#I WANT!! TO TEAR DOWN!!! MY KITCHEN WALLS!!!!!!!!!

[slutoru1207]

Teasing has consequences

MDNI 18+

Invincible!Mark x reader smut

Warning:Afab! Extremely NSFW, Rough Sex, Breeding, Size Kink, Overstimulation, Slight Degradation, Feral!Mark, Dubious Consent (Established Relationship), Loss of Control, Manhandling.

You started this. Now take It.

You should have known better than to tease him.

Especially in public.

Especially when he had to leave for a mission.

You could still picture the way Mark’s jaw clenched when your hand brushed over his thigh under the table, your fingers barely teasing the outline of his cock through his jeans. How his breath hitched when you leaned in, whispering something innocent—but your lips were way too close to his ear.

And when you excused yourself to the restroom, throwing a glance over your shoulder with a smirk—

You knew you had fucked up.

Because when Mark came home hours later, fresh from his mission, still buzzing with adrenaline?

He wasn’t just pissed.

He was starving.

You barely had time to react before he grabbed you—one second you were standing in the kitchen, the next your back was slamming against the mattress, Mark already on top of you, panting, wild, unhinged.

"You think you're funny?" he growled, voice low, dangerous. His golden eyes were blazing.

Your stomach twisted in the best way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathed, feigning innocence.

Wrong move.

Mark’s grip on your thighs tightened.

And then?

He ripped your clothes off.

Like—literally.

The sound of fabric tearing sent a shock straight between your legs, your breath hitching as he tossed the ruined material aside.

"Mark!"

His smirk was feral.

"Don't act so innocent now, babe." His hands grabbed your waist, flipping you over, pushing your ass up. His body caged you in, his breath hot against your ear.

"You wanted to tease me? Get me all worked up before a mission?" His fingers dragged down your spine, slow, deliberate. "Now you're gonna take everything I give you."

His cock was already throbbing, rock-hard, pressing against you—hot, heavy, leaking.

You whimpered.

Mark grunted. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

And then—he shoved himself inside.

Your entire body jolted, your breath ripping from your lungs as he stretched you open, deep, hard, raw.

"F-Fuck—"

He didn't give you time to adjust.

Didn't give you time to breathe.

He pulled back only to slam back in, setting a brutal pace, your body rocking with each desperate, unrelenting thrust.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place, owning you, using you.

"You feel that?" he gritted out, his breath ragged. "Feel how wet you are? How your pussy is so fucking tight around me?"

You whimpered, shuddering.

"Yeah, you like this," he growled, fucking you deeper, rougher. "You like being bred, don't you?"

Your mind went blank.

And when his hand slid down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his brutal thrusts—

You screamed.

"That's it," he groaned, pounding into you. "Give it to me. Milk my cock. Let me fill you up."

Your orgasm ripped through you, violent, explosive, overwhelming.

Your legs shook, your walls clamping down around him, squeezing, milking every inch of his cock.

And Mark?

He snapped.

His rhythm stuttered, his breath hitching as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt, spilling inside you.

His hot, thick cum flooded your pussy, his grip on your hips bruising, shaking, possessive.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as you lay trembling, ruined beneath him, he stayed buried inside, his cock hard, twitching, throbbing.

"Not done," he muttered, voice wrecked, hands running over your body, worshipping you.

His hips rolled forward, slow, deliberate.

"You're gonna take me all night, sweetheart." His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dripping with dark amusement.

"You started this."

His teeth nipped at your shoulder, his cock already pushing deeper.

"Now take it."

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ?

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘭𝘰

phone call, angst, mental health struggles, alcohol, fluff if u squint, unrequited love?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship, crush, love square?

word count - 1k

The call is winding down, the warmth of Daisy’s voice lingering even through the receiver. Chris exhales, shifting on his bed as he listens to her laugh at something he’s just said. The sound is soft, familiar by now, like the sound of rain against his window.

“So, what’s on your agenda for tonight?” Daisy asks, voice light.

Chris hesitates for a second before running a hand through his hair. “Uh, there’s a party. Some guy on the team is throwing it.”

“Oh?” There's a teasing lilt in her voice. “Are you excited?”

He scoffs. “Not really my thing, but I figured I’d show up for a bit.”

“Mingling, drinking, dancing…” Daisy lists, amused. “Maybe you’ll even make a new friend.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. “Doubt it. But hey, I should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright, alright,” Daisy concedes. “Try not to get into too much trouble, Sun.”

He smirks at the nickname, the familiarity of it settling something in his chest. “No promises.”

The party is too much before he even steps inside. Music pounds through the walls, a deep bass that rattles his chest, seeps into his bones. The air is thick, humid with sweat and alcohol. Voices clash over each other, laughter too loud, conversations blurring together.

Chris moves through the space, head slightly bowed, hands stuffed into his pockets. He recognises a few people, nods when necessary, but doesn’t stop. Someone presses a drink into his hand, and he takes a sip without thinking. The bitter burn coats his tongue, and he grimaces, but drinks again anyway.

Time passes in fragments. He’s on the couch, then by the kitchen, then standing against a wall while someone talks at him.

“Dude, did you hear about…?”

“No way, that’s fucking bullshit.”

“Come on, one more shot…”

Chris barely listens. The world is spinning just a little. At this point, he's probably crossfaded. His limbs feel heavy, thoughts slowed to a lazy drift.

Then there’s a girl.

He doesn’t remember how she got there, doesn’t remember what she said first. She’s just there, close. Too close. She smells like vanilla and something sharper, like the bite of citrus. Her fingers graze his wrist, then his shoulder, then his jaw. He lets her.

“You’re kinda quiet, huh?” she muses, tilting her head.

Chris swallows, shrugs. “Guess so.”

She grins, pressing closer. “I like that.”

Her lips press against his, and it’s—fine. Just fine.

But something is wrong.

Her lips are soft, but they’re too much, too eager, like they’re pushing into him. Her breath is warm against his skin, and her hands… her hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of his chest, his jaw, as if she knows him. He wants to pull away, but his body isn’t quite listening, not yet. His heart is pounding, racing to catch up with his thoughts, but all he can focus on is the sharpness of the moment, the sharpness of her scent, and the way it clings to him.

Her lips press harder, her body moving closer, and that’s when it hits him… the overwhelming sense of wrongness. It’s like a tide crashing over him, washing away any last bit of control. Her touch feels too invasive, too unfamiliar. Every brush of her fingers, every movement of her body feels forced against the space that should be his alone. Her hands slip underneath his shirt, and it’s like a switch flips in his mind, a jolt of panic, cold and sudden.

He pulls back, a sharp gasp tearing through him. The air feels too thick, too full of the music, the laughter, the heat, the smell of alcohol, of her. His chest rises and falls rapidly, each breath feeling like it’s not enough, like the air has become foreign.

The girl blinks at him, lips slightly parted in confusion. She says something, something he can’t quite catch, but he’s already stepping back, moving away from her, toward the edge of the room. His legs feel weak beneath him, and he doesn’t trust himself to stay still, doesn’t trust his body to do anything right.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice a little too hoarse, a little too panicked.

The door is in sight, the light from the outside looking like a distant promise. He doesn’t stop to look back, doesn’t stop to hear her voice calling after him. He’s already stepping through the door, the cool night air hitting him like a slap to the face. It feels like a reprieve, like he can breathe again, but it doesn’t last.

His hands are shaking as he pulls out his phone, the screen bright in the dark. His thumb hovers over the number he’s dialed a million times before, the hotline number, the only thing that’s ever been constant in the chaos. He presses call without thinking, his heart still racing, still reeling from the suffocating feeling of the party.

The phone rings, and it feels like a lifetime. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it’s picked up.

“…Hello, this is Cherry.”

The blood drains from his face, his stomach flipping with dread. He blinks at the phone, the voice too unfamiliar, too wrong in this moment.

His finger finds the end call button before he’s even fully aware of what’s happening.

His chest tightens, breath caught in his throat. He stumbles forward, heart still racing. His legs buckle as he makes his way to the bushes, the overwhelming surge of emotions crashing over him. His mind spins, and his body betrays him as it convulses, shaking with the force of it. He doubles over, everything from the night forcing its way out, his stomach twisting and emptying. It’s a release, but it’s not enough. He wipes his mouth, but he still feels nauseous.

He leans into the cold grass, his fingers digging into the damp earth as he tries to ground himself, but nothing feels solid anymore.

And Daisy’s not there.

Has he lost his mind?

thank u rose for the dividers !! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: possible smut from daisy's pov tomorrow if u guys ask nicely:>

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @sweetshuga @snoopychris @st7rnioioss @herewegoagain-b

till next time !!

[marshmallowmusing]

LOGAN FIC REC FRIDAY

“ trouble sleeping „

wanted something cozy and comforting this week, so i thought… why not focus on sleep? there’s a lot of fics centered around logan’s nightmares and sleep disturbances which i thought were a perfect avenue to explore! half are sfw and half are not so mind the warnings. links and descriptions of the fics are all under the cut 🤍

another sleepless night

by @froggibus

• you can’t sleep, so you wander the xmansion halls to logan’s room. love logan’s persistent concern in this one, he’s so determined to make you feel safe<3

help me hold onto you

by @guiltyasdave, 18+

• logan hurts you accidentally in his sleep, and has to remind himself he won’t break you. the characterization here is so good, how worried logan is and how frustrated reader gets!

like a dream

by @pandapetals

• logan returns to a mission to find you asleep in his bed. god this one was sooo cute and tender, the sweetness of it really wrapped me up like a warm hug. such a quiet moment of intimacy.

dream incarnate

by @dollfacefantasy, 18+

• logan needs something to take his mind off a nightmare, and you’re so enticing lying asleep beside him. i love the unspoken agreement that this is what he needs to help and you don’t mind one bit, it’s super hot<3

offering a hand

by @little-miss-dilf-lover

• you’re crying in your room and logan can’t help but check on you when he overhears. this one hit close to home… need a logan to comfort me like this tbh, he’s so thoughtful it hurts!

by the end of the night

by @flowersforbucky, 18+

• you have the ability to regulate others emotions and use it to help logan sleep. god, i love how you wrote reader helping him in this way! i love settling him down and giving him some peace, he deserves it.

in the refrigerator light

by @thebestandworstdayofjune

• you and logan both find yourselves in the kitchen when you can’t sleep. i love how slice of life this is, an intimate window of time between two people. the playful banter is so cute<3

come into my bed with me (i know you want to)

by @sceletaflores, 18+

• you tear down old man logan’s walls, find solace in his arms on a night you can’t sleep. this one’s just electric, a melancholic ache to every word of it, it’s really beautiful.

thank you to all the writers for sharing your time and talents posting your works for all of us to enjoy, it’s appreciated! if you read any of these make sure to like/reblog/comment on the fics themselves to give the authors some love 🤍 check back on fridays for more!

[thehighpriestess1]

Make a wish: Hope

Warning: Dark themes. Kissing scene. Mentions accident. Mentions guns and blood. Yandere themes. Strong smut. Minors do not interact!

Genre: Angst, fluff, Smut.

Pairing: Gojo x y/n, Nanami x y/n

word count : 17k+

Ask box | Previous chapter | fic masterlist | Other works

The city lights outside shimmered like scattered stars, but inside, everything was unraveling. The tension between you and Gojo was thick, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. The penthouse felt colder than usual, the high ceilings amplifying the silence that had stretched between you since you walked in the door.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around yourself, the ache in your chest unbearable. Gojo leaned against the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles turned white. His sunglasses were gone, leaving his piercing blue eyes exposed, but tonight, they weren’t full of mischief or warmth. Tonight, they were unreadable.

“You haven’t said a single word,” you whispered, voice trembling, barely able to get the words out. “Not at the party. Not when your father made that joke about Utahime joining your family. Not when I was standing right there, waiting for you to say something. Anything.”

Gojo let out a slow, measured breath, rubbing his face with his palm before looking at you. “It wasn’t the time or place.”

You let out a bitter laugh, one that didn’t sound like your own. “It’s never the time or place, is it? Every time I bring up telling your family about us, you brush it off like it doesn’t matter.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed forward, fueled by the months—years—of silence. “It matters to me, Gojo.”

His expression darkened, and for the first time tonight, you saw something flicker across his face—guilt, hesitation, maybe even regret. But it was gone in an instant. “I’m trying to protect you,” he said, and it almost sounded like he believed it.

“Protect me?” You took a shaky step forward, anger burning behind your ribs. “From what? From being acknowledged? From being yours in public? Do you have any idea how humiliating it was to stand there while your father talked about Utahime like she’s your future?” You swallowed hard. “And you just smiled.”

Gojo inhaled sharply, looking away. “You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t understand,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Because you never explain anything! All I know is that we’ve been engaged for over a year, and you still act like I’m some kind of secret.” Your hands clenched at your sides. “Do you even love me?”

His head snapped up, his entire body tensing like a wire about to snap. “You know I do.”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “Why do I feel like I mean nothing to you when we step outside these walls?”

Gojo pushed off the counter, running a hand through his hair. He was getting frustrated now, the carefully constructed patience he usually wore slipping. “Because it’s not that simple,” he snapped. “You think I can just walk up to my family and tell them I’m marrying someone they didn’t choose? That I can just ignore generations of tradition, alliances, and expectations?”

You sucked in a shaky breath. “You can. If you wanted to.”

His eyes flashed, a storm brewing beneath the surface. “You think it’s that easy? Everything I have—everything you have—is because of them. This penthouse, the expensive clothes, the giant ring on your finger—it’s all because of my family.” His voice turned cold. “I can’t just throw that away.”

The words felt like a slap.

You took a step back, your heart pounding. “I never asked for any of this.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the space between you. “I don’t care about the money, the penthouse, the status. I don’t care about the gifts or the vacations.” A tear finally slipped down your cheek, but you ignored it. “I just want you. I want to hold your hand in public. I want you to introduce me as your fiancée instead of pretending I don’t exist. I want to go to cafés together like a normal couple. I want you to call me yours in front of everyone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched so tightly you thought he might break. “And what if that’s not possible?”

You stared at him, feeling your heart splinter. “Then what’s the point of this?” Your voice cracked, raw and desperate. “What’s the point of us if I’m always going to be your secret?”

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was stuck, torn between the weight of his family and the love he claimed to have for you. And that hurt more than anything—more than the silence, more than his father’s words, more than the secrecy.

And then, like the final nail in the coffin, he scoffed. Scoffed. “Maybe I should just marry Utahime then.” His voice was sharp, bitter. “At least she comes from an influential family. At least she wouldn’t act so ungrateful. What do you even have to complain about? You came from nothing and now you have everything!”

The room fell deathly silent. You swayed slightly, as if his words had physically knocked the air from your lungs. Your throat felt tight, burning with the tears you refused to let fall.

Gojo’s expression shifted, like he realized too late what he had just said, but you weren’t going to give him a chance to take it back.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t come from nothing”. You looked up at him, “I might not have wealth or influence but I love you. If you really want to marry her then tell me now and I will leave”

He stared at you blankly. “Where would you even go?”

“Get out, Gojo.” Your hands were shaking, your entire body trembling with the weight of everything that had just happened. “You want to marry Utahime? Go ahead. You want to keep pretending I don’t exist? Fine. But I won’t do this anymore.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his mouth slightly open like he wanted to argue, to fix this, but his own pride wouldn’t let him and then, without another word, he grabbed his coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Gojo sat across from his father in his clan mansion. If mansion is even the right word to describe the property sprawled across acres. He stared at his father who was looking at him intently. “Satoru.. If you don’t like Utahime then we can find other nobel wom-”.

“No need for that”. Gojo said casually like his father had offered him water. “I have given you two options. Either find another heir for the clan or I become the head of the clan now and rule by my will and mine alone". 

“You insolent fool!”. His father stood up and threw the tea cup across the table, barely missing Gojo. 

But Gojo didn’t even flinch. “Pick. Now”.

“Do you know what you are saying?! You are nothing without our clan name! Nothing! Everything that you have is because I gave it to you! You want to leave the clan?!”, he scoffed, “Go. do it!”. He mocked.

Gojo nodded and took out a paper from the brown file. He flicked open his fountain pen and confidently signed while staring his father right in the eye. He slid the paper across the table. “Go ahead. Sign it. I will be out of the clan as soon as you put your pen down”. 

His father stared at the paper. Gojo wasn’t just throwing a tantrum. “All this for the girl? If you want her so badly, who is stopping you? Everyone has mist-”.

“Stop. Right. There”. Gojo warned. His voice was dark and warning. “Sign the papers and I will be out”.

His father gulped harshly. For the past 4 hours he and Gojo had been stuck in this stalemate with Gojo refusing to budge. He tried offering Satoru more power, more control, but he wouldn’t budge. He stared at Satoru’s signature. Neat and confident lines sprawled above the dotted line. He sat down defeatedly. 

Gojo stared at his father. He knew he was not going to sign it. There was no one else capable enough to take the position. Gojo wasn’t just denouncing the position, he was denouncing his family. Sure he had few cousins but they were weak, timid. His way here was easier than he had imagined. All he had to do was threaten his cousins to sign off their shares to him in return for a handsome fixed payment every month their alternative was death. Gojo smiled to himself as he thought about one of them pissing himself staring at the barrel of his gun. Sure he had to fight a few men and get stabbed a few times but he was here now. He had the cards and he controlled the game.

“The elders won’t be happy”. His father warned.

“They would be dead in a few years”. Gojo quipped.

“Your mother would be rolling in her-”.

“DO NOT BRING HER INTO THIS!”. Gojo’s voice echoed through the halls making even the most powerful man in the country flinch in front of him. “You had no right to speak of her. I know how you treated her. So either sign the goddamn paper and free me of this clan or..”

“Or what?”. His father’s eyes twitched. “What if I don’t sign it?”.

“Blood will flow. This clan will disappear within one week. That’s not a threat dear father. It is a promise”. In a blink, Gojo was standing beside his father, faster than the old man could react. The distinct click of a safety being switched off echoed through the room. Cold steel pressed against his father’s temple.

Gojo’s father stiffened, his breath hitching.

“I’ve played by your rules for long enough,” Satoru murmured, his voice a whisper of death against his father’s ear. “But I think it’s time we try something new.”

His father swallowed a single bead of sweat trailing down his temple. “You’d kill me?”

Gojo let out a small chuckle, his grip on the gun unwavering. “Not yet. Killing you now would be boring. Predictable. I want you to watch, father.” His voice was almost affectionate, but the venom beneath it was unmistakable. “I want you to see the empire you built crumble beneath my hands. I want you to understand that the name ‘Gojo’ means nothing without me.”

His father exhaled shakily. “And the girl?”

Gojo’s grip on the gun tightened. “Say her name, and I’ll pull the trigger.”

The threat was real. His father knew it. Gojo didn’t bluff, didn’t threaten without intent. His son was no longer the careless child he had once been—this was a man forged in fire, sharpened into a blade honed for destruction.

Gojo let the silence stretch, letting his father stew in his own helplessness, before he finally stepped back. He lowered the gun, but the damage had been done. The unshakable Gojo patriarch had been reduced to nothing more than a trembling old man.

Gojo placed the gun on the table, right next to the unsigned papers. A silent invitation.

“What is it going to be?” His voice was casual, almost playful. “Sign it, and I walk away. Don’t, and I’ll show you exactly how much of a monster you’ve created.”

His fathers hands trembled. “Satoru,” his father called out, voice hoarse. 

Gojo chuckled and rubbed his temple. “If you want me to stay in the clan, to continue the legacy, then announce today. In the next one hour. Choice is your father”.

The grand hall of the Gojo estate was silent. Heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and reluctant acceptance. The elders sat in a semicircle, their faces etched with years of wisdom and hardened tradition. Some masked their contempt well, others not so much, but all of them knew—this moment was inevitable.

Gojo Satoru stood at the center. Tall. Unshaken. A living embodiment of the limitless power they all feared. He carried himself with a confidence so absolute, so unwavering, that even the most seasoned among them could not meet his gaze for long. The flickering torches cast long shadows behind him, making him seem even larger, a spectral force of change that could not be ignored.

His father, the current head of the clan, stood before him, holding an aged scroll that had been passed down for generations. His voice, though steady, lacked the power of the man standing before him.

“With the blood of the god with six eyes, with the strength of our ancestors, with the will of the heavens, I stand here as witness,” the elder Gojo intoned, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Before the spirits of our forebears, before the pillars of this sacred house, you, Gojo Satoru, swear upon your name, upon your blood, and upon your power.”

Gojo tilted his head slightly, his smirk ghosting over his lips. He knew the words well—this was tradition, after all. And yet, the weight of it settled differently tonight. He was not just another heir reciting empty promises. He was the inevitable future.

“I swear,” Gojo repeated, his voice steady and clear. “To uphold the strength of this clan, to be its shield, its sword, and its terror. To stand above all others, to guard the balance of power, and to answer to none but my own will.”

The room tensed. This was not the oath as it had been spoken for centuries. A murmur spread among the elders, a few exchanging wary glances. Yet, no one dared to interrupt him.

Gojo’s father hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. “To protect the legacy of our name, to ensure the supremacy of our bloodline, and to act with wisdom and restraint.”

Gojo’s lips curled. “I will protect what is mine. I will ensure that none forget who stands at the peak. And restraint?” He exhaled sharply, amused. “That will depend entirely on those who stand before me.”

A ripple of unease spread through the assembly. He had twisted the oath, bent it to his will without breaking it. He had given them no opening to challenge him.

The few elders who had once spoken against him—the ones who had fought to keep him in check—lowered their gazes. The others, whose sons and daughters now stood in Gojo’s shadow, bound to him by loyalty or fear, remained silent. They had long accepted that resisting Gojo Satoru was futile.

His father closed the scroll and exhaled, unreadable. “It is done.”

Gojo turned then, his gaze sweeping over the room. He could see it—the way their shoulders tightened, the way their throats bobbed as they swallowed their resentment. It was almost amusing.

A lesser man would have sought their approval. But Gojo was no lesser man. He had not come here for their acceptance. He had come to remind them. He was their strongest, their inevitable future, and whether they liked it or not—He was already their ruler.

Any other man in the clan would be celebrating his accession. But not Gojo. As he signed the papers his eyes welled up. If only  he had the guts to do this before then none of this would have happened. Maybe by now you and him would have a kid or two. The thought alone made him smile a little. But he was given another chance..

You groaned as you tried to lift your head up. Was it all a dream? You vaguely remembered seeing him outside your house. Morning light filtered through the linen curtain casting a soft light. You stared at the ceiling. A faint smile made its way to your lips.Gojo had just gone against his entire clan for you, something he didn’t even think of doing in the past. He was a different man. How did you get in your room? Did he drop you? Your mom is going to kill you. You moved the covers away and made your way down.

Your mom was sitting on the table, sipping her morning tea. “Morning”. You said softly.

“Morning!”. She turned and smiled. 

“How did I get home?”. You asked hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”. She asked. “You were at home. In your bed. I came to check on you in the morning but you were sleeping”.

Your heart sank. Was it all a fever dream? You wanted it to be true. So you went back to your room. Your head still felt heavy. Picking up your phone you scrolled through the messages. Replying to everyone who had texted the day before. Your finger hovered over Gojo’s chat for a moment before you opened it,

Y/n: Hi.

You waited a few moments.

Gojo: Hi.

Y/n: Where are you?

Gojo: Office.

So he was back. So maybe last night did happen. But how did you get back?

Gojo: How are you feeling now?

Y/n: Better. Might come to work today.

You bit your lips nervously. You were not in a condition to work but you had to talk to him.

Gojo: No need. You are on leave until tomorrow. So rest.

You sighed and fell back in your bed and held the phone above your face. So it was all a dream. It had to be. After all the cruel words you had thrown, no one would want to talk to you. You wouldn’t want to talk to you. You were about to keep your phone away but then it buzzed in your hand.

Gojo: You need to stop sneaking out. 

A wide smile spread across your face and you sat up immediately. You bit your lip as your heart raced against your chest.

y/n: How did I get home?

Gojo: You left the door unlocked so I dropped you. Hope you don’t mind. Sorry if I crossed a line.

You groaned and paced around the room. 

y/n: Please. Stop it. I feel bad about it. 

Gojo: Okay

You didn’t know what to reply but you wanted to continue the conversation anyway. 

Y/n: Mom has invited you for dinner today. 7 PM. Are you available?

Gojo: I will be there.

The silverware was still neatly placed on the dining table, candles burned down to their wicks, the once-warm meal long since gone cold. The clock on the wall mocked you with every tick, each second stretching into an eternity as you sat alone, staring at the untouched dinner you had prepared. Three hours. Three fucking hours you had waited at that table, heart sinking with each passing minute, phone gripped so tightly in your palm it was a wonder it hadn’t cracked. But Gojo never called. Never texted. And now, as the penthouse door swung open, revealing him, all the hurt, frustration, and paranoia inside you ignited into something volatile.

Gojo barely glanced at you as he stepped inside, tossing his coat onto the couch like nothing was wrong. His silver hair was slightly tousled, his shirt a little wrinkled—like he had been out having the time of his life while you had been sitting at that table, waiting.

You stood up slowly, voice eerily calm despite the storm raging inside you. “Where were you?”

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair as if he was the one exhausted. “I was out.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “Out where?”

“With a friend,” he said nonchalantly, walking toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

You let out a bitter laugh, one that barely sounded like you. “With a friend,” you repeated, shaking your head. “Tell me, Gojo, did you forget that tonight was our anniversary? Or did you just not give a damn?”

He exhaled sharply, finally looking at you. “Of course, I didn’t forget—”

“Then where the hell were you?” you yelled, the calm slipping away completely. “Do you have any idea how long I waited for you? I sat there for three hours, hoping—praying—that you’d walk through that door, that maybe you got caught up in something, that you’d call—” Your voice cracked, eyes burning. “But you didn’t.”

Gojo pinched the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t intentional, alright? Time slipped away, and before I knew it—”

“Bullshit.”

His head snapped up at your accusation, and for the first time tonight, there was something sharp in his gaze. “Excuse me?”

Your chest heaved as you took a step closer. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you just ‘lost track of time.’ You chose to ignore me. You chose to be somewhere else instead of here with me. So tell me, Gojo—who were you with?”

His expression darkened. “Don’t do this.”

“Who the hell were you with?”

“I told you,” he said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “A friend.”

Your heart pounded so loudly it was deafening. You weren’t even sure what you wanted him to say anymore. The doubt, the fear, the paranoia had already crept in, poisoning your thoughts. “You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you so fast it was dizzying. “What?”

Your breathing was ragged now, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You don’t care anymore, do you? You don’t even want to be here! Every time I try to reach you, it’s like you’re slipping away, like you’re just waiting for the right moment to—”

Gojo’s jaw clenched. “Don’t.”

“—to leave me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Gojo stared at you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those piercing, beautiful blue eyes—held something dark. Something cold. And then he scoffed. “You’re being paranoid.”

The words stung more than they should have. “I love you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “But I’m so scared you’re going to walk away one day and never look back.”

Gojo exhaled sharply, looking away as if he couldn’t handle the sight of you breaking in front of him. “I told you—I was out with a friend. That’s it.”

But you weren’t convinced. Not when he refused to meet your gaze. Not when he had smiled so easily at everyone else but barely looked at you these days. The insecurity, the fear, the loneliness—they all bubbled over until you couldn’t stop yourself. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?”

That was the final straw. Gojo’s entire posture tensed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “For fuck’s sake, is that what you want to hear?” His voice was sharp, edged with something dangerously close to rage. “That I don’t love you? That I don’t care? That I’d rather be anywhere else but here, listening to you lose your mind over something that isn’t even real?”

Your breath hitched, but he wasn’t done.

“You knew what you were getting into when you got with me,” he continued, voice colder than you had ever heard it. “You knew my life isn’t normal. That I can’t always be here when you want me to be. But instead of understanding that, you throw a tantrum and act like I’ve betrayed you.”

Your hands shook. “I just wanted one night. One night where you put me first.”

Gojo let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Then maybe you should’ve been with someone else.”

The words hit like a dagger straight to the chest, but what he said next twisted it even deeper.

“Maybe you should just go back to that shithole in Kyoto you came from.”

The room spun. Everything went silent. You stared at him, your heart shattering into a million unfixable pieces. Gojo’s lips parted slightly, like he had just realized what he said, but he didn’t take it back. He just stood there, staring at you, waiting for you to react.

A broken laugh escaped your lips, but it wasn’t amused. It was the sound of something inside you breaking. “I see,” you whispered.

Gojo stayed silent, his expression unreadable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stand tall even as your entire world collapsed around you. “I hope she was worth it.”

Your mom muttered something under her breath as she laid out the dishes on the table. She wasn’t too mad about you inviting Gojo on her account. She liked him. He felt familiar, like he was already a part of the family. Surprisingly, Ren was home as well, and she had to instruct him to behave in front of the guest.

The doorbell rang, and you felt your breath hitch. You weren’t sure why you were nervous. Maybe it was the lingering tension from your last conversation with Gojo. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to unravel you without even trying. Your mom rushed past you to get the door.

“Hello, Satoru.” She hugged him. “How have you been?” she asked as she led him in.

“Good. Just got back from Tokyo yesterday.” He replied. His usual chirpiness was missing, and it irked you. His eyes landed on you, standing in your blue knitted dress, hair left open with a single pearl clip on one side.

You stared at him—crisp white shirt, navy blue pants, and a matching long coat. “Hi,” you said nervously.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” he asked, hanging his coat on the coat rack and folding up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Better.” You smiled and had to steady yourself.

“This is Ren.” You motioned to your brother, who was already sitting at the table, solving a Sudoku puzzle from his book. “My brother”.

Ren got up and bowed respectfully at Gojo, making Gojo chuckle. “Hello, Ren. Nice to meet you.” Gojo smiled and walked over to you. “This is for you.” He handed you a bouquet of red roses and carnations. “For you.”

You took the bouquet wrapped in pastel pink paper. “Thank you. These are beautiful.”

He turned to your mother and handed her another bouquet—soft pink lilies mixed with white daisies. “And these are for you, ma’am.”

Your mother beamed. “Oh, Satoru, you didn’t have to! These are lovely. Come, sit. You must be tired.”

Gojo nodded, taking a seat at the dining table. You sat beside him, aware of how close your legs were to touching under the table. His presence felt heavier than before—calm, but serious.

“You look exhausted, Satoru,” your mom commented as she placed a bowl of warm soup in front of him. “Are you sleeping well?”

Gojo exhaled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Work’s been keeping me busy.”

“Hmm.” Your mother watched him carefully. “You need to take care of yourself. Stress isn’t good for the body.”

Gojo smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll try.”

You glanced at him, taking in the subtle dark circles under his usually bright eyes. He wasn’t just tired—he was worn down. Something in your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth shut, gripping your spoon a little too tightly.

“Gojo-san,” Ren suddenly spoke, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you my sister’s boyfriend?”

The question dropped like a bomb on the table.

Your breath caught, your fingers freezing mid-motion. Your mom turned to Gojo, slightly amused but saying nothing. The air between you and Gojo turned thick with tension, the heat creeping up your neck.

Gojo, calm as ever, leaned back slightly in his chair. He glanced at you, something unreadable in his gaze, before shifting to Ren. His lips parted just as the phone rang in the living room.

You jumped at the chance to escape. “I’ll get it.” Your voice came out a little too fast as you pushed your chair back, avoiding Gojo’s eyes as you walked out.

As soon as you were gone, Gojo turned back to Ren, his voice even but firm. “Not yet.”

Ren’s eyes widened slightly, looking between Gojo and where you had disappeared. Your mother chuckled, shaking her head as she refilled Gojo’s tea. “Really?”

Gojo let out a small breath, resting his forearms on the table. “Yes”

Your mother gave him a knowing look but said nothing more. The air in the room remained thick with something unspoken, lingering even as you re-entered, phone still in hand, oblivious to what had just been said.

“Y/N.” A familiar voice greeted you. “It’s Kento.”

You relaxed slightly. “Hey, Kento.”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you at how casually you said his name, the easy familiarity in your tone. He recognized the voice from where he sat. Nanami. His jaw clenched, irritation flashing through him as he absently tapped his fingers against the table. Your mother and Ren continued eating, oblivious to the tension radiating from him.

You kept the conversation brief before returning to the table. Your mom looked up at you. “Who was on the phone?”

“Kento,” you replied casually, sitting back down.

Gojo’s grip on his chopsticks tightened slightly. “Kento, huh?” His voice was smooth, but there was something sharp underneath it.

You met his gaze and held it, a flicker of challenge in your eyes. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything else, but the energy between you both shifted. Your mother and Ren seemed oblivious, but the air between you and Gojo grew heavier with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

By the end of dinner, Gojo stood, thanking your mother. “Thank you for having me. The food was wonderful, as always.”

Your mom beamed. “Anytime, Satoru. You’re always welcome here.”

Ren nodded. “Yeah, thanks for coming.”

Your mom glanced at the clock before standing. “Alright, Ren, bedtime.”

“But—”

“No buts. Say goodnight.”

Ren sighed, giving Gojo a quick nod before heading inside. Your mom followed, leaving you and Gojo alone in the quiet house. You hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Tea?”

Gojo raised a brow, studying you. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “Sure.”

Two of you sat down in the living room with two cups of tea on the coffee table.

“What was Nanami saying?” Gojo’s voice was deceptively casual, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

You glanced at him, catching the flicker of something dark in his expression. Possessiveness? Jealousy? You weren’t sure, but it sent a thrill down your spine.

“Just checking up on me.” Your voice was soft, but you made no attempt to ease his mood.

Gojo hummed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Mmm. Nice of him.”

You raised a brow at his clipped tone. “Yeah.” After a beat, you cleared your throat. “How was your trip?” The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Gojo exhaled, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at you. “Fruitful.”

You scoffed. “Fruitful? You just became the head of an entire clan, and all you have to say is fruitful?”

A slow smirk curled on his lips. “What else do you want me to say?” His voice dipped lower, smoother, teasing.

“I don’t know.” You crossed your arms. “Maybe something dramatic? Like—did you wear a fancy robe? Take a blood oath?”

Gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well… yeah. I did wear a robe.” His eyes traced your face, as if daring you to picture him in it. “Did take an oath. No blood involved… well. Some blood.” He said the last part in a hushed tone, leaning in slightly, his breath warm against your skin.

You swallowed hard. “Wow. Must be so cool.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but the way he was looking at you made your pulse race. “So, do you get a ton of bodyguards now?”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I do.” He scrunched his nose playfully, but his eyes were still watching you. “They’re here right now. Very discrete.”

You laughed but then frowned. “Wait, really?”

Gojo just grinned in response. It was moments like this—when he effortlessly turned tension into ease, when his presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort—that made you feel dizzy.

You hesitated before asking, “What happens now?” The weight of the question was obvious. “Now that you’re—you know.”

Gojo’s expression turned unreadable, his playful smirk slipping just slightly. “You know how it goes.” He sighed dramatically, looking off into the distance. “I’ll find a woman and marry her.”

Your chest tightened. “Really?” The word felt heavy on your tongue.

Gojo turned to face you, and then—that smirk. The one that made your knees weak. “Just kidding.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, then scoffed. “Rude” You smacked his arm playfully, but your heart was still hammering.

Gojo didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in, towering over you, his voice dropping an octave. “That bothered you, didn’t it?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “No.”

He tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement. “Liar.” He sipped his tea slowly, letting the warm minty flavour linger on his tongue. “Is that a family photo?”. Gojo corked his head towards a frame near the TV.

“Mmhh. There is a whole album, do you want to see?”.

His smirk deepened. “Absolutely.”

You got up and retrieved a thick photo album from the shelf, the edges slightly worn from years of flipping through its pages. Settling back onto the couch, you placed it across your lap, the weight of it pressing down on your legs. Gojo shifted closer, his thigh brushing against yours, but neither of you moved away.

You flipped open the cover, revealing the first few pages—baby pictures, all round cheeks and chubby fingers. Gojo’s eyes softened as he took in each one, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Look at you,” he murmured, reaching out to trace a finger over one of the images, though he didn’t touch the page. “Tiny, cute, and full of trouble, I bet.”

You laughed. “Oh, absolutely. I was a menace.”

He hummed, eyes flicking between the pictures and you. “Still are.”

You turned the page, revealing a photo of you around seven years old, standing barefoot in a field, arms spread wide as you spun in circles. The sunlight caught in your hair, making it look almost golden.

Gojo felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest. He wondered—if he had a daughter one day, would she look like this? Would she have your eyes, your smile, the same unshakable spirit? Would she tilt her head in curiosity the way you did now? The thought gave him hope. Because it wasn’t just a passing fantasy. It was an image so vivid, so natural, that it felt inevitable. His fingers twitched against the cushion, resisting the urge to reach out, to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, turning another page.

Gojo blinked, tearing his gaze away. “Just trying to picture you as a little gremlin running around.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Sure”. He smirked.

The room had fallen into a comfortable silence as the pages turned, the weight of the album balanced between you. Gojo let his eyes wander across each picture, taking in every version of you that had existed before he met you.

But something nagged at him. He hadn't seen a single baby picture of Ren. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. “What about Ren? I didn’t see any baby pictures of him.”

The question seemed innocent enough, but the way you suddenly tensed, the way your fingers froze mid-turn, made Gojo realize he might have stepped on something sensitive. For a few seconds, you didn’t say anything. The air between you shifted. Gojo’s stomach clenched. Had he pushed too far?

Then, you exhaled, your voice quieter than before. “Ren is my half-brother.”

Gojo blinked, watching you carefully. You still weren’t looking at him, your gaze fixed on the album though you weren’t really seeing it anymore.

“My dad cheated on my mom when I was twelve,” you continued, your tone careful, controlled, like you were picking each word with precision, like this was something you had learned to say without breaking. “One day, he just… showed up with Ren. Said his birth mom had left him and that we had to take him in.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened.

“It was hard. My mom—God, she tried so hard. But I hated him, you know?” You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I was a kid. I didn’t understand. I just knew that my dad had ruined everything, and now there was this little 4 year old kid in our house, and everything revolved around him.”

Gojo didn’t say anything. He let you talk.

“I blamed Ren for so long. I hated him because hating my dad was harder. My mom was holding everything together by a thread, and I—I just made it worse.” You swallowed, blinking quickly. “But then, one day, I realized it wasn’t his fault. He was just a baby. He didn’t ask for any of this.”

Your voice wavered slightly, and Gojo felt something twist deep inside him.

“And then—” you hesitated, taking a shaky breath. “Then my dad left too. Just packed up and went to be with Ren’s birth mom.”

Gojo’s hand clenched into a fist against his thigh. He kept his expression neutral, but inside, something was burning.

“Since then, it’s always been the three of us. Me, my mom, and Ren.” You finally turned to look at him, your eyes shimmering under the warm glow of the lamp. “I love them more than anything in the world. I wouldn’t let anyone destroy this world we have built”

Your voice cracked slightly on the last word, and before Gojo even realized what he was doing, he moved. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in before you could protest. You stiffened for half a second, then melted into him, your forehead resting against his shoulder. Gojo held you close, his fingers tightening slightly against your arm and in his mind, something shifted.

Because in another life—one he barely allowed himself to remember—he hadn’t even asked about this. Hadn’t even tried to know. In that timeline, he had been selfish, cruel. He had never wondered about your past, about the people you cherished. He had been too wrapped up in himself to care. But this was all you had. Your family. The only constants in your life after everything had crumbled. He swore, in that moment, that he would protect all three of you with his life. No matter what.

You straightened up, wiping the lingering dampness from your cheeks. The weight in your chest was still there, but lighter now, like you had let go of something that had been pressing down on you for too long. You glanced at Gojo, who was still watching you, his eyes softer than you had ever seen them.

“What about you?” you asked, your voice quieter now. “What was your childhood like?”

Gojo leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming idly against his knee. He hesitated for a moment, as if he was choosing his words carefully, before finally answering.

“Lonely.”

The word hung in the air between you.

“I didn’t have any siblings. My cousins treated me differently because I was the supposed ‘heir’ to the clan. It wasn’t like your kind of family, where people actually cared about each other. Everything was… calculated.”

You stayed silent, listening.

“My mom was the best thing in my life, though.” His lips curled into a soft, almost melancholic smile. “She was my only friend when I was little. My comfort, my confidant. She made things feel normal, even when they weren’t.”

His expression darkened slightly as he continued. “My father was… different. Our relationship was always formal. He was the head of the clan first and my father second. He did everything in his power to make sure I was ‘ready’ to take over.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your dress. “Was he… strict?”

Gojo exhaled sharply. “Strict is putting it lightly.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “He treated me like a tool. A legacy to maintain, not a son. I think, in his mind, that was just how it was supposed to be.”

Your heart clenched.

Then Gojo’s gaze dropped slightly, his next words barely above a whisper. “My mom was the only grounding force I had. She kept me sane.”

A strange feeling washed over you. You had never heard him speak about his mother before—not like this.

“Then, a year ago…” He hesitated, his fingers curling into a fist against his knee. “She passed away.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Satoru…”

“She took her own life” The word was sharp, bitter. He didn’t look at you. “She couldn’t take it anymore. My father’s abuse. The neglect.The clan politics .I was too busy with work to see it. Too caught up in everything else to recognize the signs.”

Your stomach twisted.

“By the time I realized…” He scoffed, shaking his head. “It was too late.”

A heavy silence followed. You could see it now, the quiet grief buried under all his usual arrogance and charm. The regret that clung to him like a shadow. Slowly, you reached out and squeezed his hand gently.

Gojo blinked, as if pulled from his thoughts. Then he chuckled softly, though there was no real amusement in it. “Look at me,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

You moved closer without thinking, your fingers brushing against his cheek. There was a single tear there, barely visible in the dim light. “You’re not alone,” you whispered, your touch lingering.

Gojo froze.

“You have me.” Your voice was steady, certain. “And Suzume, Maya, and Hitoshi.” You gave him a small, teasing smile. “Maybe even Nanami.”

Gojo let out a soft, genuine laugh at that, shaking his head. “Now that’s a stretch.”

You smiled, but your hand was still on his cheek, your thumb lightly tracing over his skin. The air between you shifted, something warmer, heavier settling in.

You spent the rest of the night sitting on the couch and talking. The space between the two of you had reduced and for a moment both of you forgot that you were in a different timeline. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder, slightly turned towards each other. Fingers playing a game of tag in between. The conversation flowed from school crushes to childhood accidents to favorite ice cream and weird food habits. 

“What’s that?”. You frowned as you pointed a golden hue on the ceiling.

Gojo looked up and chuckled, “Sun?”. He checked his watch, “It’s 5:30 AM Y/n”.

“What?!”. You laughed in disbelief. 

The two of you stared at each other, neither wanting to end this. Gojo smiled, “Do you want to go for a coffee?”.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth”.

“Neither have I. I won’t tell if you don’t”. He winked.

You grabbed your coat from the armrest, “Let’s go”.

Gojo stretched his arms when the two of you stepped out of the house. “It’s a beautiful morning”.

“Where are we going?”. You asked.

“Somewhere special”. Gojo smiled and took your hand in his and smiled to himself when you didn’t pull back.

The drive to the secret cafe was beautiful. The conversation didn’t stop. The car was filled with laughter, flirty remarks, eye rolls, and love. Gojo stopped the car near the shore next to a small cafe. “Why don’t you wait at the bench and I will be back?”. Gojo asked.

You nodded and made your way to the small picnic table. Seashells and sand crunched under your foot. The wind carried the scent of the sea, salty and crisp, as you sat on the bench, waiting for Gojo. The anticipation curled in your stomach, an unfamiliar yet thrilling feeling. You watched as he strolled back towards you, two cups of coffee in hand, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His silver hair was tousled slightly by the breeze, strands falling over his eyes, but you could still feel his gaze on you—intent, hungry, amused.

“Here,” he murmured, handing you a cup before settling beside you, thighs just barely brushing.

The warmth of the cup seeped into your palms, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off Gojo. His presence was suffocating yet intoxicating, a constant push and pull. You took a sip, eyes flickering to him as he did the same. His fingers drummed against the paper cup, his body leaning ever so slightly toward you, like a magnet being drawn in.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he mused, turning his head, “I might think you actually like me.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “And what if I do?” The words slipped before you could stop them. You cursed yourself mentally for being so – casual.

Gojo froze for half a second before his grin widened, something mischievous yet unmistakably tender lurking beneath. “Then I’d say…” He tilted his head, voice lowering. “About damn time.”

Your pulse spiked. Desperate to shake the tension crackling between you, you cleared your throat and gestured toward the water. “Do you think it’s cold?”

Gojo hummed, considering for a moment before flashing his signature grin. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Without hesitation, he pulled off his coat, tossing it onto the bench before reaching down to untie his shoes. You followed suit, the adrenaline already kicking in. The moment your feet hit the damp sand, Gojo grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the waves. A laugh bubbled out of you, breathless and full, as you sprinted into the ocean.

The water was freezing, but neither of you cared. You gasped as a wave rushed over your feet, and Gojo took the opportunity to splash water at you, the droplets cool against your warm skin. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” you warned, retaliating with a splash of your own.

The playful war escalated, laughter echoing across the shore. Gojo suddenly lunged forward, hands gripping your waist as he effortlessly lifted you into the air. You shrieked, clutching onto his shoulders as he spun you around, the world blurring into a dizzy mix of sky and sea.

When he finally set you down, the ocean lapping at your waist, he didn’t let go. His arms remained wrapped around you, fingers pressing lightly against your back. The air between you changed—charged, electric.

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, golden rays casting a warm glow over everything. It felt like even the universe was pausing, holding its breath for what was about to happen.

Gojo hesitated, his grip tightening ever so slightly, eyes locked onto yours. You didn’t give him the chance to second-guess.

Closing the distance, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that started slowly. hesitantly, but quickly turned into something more—something desperate, full of longing, full of unspoken words. His hands slid up your back, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed to memorize the way you felt against him. The taste of salt lingered between you, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was this—him. You could feel the weight being lifted off your chest. You were ready to fall again. With him. 

Gojo had to control himself. His body shuddered with each kiss. He thought about all the time he didn’t kiss you and kissed you harder to make up for it. He thought about all the time he pushed you away, and pulled you closer to make up for it. You were here, in his arms, etched into his soul. You were not just his soulmate, you were his soul, his life force. God, he didn’t want to let you go. Didn’t want this moment to end. He had done it. He had erased the past, carved out a new future, a better future. Gojo sighed between the kisses. He had waited so long for this, and this was perfect. You were perfect. You were his. He has found you again and he will find you in every life.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling in the space between you, Gojo let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His forehead pressed against yours, his fingers ghosting over your jaw.

“I’m not letting you run away this time,” he murmured before leaning in again.

You looked up, the morning sun casted a soft golden glow over his face. With every second in his arms, the past disappeared bit by bit. You stared into his eyes and smiled, you saw love. Pure love. You realized that love was not black and white, it was golden like the morning sun on his face. You didn’t know whether you were supposed to choose him in this life but you did. Whatever happened from here on will be on you and you won’t have any regrets.

“I am in love with you”. Gojo whispered. “Madly. Obsessively.You have possessed me mind and soul .I– I can’t even explain it bu-”.

“I love you”. You cut him off and chuckled. You realized that love isn’t black and white. It can’t be explained by logic or rationale. If someone knew about your history with Gojo they would warn you to stay away from him. But right now, right here, in this moment you were in love with him. Maybe your love was the color of his hair in the morning sun.. golden.

He had offered to drop you home but you were entirely too drenched to go home or stay out so here you were, the elevator ride up to Gojo’s penthouse was silent, but the tension in the air was anything but. Your skin still tingled from the saltwater, from his touch, from the way his hands had held onto you just a little longer than necessary. Every glance he stole, every brush of his fingers against yours as you both stood side by side—it was intoxicating. 

The moment the doors slid open, you stepped into his home, and your breath hitched. Gojo’s penthouse was nothing short of stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the city, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. Soft, ambient lighting cast a warm glow over the sleek, modern decor—deep, navy blue accents contrasting against the cool marble floors. The open space felt effortless, luxurious without being ostentatious.

“You like it?” Gojo’s voice was casual, but there was something behind it—something expectant.

You turned to him, lips parted in awe. “Gojo, this is… breathtaking.”

He grinned, pleased. “I do have excellent taste.”

He slipped his fingers around your wrist, his touch gentle but deliberate, and led you toward the bedroom. The second you stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The room was dimly lit, the city lights filtering in through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on the dark wooden floors. The bed was massive, covered in plush sheets that looked entirely too inviting.

And then there was him. Standing close. Too close. Your pulse quickened as he reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. His fingers barely skimmed your skin, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, trying to steady your breathing.

Gojo smirked, his voice dropping lower. “Hard not to.”

His eyes burned into yours—blue flames in the dim light. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the restrained intensity behind his playful demeanor. He always had that carefree smile, that teasing attitude—but right now? Right now, there was something hungry in the way he looked at you.

You swallowed hard. “We should probably—”

But before you could finish, he closed the distance.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and desperate, his hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you against him. You gasped into the kiss, fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt as he backed you up against the edge of the bed.

The kiss was different from the one on the beach—this wasn’t slow, wasn’t careful. This was years of tension unraveling, of lingering glances finally finding their release. His grip tightened, fingers pressing into your hips, as if making sure you were real. He kissed you like he was starving. Like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned against your lips, the sound sending heat pooling in your stomach. He deepened the kiss, tilting your chin up, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

Gojo pulled away just enough to murmur, his breath hot against your skin, “Tell me you want this.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

His lips were on yours again in an instant. You didn’t waste any time as your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and you hastily removed them, breaking some in the process but you didn’t care and neither did he. He took his shirt off in one swift motion and then slowly scrunched up your dress slowly, tracing burning lines from your knee to your thighs to your waist to your ribs and then your soaking dress was on the floor. He broke the kiss and stared down at you like a man possessed. “You are breathtaking”. He whispered before grabbing you by your waist and gently lowering you on the bed. 

His mouth found your neck and he started leaving wet trails from the top of your neck to your shoulder to your clavicle. Your whole body ached in desperation. When he reached the heavenly place between your breasts he looked up at you with hungry eyes. Then without breaking eye contact he snapped your bra open and tossed it aside. His mouth found one of your breasts while his hand slid painfully slow down your stomach and slid under the thin strap of your lace thong. Gojo knew your body and he was going to use the knowledge to his advantage. 

His finger applied gentle pressure on your clit while he sucked and licked your breast. Your eyes rolled back as the pressure started building. You threw your back and let out a sinful moan which sent Gojo to heaven. Your one hand threaded through his hair while the other gripped the headboard as you moved slowly letting out one sinful moan after the other. Gojo took the chance and increased the pressure on your clit and that sent jolts of electricity through your body. He switched to the other breast as he slid his fingers lower and gently put them in your hole halfway and brought it out.In and out. In and out .He was making you go crazy and he knew it and he loved it. He repeated the same motion again and again. Each time going a little further.

“Fuck”. You groaned.

Gojo lifted his head up and began kissing down your stomach. The taste of your skin on his tongue made his head spin. He was high on your touch, your taste, and he hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet. His hard on was pressing painfully against his black pants but he didn’t care. He wanted to take his time. He wanted you to only think of him. He wanted to be the only thing occupying your mind. 

With slow deliberate motion he pulled down the lace thong  and threw it in a  corner. Once he was between your legs he looked up, you balanced yourself on your elbow and looked down at him. He could have busted right there at the view of you. Your soaked hair falling perfectly across your face, your eyes locked into his, challenging him to go ahead, your lips swollen all credits to him.

Your breath hitched, his pupils blown wide as he smirked before dipping his head lower between your legs. He licked one long strip and you were gone. You threw your head back and moaned. Gojo flicked your clit with his tongue a few times, teasing you, before bringing his mouth onto it and sucking in sharple making your body shudder. He continued sucking on your clit as he put two fingers inside of you and curled them up at just the right time.

Your body moved with his motion, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. Your back arched as your hand found itself in his hair again and your hips moved with his fingers in a perfect tandem.

“I– I’m going to-Ah”.

Gojo didn’t reply but got aggressive with his masterful maneuvers. He groaned and licked and sucked like a man starved being served his favourite meal. Within minutes you were gushing all over his fingers as your body shuddered. Your vision went white and your ears rang. 

Gojo sat up on his knees between your legs. He looked down at you and sucked his two fingers and groaned. That view made you twitch. He came up, leaning on his elbow on your side. “We can stop now if you want”. He spoke with his lips moving with each word on yours. 

“N– no”. You breathe out as you pull him by the back of his neck for a kiss. 

That’s all he needed to head. He broke the kiss and took his pants and boxers off together before climbing on top again. “Are you sure?”. He asked.

Your hands moved from his shoulder to stomach and to his cock. You rubbed him slowly and Gojo closed his eyes in bliss. “Yes”. You whispered near his ear as you kissed his neck. 

“You’re teasing me”. Gojo said while he moved in your hands.

“So?”. You asked, feigning innocence.

“You are going to be the death of me”. He said. But then his demeanor shifted. He was no longer in a mood to tease and joke. He wanted to make you his. He grabbed your wrist and then the other one in one hand and pinned it above your head. “I’ve waited for you. For a lifetime”, He gave a devilish smirk as he slowly bent your right leg till your knees were above your waist and positioned himself between your legs, “You are mine now y/n l/n. All mine”. 

His words, his touch, his smell, all of him made you dizzy in the best way possible. You felt him probing at your entrance. Like he was testing the waters. Then he entered slowly. Inch by inch. Passing each ring of muscle painfully slowly. Your breath hitched once he was fully inside.

Gojo groaned once he was fully in. This is where he belonged. He bent over you and started thrusting slowly. He moaned when you clenched around him. Oh you were so perfect. So perfect for him. With each thrust he felt closer to the god itself.

“Fuck– Satoru!”. You moaned as you bit your lips.

“Yes, love?”. Gojo said as he pecked your lips gently. “You are so beautiful. You are divine”.

His words made you clench. Gojo didn’t miss that sign as he picked up his pace. “Oh god love! You are mine. Okay? All mine. You’re so perfect!”. Gojo grunted as he brought his lips to yours and picked up his pace.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with grunts and moans. 

No one had ever had you like Gojo did. He knew how to push you over the edge and pull you back. He still had that skill. With each thrust you felt closer to him than ever before. It felt like your souls were merging together somewhere between the light sheen of sweat on your skin.

“I love you y/n”/ Gojo said as he continued thrusting but staring right in your eyes. “Fuck I love you so much”.

Your breath hitched as the knot grew tighter and tighter. “I– I’m– clo–close”.

“Cum on my cock love. It’s all yours. Fuck! All yours. Only yours!”. You groaned. His own end is not too farr of sight. As you spasmed uncontrollably around him, Gojo couldn’t hold himself any longer.

“Where can-”. He asked between broken moans.

“In!”. You screamed.

Your command turned his vision white. You came together as Gojo fucked you right through yours. You felt his cock twitch inside you as he came and for a minute none of you said anything.

Gojo slept right next to you and pulled you in his embrace. “You okay?”.

You nodded, still hazy from the crushing orgasm you had. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up”. Gojo said as he scooped you in his arms and carried you to the bathroom.

Your muscles relaxed as the two of you settled in the warm bath. “We have to go to work”.

Gojo chuckled behind you. He looked down at you lying on his chest, “Don’t worry about it. I am sure your boss would understand”.

You chuckled, “I have to go home to get changed though”. You were about to get up but Gojo pulled you back in.

“Don’t worry about it either. Just stay here with me. I don't want to spend another second without you”. Gojo spoke against your neck.

Needless to say that you didn’t have to worry about anything. As you stepped out of the bath a cloth rack with multiple outfits was waiting for you. Of course. 

“You know, we don’t have to go to work today? We can stay here all day”. Gojo whispered as he hugged you from behind.

“But I do. I have an important meeting with Maya about the new centre”. You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck, “Besides, I don’t want to stay in all day”

Gojo groaned and buried his face, “You’re mean”.

You arrived in the office an hour before lunch and immediately asked Maya to meet you in your office. You had given Gojo another chance but this time was going to be different. 

The knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts. "Come in," you called.

Maya stepped in, taking a single glance at you before freezing in place. Her eyes raked over you, from the designer blouse to the perfectly fitted slacks and the subtle yet noticeable diamond bracelet on your wrist. Then, with an exaggerated whistle, she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" she said, eyes glinting with amusement. "You look different. You look... rich."

You rolled your eyes, but a laugh slipped out. "Shut up, Maya."

"I'm serious!" She walked up, inspecting you like you were a painting in a museum. "The hair? The glow? The ridiculously well-tailored outfit? This is not your usual 'I barely had time this morning' look. What the hell happened?"

You took a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and gestured for her to sit. Maya raised an eyebrow but obeyed, settling onto the chair across from your desk.

"Okay," you started, pressing your palms against the desk. "Promise you won’t freak out?"

Maya narrowed her eyes. "Now I have to freak out."

You exhaled, then finally let the words spill out. "Gojo came over for dinner."

Maya’s lips parted slightly, but she held back whatever quip was on the tip of her tongue.

"We spent the whole night talking on my couch," you continued, feeling your face heat up at the memory. "We talked about everything—our childhoods, school, the stupid things we did growing up. It was... nice." You smiled to yourself before shaking your head. "And in the morning, he took me to this beautiful beachside café, just the two of us, and—"

Maya sat up straighter, her eyes wide. "And?"

You hesitated, but there was no point in hiding it. "We kissed."

Maya gasped dramatically, grabbing one of the throw pillows and smacking you with it. "Finally!" she shrieked.

You groaned, pushing the pillow away. "Let me finish, you menace."

Maya made a zipping motion over her lips, but the giddy excitement in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

You bit your lip, suddenly shy. "After that, we went back to his place and... things happened"

Maya’s mouth fell open. "Oh.my.God."

You buried your face in your hands. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Maya cackled. "Like my best friend is finally getting dicked down by the richest, hottest man in the country who also happens to be the head of the most influential family?!" She threw her hands up. "Because that's exactly how I'm looking at you!"

You groaned again, face burning. "Maya, please."

"No, no, I need details—actually, no, I don’t. I can already tell by the way you’re blushing like a teenager that it was good." She smirked. "But, uh, explain the new wardrobe, Miss Fancy Pants."

You sighed, shaking your head. "I had to clean up and I told him that I should head home and he said not to worry about it and the next thing I know Gojo got a whole wardrobe ready for me." You gestured at your outfit. "That's why I look like this."

Maya stared at you, completely silent for a beat. Then she leaned back, whistling again. "So let me get this straight. Gojo Satoru, the Gojo Satoru, has been in love with you since the day he stepped foot in this office, and now that you’re finally giving him a chance, he’s spoiling the absolute shit out of you?" She crossed her legs, looking deeply satisfied. "Damn”

You fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. "He’s not—"

"Oh, please," Maya cut you off. "Rich men don’t just casually fill an entire wardrobe with custom-fitted designer clothes for someone unless they’re whipped." She smirked. "And Gojo? That man is obsessed with you."

You looked away, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Maya grinned. "I can’t wait to see where this goes."

“That’s why I need you. No one can know about this. I want to take things slow”.

Maya smiled, “That man is obsessed with you, What-”.

“Stop saying that. He is not obsessed. We are just two people who like each other”.

“You want to test my theory?”.

“I don’t want to test anything Maya”. You sighed.

“Well I do. I will show you just how crazy he is”. Maya’s voice trailed off as she began typing something on her phone. “Now we wait”.

“Maya this isn’t funny”. 

“Look, I know he is a bit too much”, She said keeping her phone aside, “and it is totally fair if you want to take things slow but you need to tell him that. Because from what I have observed I am sure he is already picking out wedding destinations”. Maya sipped from her stanley. “Whatever you do, just know that I am always here for you”.

“Will you always be on my side? No matter how many favors Gojo does for you?”.

Maya reached across the table and put her hand on yours. “Always” A knock on the door made Maya smirk, “Come in!”. She ordered.

A man with two smoothies walked in. “For Ms.Y/n”, He bowed and put it on the table before taking his leave.

“What is this?”. You asked.

“I just texted Gojo to ask where I could find the best green smoothie as you were looking a little tired and I wanted to surprise you. Viola”. Maya grabbed one of the smoothies and got up. “That man is obsessed. I am here if you want to talk. But give him an honest chance”. She shrugged and walked out.

You stared at the smoothie. How can you tell Maya that this is how it starts. He makes you feel special and then hurts you in the end? Tears rolled down your cheek as you hid your face in your hand. Last 24 hours have been some of the best moments you have shared with Gojo. But you were scared. Terrified. What if this was history repeating itself? What if you had set yourself on the same path you had tried to escape?

You thought about everything that was different, This Gojo was more attentive. More attuned to your needs. More present. You thought about your first date with Gojo in another life. It was at a club. Sure it ended the same way as this one did but this seemed different somehow. Even the way he held you felt different. You took out a tissue and dabbed it over your eyes to get rid of the tears. Maybe Maya was right, maybe he did deserve an honest chance. But what if you can’t escape this time? Who could you even tell about the other life?

The cafeteria was buzzing with chatter, but at your table, the atmosphere was even louder—at least emotionally.

You sat beside Gojo, your tray untouched, while Maya and Juno sat across from the two of you. Gojo was casually sipping on his iced coffee, his sunglasses resting on the table, looking effortlessly unbothered. But Maya? She had that look—the one that told you she was up to something. And she was. Because Maya knew. She knew everything. And Gojo didn’t know that she knew.

You had barely lifted your fork when Maya leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, Gojo,” she started, voice light and way too innocent, “what did you do yesterday?”

Gojo barely spared her a glance as he stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. “Nothing much.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Had a good night. Spent time with someone special.”

You choked on your drink. Gojo immediately turned to you, rubbing your back with concern. “You okay?”

You nodded frantically, coughing into your napkin while Maya bit back a laugh. Juno looked between all of you, clearly sensing that something was going on.

“Someone special?” Maya drawled, raising an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. Who’s the lucky person?”

Gojo glanced at her, then at you. You shot him a warning look. Do not say my name.

But Gojo, being Gojo, just smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Maya grinned, undeterred. “Oh, I would.” She rested her chin on her palm, feigning curiosity. “Actually, I’ve been wondering about something.”

Gojo leaned back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair. “Go on.”

Maya took a casual sip of her drink, then, with the same innocent expression, asked, “What kind of woman do you like?”

Gojo blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Huh?”

Maya shrugged. “You know, what’s your type?”

Juno stifled a laugh, catching on to what was happening.

Gojo rubbed his chin, considering. “Hmm. I guess I like strong-willed women. Smart, independent, someone who challenges me.” His lips curved into a small smile. “Someone who keeps me on my toes.”

Maya hummed. “Interesting. And what kind of man are you when you're in a relationship?”

You mentally screamed at her.

Gojo chuckled, completely unaware that he was walking straight into a trap. “Oh, I’m great in relationships,” he said smoothly. “Very devoted. Very affectionate. I spoil my girl.”

Maya’s grin widened. “Oh, I bet you do.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if something was clicking into place. He glanced at you. “Why do I feel like I’m being set up?”

You stabbed your fork into your salad, avoiding his gaze. “No idea.”

Maya continued, undeterred. “So, does this special person know just how devoted you are?”

Gojo tilted his head. “Maya…” His tone was laced with suspicion.

Maya’s smirk was practically evil now. She leaned forward. “Do I know this special person?”

Gojo finally caught on. His eyes flicked between you and Maya, realization dawning. He looked at Maya. Then at you. Then back at Maya. Then back at you.

You could see the exact moment it hit him. His entire expression shifted, mouth parting slightly before his eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, turning fully to you. “You told her?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I had to tell someone!”

Gojo blinked rapidly, then turned back to Maya, completely scandalized. “And you let me embarrass myself?”

Maya burst into laughter. “Oh, I encouraged it.”

Juno, who had been watching the chaos unfold with amusement, finally spoke. “This is the best lunch we’ve had in weeks.”

Gojo shook his head, running a hand down his face. Then, after a moment, he grinned. That slow, mischievous, dangerous grin.

He turned to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always made your stomach flip. “If you’re telling secrets, sweetheart, maybe I should tell some too.”

Your eyes widened. “Gojo. No.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Like how you looked so good in my shirt today morning—” You kicked him under the table, face burning, while Maya and Juno howled with laughter.

The office was quiet, the last remnants of the day settling into a comfortable stillness as you packed up your things. You sighed, stretching your arms above your head, ready to leave when a familiar presence filled the doorway.

Gojo leaned against the frame, looking entirely too comfortable in his usual casual yet effortlessly cool stance. His sharp blue eyes watched you with an unreadable expression, his lips curving into that lazy, almost-too-charming smile.

"Need a ride home?" he asked, voice smooth, casual—too casual.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, a part of you wanting to say yes, to spend more time with him after everything that had happened between you two recently. But another part of you—one that desperately needed some quiet—held you back.

"Thanks, but no," you said, forcing a small smile. "I have dinner with my family tonight."

Gojo's brows lifted, just barely. "Family dinner, huh?" He clicked his tongue, and walked over to you, "That’s a shame. I was hoping for some alone time with my favorite person."

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, even as your heart did a stupid little flip. "You'll survive."

Gojo opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something teasing, but before he could, another voice cut in.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" You turned, finding Nanami entering your office, his usual composed demeanor in place. He held his briefcase in one hand, his gaze steady as he addressed you.

Gojo’s entire body stiffened. His head turned slightly, the barely-there twitch of his jaw betraying his irritation. Fucking Nanami. The moment had been perfect, just the two of you, and of course Nanami had to walk in and ruin it.

You, however, didn’t seem to notice the shift in Gojo’s energy. Your face lit up as you nodded. "Yeah, I can't wait!"

Gojo frowned. "Wait—what are you excited about?"

You glanced at him, as if realizing he hadn't been in the loop. "Oh, I'm going on a hiking trip to Mt. Hiei tomorrow. I want to see the marathon monks."

Gojo blinked. "Hiking?"

"Yeah," you said, grinning. "Nanami even said I’m allowed to sing at the top of my lungs on the way there."

Nanami exhaled sharply. "I did not say that. I said you could sing, but I made no promises about my patience."

You smirked. "Which means I’m absolutely taking full advantage of this rare opportunity."

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple. "I’m already regretting this."

“No Backsies!”. You chuckled.

Gojo watched the two of you banter, something unpleasant settling in his chest. You looked too at ease with Nanami, too playful, too… comfortable.

And it bothered him. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned back against your desk, arms crossed, forcing a casual expression as he watched you laugh at something Nanami muttered under his breath. Gojo hated it. Hated that Nanami could get those easy smiles out of you, that he could make you look forward to something that he hadn’t been a part of.

Gojo spent the whole Saturday pacing around his living room. He kept checking his phone for a call or a text from you. Not that you had promised anything but you should contact him right? You were practically married now. His phone buzzed, you had posted an instagram story. He immediately tapped it open and regretted it. It was a selfie that you took with Nanami driving in the background with a smile. Singing on top of my lungs ontw to a beautiful hike! Thanks for keeping up with me @n.kento. 

He scoffed and threw his phone on the couch. 

You put your phone down and leaned back in the chair. “It is such a beautiful day”.

“It is”. Nanami smiled as he tapped his finger on the steering wheel. Something had been weighing on his heart and he didn’t know how to bring it up. 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, watching him closely.

Nanami sighed, a heavy sound that carried years of resentment and buried pain. “It’s about Gojo.”

A pit formed in your stomach at the mere mention of the name. “Gojo? What about him?”

Nanami hesitated, his fingers curling into fists against the table as if he were trying to suppress the emotions threatening to surface. “There is something you need to know about him.”

The seriousness in his tone made you turn to him fully, lowering the volume of the song playing in the background. “What is it?”

He looked away, staring out into the darkness beyond the window as if searching for the right words. “Please don’t think that I am trying to smear his name. I am only sharing this so that you know why he and I can never get along.”

A chill ran through you. “Oh… did something happen between you two?”

Nanami took a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he finally spoke again. “Five years ago, I was working in Tokyo. In domain dynamics.”

Your breath hitched. You had no idea that Nanami had been part of domain dynamics before. That meant he had known Gojo long before everything else. The realization made your stomach churn.

“We were friends,” he continued. “Not close friends, but friends. I was in a relationship with a woman I had met at a café outside the office. Her name was Mishki.”

The name struck you like a dagger, reopening wounds you had long since tried to ignore. Mishki. The name brought with it memories that were best left buried. You remembered how close Gojo was with her, how he often left you behind just to go see her. You knew where this story was going, but you remained silent, afraid to hear the confirmation of your worst suspicions.

“I introduced Mishki to everyone, including Gojo. I took her to Gojo’s birthday at his penthouse. At that point, she and I had been together for two years...” Nanami paused, his fingers trembling slightly as he exhaled shakily. “That was my biggest mistake.”

Your heart clenched. You knew what was coming, but the weight of it still crushed you.

“All of us were drinking, talking, just… having fun,” Nanami continued, his voice quieter now, as if the memory itself drained him. “When it was time to go, I searched for her, but I couldn’t find her. I went around the penthouse… and I heard sounds.”

“Kento, you don’t have to—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s fine.” He gave you a sad, empty smile, one that did nothing to ease the pain radiating from him. “It was long ago.”

The silence between you stretched thin, fragile, ready to snap. And then he said the words you dreaded. “I found them in his bedroom.”

Your hands clenched into fists on your lap as your heart plummeted. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? That you were sorry? That it wasn’t fair? None of it would change the past. None of it would take away the betrayal.

“I left immediately,” Nanami said, voice hollow. “But later on, I talked to her… to understand what happened. I really loved her, Y/N.”

The rawness in his voice nearly broke you.

“She told me that Gojo had offered her a position at the firm. A better position than mine. That, I didn’t mind.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But then she told me how Gojo really loved her. And that she loved him.”

Your chest tightened, your breath coming out in shallow puffs.

“I found out they had been talking for a while,” Nanami continued, voice now hoarse. “The worst part? Gojo knew how much I loved her. He—” Nanami swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he forced himself to continue. “He knew I was going to ask her to marry me.”

The weight of his words crashed over you like a tidal wave.

“Did you confront him?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Nanami closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to block out the memory. “He laughed in my face and said Mishki was too good for me anyway. That she came from a rich family, was ambitious, and I… I was just me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Oh god. Kento… I am so sorry.” You reached for his hand instinctively, tears rolling down your cheeks.”Did he at least apologize?”

Nanami chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. “You think he ever apologized? In return, he bought my company and made me his employee again.” He exhaled sharply. “Maybe he was right. I am just a no one. I don’t have money or power.”

“No.” Your voice was firm as you gripped his hand tightly. “You have a good heart. That is something that can’t be bought.”

Nanami blinked at you, as if unsure how to process your words. Then, slowly, he gave you a small, weary smile. “Thank you.”

Your heart ached for him. He had been through so much, suffered betrayals that no one should ever have to endure. And yet, despite everything, he remained kind. Strong. Good. 

The crisp mountain air filled your lungs as you took another deep breath, your excitement bubbling over as you took in the breathtaking view from the trail. Mt. Hiei stretched out before you in all its natural glory—rolling green slopes, mist curling around the trees like something out of a dream, and the distant sight of temple roofs peeking through the dense forest. The sounds of rustling leaves and birdsong made the entire experience feel almost sacred.

Nanami followed closely behind, his usual composed demeanor softened by the tranquility of nature. He had agreed to this trip mostly because of your enthusiasm, and while he had been looking forward to a peaceful hike, he found himself increasingly distracted.

By you.

You walked ahead of him, your steps light and filled with energy, your face glowing with excitement. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden hue over your skin, making you look almost ethereal. Every now and then, you would stop to admire a flower or point out something interesting—a particularly twisted tree, the way the moss covered the rocks like a soft blanket, or the distant silhouette of a monk walking along the trail.

Nanami should have been appreciating the beauty of nature, but his eyes kept straying to you.

And for the first time in a long time, he found himself wondering—had he been an idiot?

He had always been careful, always held himself back when it came to you. Because of Gojo. Because of the way Gojo always seemed to orbit around you, like you were the sun he couldn’t escape.

But watching you now, he wondered—had he given up too easily?

“Nanami, look!” you called out, turning toward him with a bright smile, your hair catching the wind. “You can see the whole valley from here!”

He stepped closer, his gaze flickering between the view and your expression. You were so happy, so alive out here.

And damn it, you were beautiful.

Before he could stop himself, he asked, “How are things between you and Gojo?”

Your smile faltered just a fraction—so subtle that if he hadn’t been watching you so closely, he might have missed it.

You hesitated, just for a second. You could have told him the truth. That you and Gojo had crossed lines that couldn’t be undone. That Gojo was no longer just a friend, no longer just a presence in your life but something more. But something inside you resisted.

“It’s… okay,” you finally said, voice measured, careful.

Nanami nodded slowly, processing your words. Okay. That wasn’t good. But it wasn’t bad either.

It meant there was still a chance.

Maybe Gojo hadn’t ruined everything for him just yet.

Gojo paced around his penthouse, one hand running through his already-messy hair, the other holding his phone as he FaceTimed with Shoko and Geto. His sunglasses were tossed onto the coffee table, his usually smug expression replaced by something bordering on pure frustration.

“She went hiking with Nanami,” Gojo huffed, practically seething. “Nanami.”

On the screen, Geto raised an eyebrow while Shoko exhaled dramatically, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

“So?” Shoko said lazily. “It’s just a hike.”

Gojo scoffed. “It’s not just a hike. It’s Mt. Hiei. That’s a romantic hike.”

Geto looked unimpressed. “Satoru, it’s a mountain.”

Gojo threw himself onto his couch, groaning loudly. “It’s not about the damn mountain! It’s about the fact that she went with him and not me.”

“You sound like a child,” Shoko muttered.

“I do not,” Gojo shot back. “I sound like someone whose girlfriend is spending the entire day with another man, probably laughing at all his stupid Nanami things.”

“Nanami things?” Geto repeated, amused.

“You know,” Gojo waved. “The deep voice. The brooding. The manners. Girls love that shit.”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Maybe she just wanted some space, Gojo.”

Geto leaned back, folding his arms. “Yeah, I think that’s the real problem here.”

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Geto sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Last time, you were obsessed with her, Satoru. And what happened?”

Gojo tensed.

“You drove her away,” Geto continued. “Maybe this time, you should try giving her some space instead of acting like a possessive idiot.”

Shoko nodded. “He’s right. You need to chill.Stop trying to dictate who she can spend time with”

Gojo scowled, sitting up straight. “I am chill.”

Geto and Shoko exchanged looks.

“No, you’re not,” they said in unison.

Gojo groaned, falling back against the couch. “You guys don’t get it. What if Nanami is trying to steal her from me?”

Geto sighed. “Then trust her to make her own choice.”

Gojo grumbled something under his breath, grabbing his phone and refreshing Instagram. Again. His stomach twisted at the first story. A selfie of you and Nanami, standing at the trailhead, both grinning. His jaw clenched. That should’ve been me. Another story. A video of you twirling around, arms spread wide, laughing as the wind played with your hair. Nanami’s voice could be heard in the background, saying something dry and unimpressed. Gojo hated it. Another story. A photo of a breathtaking view—but all Gojo saw was the fact that Nanami was in it, standing next to you.

Gojo tossed his phone onto the couch, rubbing his temples. “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Shoko sighed. “For everyone’s sake, please don’t.”

Gojo had been staring at his phone for an hour now. His message sat there, unread.

Gojo: Are you home?

No reply. Not a single notification. He scrolled back to your Instagram stories, watching them again, his jaw tightening with each one. You had spent the entire day with Nanami, hiking, laughing, and taking in breathtaking views—without him. Now, an hour after your hike had ended, you still weren’t home? Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tapping restlessly against the couch before he snapped and dialed Geto and Shoko on FaceTime again. The call connected almost immediately.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Shoko groaned when she saw his face. “Satoru, it’s been one hour. ONE.”

Geto sighed, already rubbing his temple. “What now?”

Gojo leaned forward, his frustration evident. “She’s not replying.”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Maybe because she’s busy?”

Geto smirked. “Or maybe she’s just ignoring you.”

Gojo shot him a glare. “Not funny.”

“Actually, it’s very funny,” Geto muttered.

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, restless. “She always replies. But she’s been out with Nanami all day, and now she’s just—gone?” He scoffed. “What the hell are they even doing?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she just wanted to grab dinner after the hike?”

Gojo froze. Then his eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God,” he whispered, voice almost distant. “They’re at dinner together.”

“Uh—” Geto started, but Gojo was already spiraling.

“Why would they be at dinner?” Gojo’s voice grew sharper, paranoia seeping into his tone. “They were together all day, and now they need to prolong the date?”

“Date?” Shoko repeated.

Gojo ignored her. “What if he’s making a move on her right now?” His fingers clenched into a fist. “What if he’s trying to kiss her—”

Shoko and Geto groaned in unison. “For fuck’s sake,” Shoko muttered. “Nanami is not kissing her.”

“You don’t know that!” Gojo snapped.

Geto exhaled slowly. “Satoru, listen to me. She is not yours to control.” Gojo’s head snapped toward him, blue eyes dark with frustration. Geto’s expression didn’t waver. “If she wants to have dinner with anyone, she can.”

Gojo clenched his jaw. “Yeah, well, she should be having dinner with me.” Just then, his phone buzzed. Your name flashed across the screen.

Y/n: Hey, sorry, I just got home. Decided to grab dinner with Nanami after the hike.

Gojo froze. Then, slowly, he checked the time. 11:30 PM. His grip on his phone tightened. She was with him until now? Until almost midnight? “Oh, hell no,” Gojo muttered under his breath.

Geto and Shoko watched in exasperation as Gojo’s entire body tensed, his face twisting with barely-contained jealousy.

“Satoru,” Geto said, tone warning. “Do not do something stupid.”

Gojo’s mind was already racing, picturing exactly how the night had gone. Had Nanami walked you to your door? Had he leaned in? Has he touched you? Gojo hated it. He shot up from the couch, grabbing his jacket.

“I need to see her,” he muttered.

“No, you don’t,” Shoko deadpanned.

Geto sighed, already knowing this was going to be a long night. “For the love of—Gojo, sit down. You will scare her away!”.

Gojo stopped in his tracks. Geto was right. If you wanted the space to do your own thing then he should give you just that. If Nanami causes any problem for him then he knows exactly how to take care of it.

Sunday afternoon was a test of Gojo’s patience. He was already restless when he called you, craving the sound of your voice, the feeling of you near him. After one whole day of being deprived of your presence—thanks to Nanami—he was ready to reclaim your attention. But when you answered, your voice was light, casual, and utterly indifferent to his growing frustration.

“I can’t see you today, Satoru,” you said. “I have some important housework to take care of, so I’m busy the whole day.”

Gojo had to physically stop himself from groaning. Housework? Housework? You were ditching him for chores? His grip on his phone tightened. He wanted to argue, to whine, to remind you that he could have someone else take care of your entire apartment while you spent the day with him instead. But then he heard Geto’s voice in his head. Give her space, Satoru.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips together. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, leaning his head back against the couch. “But you owe me for this.”

You laughed, and the sound eased his irritation just a fraction. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Gojo clung to that promise, counting down the hours until Monday.

The first thing Gojo saw when he entered the cafeteria was you. The first thing he noticed was that you weren’t alone. You sat with Nanami and Maya, laughing at something, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your smile too bright for so early in the morning. Gojo immediately felt an ugly twist in his stomach.

He was at your table before he could stop himself, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair as he sat beside you. “Morning.” His voice was light, but there was an edge underneath it. His sharp gaze flickered to Nanami, then back to you. “What’s going on?”

You turned to him, still smiling, oblivious to his irritation. “I was just telling them about the hike yesterday!”

Gojo forced a relaxed grin. “Oh? Do share.”

You launched into an animated story about the trip—how the air was crisp, how the view from the temple was breathtaking, how you had watched the marathon monks train. Your excitement was adorable, your eyes full of wonder. Gojo wanted to be happy for you. He did—but every time you mentioned Nanami’s name, his fingers curled into his palm beneath the table. And then Maya—his worst nightmare in human form—decided to take things further.

“Oh, Y/n,” she gasped dramatically. “You have to tell Gojo the story about how you almost fell and Nanami caught you just in time.”

Gojo’s body stiffened. His entire world came to a halt. You what? You tripped? And Nanami—that asshole—had been the one to catch you? 

You chuckled, brushing off her words. “It wasn’t that dramatic—”

“Oh, it was,” Maya interrupted. “She tripped on a rock, and if Nanami hadn’t been right there, she would’ve completely wiped out. It was very romantic.”

Gojo clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Nanami, for his part, remained impassive, sipping his coffee as if the conversation was of no interest to him. Gojo wanted to strangle him. The thought of Nanami’s hands on you—of him being the one to catch you, to hold you, even for a second—made Gojo’s blood boil. But he forced his expression to remain neutral, even as his fingers dug into his thigh beneath the table.

“Sounds like an eventful hike,” he said smoothly, flashing a too-bright smile.

“Oh, it was,” Maya said, not even trying to hide her amusement.

Gojo turned his attention fully to you, ignoring everyone else. “Y/n, come to my office after this. We need to discuss the next step for the community center campaign.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

The moment you stepped into his office, Gojo shut the door behind you—and locked it.

You barely had time to react before his hands were on you, gripping your waist, pulling you into him. His lips crashed against yours, hot and desperate, his frustration from the entire weekend spilling into the kiss. It was needy, possessive—as if he was trying to remind you exactly who you belonged to. Your fingers curled into his shirt, your body pressing against his instinctively. The kiss was overwhelming, intoxicating, sending heat coursing through your veins. Gojo’s grip tightened, his fingers pressing into your hips, claiming you.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough. “I missed you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “And I’m booking all of your weekends for the rest of your life.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Satoru—”

“I’m serious.” His voice was firm, his usual teasing tone completely absent. “From now on I’ll be the one to catch you, hold you, touch you”.

That caught you off guard. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t joking. Not even a little bit.

You hesitated and pulled back from his embrace, choosing your words carefully. “That’s very sweet of you but I– I just want to see where this goes. Just want to take things slow and not dive head first like a fool like last time!”

Gojo frowned, his hands still resting on your waist. “Slow?”

“Yeah. You know, go on a few dates, spend some time and see how we fit into each other’s world”.

“I see”. Gojo flashed a flat smile that didn’t reach his eyes and pulled back. “Sure. If that’s what you want then I am happy to go as slow or as fast as you want”. He said calmly.

You could see he was hurt and you felt terrible. “Satoru.. I really like you and that’s the only reason I want to be cautious”.

Gojo looked down at the space between the two of you and nodded. “I know. Understood.”. He kissed you goodbye and watched you leave with a slow smirk on his face. Last time

The morning air felt unusually still, as if the universe itself was holding its breath. You had been awake for hours, pacing the wooden floors of the house, your heart pounding in anticipation of what you knew was about to happen. Today was the day. The day your mother would collapse in the kitchen, hit her head on the table, and slip into a coma. The day that had haunted your every waking thought since you returned from the future.

You had replayed the scene in your head over and over, dissecting every moment, every tiny detail. In the other timeline, you had been out running errands when it happened. You remembered the dread that had settled in your chest when you got the frantic call from a neighbor, their voice high with panic. You had rushed home only to find her unconscious on the kitchen floor, blood pooling beneath her head. The doctors had said the impact had worsened her condition, and within hours, the stroke had taken hold. You had lost her before you even had a chance to fight. But not this time.

This time, you were ready.

You had moved the small kitchen table to the side the night before, ensuring there was nothing in her path when she fell. You had borrowed Maya’s car, feeding her some excuse about moving furniture, and parked it right outside the house, engine ready. Your slip-on shoes sat neatly by the door, positioned for a swift exit.

At 6:30 AM, your mother shuffled into the kitchen, her hand pressed to her forehead. “I feel a little lightheaded,” she murmured.

You were at her side in an instant, your hands hovering near her arms, ready to catch her. “You should sit down, Ma. I’ll get you some water.”

She gave you a tired smile and waved you off. “I’m fine. Just need a moment.”

But you knew she wasn’t. And then it happened. Her body swayed. Her eyes fluttered shut.

You lunged forward as she collapsed, your arms catching her before she could hit the floor. Your pulse roared in your ears, but there was no time for panic. You scooped her up, ignoring the burning strain in your muscles, and carried her out of the house.

The car door was already open. You slid her into the passenger seat, buckled her in, and peeled out of the driveway, your foot pressing hard against the gas pedal. The streets blurred past you, but your focus remained razor-sharp. You had made it in time. That was all that mattered.

At the hospital, nurses swarmed around you the moment you burst through the emergency entrance, calling for help. They whisked her onto a gurney, and you followed closely as they pushed her through the hallways, your hands clenched into fists.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you answered without looking at it, your eyes remained fixed at the shut metal doors, “Hello?”.

“Y/n”. Gojo’s voice echoed from the other side, “Where are you?”.

“At the hospital, Mom fainted”. You said flatly.

“Send your location now”. The line went dead.

You sighed as you collapsed on the metal chairs. As much as you hated it you needed Gojo. You were trying to be strong for your mom but you wanted someone to be strong for you. So you sent him your location immediately.

In 15 minutes Gojo was running through the doors. You got up to greet him but he immediately wrapped his arms around you, “It’s going to be okay”. He knew what had happened. He was there the last time it happened.

“I know”. You nodded and let go.

“What happened?”. He asked. He had to.

“We were just about to have breakfast and she fell unconscious and fell”.

“How did you get her here?”. Gojo asked, sitting down next to you.

“I had Maya’s car. I had to move some furniture so I borrowed it yesterday”.

“Huh”. Gojo poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Did she have any– injury?”.

“Nope”.

Gojo sat silently for a while. Recollecting the facts. From what he had remembered she did suffer an injury. “When did it happen exactly?”.

“7 AM”.

The Doctor came out through the metal doors and called out, “Ms.L/n?”.

“Yes!”. You got up immediately and walked over to the man with Gojo trailing behind you.

“She is stable. She had just been weak and dehydrated, nothing serious. We have her on IV and you can take her home by noon”.

But you knew better. At 12:45 PM, she was supposed to have a stroke. If you let her leave, history would repeat itself. “She needs to stay under observation,” you said, your voice firm.

The doctor gave you a tight-lipped smile, shaking his head. “I understand you’re worried, but there’s no medical reason to keep her admitted. We can’t occupy a room unless it’s necessary.”

You grit your teeth, frustration clawing at your chest. You couldn’t just tell them you had seen this all before. That you knew what was coming. “Trust me. She has– underlying health issues and I’m afraid that this might-”.

The man cut you off, “I understand your concern but we don’t see anything on her charts. She is absolutely fine. She will be discharged at 12:00 PM. You can take her home”. The man patted your shoulder and walked past you only to be stopped by Gojo standing in front of him.

“Let me make this simple,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “If you want this hospital to keep running, you’ll do exactly what she says.”

The Doctor scoffed, “Who might you be?”.

“Gojo Satoru”.

The doctor stiffened, his throat bobbing as recognition dawned on his face. Gojo Satoru. The name alone carried weight, power.A tense silence stretched between them before the doctor finally nodded. “I—I’ll see what I can do.” he turned to you with a curt nod. “We’ll keep her under observation for the full day.”

The tension in the hospital corridor had dulled into a quiet hum, but Gojo’s gaze was sharp as ever, watching you like a puzzle he was piecing together. Your mother was safe for now, hooked up to an IV and resting under careful observation. You had done it—you had changed something. But Gojo… he wasn’t letting this go.

He leaned casually against the wall beside you, arms crossed, his signature blindfold missing for once, allowing those piercing blue eyes to study you freely. The hospital lights reflected off them, making them even more unnerving.

“You know, there’s something I’ve been wondering,” he said lightly, like he was talking about the weather. “Why’d you bring her here?”

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

“This is the best cardiology hospital in the city,” he said, tipping his chin toward the hospital’s logo on the wall. “But there was a general hospital much closer to your house. Would’ve been a five-minute drive instead of—what? Fifteen?”

Your stomach clenched, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You had prepared for everything today—the collapse, the drive, the argument with the doctor—but you hadn’t expected Gojo to question you like this.

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “I wasn’t really thinking about it. Just panicked and drove to the first place that came to mind.”

Gojo hummed, tilting his head slightly as if considering your words. He didn’t press further, but you could tell he wasn’t satisfied with your answer. He was watching you too closely, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle.

But he didn’t say anything else. Not yet.

By the time the clock struck 1 PM, exhaustion was starting to creep in. You hadn’t eaten since morning, and Gojo had dragged you down to the hospital cafeteria, insisting you needed food before you collapsed yourself.

The cafeteria was buzzing with low chatter, the smell of coffee and warm food filling the air. You picked at the sandwich on your tray, barely tasting it, while Gojo slurped obnoxiously on a bowl of ramen.

“She’s going to be fine,” he said between bites, voice oddly gentle. “You can relax a little.”

You nodded absentmindedly, but your grip on the plastic fork remained tight. You knew the real danger wasn’t over yet.

Gojo tapped his chopsticks against his bowl, watching you carefully. “You know, you’re acting like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

Before you could answer, a sharp voice cut through the cafeteria noise.

“Miss Y/N!”

You turned just as a nurse rushed toward you, her face tight with urgency. The entire cafeteria seemed to blur out of focus, your heart stalling.

“There’s been an incident,” she said quickly. “Your mother just had a stroke. It was a minor one, and the doctor is treating her now, but you should come immediately.”

The world snapped into motion again. You were on your feet before the nurse even finished speaking, your half-eaten sandwich forgotten. Gojo stood just as fast, his expression unreadable, and together you rushed out of the cafeteria, your feet pounding against the sterile hospital floors.

Your chest was tight, panic clawing its way up your throat. Even though you had known this was coming, the words still sent a cold shock through your veins. Minor stroke. She was in the best possible place for this. You had made sure of that. But still—You skidded to a stop outside the operating theater, your breath shallow. The red “IN PROCEDURE” light was on. The seconds stretched into minutes, and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

Gojo stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, but he wasn’t saying anything. Just watching.

An hour later, the door finally opened, and the doctor stepped out. You didn’t even wait for him to speak.

“Is she okay?”

The doctor gave you a reassuring nod. “She’s stable. The stroke was mild, and we caught it in time. We’ll keep her under observation for longer, but there’s no permanent damage.”

You sighed and sat back with your head in your hand. You have done it. You had saved your mother from slipping into a coma. You breathed out a sigh of relief. Gojo sat next to you rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

He observed you. You looked like you had just completed a mission. He excused himself and went to a far corner of the waiting room and picked up his phone,

“Hello?”. Geto answered.

“I need you to find everything about y/n. Why didn't she accept the offer from Domain Dynamics? Why didn’t she move out of Kyoto? Why is she still living with her mother?”.

Gojo scoffed, “Satoru, why-”.

“I might not be the only one who has come back”, Gojo said, looking right at you.

@commandertorindhepard @inlove-maze @starlightanyaaa @missybrat @lem-hhn @valleydoli @definetlythinkimanalien @luckyangelballoon @sheep-infog @gojoprincesss @kanaojacksonofc @bubera974 @ginginha @mari-ho14 @mashtura @concretewishes

[musical-chick-13]

Me: What a nice day, I'm going to be calm and normal for a few hours.

My brain: hey. :) do you. remember. :) The Ship :) :) :)

[madamechrissy]

Ex Husband Toji

MDNI- NSFW- explicit sex, dirty talk, oral (m and f recieving) lil bit of rough sex, Toji calls you doll and Mama, creampie, breed kink, reader is Megumi's mom and Toji needs another kid lol

Ex Husband Toji who you're so mad at, because he's late picking up Megumi for his day to take him to school again, so you decide to go directly to his house, banging on the door.

Ex Husband Toji who overslept after working all night, and feels awful he's fucked up again, but when he sees your cute little scowl, he's instantly turned on, because fuck he misses you so much.

Ex Husband Toji who smirks, licking his full lower lip as his dark green eyes drink you in. 'still in your pajamas, huh doll?' earning you shoving at his chest now, crossing your arms. 'was supposed to be your day to take Gumi, no I wasn't dressed!' Toji really likes this crop top, the strap hanging off your bare shoulder, your nipples perk up as he stares, earning a smug grin

Ex Husband Toji laughs as he says 'could've just told me you wanted to get off, y'know' earning your smack on his cheek, which really just makes him hard for you as you stomp in his house. He's shirtless and in sweats, you're trying to avoid looking at his chiseled, muscular body because if you stare too long you'll remember how good he fucked you, so you cross your arms, glaring and say 'I actually have a date tonight, Toji'

Ex Husband Toji scowls now, stepping up to you, he's so big he takes over the whole little home it seems, his big rough hands gripping your bare waist, thumbs pressing against your rib cage. 'what's that now, doll? I must've fuckin misheard' you scoff, shoving his hands off 'didn't mishear shit, we're done you know that' he yanks you to him now, and when you're pressed against his body? your brain short circuits as he leans down so close you taste the cigarettes on his breath

Ex Husband Toji slams his lips on yours, you feel that scar rubbing against your mouth, as his tongue devours you, lapping in and out so fucking messy. No one fucking kisses you like that, no one can do this to you, but you can't fuck him again, this keeps happening and you have to move on. You back away then, panting, eyes locked on his, and then he says it 'I fuckin miss you, so much y'know that? miss you cummin on m'face'

Ex Husband Toji may or may not then have your thighs spread on his kitchen table, he may or may not have your sleep shorts yanked to the side, and he may or may not have his face buried between your thighs. He's lapping you up, tasting your sweet arousal all over his mouth, as he looks up under sooty lashes. Your hands yank his inky black hair as you gasp, while he fucks your gummy walls so goddamn well, crying out 'still h-hate you, T-Toji' earning him leaning back with a devious fucking grin, as he smacks your cunt.

Ex Husband Toji who watches you tremble and whimper as he spits on your clit, watching the bubbly liquid drip between your lip, slipping two thick fingers into your tight little hole, cock throbbing under his sweats as he remembers how good you feel clenching him. He's not been with anyone else, how could he? 'T-Toji, f-fuck!' you're screaming his name, eyes rolling back while he scissors those fingers in and out of your soppy little hole, which flutters around them. 'ya gonna cum f'me doll? let me see it... there ya go'

Ex Husband Toji Has you cumming all over his fingers, white hot stars blinding you, as it washes all over, no one could do this to you, and soon he's got you turned and bent over the table, legs dangling pathetic as he slides those slutty grey sweats down, releasing his thick heavy cock, that shoves in your soaking wet cunt, stretching you so good. 'Ah! oh my god!' you have tears in your eyes as he grips your hips, begining to fuck into you, slamming your cervix as his balls smack your little twitching clit

Ex Husband Toji loves how you feel so much, muttering 'f-fuckin missed this, missed your cunt gripping me... cum on doll, cum again lemme feel her' you need no urging, you're pulsing around his cock in the middle of his messy ass kitchen, on his old table scattered with cards and gambling tickets. He shoves your head down as he grips a wrist, pulling it behind your back and bottoming out, stuffing you so full you're soaking him completely, gasping for a breath.

Ex Husband Toji who busts inside you, muttering 'need a lil brother or sister for Gumi, don't we, mama?' and you're just nodding weakly, feeling his load so deep inside you, fucking up your guts as he's still fucking into you, he tilts your chin, slamming his lips on yours as he leans over you, big hands taking over your body, cock twitching in you. 'stop this shit, come home' he whispers, you pull away then, on trembling legs, glaring up at him.

Ex Husband Toji hopes he knocked you up again as you go off on him for being late, as you act like you're going to leave, only for you to be on your knees sucking yourself off him, and as he's fucking your throat he's pretty damn sure you're not going on any date at all

permatag list: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric 🩵

Toji Masterlist

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

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

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

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

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[shaisuki]

❝ I CAUGHT MY ROOMMATE MASTURBATING, I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT! ❞

cw. voyeurism + masturbation (f & m) + dubious consent + dry humping + blowjobs + fingering.

roommate! geto who one time catching his fellow roommate humping one of their owned plushie like a bitch in heat. door ajar, enough to take a peek of what you're currently doing. the plushie in between their legs, trapped and squeezed while you grind your pussy like your life depended on it.

roommate! geto listening to your sweet moans, blissfully low as you watched one of those stupid porno, the wire of your earphones tangled. your body trembling at the small sparks of pleasure coursing through your plush body.

roommate! geto who should be respectful as one should be to someone's privacy but he can't tear his eyes off from the way your body moves. covered in a thin sheen of sweat while soft whines leaves your mouth. trying to keep the moans at bay.

roommate! geto who watch his sweet, chubby roommate with eagle eyes. anticipating your every move and watch as your hips roll to meet the poor plushie who is being squeezed by your creamy thighs. your hand forming into a fist as you grip your sheets.

roommate! geto is rock hard from watching you pleasure yourself. never did he thought that you can be this alluring. his cock straining his pants uncomfortably. palming to relieve the pressure from how good you are grinding that plushie.

roommate! geto who wishes that his face is in the place of your plushie while he eats you outs. lick your folds and suck that cute, little clit of your. be suffocated by your creamy thighs around his head while you call his name.

roommate! geto grunting as he tugs on his pants, boxers following to jerk his cock to the rhythm of your grinding. beads of pre-cum leaking through his tip. eyes closing in bliss to the sound of your moans. he's not even scared that your gentleman of a roomie is jerking at your door.

roommate! geto who cums hard from the sound of your whining as you came. panting and huffing slightly as you rode out your orgasm. hugging your pillow tighter from the sparks of pleasure coursing through your core.

roommate! geto is quick to clean himself up and made a beeline to his room. it's like he didn't hear his roomie masturbating to some porno. he can't get out of his brain to the memory of you. your soft, plush body in all glory and the soft rolls of your back and the sound of your voice burned in his memory.

roommate! geto acts like nothing happened. acts like he didn't watch you pleasure yourself while you walked to your shared kitchen. fetching yourself a pitcher of water from the fridge and he never leave his sight on you. raking the expanse of your body. the plumpness of your stomach, the thickness of your thighs, the swell in your chest and lastly, that cute round face of yours that can get away with a crime. oh, how adorable you are and he wonder if you'll make the same when he's the one whose making you cum. again and again.

roommate! geto hears you talk through the phone with your friend. it's not like he's eavesdropping. it's an accident of course. the thin walls are to be blamed. you sound so worried about going to a date and learning you are not experienced and afraid that you might be able to please your date if you two can get down to business.

roommate! geto casually talking to you until cornering you to open up about the upcoming date. sharing a few tips to keep the guy interested in you, he says but in honesty he don't want you going on a date with a stranger.

roommate! geto listening to you who naively gives him details about your date and how worried you are since you have no idea what is about to go on and him casually suggesting he can teach you.

roommate! geto convincing you to do it and he got you now seated warmly in his lap.

roommate! geto who whispers you sweet nothings. telling you that you should not be nervous while his large hands are in your round stomach. groping and squeezing the malleable flesh like he can't believe how soft and squishy it was.

roommate! geto telling you to relax. it won't be good if you're moving that much and how would he be able to teach properly if you keep squirming and so he began to kiss your round shoulder to your neck and then to your cheeks. praising you how a good girl you are when he felt you relax and your back is comfortably pressed against his chest. totally leaning on him and suguru welcomes your added weight. he just can't wait to eat you.

roommate! geto is playing the hem of your panties before pulling it down. spreading your thick legs for his hand to cup your heat. he tells you that for to please someone you need to know what you want first. caressing the inside of your soft thighs before his fingers slowly rubs your folds like he was testing the waters and it earns him you. your breath hitching and your voice turning into soft mewls.

roommate! geto parting your folds with his fingers before dipping it to caress the squishy flesh of your labia. the pads of his fingers rubbing your clit which earned a gasp from you and he knows it's going to be good from the way you act. “does it feel good?” he murmurs. his lips muffled in the skin of your neck. his index finger poking your hole. “want me to stretch this tight hole of yours?” he hears you say yes. nodding in desperation and fuck did it feel so tight. his thick finger is only in and your hole doesn't feel like accepting it so he added another finger that got you squirming uncontrollably around him.

roommate! geto shuts your mewling with a kiss. shoving his tongue insider your mouth and began swirling the wet muscle while he added a third of his fingers to your pussy that is already weeping with slick. his fingers simultaneously pumping your insides while he kisses his cute roommate. drool seeping in the corners of your mouth. “you like my fingers inside you? much better than your cute plushies, is it?”

roommate! geto who never leaves his sight when you came undone to his fingers. coated with your delicious slick and he needs to eat that pussy of yours. he licks his fingers clean while you watch and you're so damn adorable. your flustered expression like you're one innocent roommate of his.

roommate! geto whose hard on is pressed against your ass. desperate in need of attention and he knows he's leaking and need to feel that soft cunt around his hard cock but he must let you feel the outline of his cock when you're humping him. your plushies won't be no good after this. he needs you to rely your pleasures to him.

roommate! geto turns your around to face him. your legs are besides his own. completely straddling him and your fat pussy is above his clothed erection. soaking his boxers with your slick. you feel him underneath you. throbbing and pulsing and you can feel the veins wrapped around his cock and the feeling of it shoots sparks of pleasure deep inside you.

roommate! geto looking so beautiful below you. his long jet black hair cascading down his lower back and his bangs is framing his sculpted face. a thin sheen of sweat in his forehead and the stray hairs of sticks to his forehead but he looks beautiful nonetheless but it was nothing compared to his roomie who is straddling him. staring at him with those cute doe eye of yours and effortlessly not-so-looking fucked but he knows he's getting nearer. his hold on your back firm and he can't help but to mesmerized at your fat cunt pressed in his clothed cock.

roommate! geto who guides you to move your hips as your grind on his cock. his large hands are in your plush waist while he builds the rhythm that is both good for you and him. he watches you through lidded eyes from how your mouth is slightly patter. slow moans escaping from them as your soaked folds are in his cock. your clit is rubbing to the outline of his cock and it makes you squeal when he forces you to grind harder.

roommate! geto who's in full force to take advantage of this. it's not even teaching you anymore. it can wait for a another day or the later night. is just it feels too good to have you above him. your puffy folds are weeping in his cock and it just makes his cock throb more from the delicious friction of your cunt. he can't also help that your skin is exposed and begging to be marked by him and so he did. he's putting hickeys while you cry. your fingers are threading his hair as you grab them. unconsciously pulling them as you grins on his cock.

roommate! geto cums hard and he's sure his boxers are stained with his cum. groaning from his release and pulls you to kiss him in which he does with passion. fervently kissing you like there's no tomorrow.

roommate! geto who helps you clean up after that. he can teach you about it later and telling you to rest after that. makes sure you're properly resting after that exhausting and it was worth every single second of it. he can just wait to fuck you and forget that stupid date but it was thanks to that he got you.

roommate! geto is now teaching you how to properly blow someone. that's why you're in between his muscled legs. kneeling between them as you stroke his cock like he instructed you two and now you're licking the tip of his cock. his hands holding both of your round cheeks. “breath through your nose, baby.” his voice gentle as he teaches you. you're taking his cock now and it makes your eyes prick with tears as the tip of his cock is now hitting the back of your throat.

roommate! getowhose moans are sexier and is music to your ears. that's why you're slowly bobbing your head to get more of his length. it doesn't help that he's thick that's why you have to take him in your mouth while your eyes burn with tears. you take of what's left of his length to your hands. squeezing it occasionally and feel it throb to your hands. you also fondle his balls that gets him riled up. it doesn't take long that he's shooting off his load deep in your throat. almost making you gag but you take it. swallowing his warm cum down your throat and opening your mouth that you swallow all of his load.

roommate! geto who says that you're ready and it's now up to you and he's sure that you'll be able to please your date. although he's jealous deep inside that it's not him and he's a little happy that you're pleased with your work.

roommate! geto anticipated the time were you're prepared for the date. he makes sure he's cleared of any errands that he needed to do. he can't have someone taking you that is not him. so he waited for you to get dolled up and the breath is knocked out of his lungs when he sees you all dressed up. looking so adorable and divine. the dress you picked up is highlighting all of your curves. it doesn't help that you asked him how you look and he loses control.

roommate! geto who easily picks you up despite your weight. ignoring your protests as he hoists you up in both of your shared kitchen marbled top. you're asking him what gotten into him and he's hungrily claiming you. his apologies late as he tears the dress off you. “forgive me, tell your date that you're not meeting him tonight. i just can't let him have you.”

roommate! geto who takes you that night. making you forget that you have the date as he got his head between your legs. slurping that delight that your pussy releases. his head being crushed by your thick thighs almost suffocating him but he doesn't care. he got you screaming that night as he squeezes and licks every stretch mark he can find. making you're worshipped and fucked by his cock.

roommate! geto takes you to his room and never letting you leave him until you're stuffed full of his cum and leaking in his bed in which he finds satisfying. no one can have you now that is not him.

roommate! geto pulls you closer to him as he cuddled into you. both of you are naked covered in his sheets while he kisses the top of your head. his hands are warmed by your love handles and just relishes on the softness of your body against his hard ones.

roommate! geto who stares at you while sleep peacefully. so beautiful and adorable in his eyes. his roommate. he knows now that he's fully smitten to you now and he hopes you feel the same or else he's just going to fuck you until you say you love him.

roommate! geto is contented. it's not always an accident when he catches you pleasuring yourself and is not a one time. he got you under him all the time and now, he won't never let his eyes take off on you.

[rafesangelita]

Omg, idea! It can be with Pouge!Sweetheart and Rafe are having sex, and he is choking her (she likes it) but this time she is about to pass out and Rafe is too primal/into the sex to understand that she is trying to tap out and does not hear her. She passes out mid sex, going limp and Rafe absolutely panics trying to wake her up. A bit of a soft Rafe who then is overly attentive feeling so bad.

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, asphyxiation, choking, slight praise, dirty talk, loss of consciousness

a/n: poor pogue!sweetheart!reader omg. she’s been punched in the face on accident and now this?? I’m begging y’all to give her a break!

“rafe!” you practically screamed, your hands wrapping around the wrist he had at the column of your throat. while rafe had never been this rough before, he was hesitant as you begged him not to go soft on you. now you found yourself nothing but a whimpering mess, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as he had you pinned to your bed by the back of your knees. “this is what you wanted? ‘wanted me to choke you while i use this pussy?” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your head pounding as your vision grew fuzzy.

nodding weakly, rafe’s grip on your neck tightened, his head falling as your velvety walls squeezed around him in a way that made him lose his mind. “so fucking wet, all for me..” he pressed a kiss to your ankle, rolling his hips to meet your clit with each thrust. before you could decipher what was happening, you mumbled a ‘too much’, tapping on his hand as he groaned, leaning down to bury his head in the valley of your breasts. you gasped before black spots began dotting your vision, your eyes fluttering closed as you lost consciousness.

“fuck, these tits are so fucking perfect.” he took a sensitive bud in his mouth, his gaze flickering at your face only to see your head lolled to the side, your lips glossy and swollen. “baby?” it was just then that he realized your entire body was limp, his thrusts slowing down. “y/n?” he grabbed your face, tapping your cheek lightly. panic set in at your lack of response, his eyes widening as he removed his hand from your neck. “oh, fuck!” he pulled out, rushing to pull his boxers on before he scooped you up in his arms.

he continued to lightly slap your cheek, blowing air on your face as he shook you. “come on, baby, you gotta wake up..” his heart was pounding out of his chest as you didn’t budge, his eyebrows drawing together as he got up, running to the small kitchen where he got a damp towel. dabbing your face with the cool cloth, he shook with every second you didn’t stir awake. “fuck!” he whispered, swallowing thickly as regret settled in the pit of his stomach. he knew he shouldn’t have done that much.

rafe kept up his ministrations for a few more minutes before he shook his head, his fists meeting his cheeks before he dialed 911. “911 what’s your emergency?” rafe let out a shaky breath, muttering a ‘uh, m-me and my girlfriend were-’ right before you opened your eyes, blinking up at the ceiling as you moaned. “ray?” you were more confused than anything, your boyfriend hanging up on the operator before he ran to your side. “oh my god.” he sighed, moving your hair off of your shoulder as he covered you with your duvet.

“i was tapping out..” your eyes sparkled up at rafe. he was on the verge of tears, shaking his head as he embraced you. “i didn’t hear you, baby. i’m so fucking sorry.” he pecked your lips, stroking your face as you ran a hand up and down his arm to soothe him. “i don’t know what happened, i was just really into it, i didn’t realize how hard i was squeezing you. i’m so sorry.” he apologized again. coughing softly, you sat up, pulling him onto the bed so he could hold you. “just hold me.” you kissed his cheek, both of you falling asleep shortly after.

the next day, rafe made it his life’s mission to make everything up to you. surprising you with your favorite breakfast, bathing you and putting you in some comfortable clothes, massaging your feet, eating you out until you cried, ordering your carts on all your shopping apps, and showering you with kisses until the sun went down.

[be-xkyy]

Ok I can't stop thinking about a farmer x a city girl.

Tw: Yandere,smut, forced breeding.

She who is a city girl who studies in a good university, has a nice car, a nice house and a bright future.

She who goes to the countryside every year because her grandfather lives there and she takes advantage of her vacations to go see her favorite grandfather.

She who during one of those visits and when she is on the porch meets the sexy farmer who helps her grandfather with what he needs, she who stays looking at him longer than necessary, absorbing his firm figure and admiring his muscular forearms visible thanks to the rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt that accentuate his sun-tanned skin, his serious brown eyes with long eyelashes and his sexy jaw covered by a short beard...

She who wakes up from her daydream when he says in a thick and firm voice to get out of the way because she is blocking his way and only then she notices the shopping bags in his big hands so she moves awkwardly letting him enter the house.

She who walks into the house while she can't help but think he's a grumpy, rude jerk, she who walks into the kitchen and sees the man leaving the bags on the counter while he talks to his grandfather who smiles when he sees her and formally introduces them.

She who greets him with a sullen nod still offended by his previous attitude while he greets her back in kind while the grandfather rambles on about his favorite granddaughter and how you're so cute, smart and extraordinary... she who notices him silently scoffing at the words of his grandfather who says he'll happily go get the album with your photos from when you were a baby.

She who when they're alone asks him in an annoyed voice what's so funny only for him to reply in a mocking voice something like "I don't think it's very smart to come to the countryside in heels and those clothes... rather I think it's something extraordinarily stupid."

She who gets annoyed by his mocking tone and his sneering look at her shorts and tank top, and she tells him that this is a free country and he can wear whatever he wants and if he doesn't like it he can tear his eyes out.

She who gets even more annoyed when he laughs as he puts the last of his canned soup away in the cupboard, and puts the plastic bags away in a drawer, then approaches her and says in a mocking voice "Why tear my eyes out when I can do something much better... like tear your clothes off?"

She who doesn't know how she ended up pinned face down on the kitchen counter with her shorts and panties caught around her ankles as his fat cock abuses her wet, rubbery pussy, her walls sucking and sucking his cock as if they wanted to get him deeper while one of his calloused hands covers her mouth tightly preventing her moans from escaping.

She who rolls her eyes when he uses his free hand to tightly grab a handful of her hair tilting her head back and sending waves of pain and pleasure to her swollen pussy as he makes her teary eyes look into his dilated eyes.

She who whimpers sharply into his hand as he thrusts hard into her and gets close to her ear and says things like "Such a good girl, just one good fuck was all it took to get rid of your attitude huh?" or "Let daddy turn you into an honest girl, what are those slutty clothes you wear? No. There won't be any more of that for you."

She feels her body shake and her toes tense as his cock hits that spot inside her over and over again making her see stars and causing her orgasm to wash over her and her pussy to tighten around his cock and he growls at the delicious sensation moving his hips harder chasing her orgasm before giving a few more thrusts and staying still deep inside her flooding her insides with his warm semen while she stays limp on the cold counter so fucked that she can't think about anything not even the fact that she's not taking birth control.

The one who can't help but squeeze you with his weight, his chest on your back while his fingers move a strand of hair stuck to your sweaty forehead and whispers in your ear with a dark voice that shivers "You know it's time to settle down, I'm not getting any younger and I want to have at least 8 children, but don't worry honey we have plenty of time to do it... after all you're not going anywhere."

[sanemistar]

contents ★ husband!satoru x wife!reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy (i kinda have a baby fever rn), satoru gojo’s birthday special. 0.7k+ wc. ﾉ author’s message: since it’s satoru’s birthday today here’s a cute little special drabble for my beloved <33 back ★ jjk m.list

satoru hasn’t ever really paid any special attention to nor cared about his birthday, it’s been just a regular day to him. nothing special to celebrate, he��d just be a year older. that’s all that is to it.

it’s been like that, until you’d stepped into the picture and changed his life entirely. ever since he got together with you and his birthday has been a day full of surprises and precious memories that he swears to himself he’ll treasure for the rest of his life. it’s all thanks to you that satoru now has a reason to look forward to his birthday every year.

satoru is away on a quick mission, so you decide to take the chance of your husband coming back home late tonight and make his birthday cake yourself. since it’s the first time you celebrate his birthday as his wife, so you wanted to make something special this year. you’re currently in the kitchen, preparing the ingredients and the things you need to make the cake. you carefully place everything on the counter as you start working right away.

once you’re done with the cake, you place it on the table before you start hanging the decorations on the wall and setting the mood. the theme is obviously blue because it’s the color you associate him with the most. when you’re finished with that, you quickly get yourself ready and dress up as you wait for your husband to get back home. you can’t help but feel so excited to see him when he gets back because you have a special gift for him this year, you’re announcing your pregnancy. you’ve only found out about it just recently so you thought his birthday would be the perfect timing for the announcement.

not too long after you’ve gotten dressed you hear the jingling sound of satoru’s keys, signaling his arrival. luckily, you manage to turn off the lights last minute.

“baby? you here?” he calls for you, but you don’t respond. he keeps looking around trying to find you when you turn on the lights, appearing in front of him with the cake held in your hands.

“happy birthday toru!” you shout enthusiastically with a cheeky smile on your face. and satoru just couldn’t help but laugh at the cute little act of yours. he thanks you before he approaches you and gives your forehead a kiss as he places his hands on your waist.

the two of you sit down and eat the cake together.

“you know, i made it myself.” you say proudly

“so that’s why this year’s cake is so special. thanks, babe. you’re the best.” he replies before taking another bite.

“the cake might not be the only special thing of the day.” you ominously tell him. you can clearly see the slight confusion and anticipation on his face.

“what do you mean?” he asks curiously, waiting to know what you’re talking about. you take his hand and place it on your stomach.

“next year it won’t be just you and me, a little one is joining us.” you grab his other hand and entwine it with your own. “i’m pregnant, honey.” you happily announce your pregnancy to your husband.

“wait wait.. for real? babe, are you sure? am i gonna be a dad?” he asks, clearly still shocked by the sudden announcement. you nod as you bring him the ultrasound pictures of your baby as a confirmation.

you’re standing there right in front of satoru, watching how he’s reacting while eagerly waiting for his response. his reaction is a bit delayed due to his brain taking some time to process the news but once it hits him he lets go of your hand only to pull you close to him in a tight hug as he spins you around.

“this is the best thing i could ever ask for.. you have no idea how much i’ve been waiting for this, to have a family with you.” he says emotionally as a few happy tears escape from his eyes.

“you’ll be the best dad ever, toru. i love you.” you rest your hands on the side of his cheeks as you gently wipe away his fallen tears. he smiles softly, his hands placed on your waist as he leans closer to you. faces are only a few inches apart.

“i love you more than anything, babe. thanks for always making my birthday a day worth celebrating, i wouldn’t have it any other way.” he says before his lips capture yours in a passionate, loving kiss.

satoru is already looking forward to celebrating his next birthday with you and his little one.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies @suguru-getos

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[fluffylino]

angry sex with mean!dom minho

things get heated when the two of yall decide to have a petty argument.

-contains mature themes (minho is mean but its all consensual...sir kink?!?!?)

minho's pissed.

you're pissed.

the atmosphere in the apartment is beyond unimaginable. you came back from university, in a bad mood. sometimes people merely existing made you angry.

you couldn't explain it but you weren't in a great mood at all, and you weren't in the mood to try and make yourself calm down.

minho comes home, half an hour later. quietly entering and slamming the front door behind him.

not even bothering to keep his keys on the glass table with more care. walking right past you to the bedroom.

he has that look on his face when he joins you in the kitchen. drinking the water you had poured for him absentmindedly.

"wash the glass, will you" you mutter, sighing in exasperation. you knew this would only make things worse.

"what?" and his tone gets laced with irritation.

"i had a bad day, okay and i'm not in a good mood" you say to him. leaning back on the fridge.

"yeah? you think i'm not having a fucked up day too?" he spits back, crossing his arms, ready for battle.

"i never said that. stop being so bitchy"

"fix your attitude." minho warns. looking down at his feet before rolling his eyes at your behaviour.

"stop rolling your eyes at me" pointing a finger at him in annoyance.

"don't point a finger at me"

raising an eyebrow at you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"why don't you just go pick a fight with chan or seungmin"

you seethe out, not wanting to argue. if the two of you got more time to calm your nerves this wouldn't have happened.

"pick a fight? what the fuck"

he mutters under his breath. and it makes your eyes burn with tears. now he's mad at you.

"what fucking attitude do i have. i'm sick of dealing with people"

you raise your voice, exhaling heavily.

"and you think i'm not? i just had dance practice for nearly six hours and they told me i needed to do better"

minho says through gritted teeth. running his fingers through his messy hair.

"maybe you do need to do better" you snark back. wanting to get on his nerves just for the hell of it.

"watch what you say."

he warns for the second time and you take it as a challenge.

"or what? you're going to give me a lecture on how to..."

bringing your hands up to gesture quotation marks

"...fix my attitude?"

.

🐱

.

"not gonna fight back huh." your mouth opens to curse at him. and he uses it as the opportunity to pull you back.

ramming himself deeper into you.

"fucking brat"

minho grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides. grip strong enough to have him holding you up singlehandedly if he wanted to.

"took it too far. i'm a bitch?" his voice shakes when your arms give in. falling face down into the sheets. back arched and ass up. the position makes things more sensitive.

"answer me."

you can't. teething at the pillow while you fisted at the soft bedsheets beside you. trying to ground yourself.

the feeling of his length pushing in and out of you with slow hard thrusts. torturing himself just to torture you.

"answer." eyes widening at the way he lays a sharp slap over your cunt. all while pulling out all the way.

"me."

sliding past your swollen walls with a filthy squelch. his force strong enough to have your whole body jerk forward. gasping in ecstasy.

you shake your head. or atleast try to, eyes rolling back at the strength he uses to meanly shove your thighs even further apart.

till you're practically presenting to him.

"open that smart ass mouth and use your fucking words." his tone dropping. theres a heartbeat of silence as he gives you a few seconds to answer him.

"ah- m-minnie"

moaning embarassingly loud when he slides his hand down the curve of your back. tugging a fistful of your hair, forcing you up on your arms. till you're on your fours.

"minnie? its sir to you. you don't deserve to even call me minho."

scalp burning with a mix of pain and pleasure.

your mind buzzing when he also gets on his fours. body pressing into yours from above.

"who's a bitch now"

minho says in your ear. brushing his lips against your earlobe. it sends a wave of heat straight to your cunt. throbbing uncontrollably around his dick.

the position has you thinking of how pathetic you are. cursing him out, only to be fucked like a dog from behind.

"are you my needy little bitch" hooking his chin on your shoulder. his arms on either side of yours.

thick thighs framing your smaller ones. you feel small under him. small and weak.

"y-yes sir" whispering softly. chest burning with humiliation. he clicks his tongue. not satisfied.

"speak up, mutt."

"yes sir...m'your needy bitch"

fucking the sentence out of you, in a way that has you breathless. arms trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

"taking it like you're in heat."

slowing his thrusts to roll his hips into yours. hitting that spongey spot that has you keening for him.

"next time you act like a fucking brat, don't expect me to be this kind"

he warns, subtly rubbing at the redness on your sides from how hard he was gripping your waist.

you nod vigorously. quietly mumbling apologies.

"is my needy puppy gonna take me all the way in her tight wet cunt hm"

.

.

.

"if i'm your bitch, you're my bitch" you whisper, lightly smacking him on the chest.

"i never said i wasn't a bitch" minho smirks, successfully teasing you.

"y'know i love you, right baby?" he mumbles, kissing your cheek lovingly.

"you're my cute little puppygirl or WAIT MY KITTY CAT!!!"

.

.

..

.

.

tada!

[darkbluekies]

In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

[s0lidar1ty]

soft/frat!rafe taking care of drunk!reader after bumping into her at a party

The party music rings off the walls of your head. Your eyes blur, fading in and out as you hug the wall to help yourself toward the kitchen.

You've never been here. At least you don't remember it. Sarah invited you, but you lost her a few minutes earlier in the sea of bodies and flashing lights.

Your hand fumbles with the handle of the fridge door, the icy air spouting out as you open it and take the first bottle you see. Clear liquid moves inside, and you don't even think before you tilt it back. But what's in it is anything but water. The burning fire of the vodka shoots down your throat.

You hiss, dropping the bottle on the floor with a dull clunk, wincing through the sting. The floor shifts under your feet when you turn around, and you stumble right into someone.

"Shit—'m sorry," you mutter, words slurring. You try to step around them, but a hand wraps around your forearm, firm but not hard.

You know it's Rafe before you even raise your head.

 You know the way his hands feel.

His fingers tighten further around your wrist as he pulls you out of the crowd, through a doorway, and into a quieter room. As soon as you're in, it's familiar. The tall, mahogany desk, the bookshelves full of books—yeah. You've been here before.

The study.

Rafe turns you around to face him, fingers cupping your face, thumbs rubbing across your cheekbones as he attempts to focus your eyes on him. "Hey," he whispers, voice low and smooth. "How much did you have to drink?"

"I don't know. How much did you?" you snap back, your bratty nature emerging from the fog. You don’t mean to be hostile, but you are. You can’t help it.

He mocks a laugh, lifting your chin high with two fingers. "How much?" he repeats, slower now, his tone harder.

You swallow. He's upset. You can tell from the tightly drawn line of his jaw, hear it in the fall in his voice. He's not angry—he'd never hurt you—but the disappointment radiates off him in waves.

And that scares you. You never want to disappoint him. Ever.

Your back straightens automatically. "I don't remember," you confess, voice softer now, eyes flicking anywhere but his.

"Fuck you mean you don't remember?" His tone hurt more than he meant it to, his eyebrows creasing. "What are you even doing here?"

You feel tears threaten to well up in your eyes before you can catch them. You blink frantically, trying to make them disappear, but one slips out anyway. You rub it away quickly, annoyed with yourself. "I came with Sarah," you mutter.

His expression of anger flickers away, replaced with something gentler. His hands fall to your shoulders, moving in slow circles as he breathes in through his nose. "Hey, hey." His voice is soft now. "I'm not angry with you, princess—Im sorry for my tone, but I just wanna make sure you’re okay." He leans down, kissing your forehead. "I'm taking you home, okay? You need to have some water and get sobered up."

You nod, too exhausted to fight it.

And then you're home.  

You wake up, and you're on the couch in your apartment, the cushions molding around you as you move on top of them. The hazy glow of the kitchen light casts shadows on the floor, covering the room in warm, muted blackness.

Rafe is lying beside you, your face in his chest, his fingers drawing lazy patterns across your back. "You hungry?"

“I'm drunk,” You mutter.

He snorts. "So that's a yes." A hesitation. Then, with a knowing smile, "Chicken Alfredo?"

You hum back to him, the only response he receives.

"Okay," he whispers, kissing you on your forehead once more before getting up and heading into the kitchen.

The clang of the pan against the stove, the gentle clink of silverware, the distant rumble of the fridge door opening—it's all strangely soothing. You close your eyes, and you hear his periodic thuds as he moves about.

Rafe turns back over his shoulder to steal a glance at you, a slow grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You good, baby?"

You sigh softly, your voice heavy with tiredness. "You look good."

He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? Your eyes are closed, baby, how can you see me right now?"

“I mean in general, smartass,” you shoot back, opening your eyes finally to back up your statement. “See? Eyes are open, and there’s still a handsome man in my kitchen.”

Rafe laughs, shaking his head in embarrassment. No matter how many you give, he’ll never get used to you giving compliments.

After a while, he puts two plates on the counter and walks over to the living room, kneeling next to the couch. He reaches out, his fingers tracing over your cheek, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "C'mon, baby. Eat first, then you can pass out, yeah?"

You take a deep breath, face buried in the pillow. "Don't wanna move."

"I'll feed you if I have to," he jokes, but there's a gentleness beneath.

You look up at him, a sly smile on your face as you tease, "That supposed to be a threat?"

He smiles. "It's a promise."

[robo-writing]

yes!!! sexual teasing!!! i’m sorry i should have clarified

Oh yeah, I can do that.

Poor little thing, he coos, knuckle deep in your cunt. You hiccup with every move, the wet slap of his fingers loud against the four walls of your kitchen. He’s got you balanced against the countertop, legs dangling as he stands between them and plays with your aching cunt. In and out, in and out.

It’s hard to focus like this, when you’re so aroused all you can think about is Logan and his two fingers massaging your insides. Even air stops becoming a priority, a deep inhale only achieved when Logan reminds you to breathe doll in that low voice of his.

This is the third time, you remember, hands buried into his shirt. Maybe he’ll let you cum, you hope.

And just as he did the last two times, he dashed your hopes away when he stops.

Right between the purgatory that lies between heaven and hell, that precarious edge right between bliss and frustration. You desperately rock yourself against his digits only to be stilled with a hand against your hip.

“No movin’ princess, you know the rules.”

You cry into his shoulder, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let out a pathetic little whimper. “Please lemme cum, please, s’not fair—“

“What’s not fair darling?” He asks, scissoring his fingers inside your velvet walls. The action makes your thighs tense up, head falls into his neck as you beg him for more, anything.

“Just wanna take my time, play with my favorite girl for a bit,” he murmurs, right into your ear. “I’m allowed to do that, ain’t I?”

You’re tired—you’re desperate. You’re not sure how much more you can take, but at the same time you know you can’t live without him so you nod your head yes when he asks, gasping when his fingers pick up speed.

With his free hand he tilts your head up, marveling at your lust-glazed eyes, how your head lolls to the side when his fingertips press against your g-spot over and over. The desire written on your face, immediately followed by your weak attempts to push him away as his fingers plunge into your wanting heat. I can’t, I can’t, you repeat, but yet you spread your legs further apart when he thumbs against your clit—a juxtaposition that has him rubbing your sensitive nub in little circles.

“My pretty baby, should see yourself right now, you look beautiful when you’re whiny,” he breathes, and it’s at that moment you let out one of those same noises he loves so much, fanning the fuel to the fire that is Logan’s desire.

“Say, think you’ve got one more in you?”