changes before he even registered them. His body was leaner, more muscular. His posture had shifted—he now stood tall and wide-shouldered, his physique looking like he'd spent months in the gym (which he hadn’t).

But the most noticeable change? His hair.

Matty had always been self-conscious about his hair. It was unruly—curly and thick, and no matter how hard he tried, it always seemed to fall into a messy, unpredictable state. He’d never been able to tame it the way the popular guys did. His hair was more of a hassle than a feature he could flaunt.

But now? As he stood in front of the mirror, Matty ran a hand through his hair—and stopped dead in his tracks.

It was perfect.

Matty blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. His hair had changed, almost overnight.

Where it had once been a tangled mess of light brown curls, it now fell in perfectly tousled waves that seemed to defy gravity. His once wild curls were gone, replaced by a smooth, more controlled texture that still had some natural volume, but now it was effortlessly styled in a way that looked like he’d just walked out of a barber’s chair after a professional cut. It wasn’t too neat, but it wasn’t messy either. It looked intentional. Like he’d woken up with this style and hadn’t even needed to run a comb through it.

His hair was now darker, too. Instead of the lighter brown he’d been born with, it was now a rich, deep dark brown. It was almost close to black in some lights, but it still held a slight undertone of warmth. The colour gave him a more mature, striking appearance—one that was instantly more eye-catching than the old, plain, lighter brown he used to have. The transformation wasn’t just in the texture; it was in the depth of the colour itself.

The change was so profound that Matty didn’t even know how to process it at first. He reached up to run his fingers through his new hair again. It felt thicker, softer somehow, with the faintest scent of something like gel or pomade, as if it had been styled professionally while he slept. It gave him the type of effortless, “I woke up like this” look that guys on Instagram or in magazines seemed to always pull off.

The more he ran his fingers through it, the more he noticed that the strands of hair fell naturally into place. It was no longer an unmanageable mop—it was sleek, smooth, and just the right amount of tousled. His hair now seemed to fit his transformation into this new version of himself—Matt, the frat guy, the confident guy who got noticed.

Before, his hair had always been a problem. He’d try to comb it into place in the mornings, but it would quickly fall back into its usual, messy shape. It was always too long in some spots and too short in others. He’d hated how it would sometimes fall in his face or puff up in ways that made him feel awkward.

Now, it was different. His hair had a natural flow to it. The kind of look that made him look effortlessly cool. The messy wave that fell just above his eyebrows gave him a brooding, “bad boy” charm. It made him look more confident—more put together—and it fit his new persona perfectly.

Matty grabbed his phone to check his reflection in the front-facing camera. He gave himself a once-over, taking in his broader shoulders, his new body, and the sharp jawline that had appeared seemingly overnight. But it was his hair that caught his attention again.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “This is… way different.”

He ran his hand through it one more time, letting the waves fall back into place with minimal effort, and then he smiled. It felt right. His hair was a big part of the new Matt he was becoming—someone who didn’t have to work hard to look good. It was almost as if the universe had decided that everything about him needed to be sharper, more polished, more… frat.

His reflection stared back at him. Matt, with the perfect dark brown hair. Matt, with the confident, almost cocky smile that now played at the corners of his lips. The guy in the mirror was a stranger, yet familiar, someone who was meant for this life.

And as he admired his new look, he couldn't help but wonder just how deep this transformation would go. His hair was only the beginning, after all.

“Dude,” he muttered, staring at the reflection. "What the hell?”

And then it hit him—Matt. His reflection had changed. His whole demeanour was different. His voice felt deeper, and when he spoke, it sounded… natural. Like someone had flicked a switch, and now he was the ultimate frat boy without even trying. He flexed his arm in front of the mirror, still not fully understanding what was going on.

But something else was different, too. He looked at the clothes in his wardrobe—a brand-new set of tight, fitted T-shirts and well-worn jeans that made him look like he belonged in a college party. Gone was the awkward Matty, the kid who played it safe. In his place stood someone who could walk into a room and own it. Matt was the guy everyone wanted to be. He felt confident. Cocky, even.

He texted Cassie, hoping she was okay with all of this.

“Hey, you good? Something weird happened last night…”

Her reply came seconds later.

“Oh my god, babe! I feel amazing! You won’t believe it. I totally joined Delta Theta Phi, and they’re, like, so into me already! It’s going to be, like, the best thing ever!”

Matty stared at the text, his stomach twisting slightly. Something was off. Cassie—Cassie—was now using words like "totes" and "like" in every sentence. The bubbly, confident girl he once knew was changing right before his eyes, and part of him was unsettled by it. But the other part of him—Matt—found himself excited. This was the life he was supposed to be living. The frat parties, the competitions, the workouts. He couldn’t deny it: it felt good. Maybe, just maybe, this was who he was meant to be.

The Frat Life

Later that day, Matt was dragged into the fraternity house by a group of upperclassmen who had somehow decided he was frat material. They forced him to attend a party, where they pumped him full of beer, made him play beer pong, and introduced him to a whole new world of “bro” behaviour.

“You’re gonna crush it, bro,” Brock, the frat president, said as he threw an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “You’re one of us now. Party hard, hit the gym, and get with the ladies. That’s the frat way.”

“Yeah, dude,” Matt replied, nodding with a grin. “For sure. I’m, like, all in.”

The party raged on around him. It was loud. It was chaotic. But Matt had never felt more at home. The guys were laughing, the music was pounding, and everything about it felt right. He had no interest in the quiet, introspective kid he once was. This new life was everything he ever wanted. The muscles, the confidence, the parties—it was all here.

Cassie & The Sorority

At the same time, Cassie had fully embraced her new role in Delta Theta Phi. She walked around with her new sisters, a radiant smile on her face as they gossiped about their crushes and the upcoming sorority events. She had become, without a doubt, the epitome of a sorority girl. She was bubbly, she was popular, and she was constantly surrounded by attention.

But something about it never felt wrong. Cassie loved Matt. They were still dating, and no one could change that. Even though she was now a full-on "valley girl"—talking about boys, parties, and perfecting her “look”—her feelings for Matt hadn't wavered. In fact, if anything, she felt more connected to him than ever. She couldn’t wait to see him after every party, to tell him about her day, to laugh together over the silliest things.

She wasn't cheating, not at all. It was just that college life had changed them both, had made them more into the people they seemed to be destined to be. But even through all the transformations, her feelings for Matt never wavered.

A Relationship that Stays Strong

As the semester went on, Matt and Cassie (who had become an official part of the Greek system) lived in their new worlds. They attended parties, worked out together, and talked about their plans for the future. Despite their transformations, their love for each other was still the anchor that kept them grounded.

Cassie was happy with her sorority, yes. But she never let it interfere with her relationship. Matt was the same. The bro culture didn’t change how he felt about her. They made time for each other. They texted. They hung out. They still made each other laugh. Their personalities had changed, sure—but their connection hadn’t.

And while both of them had slipped into their new roles as frat bro and sorority girl, they hadn’t forgotten each other. They were still in love, still dating, still choosing each other every day.

For the first time, they both realized: sometimes you don’t need to be who you were in high school to find happiness. Maybe who they were now—Matt and Cassie—was who they were always meant to be.

(Matty on the left and Brock on the right, Cassie on the right and her sorority sister on the left)

[royalsunshinehotel]

Eating (Vampire!Kid x F!Reader, 18+)

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience. I am back. RIP to that one fic I wrote in 2020 and LOST in the depths of my laptop, you had fisting and dubcon and whatnot. This doesn’t have that, but is a lot better written. YN has very American dialogue here. Editing by @youlooklike-clarabow

It wasn’t right to call this feeling bloodlust. Was it freedom? 

He’d just beaten a mortal to death with a heeled shoe, and, in the morning, the people would think that Baba Shakti had been mauled to death by a tiger. 

He’d drained that man of his life force, the evidence soaked Kid so thoroughly, he felt it down to his socks with each step he took. 

Now, all he wanted was you. 

From the first day he’d met you, he’d allowed you to become a constant. He met Lucky first, your little brother, and Lucky had brought him right to you. 

What a gift that Lucky had given so freely, he’d have to thank the boy when he saw him next. 

He knows exactly where you are too. 

You’re stumbling home after a harrowing shift at the bar. It’s Diwali, so of course your work was a little…intense. 

You couldn’t fault the people for enjoying the holiday, but Christ that was a lot of work. 

And here he was again! 

“Funny how that all works,” you think.

He’s playing it off as if he wasn’t waiting up for you, on the steps of your apartment building. 

Maybe it was that half-drink you’d had earlier, maybe it was that costume he’s wearing, a black suit, covered in blood. 

The blood had dried, but the tears hadn’t. 

Maybe it was that half-drink you’d had earlier, but you could hardly look at him, only holding out your hand to take his arm, tightly, up to your place. 

On a good day, it’s hard to look at him - and truly see him - fully. It was like staring into the sun. Here, in the dark, maybe you’d scrape by. He’s vibrant, even now 

His socks were making a squishing sound with each step. 

You unlock your door, and deposit him to lean against a counter, and calmly walk to your kitchenette for some towels, wetting them under your faucet. 

It wasn’t your business. 

Maybe he’d just been at Tiger’s, Maybe it had been another fight. You’d helped him after those before…

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “just wait.” He droops a little, hopefully relaxing. You’d like him to be comfortable here, with you. 

You take a long step and pull out a stray garbage bag from a drawer, waving it around to open in, and gesturing to him. 

It was safe to say the suit he wore was ruined. And if that blood was real, and didn’t belong to him, it could open up a whole world of trouble. 

Your mind races with a thousand different possibilities and outcomes, what you were liable for, what charges he could be brought up on. 

He only stares at you with an expression you can’t place, and unbuttons his shirt. 

And your thought process evaporates. 

When Lucky had helped him to your apartment after fights at Tiger’s Temple, you’d seen his bare chest before. He was a tall man, and thin to match. His chest was broad, smooth, as ever, but you couldn’t see his ribs anymore. 

When he’d come to you for help before, he’d been something of a stray dog, wandering in the streets, begging for any scrap one could spare. 

And you had fed him before, but you wouldn’t need to now. 

You knew from your little brother that Kid hadn’t been around. Rumors swirled in your little community, but nothing was concrete. He’d been gone, out of town. Eating. 

Blood dried on the breathtaking torso of someone who’d been eating. 

A little spark of jealousy starts to burn in the front of your skull. 

“Had a good vacation?”” You scoff at him. His large brown eyes darken, only slightly. He says nothing. 

Heat rushes to your face as he steps forward, dropping his shirt into the empty garbage bag. 

You want him close, as usual. 

He never takes a half-step more, just to kiss you, be near you. It doesn’t feel as cold as it usually does. It feels like he’s playing with you. 

Kid smiles a little, to himself, taking the wet towel off the side of the sink, running it down his reddened neck. 

You frown. He’ll have to scrub. 

You grab another towel, and begin to do just that. 

He doesn’t make a sound as you dampen your towel under the sink  and step around towards his broad back. 

“This isn't gonna work. You’ll have to shower.” Your voice sounds a little hoarse. It had to be some kind of condition, or spell he’d fallen under. 

He seemed flushed, a little more alive. 

When you first met him, you noticed large, glossy brown eyes first, but seeing the rest of him makes the awareness of being close to him all the  worse, even standing behind his back. 

His thick,curly hair reached out, practically begging someone to put their hands in it. The skin of his shoulders is always warm, just like the rest of him. 

You’d sat next to him, on your couch in your apartment. Being aware of his body heat was obvious, but it felt heightened tonight. Did he run warm? Or did you just notice it because it’s him? 

You knew the answer, but the air was so thick in your room, it seemed to soften any hard thought you were trying to wrap your head around. 

The rag in your hand was spent, so you threw it into the trash bag, and you tap his spine, 

“Go shower.” You command, and he obeys you, removing his shoes and putting them in the bag after. 

He looks around, spell broken, only to feel lightly proud that he’d only left a thumbprint on your counter. 

In the shower, he wishes you were still next to him still, in the water . . . helping. You were so eager to be kind, why? Especially to the likes of him. 

He watches the faint traces of red and pink rinse from his skin, to circle the drain. 

It was all he could do not to step out of the shower and put his face in your neck. 

He’d never indulged so freely in someone’s blood before, and he’d never imagined that his first real taste would be from the man who ruined everything, and harmed so many. 

And he’d come right to you, thinking he’d been sated, but he just wanted more. 

He’d never hurt you, he’d die before he hurt you. 

Kid lets some water fall into his mouth, and spits it out between his feet. 

There had been a time, when he was younger, where he’d known a street performer who’d played a cello. It was a large, cumbersome instrument, but the performer had made it seem light, elegant. 

The vibration of the strings had stayed with him, humming inside his head whenever he’d gotten hungry. 

And now, wet, in the shower, he felt absolutely starved. 

No. Get a grip. 

He needed to pick something else to focus on, not the tantalizing hymn coming from your throat. 

Your apartment! 

He’d been in your apartment before, of course, but he felt he’d never gotten the chance to appreciate it. 

Your bathroom was old, but clean. Faded white tile, and one singular bottle of shampoo and conditioner on the counter in front of a small, circular mirror. 

He already knew that you had made a friend who sold soap to tourists, he recognized the cut of the bar in a little dish to the side. 

He shouldn’t snoop. 

One lone towel is hanging by the shower, and he takes it, dressing in large gray sweats that you’d picked for him. 

He doesn't like that you have men’s sweats, but he doesn’t have a right to not like it, when he benefits from it. 

He gasps a little as he opens the door back to the rest of your studio. 

Warm. 

When he first knocked on your door, he hadn’t noticed the few candles you’d had burning. He didn’t realize you’d be perched on the armrest of your old couch. He’d helped you carry it in, hadn’t he? He thought the color of it suited you, just as he does now. 

“How was your shower?” You ask, voice soft. You don’t betray the fact that your mouth is watering. 

He’d showered, obviously, but the steam coming off his skin didn’t help the knot of feelings, tightening in your stomach. 

Ugh, fucking feelings. They’d never done anything but betrayed you, why would this time be any different ? 

“Um…good.” He replies, just as soft, taking long, even strides to meet you on the couch, and sit on the other side. 

There’s a golden cast of light on your skin, and he knows he has some fundamental truths he needs to face. 

The first being, that he had died with his Mother that night, and came back as well…this. Whatever it was. 

The second was, he’d just torn the nation's religious leader limb from limb. It would look like a wild animal, but if that stupid penthouse had cameras, they’d know it was him. 

The last was, he desperately wanted you. Whatever you’d be willing to give, he’d devour greedily. It was time to do something about it. 

“You haven’t asked me what happened.” He states, almost groaning as he felt the couch lean from your weight. 

“I don’t want to know.” 

Kid exhales a sigh of relief. 

“I do wish you’d stop putting yourself in danger.” 

He blinks at that.

“You gotta stop showing up covered in blood.” 

“Should I show up with flowers? Would you like that?” 

“Depends on the flowers.” 

He leans in, the warmth of his body making your head start to swim, “I’m serious. What the fuck happened tonight?”

“Things have changed. I’ve changed them. It’s going to be better now.” 

You cross your arms. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you. No one follows me when I come here.” His round eyes seem to burn in the half-light. 

“If things have changed…does that mean I can kiss you?” the words fell out of your mouth easily, but you wince as they make their impact. The energy that was humming in your ears drops, leaving you in silence. 

Waiting for a response, simple. 

His mouth is on yours in an instant, your head spinning, taken by the impact. 

His hands find your hips, and you’re placed securely into his lap. How, in all this time, had you never felt his hands before? All of those times he’d come to you for help after a fight, and he’d kept his lovely hands to himself. 

You couldn’t allow that anymore! 

You take his wrists in your hands to move his warm, wide palms. You push yourself into his hands because you want to, you want him

His hardness grows steadily underneath you, as he lets you rub yourself against him, allowing himself to get lost, soaking you into himself. He simply had to be yours. 

You were a softness he’d wrap himself in, an extra layer to keep him warm through the winter (A/N: FROM A CHALLENGERS FIC). 

You feel his hands wander to your shoulders, pulling your mouth away from his with a slight pop. 

“You know I’m different.” It wasn’t a question. 

All those fights, all those blows to the head that should have killed him, and he’d simply walked away. Of course you knew.

“Are you trying to scare me?” You asked, earnest. You had nerves, of course you did, but it wouldn’t break through. 

“No! Never. I’m just trying to be honest.” 

You giggle. Your hands cup his face, and you smile at how he relaxes into your grip. 

“I think I’m just curious… How long have you been . . . different?” You questioned, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger.  

“Long enough to know what I’m doing?” 

“So you won’t kill me.” 

“I think Lucky would kill me first. You can send me away if you like. I won’t be back again.” 

“I’m not saying no, I just want to see.”

He blinks at you. 

You trail off, “May I see?” 

“...Sure.” 

 You put your hands on either side of his face, dark beard soft, he lets you pull u a pink lip, revealing white teeth, one long canine tooth, flat, thin, sharp. There’s another one on the other side. Like a predator, like a beast you’d find in the wild. 

Yeah, he’s exactly what he says he is. Different. 

“Good?” He asks, neutral.

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

The air in your room is cool , his eyes wide and wet.  

Is this what all creatures are like? 

You almost ask, but fall into his mouth instead. 

“Still curious?” 

“Ask me tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow. He likes the sound of that. Has he ever had anyone want to stay until tomorrow? He couldn’t remember when. How strange, to be alive as long as he had, and never been more than a kink, someone dipping a toe into the dark, as if he hadn’t had to make a life here. 

That was by design, he thought. Wasn’t he supposed to be the greatest predator and killer of all time? Ha!

Maybe he’s comfortable right here. Maybe the Devil’s perfect predator yearns for a collar and a leash. 

What a magnificent leash it would be. 

Your back arched against him, you gasp, grinding him. You receive a soft peck against your lips, and the most gentle smile. 

Your eyelids flutter close, and he makes himself comfortable against you. 

Kid makes a trail between your mouth and the most delicate column of your throat, licking and sucking. You allow him to pull off your shirt, before lowering you back into the worn out couch.  You shiver, in spite of the heat coursing through your veins. 

He leans over you, tracing his nose against your jaw, inhaling. 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he hums against your ear, the cello strings getting louder and louder in his head. 

Putting a hand between your legs, he smiles into your neck. You push yourself against the heel of his palm, enjoying the sparks against your clit. 

Your pulse feels too correct under his mouth, and he throbs for it. What a lovely thing, to be able to have your neck between his teeth. 

He lies between your legs, comfortably, like he’d been laying with you for years. 

He smiles to himself as he feels your wetness against his hand, his mouth wandering over every piece of flesh you had exposed. You gasp as his mouth catches a nipple, tugging it, making you squirm. 

He lets you put your hands in his damp hair, his fangs lightly piercing the underside of your breast, red droplets against the softness of your skin for him to lap up. 

You whine at the faint pain, but he knows better. The hand between your legs knew better, your pathetic hole fluttering against him. 

You were everything. 

What a pretty picture you made, wide eyes, a warm, soft mouth, comfortably underneath him like you were meant to be here. How could you make the picture of someone so docile, fuckable, like he didn’t owe you absolutely everything? 

To your dismay, he pulls his hand back, and brings it up to his mouth. Your eyes snap open as Kid is struck with a full body shudder. The red against his hand seems to burn into him. 

It can’t be true. It’s too perfect, he thinks to himself. You watch him pant, chills down your spine. 

“...are you…bleeding?” He asked, rasping into your mouth, 

You couldn’t do too much, only nod. 

He’d had you too intoxicated, you’d gone and forgotten about your period.

A heartbeat passes. Maybe two.  

“I need to eat now. May I?” He asks, polite, but his face betrays him. 

“Yes.” 

In a blink, he’s upon you. Head between your legs, sucking at your bloody heat like he’d been made to do it. And he had, you supposed. 

Your back bows as he smoothly works a  finger into you, your own blood and slick guiding him in. 

Kid slurps, a filthy sound that nearly made you jump off the couch. 

An unfamiliar fog descends over your mind as you let him take what he wants. You're nobody’s fool, except his. 

You faintly feel his hands dig into your ass with an unrecognizable strength. You know he’d let you go if you asked, but his brute strength against yours is nothing short of exhilarating. 

Is this what it would take to keep him? Blood? You had that! You could always make more too. 

Your back arches, trying to get closer to his face, the sharpness of his nose breathtaking against your core. 

Your heart pounds in your head as he drinks from you, ears ringing. If you were a little more coherent, you’d be impressed with him, scraping his fingers mercilessly against your front wall, trying to drain any last drop you had to give. He’s taking what he wants. 

Whatever had happened earlier in the night, whatever put light behind his eyes, you thank every star.

He frantically scissors his fingers into you, lapping and sucking up everything he earned, bringing you closer and closer. 

He lavishes every mark made on you with his tongue, savoring the taste. 

You pout, and he holds you while your shaking and shivering dies down. 

“Will you forget about everyone else?” He asks, low in the dark.  

You blink at him, as if he were speaking another language. 

“What?” 

There was nobody else. No other ‘lovers’ in the past decade that could match what the two of you had just done. 

You feel something twitch against your thigh, in spite of your tiredness, you stick out your lower lip. He stares at it, eyes glittering. 

“You-” You puff, all those pesky feelings rushing straight to your head, “You’re holding back!” 

“And you're about to be anemic if we aren’t careful.” 

You can’t say much to that, so you let out a low, pitiful whine.

“You're going to rest, and you’re going to like it.” 

“Only if you stay put,” you blink. He smiles, mouth wet and red. 

You turn on the couch, pressing against his thin form, wiggling against him, making yourself comfortable. He lets you take his hand in your own, blood is already drying when you take two of his long, elegant fingers, and put them in your mouth. You sigh, satisfied. He does too. 

All will be well, because it’s him. You’ll do anything to keep him. 

[coconut530]

SISSY FIGHT

[hexsreality]

1.92m

SEND ME YOUR MUSE’S HEIGHT, AND I’LL COMPARE IT TO MY OWN’S! ⤷ Accepting!

"We get our height from you, abba. Granted, you are the tallest in the family." 

[camscendants]

That was an eventful two days

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[eversncenewyork]

post wedding update for all those who are interested

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

“Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.

[pastelclovds]

thinking about short top x tall bottom relationships

your partner’s friends believe that just because you were two feet shorter than him: that it would obviously mean that you would be the one taking it in the relationship. how could you blame those meatheads when your boyfriend was everything a stereotypical dominant man was “supposed” to be. muscles that could be compared to Greek gods, good looks, possessing a constant stern and confident attitude, and he had a successful career that made him good money.

your lover didn’t try to deny the accusations. probably too embarrassed to admit the truth. you had to hide your smirk when you saw your bf trying desperately to change the subject. looking tense and flustered as his gaze shifted from his hands to you to his friends. it wasn’t until you dropped his friends off and were now alone with him in your car that his mask finally cracked. before he could say a word, you place the palm of your hand on top of his shaking leg. dangerously close to his clothed pelvis. his breathe hitched when he meet your eyes. they were smug and hungry.

at that moment he knew it didn’t matter what excuses he spewed out. you were going to show him who was really in charge. he couldn’t help blood rushing south as his mind started fantasizing about what you were planning for him.

you grin devilishly when you catch sight of his cock straining against his dress pants. oh you were going to have so much fun breaking him.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

“oh! oh yeah— fuck! faster please please!”

you’ve seen many beautiful things in your life. but the sight of your lover presenting his bare ass for you to rail as he sobbed out your name like a prayer definitely topped them all. he let out choked moans when your cock continuously hits his prostate. his grip on the pillows rival that of a vice as his tears wet the covers. he thrusts back against your cock to the best of his ability as the bruising grip you had on his waist prevented him from moving the lower half of his body. forcing him to stay still and take it.

you let out a shaky breath as you gazed down at the so called ‘master in the sheets’. now a pathetic, beautiful mess as his tight hole took you in. just the sight of his tear stained face and velvety ass was enough to almost make you spill inside him. you increase the pace of your hips. your sweat slicked balls slapping against your lover’s ass as the volume of his moans and cries increased. the clap of your bf’s ass meeting your pelvis filled you with pride as you couldn’t resist the temptation of slapping his cheek. his hole tightened significantly around you.

“haha. guess your friends were wrong about you, lovely. was this what you wanted? embarres me so i can show you who you really belonged to? hmm?” you lower your torso as you teased him by slowly grinding against his sweet spot. he raised his head to look up at you.

“i’m yours. always make me feel good. go faster again please. i’m close, ‘m sorry— ah!”

your pace returns to rough and quick as soon as the words left his pretty mouth. “good boy- hah- cum for me,” you breathlessly command him. he followed your orders instantly, biting his pillow cover to muffle his pathetic sob as his cock spilled white on the sheets.

his climax triggered yours, you sigh as you fill him with warmth. you knew that this wasn’t going to be the last round, so you rest on top of your lover’s back until he gave you the ‘okay’ to continue. you could feel his chest rise and fall as he tries to catch his breath. if you weren’t paying attention intensely, you would’ve missed the breathless “i love you” he told you.

you cover his sweat coated back in soft kisses, you couldn’t even reach his neck, “i love you too, gorgeous,” you whisper back. you bite back a groan when he started grinding against your cock, signaling that he was ready for round two.

you loved destroying stereotypes.

ur fav tall af characters <3

[hoshigray]

hello, lovely! is it okay to request a short fic wherein gojo’s pregnant wife (y/n) stole his kikufuku? thank u! (missing soft gojo hours 😭)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg stoooop this is so cute and sweet, what!?

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x pregnant afab/fem! reader - tooth-rotting fluff - pet names (angel, baby, stars and moon, sweetheart) - Gojo being a big crybaby over sweets - so soft, i was smiling while writing, hehe~.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

THUD!

“…!” You jolt, immediately looking to the entrance of the living room to see your husband. “Gojo! You okay?”

The white-haired man stands still with a gawked expression, eyes covered by his black blindfold with his usual Jujutsu Tech attire, and you can assume the noise came from the souvenir bags he dropped to the floor.

“…Y/n, my angelic stars and moon,” he finally speaks after a few seconds of silence, and you can see his lips quiver with trembling hands. “Is…Is that my last kikufuku?” 

If there is one thing Gojo loved more than anything other than you, it would be his undying love for sweets! You could never find him without any at his disposal; he’d have a bunch of lollipops in his pockets, be licking popsicles or soft serves while monitoring his first years during their missions, or typically stop by a café and grab some crepes for dessert to take home and share with you. He’s known to have a childish heart, and sweets are his weakness!

His all-time favorite would be the mochi delicacy he often gets during his mission trips to Sendai, and he’s always sure to buy a whole box worth to make the long trip up North worth it. Kikufuku, the crushed edamame and cream-filled mochi, is Gojo’s favorite sweet to eat — you’re a witness to him happily stuffing his face with them lying on the couch after a hard day’s work. He’s the type to eat one every week until he can return to Sendai and get more. 

This week was the very last one he had saved, secured in the cold fridge for him to eat once he got home. And he wasn’t going to Sendai anytime soon, so he planned on treasuring and savoring it the moment he stepped inside and lay beside his pregnant partner to chill on this blissful spring evening.

He could never get over the sight of you whenever he came home. Gojo loved his partner so much that he swears he would burn the world if you commanded him to, which you knew is an exaggeration, but his love is true. The day he got on one knee and heard you say yes to his proposal was the happiest he’d ever been, sweeping you off your feet, putting you in your dream puffy white dress, and officially becoming the spouse of the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world! And now you were swole with his child!? Not even God could strike this man to calm him down of his glee.

You were sitting on the living room couch like you always did, waiting for your husband to return, wearing a black maternity one-piece that comfortably molded around your figure and a blue flannel shirt – his flannel – to keep you warm. Gojo came home with souvenirs to share and impress, a huge smile just from thinking about your reactions. 

However, the sight has him gasp dramatically loud and drop everything to the wooden floor, because he saw something in your hand, something that broke his heart noticing the green and white filling apparent from a bite on an undeniable white rice cake. 

You were eating the very last of his kikufuku…How could you!?

You blinked at him, then turned to the sweet in your hand, and the realization of what you were doing finally hit you. “Oh! I’m sorry, Satoru! I was feeling snacky.”

The tall man teeters to where you’re sitting, whining with every step. “So why didn’t you eat your snacks, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know?” You shrugged, licking bits of the edamame cream off your middle finger. “They didn’t seem like what I was craving for. I wanted something sweet, ya know? And I finished my ice cream two nights ago, so this was all I could find.”

“Yeah, but like,” you can tell his eyebrows were scrunched together even if the black material concealed his upper face. “That was my last one, baby! Plus, you could’ve texted me you’d eat it, or I could’ve stopped somewhere to grab you something sweet!”

“I know! But, you were very busy today; a big mission up in Kyoto and a meeting with Principal Yaga, sooo…” you squished the mochi gently, licking more of the filling coming out. “I didn’t wanna interrupt or bother you…”

“But stilllll~!”God, you were so cute when you cared for him, you almost made him forget the whole thing then and there. But you can’t hate the man for being a little upset, right? Gojo sighs and places his cheek on your belly. “Little booger, you hear what your momma is doing to me? So cruel~.”

You gasped. “Hey! Don’t say that to them!” Your free hand tries to yank him off your tummy by the hair, yet he doesn’t budge as he exclaims painfully. “What, are you saying the pregnant love of your life is some villain because they ate one of your sweets? As if I never caught you taking scoops of my favorite ice cream!? Have you no shame, Gojo Satoru!”

He swats your hand off his snowy hair, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Between you and Principal Yaga, there is a scarce few Gojo would allow to beat him up for his foolishness. He turns his head – still above the baby – to face you and releases a sigh. “I’m sorry, I was just really stoked I’d get to have that kikufuku; it’ll be a long while before I go get more…Ughhh.” Another sigh is exerted, and you can only shake your head with rolled eyes. He’s such a baby.

You bring his blindfold down to his chin to free the azure eyes he’s been hiding since this morning, and his hair falls from its spiky appearance. Then, you separate the mochi into two and push one to his lips, “You happy now?” You say with a grin. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to give these a try. Besides, we’ll have a little one to look after soon; wouldn’t it be nice for them to know what their father likes to snack on from time to time?”

Now, how in the world could Gojo still be upset with that logic? Being a father is a foreign concept he’s accepting with open arms, sharing the experience with the person he values and cherishes the most. To have a child with you is the highest honor of all for him. And imagining his small family happy and eating sweets together under his care makes his cheeks show a subtle shade of pink.

He smiles as he accepts the piece of the rice cake, chuckling when you flick his nose playfully. “You’re so sweet, angel.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.