#I hope you don't mind that it isn't a ship thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ziminy · 4 months ago

Text

I'll follow you until you love me

Having actor Gojo as your fan isn't for the weak

Tags: smut, ageless blogs do not interact, f!actress reader, actor!Gojo, dark themed, stalking, obsession, jealousy, fan boy Gojo, mind games, lots of lies, manipulation, kinda toxic ngl, panties stealing, yandere Gojo, making out, fingering, oral (f receiving), drunk s(e)x, dubious content, people are shipping you and Gojo, just me going over the top again,

Author's note: thank you for 100 flowers 🤗 I been working on this fic for a while and was waiting for a specific occasion to post it.

Words count: 16k (it doesn't feel like it, I thought it would be less)

Masterlist

The first time Gojo Satoru heard about you was a long time ago. He doesn't really remembers the details but he knows he was so done with hearing about you left and right.

Everybody was praising this new actor who appeared out of a blue, and it was getting on his nerves.

Nothing was known about you, you had no connections to the inside world, your name wasn't affiliated with any big names. It was like you were put on the big screen out of nowhere and lend a big role like the director was forced to.

And his feelings only got bitter the moment he met you in person. Walking into his set one day and greeting everyone left and right, remembering names of some crew members he didn't knew they even existed to begin with.

But the cherry on top was when the director, that was known for being a bit too eccentric, presented you with the biggest smile on. Praising you and talking about how the day is so much better with you there. And you, instead of trying to show off, being humble.

He didn't like it. The way you looked so sweet, how you would laugh at the poorly made jokes and how you left just as soon as you appeared, giving him no chance to actually learn something about you. But he does remember how you promised to buy everybody a drink next time you pass by and how you look forward to his movie.

Another one of his fans? Huh? He thought, being disappointed that you'd be much more easier than he hoped.

But he only ended up being disappointed once again, because a week later you appeared on his set one more time. This time with drinks just as you promised, and the biggest smile on your face talking about the role you're auditioning for and how the set is closer to his. Well, you weren't talking to him directly, but the director. But since you were on his movie set you were practically sets neighbors.

Full of himself, he went to you, expecting you to be excited and faint just from seeing him, since you said you were a fan. But instead you looked at him the way you looked at everybody else, the same business smile on that was basically your free pass card in life. Refusing his invitation to drink with him tonight, talking about keeping it professional and how you don't dare to accept since you respect him too much. Fearing that you might do something that would embarrass yourself in front of him.

It was a lie, he quickly noticed the way your face change as you left with your assistant. A blank expression on your face, that smile disappearing, not having to put an act on as you thought no one saw you. But he did, and it got him thinking, spending the next few days searching and looking at any media form that haves your name on it.

Were you actually pretending? Was everybody's sweetheart actually a liar? Did he actually found dirt on you? What is he going to do with this information? Surely you don't want everybody to know about about it, right?

But when he thought he had you, a scandal with your name all over it was the only thing everybody was talking about. How your company was mistreating you and how you finally managed to break ties with them. And it didn't helped that everybody on his set was whining about you not asking for help, and how they noticed your sudden demeanor but didn't said a thing.

Now you had people fighting over you to join entertainment companies. Biggest names arguing about which one was better for you, you even had his company begging you to join them. And now he was stuck with hearing your name once again.

It didn't stopped any time soon, because somehow, miraculously, you decided to sign a contract with his company.

It was like you decided to torture him, play with his mind and lead him on even if you clearly set some boundaries between the two of you. Were you playing hard to get? Because after all those nights awake he learned that you didn't get involved with anyone in the industry. You refused executives after executives, big actors and renowned directors. You would rather get banned from the industry than being known for giving any kind of services or being known as someone's partner.

He didn't knew if he was supposed to be proud or get mad at how stupid you were acting.

But it got him even more invested. And now you had him watching every single thing you appeared in. It could be a small role, you could just appear in the background for a second and he'll memorize the entire movie.

Soon he got bored of that, and he moved into interviews, appearances or just people speculations, the nda you sign or make people sign. He still remembers about that time you got a nobody as your partner and kept him around for a few months. Even so, it didn't changed a thing about his interest in you.

His room was filled with you, pictures, posters, stuff from movies you acted in. His whole house was like this in fact. His closet filled with stuff you wore, you could even find the same products you use in his bathroom.

And the less attention you pay him, the more obsessed he became. Spraying his bed with your perfume every time you went on a date with your little nobodies, sometimes even asking people from your sets about you, not daring to get to close to you so you won't acknowledge him, even if he's dying to get your attention.

Imagine his surprise when you first acted in the same thing. Well, not really because he auditioned for the same movie as you, trying for a role that had it's screentime at the same time as yours. But he didn't really expect to get it. Oh who is he lying to? He called the director and demanded to play by your side, talking about how he wants to try new things and putting a act on so nobody would rat him out.

Just as soon as the roles were revealed to the public, he even hired a few people to post about the two of you online. But he did got hit by surprise from the amount of people that actually shipped you two. It got him giggling and kicking his feet, staying up and reading comments about how you looked together.

And you seemed to feed into fans delusions, interacting with him more and putting on a more friendly facade, like you were actually friends behind close doors.

Even if it was fake, he liked it. The attention you gave him, the way you finally look at him right in the eyes with more than just your business smile. How you sit close to him at interviews, your legs almost touching. And how you would joke with him when people were looking, actually trying to get to know him.

The promotions ended sooner than he'd like, and now he was alone once again.

He should have let go of you, it been already two years since you two acted together, and he did in fact almost forgot about you. His house was finally you free, not a single thing that represented you in any way in sight. And he been clean for the past few months, finally going in public and acting like old him.

That was until a movie director contacted him, wanting him to be one of the main characters in this action movie he's making. And his costar? You. You would play his love interest. He can't really remember what he said after that, but he did ended up with the role, now reading the script with great attention, trying to picture how your scenes would be.

The romance scenes weren't enough, the fans would want to see more, he said while talking to the director, convincing him to add more. And that's how you ended up with some really unnecessary spicy scenes. Making out in the bathroom, somehow fucking each other on his bed, lots of kisses and the sexual tension should be felt the entire movie.

"Director, can I talk to you?" you said when you visit the set for the first time.

"Did something happen?" the older man looked at your concerned face.

"I received the new script." you said, holding the papers in your hands. "Are all the new scenes really necessary? It's supposed to be about fighting for justice, not a romance movie." well, you were right. But the white haired man happened to pay for the movie's budget out his own pocket.

"It would reach to a larger audience." but were the sex scenes really necessary? You looked at Gojo, trying to communicate telepathically with him. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine." the director said, ending the discussion there.

This wasn't just about you, it was also about your coworker and about how he feels. You had to pull him to the side and talk to him, you didn't want any hard feelings or to end up with a twisted relationship because of a stupid movie. "You sure you're alright with the new scenes?" you asked, looking at the tall man as he seemed to hold back something.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" he tried not to smile, happy at the way you seemed concerned about him and his well being.

"The change was out of nowhere and too drastic. I could talk to the director if you feel uncomfortable." you're so cute, he wanted to eat you whole.

"What about you. How do you feel about it?" he knew he went overboard, he blacked out when he made those changes after all. But he personally can't say that he regrets anything.

"It's just acting. Sure, I'm a little unhappy at the changes, but I'm alright with it if you are." god, he was dying to kiss you. He wanted to get to the parts where he could be closer to you, feel your skin against his and have a taste of your lips.

There were a few more weeks of filming until he got to the parts he wanted, and he was waiting patiently. Because he knew that once it started he'll get more than enough of you.

"That's all for today." the director said, finally announcing that it was the end of today's work.

"How about some drinks?" Gojo looked at you talking to your assistant before he looked at the director. "My treat." how could anybody refuse free drinks, especially ones that were payed by the white haired man.

You initially tried to refuse, looking at your assistant for a confirmation before you accepted. And that's how you ended in a bar with almost everybody on the set.

You let yourself to get losen for once, forgetting about the image you carefully builded and drank. You had your assistant there in case of anything, which you trusted a bit too much. But even so, you're just happy that you could drink, enjoy the company of others and feeling like you're just another person in there not just a big name actress.

And perhaps you enjoyed yourself a bit too much. Because people started leaving and you didn't felt like doing the same just yet.

It was just you, your costar, the director and your assistants in there in the end, it wasn't that bad.

"I'll call the car for us." your assistant let you know as they stepped outside for a moment.

"Our car is here." the director's assistant said, making the old man get up and leave. Now it was just you, your costar and his assistant that was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm kinda glad I'm doing this with you." you said, barely able to keep your eyes open. "I hear people talking about you all the time, and they all say how good you are." he stared at you with an expressionless face, still trying to think of what he should do next.

"Why don't we go outside for a moment? Take some fresh air." he wasn't prepared for a love confession just yet.

"Alright." you grabbed his arm, letting your body lean into his. He was sweating, his heart was beating so fast that he doesn't know what to do.

"T-then." he gulped, walking with you towards the back door of the bar. Good thing he reserved the whole place, because he doesn't know what he would have done if anyone saw you in that situation.

He placed you against the wall, sitting back next to you and letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

"Your hands are so big." you said, taking his hand in yours and comparing sizes. He was quiet, he just stared at you, his mind in a million places as he tried to figure out if this was some kind of hint or it was all in his head. "You're big in general." you looked up at him, blinking a few times and making him look away, a hand over his face as he tried to control his facial expression.

"It's nothing." he almost bite his tongue.

"I was a bit scared at first, but I'm glad we're in this together." seriously, are you trying to provoke him? "Let's work together in the future as well." if you weren't leading him on then he doesn't know what this is.

The way you look at him, and how you smile. It wasn't your work smile, you were genuinely smiling at him, heck, even your eyes were smiling. If this wasn't you telling him how much you want him then he really went crazy.

He lowered his head, taking another look at your face before he kissed you. At first it was something simple, just his lips touching yours for a second before he backed away. But the way you looked at him made him get closer. Those eyes of yours, having something that looked like sparkles in them. A fire that never seems to calm down, the heat that made him fall for you in the first place. Who can blame him that he kissed you again? Trapping your body against the wall, making you to wrap your hands around him, welcoming him in your warmth even more.

He let out a moan, looking at you with something lustful in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He looked dangerous, like he finally let go of that prince charming facade, showing you what he actually is.

You looked surprised, like you actually never expected him to act like that. Did you really thought that he's usually that sweet? How cute. He could play with you for a little longer, show you what he's actually capable of.

He bite your lip, looking straight into your soul as his kisses traveled to your neck. He sucked on your skin, placing a soft kiss on it before he sinked his teeth into it, making you to let out a gasp. He needed to leave his mark on you, because who knows when else he could.

He couldn't stay away from your lips for long, and now he's back on devouring you, filling the back alley with the sounds you make. "Come home with me." he tried to say, not wanting to get away from you.

You didn't respond, not because you didn't heard him, because trust me when I say you heard him loud and clear. It was more about what will happen after that, and your moral code. You'd rather die than get involved with anyone in the industry, and yet look at you still refusing to let go of him.

"Y/N, you're here?" you could hear somebody on the other side of the door. It was your assistant, probably looking for you to go home.

"Let go." you quietly moaned into his mouth. The door open, making you to push him away, looking at your assistant who had no clue of what's going on. "Is the car ready?" you felt like you sobber up, it's like you didn't touched a single drop of alcohol.

"It just arrived." your assistant looked at the actor next to you and then at you, not knowing if they should walk away or take you to your car.

"Alright." you left him in that alley, not even looking back at him for a single moment.

He had that look again, he's about to do something you'd both regret, or more like you won't like it. Because if he's shameless enough to do it, do you think he'd actually feel a little bit of remorse?

The next day you woke up with hundreds of text and missed calls, and your head killing you. And when you looked at your phone all you could see is people sending you the same article.

Two big stars making out in the back of a bar. Is this the start of a romance story?

Huh? What are these people talking about? Curious, and having no idea why people were sending it to you, you clicked on it. And you were welcomed with your name all over it, alongside Gojo's.

All you can do is cry. How drunk were you last night? You have to apologize to your costar. How could you have been so stupid? You can't believe yourself for doing such a mistake.

"Do not believe everything you see" you posted something on your social media. Trying to calm down the crowd somehow. You have to talk to your team about this since you have absolutely no idea how to handle it. For the moment it it was better to deny it then resolve this issues with Gojo's team.

Speaking of the wolf, you haven't checked on his social media yet.

You went on his profile, and instead of trying to take control over the situation he was putting more wood on the fire.

"Since everybody knows we don't have to hide anymore" you looked at his post in disbelief.

"???" you comment. Looking at your screen in disbelief at the way he was liking comments about how the two of you looked good together.

"Hi :)" he replied to your comment, making you even more confused. Was this a strategy for the movie? I mean, it wasn't a bad idea since you are his character's love interest.

Perhaps this was all an elaborate scheme that you weren't aware of just yet. That thought made you calm down. The internet was doing otherwise.

There were people who were genuinely happy about this, talking about how they knew it. Hell, you got other stars talking about how they always seen your interactions and they knew something more was going on. The fact that you didn't seen a single hate comment made you put questions, but who knows. You might see them sooner or later.

From that moment on, you didn't had a single peaceful time on set. Now you have people acting like your a married couple when nothing was going on between you and Satoru. But he seemed fine, in fact, he looked happy with the way people are treating you now.

He left his mark on you and you didn't even knew it. It was fine, even if you didn't looked at him as a potential partner, yet. It was alright. There was more than enough time. There's no rush, especially when he knows how to get rid of competition. Just like he got rid of your assistant for interrupting you at the bar, he can get rid of everybody that dares to get in his business.

"You're free later?" he came to you when you were on set, making people start whispering between themselves and giggle.

"Not really." you looked tired, if he knew you'd end up like this without an assistant he would have got you another one first.

"If you ever need my help let me know, I'll help you with anything." he means it, even if he looks like he doesn't. He will walk through fire if you tell him to.

"I'm just looking for a new assistant, don't worry." people were speculating that the assistant was the one who leaked about your so called relationship, but it was far from the truth. But the fact that they refuses to talk to you was confusing, even if it was your assistant who did that, why would they suddenly quit and go no contact? And what was more confusing was the fact that the only text from them was a screenshot of what you posted. Don't believe everything you see. What does that means? Was somebody bullying them? Then why wouldn't they tell you?

Now you couldn't help but be hesitant about chosing a new assistant. What if they end up having the same fate? Some people can be really mean and you don't want anyone to suffer because of you.

So, for the next few days you refused to even talk about your current situation. Only having your manager by your side and not trusting anyone that got too close near you.

This only made someone jealous, and a little angry. You don't want his help, even after what happened at the bar, you act like there was nothing you should talk about.

You should have went to him, jump in his arms and cry about how your assistant left you. But no, instead you chose to overwork yourself, still be the same kind actress that people loved and still giving him no attention.

He haves a limit, you should know that. How much longer he should wait for you to finally notice him?

So, he wrote you a letter. It was nothing more than his current thoughts and about his not so healthy love that was masked as 'admiration'. Shoving into your bag when no one was looking.

You were still on set when you were reading the letter, thinking it was made by one of the staff who happened to be your fan. You didn't really payed too much mind about it, finding it cute and putting it back where you find it after you were done with it.

Did you liked it? Should he write another one? Or did he went too overboard?

Do not believe everything you see, those were your own words and yet you were ignoring them. That letter did made your day, thinking that maybe you're just overthinking about your current situation. There were bad people out there, but there were also good guys. Why were you letting one bad incident ruin your mood?

A few days later you appeared at the studio with an unknown person next to you, you finally got a assistant. And this time you're planning on doing better than you did last time. Or so you thought.

You woke up with another letter, the same handwriting and the same sweet words written on it. This time was more about you than your so called fan, about how you should take more care of your health, how you got people worrying about you. But unlike last time, this letter had a signature on it, an S, nothing more, just a simple symbol.

How cute, S for secret, right? You giggled.

Do not believe everything you see. Really, do not. But for a moment you allowed yourself to be delusional, to think that the world wasn't that bad. I mean, even if there was someone who didn't appreciate you, you still had millions of fans and there are a lot of people who supports you.

And you decided to be more humanitarian, to step up your game and follow your costar's lead. One time after everyone was done with work you announced that you want to take everyone out for drinks, your treat. No one was crazy enough to refuse, especially you.

So, you called a friend of yours who owned a restaurant, the food is great, plus they also had a bar. And off you were.

Just like last time, you ended up all alone in that place with your coworker, laughing at his silly jokes before you finally got up to pay for tonight's feast.

"Your back?" you asked, feeling someone behind you and thinking it was your assistant. But to your surprise, it wasn't. It was the white haired man who seemed drunk, and maybe he was from the few drinks he had that night.

He leaned into you, trapping you between the empty cashier desk and him. He kept looking at you, eyes half open as he seemed to want to say something.

Your mind was wandering for a moment, moving your eyes on his full lips before looking up at him. Every sane person would have done that, I mean, he was eye catching even in that state.

"You're alright?" you sounded concerned, and for a moment he actually thought you cared about him. You looked around the empty room for a moment, looking for any other people in there, but for his assistant more specifically.

"Don't leave me." he got his face closer to your ear, whispering in a low voice, and placing his hands on either sides of your body, trying to get his body more closer to yours.

"Come." you tried to get on of his hands away, so you could move.

"Where?" he only got clingier.

"Let's sit down. I'll get you some water." the last thing you want to see is headlines with your name all over them, talking about taking advantage of him when he's such a state.

"Noo." he whined, resting his head against your shoulder. "Don't want to." you sighed, looking around the room once again, trying to see if anyone from his team is still there.

"I got the bill ready." the cashier came back, only to freeze in place and look at you and your costar hugging, or what it seemed like a hug.

"I'll pay for it as soon as my assistant comes back." you said, trying to act like you're not being suffocated by this mountain of a man. The poor girl ran back from where she came from, leaving you alone with Satoru again. You sighed, you could only sigh as you put a hand on his back, making him break character for a moment as he jolted under your touch. "You can be such a big baby sometimes." good thing that you can't see him, because he was grinning from ear to ear.

"What happened to you?" your assistant finally appeared, looking at the scene you two were putting.

"He's drunk." you said as you rubbed his back with one hand, the other resting on his side, to keep him in place from falling. "Have you seen his assistant?"

"Not since the director left." your assistant got their phone out. "I'll give them a call." you're so thankful that you overcame your fears, because you don't know what you would have done alone in a moment like this. "They turned their phone off." you looked at the man in your arms and shook your head, disappointed at how this turned out.

"Call his manager, or anyone from his team." maybe he was the one who needed a new assistant, not you.

"No one is answering their phone." you understand that it's late at night, but who could just leave a big movie star like Gojo out here without a single thought about it. "What do we do? There's a hotel nearby, we could get a room for him there." that wasn't a bad idea. However, neither you or your assistant would look good if you leave him there. I mean, someone will have to get in the hotel with this world famous actor, who's face is known by everybody. He clearly drunk, and there would 100% be someone who will post something online about it and you'll get backlash for it.

"Let's take him to my place." that was the only option you had left. He started rubbing his face against you when you said that, letting out a groan and letting more of his weight into you.

"You're sure about that?" your assistant asked, not sure how to respond to what you just said.

"He'll sleep in a guest room. It's better than a hotel." your imagine had to come first after all.

So, without any more words said, you took him to your car. Even if he was heavy, he was surprisingly easy to move around. Well, he did followed every single of your move voluntarily, refusing to let go of you in any way possible.

That until you got to your house, dragging him inside when your assistant left, and leading him to a room relatively far from yours.

You pushed him in bed, taking off his shoes and trying to get him comfortable in bed. You didn't even dared to get close to his clothes, just putting the blanket over him and then leaving him in there.

You didn't even thought of taking advantage of him, you just wanted him sleep peacefully, to keep him away from anyone who might do something bad to him. After all, you knew damn well the industry you're working in, they'll eat him like wolves if they get their hands on him.

You're just helping out, you don't expect anything in return. But what a surprise to wake up with him in your bed in the middle of the night. He was on top of you, looking at the way the moonlight hit your face, and somehow wanting to bathe in your scent.

You could feel his hot breath on you, and it made you woke up. You didn't looked scared, even if he looked like he wanted to do things you'd rather not think about, you stayed calm. "Why did you leave me?" was he still drunk, or perhaps he was pretending to be? He was a good actor after all, you wouldn't be surprised if this was one of his acts.

He doesn't understands you. If you were the one who jumped in his arms like that he would have devoured you alive. But even after he made sure he could get some time alone with you, you still didn't payed him attention, at all.

"Go to sleep." you looked unfazed, not even taking him seriously.

"Touch me." he was really going to lose his mind. He was serving himself on a plate to you, and you didn't even dared to take a bite.

"You're drunk." you'd always try to do the opposite of what he's saying.

"I'm not." you knew he was pretending from the start too, didn't you?

"That's what a drunk person would say." you were getting on his nerves.

In a moment of panic, he took your hand in his, kissing your palm, closing his eyes and looking desperate as he tried to show you how he's feeling. You didn't even bat an eye, looking at him expressionless and like you didn't believed a word be was saying.

"Why don't you like me?" he had to confront you, or else this will take him nowhere.

"It's not that." he got the wrong idea, but it wasn't your job to explain yourself when he only understands what he wants to understand.

"Then? Why do you keep avoiding me?" you shook your head.

"I want us to keep it professional." you're making him laugh.

"We weren't professional when we kissed." that's another story. "So you just used me and now you'll let me hanging like this?" he really didn't wanted to listen to you unless you said something he wants to hear. "Make it up to me." what a fucker. "I want something in return for what you did." he's talking like he didn't started it last time.

"What do you want me to do?" you really can't believe him and his stupid demands. This should have been a payback for last time. Taking care of him even if he wasn't your problem to begin with.

"Kiss me." he was waiting for your response. "Like you mean it." you just said you want to keep it professional, but it's like he didn't even heard it.

"Can't I do something else?"

"Post a picture of us." that was even worse. Who knows what people would say if you do that. You'd really be branded as his, and it was a pain in the ass to deal with it.

You grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him closer to you, giving him a kiss that he'd remember. A wet kiss that it filled the room with sound, and your tongue in his mouth dancing with his. You even wrapped your hands around his neck, making sure he doesn't back down and take back his words.

He moaned, his hands trying to get under your shirt to feel more of your skin. But you didn't let him to do anything because you ended the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at him a bit angrily. "What now?"

"Bite me." kissing wasn't enough, he wanted you to eat him. Bite him, devour him in any way you could so that way you could have a piece of him with you.

"I'm not-" he kissed you, this time pinning your hands above your head so he could explore you more freely. Every time you tried to say something he'd bite your lip, making you groan and continued to kiss you.

"Touch me." he moaned, finally getting his mouth away from yours so you could breath. He took his shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room and taking one of your hands in his, placing it on his crotch so you could feel how hard he was. He looked at you, at the face you made and how you didn't looked happy to be in that situation.

"It's too soon." you still refuse to get involved with your coworkers? What does he haves to do to prove to you that he means every single word he's saying?

"Do you really not like me?" he wanted you to be at least a little interested in him. It was no fun if he's the only one with big feelings in there.

"It's not that." it's your moral code.

"Do you ever think of me?" you didn't respond to that, only looking down at your hands amd trying to avoid eye contact.

"I'm not ready." you finally open your mouth to say something. "If we do this then nothing will be the same. We still have work to do, I can't simply just do it." so it was because of work? He already knew that, but at least you didn't dislike him.

"I get it." he said, getting off you and sitting down in bed. "Just go to sleep."

"You can sleep here if you want, I'll go somewhere else." you tried to get out of bed, but he dragged you back.

"Just because we're not fucking that doesn't mean we can't sleep." he will not let this night go without doing something. And just being able to feel your body against his as he sleeps is more than enough. Trust me when I say that this will drive him crazy for many days from now on.

The way you stay in his arms, and how he's able to shield over you. You really have no idea what power you hold onto him.

Do you regret bringing him in? A little. You hate giving people false hope, and he seems to ignore all your signs of displeasure. He did grew up in this environment after all. Being rich and famous from a young age, he haves no idea how to react when people tells him no, he can't handle rejection. And it seems that he always got what he wanted.

He didn't had to put on an act if he wanted to be around you. You could be friends, if he wanted. But nothing more, you wouldn't dare to be something more than acquaintances. You just work together, and are signed under the same entertainment company. You were nothing more than cash cows. You were the biggest stars of your agency, and you seemed to be pushed under the spot light as much as possible. He must understand how you feel, no?

He in fact didn't. And unlike you, he had more control over his actions. You could even say that the agency was afraid of him. He did come from a big family of stars, he had so many connections that even he can't say for sure how much power he was holding. But it was no joke when someone says he's the strongest.

So how can you reject him like that? Leaving him alone in that bed without blinking twice. But perhaps it was for the best, because he could finally rearrange his thoughts and think of what he should do. Retreat wasn't an option, I mean, how could he step back when he basically was in paradise?

This place smells exactly like you, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue and making him salivate while bathing in your scent. Should he steal something? You shouldn't tell him twice, because he got up the bed and starting looking around the room. He should pick something small, that you wouldn't notice. And even if you do notice, what will you do? He's shameless, you'll only give him a reason to get off to later when he's alone.

He should get something practical, that would help him during hard times.

And that's when he saw it, your closet. Something in his perverted mind suddenly lit on, and he went straight for your panties. There's so many to choose from, so many colors and models. He wants to take all of them home, put them on display right at the entrance so he would be greeted by them every time he comes home. In the end he picked one of the prettiest pair you own, shoved it in his pocket and went back into your room.

He gained more than he expected. Perhaps he should play drunk more often.

He got his shirt back on and got out the room. You couldn't possibly just left him in there all alone. And he was right, because he found you in the kitchen, sitting peacefully and taking a sip of some unknown liquid from a cup. "You're up?" the way your voice was still husky, your hair messy and your shirt falling off your shoulder. You said you didn't wanted him and yet you're trying to seduce him, how does that come?

He didn't open his mouth, only getting closer to you and taking the cup away from your hand, drinking from it without a single worry of what it might be.

It was tea, not so sweet, still warm and somehow hitting just right. "If you wanted some you could have said so." you said, getting up and walking towards one of your cabinets, getting out another cup and pouring some tea in it. "Here."

"I'll drink from this." he preferred your half empty cup rather than a full one? What a weirdo.

"Do you want to eat anything? I still have some leftovers from yesterday. I also think I still have some jam left, we could eat it with toast." stop showing him your caring side. He really doesn't know for how much longer he can keep it like this. This moment felt too intimate, it felt like you two really hooked up last night, and it was messing with his head.

You take good care of him, don't you? Offering him some of the biggest clothes you own so no one would suspect a thing, giving him a ride back to the studio. And now acting like you don't even know him. Stop being so cute, it only makes him want to bite you.

"You're here today?" the director said, looking at the two of you who got there at the same time.

"Don't we need to be here for a costumes check?" you clearly remember your assistant telling you to come back and do a last minute fit check.

"It's tomorrow." the white haired man said, wrapping his arm around yours.

"Why didn't you told me?" he was enjoying this too much, all a smile as he was trying not to react at your expression.

"I thought you were taking me home." you didn't even knew where he lives.

"Just go, you love birds. You clearly have better places to be at." the director laughed, making you look in disbelief at him. Love birds? Who?

"Come on, let's go back." Satoru didn't let you say a thing and dragged you out of there.

All he needs to do at the moment is keep people away from approaching you. And it's not hard, at all. Just standing next to you, flash a smile and say something that could be interpreted in wrong ways. He doesn't even need to try to make people run.

"Seriously, why didn't you tell me?" you said when you got back to your car. "Now I look stupid." you looked so gloomy, he was going to eat the pout of yours.

"I thought you knew." he'll get you even more confused about things if it means he'll see you like this. It gave him a false sense of security, like you were finally accepting him.

You sighed, not wanting to let out your anger on him. "Let me drive you home." it would be bad if more people sees you together. And at this point you don't trust anyone to come near your home to get him.

What a joke.

The next day you woke up with people blowing your phone again, and another article of your name next to his, talking about everything you did in public. Your interactions at the bar, how he was spotted at your house where he didn't left until the next morning, and about how you always look lovey dovey at the sets.

The filming progress just started and yet there were already rumors all over the internet about how you two would end up being more than just coworkers by the end of that movie.

Who keeps writing this? Seriously, it was getting on your nerves. And the fact that Satoru kept feeding delusions to the fans wasn't helping.

All this hype around the movie wasn't supposed to be only about you two, the main cast. It was supposed to be about all the production. The set, the visuals, the acting and the script, everyone's hard work. You should have turned down the offer as soon as you heard who your costar would be. But you didn't see any of these coming, so who can you blame?

Things only seems to get worse, because when you stared filming again, you got assigned with a new task.

"So, we're filming what were doing behind the scenes?" you asked, looking at the small camera that one of your coworkers was holding and then at them.

"The director said it would be fun. Giving people a little preview of what's going on." well, it didn't sounded that bad. People seems to enjoy behind the scenes footage in general, letting them see a bit of the actors lifes.

"I see." if the director said so, then you guess you don't really have a saying in this.

"We started already?" the white haired man appeared next to you out of nowhere, resting a hand on your head and leaning into you.

"Satoru, say hi to the camera." the actor said, moving the device to his face.

"Oh right, Y/N." there was a hint of his evil plan in his voice, already knowing you'd be pissed with him. "Are my clothes still at your place? I think I forgot them there." you really couldn't control your expression in that moment, looking at him like he killed somebody.

"What?" your voice was shaking, still not over the fact that he would say something like that in this situation. "Why would they be at my house?"

"I changed there last time. I think I left the clothes on the couch before we left."

"Ohh~" the other actor said, making you to look at them, somehow begging them to not get the wrong idea. "I see you're busy. I'll let you be, I won't interact."

"No, wait. It's not what it seems." it was already too late. "Why would you say that?" because he knew the director loves drama, and this would end up being published sooner or later. He was killing two birds with one stone. Doing a favor for the movie's publicity and showing the world that he already been in places some wouldn't even dare of dreaming of.

"People love things like these." he wrapped his hands around you, resting his chin on your head. "Hug me, the camera is in our direction." if it was or not, he couldn't care less. He just wanted to feel your touch in that moment.

It only got worse and worse the moment you started filming the sex scenes. The scenes were like a reflection of your own actions in real life, because everything started with a drunk kiss at a bar. Then ending up in his apartment where you were eating each other in the hallway.

It was supposed to be acting, the kisses didn't even needed to be real and yet he's not even holding back, touching you in all kind of inappropriate places, groping you shamelessly like there aren't cameras all over the place.

He pinned you against the sturdiest wall in there, making you wrap your legs around him as he kept biting and kissing you all over the place. At this point, you don't think the editors would need any sonds effects for your scenes. Because you realized how filthy those sounds were, and loud. Every time you kissed it was echoing in that empty place, the small setting that was supposed to represent a house wouldn't be enough to muffle the sounds.

He bite your lip when he realized your head was in a complete another place. How dare you ignore him in moments like these. You couldn't run even if you wanted, because you'd have to come back to him and film everything from the start. Or perhaps he could make you screw up on purpose, to retake this scene so he could touch you even more.

"Wait." you tried to stop him when you felt his hand under your shirt, trying to unclip your bra.

"What?" he said out of breath, taking his lips away from you for a moment so he could look at you.

"Let-" you looked away, too embarrassed at the way he was looking at you, his pupils were dilated and he looked like he would really put his dick in you if it wasn't for all these people in there. "Let me do it." his lips were back on yours while his hands were trying to take your clothes off.

Both of your clothes were all over the place, and you know it would be a pain in the ass to pick them after. He was too focused on this, the way he looked like he couldn't see anyone but you, like you were really alone in his house.

That's the beauty of acting, no? How some could get so focused on the plot, acting like their character is supposed to and forgetting about the outside world. But he wasn't acting in that moment. Maybe you were, but he taking this very personally. And the fact that you were holding back moans, refusing to touch him more than necessary and trying to stay in your character was infuriating him. It wasn't his character that makes you feel good, it was him.

He ended up throwing you in the bed a little harder than he intended, his touch becoming rougher and his kisses even wetter than before.

Good god, it's good that the scene ended soon after you two got to the bed, or else you would have lost it. You're already soaking wet, you have no idea what you would have done if this kept going for too long.

The scene was perfect, as much as you're embarrassed about it, it was pure perfection. Not a single time did the director called cut, you didn't had to retake the same scene from another angle. Nothing was said about your so called acting besides that you were in complete sync.

He's taking revenge on you, isn't he? Because even now after you finished your scenes for today, he looked at you with the same hungry eyes. And you swear you didn't mean it, but it made your pussy clench.

You gave him a quick look, squeezing your thighs together for a moment when he looked back at you.

It was something that he never saw before, the way you act. That expression on your face, pouting and looking at him with this thing in your eyes that made him want to drag you somewhere far away from people. You needed him, didn't you? And he was going to help you if you asked him to. Because if he got you in that state, then he also had to resolve your problem.

But you didn't spoke to him, you just looked at him all needy for a moment, like you wanted his touch back on you and then left, leaving him with the worst bonner he ever got in his life. This, only to come back a few days later for your next scenes.

You were driving him insane. And there aren't enough interactions in the movie to take out his frustration on you. There are too little scenes, and sometimes he had to improvise when he was getting too lost in his feelings. A few kisses here and there, just a quick peak when you were in the background to give more life to the movie.

But you still didn't said a thing, acting like this was all part of the script, like you were payed to do so.

So can you blame him when he wrote you another letter again? This time more aggressive than the previous times. Talking about how you got him feeling, how he craves for your touch and it drives him insane the way you seem not to care. Give him attention, or act like you acknowledge him. And this time he left the paper in your dressing room, placed under one of your stuff where he knows you'll know it was meant for you.

Too bad he couldn't see your reaction when you read the letter, but he realized you weren't too happy about it. It got you acting paranoid again, he could see it in your eyes, your body language. How you need to have a bit of distance from anyone that tries to come too close to you, and how you seem not to trust people anymore.

It was just a letter, he didn't even wrote everything down. No, in fact, he held back a lot. Because if he did wrote his mind you would refuse to come back into the movie set ever again.

But that's your charm, I guess. How you don't hide your feelings, and how you try to not make it obviously that you're displeased with things even if it's written all over your face. You're a good actress, a very good one, and yet you don't act unless you're required to. You were the opposite of him, where he always haves a mask on, the same business smile as you. But unlike you, he doesn't mean an thing, this friendly facade.

You were genuinely a sweetheart, while he only acted as he sees fit. And in this moment he's so close on fucking everything up just to toy with you. Because he's at his limits.

It was time for another suggestive scene, the set being filled with less people than usually. The lowlights, the atmosphere and everything in there was a bit suffocating. But maybe because of how much you overworked yourself these days.

"Do you think the plan will work?" you asked, sitting on his couch and looking at the coffee table that was placed there by the staff members.

"Do we have any other option?" he said his line in a serious tone, his character was supposed to be stressed from all the unfortunate events that happened lately, but it seems that he too is stress. Well, everybody been working overtime lately, but the sooner you were done with this movie the sooner you could move on with your life.

"I wish we could resolved this peacefully, I'm tired of fighting." you sighed, looking at your fingers for a moment and then at him who was resting not so far from you on the couch.

"Come here." he pat his lap, his back resting against the couch and he didn't even wanted to move an inch from there. He was improvising again, he was supposed to get up and drag about bottle of alcohol into this.

You followed his instructions, not wanting to pretend to be drunk again, and somehow not wanting to act in that moment too. If he haves a better idea for this scene then you'll follow his lead.

So, you sat on his lap, legs spread on either sides of him and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands resting on your hips, moving towards your ass as he grabbed you and dragged you closer to him, your chest pressed against his as he placed you over his hard cock. You could feel him through his pants, and for a moment you stopped functioning, not knowing how to react to this.

"Well figure it out." he kissed you, his hands going under your shirt to make contact with your burning skin.

The kiss was so sloppy, both of you too tired to figure out a pace you should go at. Just touching, getting lost in the way your bodies seem to welcome each other openly. For a moment even forgetting where you actually are at the moment, and if the director wouldn't have said cut, you could have definitely escalated things.

What was going on in your mind? How could you let yourself so carefree? If you was just a bit more tired and at a state where you couldn't think properly, you would have definitely dragged him to your changing room and fucked him there.

And you woke up with another letter, even worse than last time. Talking about how your body looks, how he wants to get his hands on you, how you turn him on in the worst way possible.

The more you ignored those letters, the more they came. It got so bad, describing his fantasies, the way you appear in his dreams to haunt him like he wasn't haunting you right now. You had no idea who the sender was, because sometimes the letters would be sign as S, sometimes they would just be filled with nothing but filthy words and no signature. But you knew it was the same person from their handwriting.

You'd always wake up with them in places where there aren't many people allowed. And no matter how hard you're thinking about, you can't figure who it was. There were no cameras in this side of the studio, so you couldn't even see who was tormenting you.

"Why don't we go drinking tonight?" the director said one time before you were almost done with work fot that day. "We're almost done with filming, lets celebrate." after all these stressful days, you could use a drink.

It will be quick, go there, have a chat with a few people, have a drink and then go home. But just like last time, one drink turned into too many and you ended up in a corner of the bar with your costar who seemed to feed you even more alcohol.

He had his chin resting against his palm, looking at you with a smile on his face as he kept pouring more of that bitter liquor into your glass. "I can't drink no more." you couldn't even speak properly, hiccuping and moving left to right, like you were about to fall off your chair.

"One more won't hurt." the bar was still filled with people, so he had to keep himself in place.

"I got the car ready." your assistant came to your table looking at you and then at the white haired man. "I have to take her home, she's already too drunk." maybe he should get rid of this one too. It seems that all your assistants like to get in between his plans.

But perhaps he got a better idea. He took your glass, gulping down everything that was in it in a second before he tried to get you to the car. "Give me a ride too." he got in the backseat of your car, pretending to fall asleep after some time.

Your assistant tried to call anyone related to him, to come pick him up from your house because he seems too drunk to even stand on his own feet. But since no one was answering, they had no choice but to get him in your house, leaving him on the couch before they left.

It was always easy, so damn easy. He couldn't help but laugh. Drunk, him? He never got drunk in his life. Alcohol seems to have no effect on him.

He made his way to your room, getting next to the bed and looking at you sleeping. How dare you be so at peace when he's there? You were panicking all over the place last time he wrote you a letter, crying and refusing to talk to anybody if it wasn't for work. And now you act like you forgot about it.

He stood in place, looking down at you with an expressionless face as he can't think of anything at the moment. He got this far, so what? He could scare you more, give you a reason to hate him but at the same time all he wants to do is stand there all night and look at you.

He took his phone out, taking a quick picture of you before he put it back in his pocket.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, not far from where you're sleeping, looking out the window and then back at you. You had quite a nice view, no wonder you always seem to be in a hurry to come home.

Should he do something mean? Leave another letter in your home to see your reaction the next day. He could put it in one of your pockets and act like he doesn't remember anything besides going to the bar to drink. Maybe even leave the front door open and say some shit about hearing something while he was asleep.

But before he could think of anything more, you extend a hand, grabbing him by his shirt and trying to drag him closer. Like before, he just stood in place, looking down at you who seemed to pull harder. Were you mistaking him for the blanket or something? Unfortunately for you, he won't take off his clothes until you do so.

"Mm." you groaned, opening your eyes to look at the white haired man confused. "Ah.." you rubbed your forehead. "Fuck." that was the first time he heard you swear. "Come here." were you still sleeping? Because he doubts you'd react that lightly to him being there. But you were calling for him, and he wouldn't dare to say no to you. So he got in that bed, getting all cozy next to you and waiting for your next move.

For a moment you just touched him, moving your hand on his face, trying to feel something before it went lower on his body. He stood there, observing your clumsy actions and letting you do whatever you wanted with him. Your hands kept wandering, from his chest to his abs under his shirt, and now you were tugging at his pants, trying to see what you didn't got to see until now.

You were funny, the way you looked surprised whenever you discovered something new about him. "Don't do that." he said when you kept trying to get your hands in his pants.

"I want to see it." you pout, looking at him for a moment before you moved his shirt out the way, exposing his lower abdomen. "If you're as big as it feels." his heart skipped a beat, he couldn't help but cover his face with his hands. Do whatever you want, he'll hold back so you can explore as much as you want. "Ohh!" seriously, he can't even look at you when you make those faces. He was biting his lips so hard, he's afraid he might moan before you even touch him. "Why are you so big? Look at the size." his cock twitched, making you let out another surprised sound.

"Touch it." he said between his teeth, looking at you between his fingers and at what you're doing.

Your eyes moved on his, a serious expression on your face before your eyes went back to his dick. Can you even fit something like this inside you? The size was just ridiculous, but that didn't stopped you from touching it. Moving your hand around and studying like it was the first time seeing a cock.

He was bucking his hips forward in your hand, breathing heavily as he tried to keep himself from touching you. This was the first time you ever showed interest in him, he can't just fuck this up.

"How does it feel?" you asked, looking at the way he throws his head backwards, his chest rising and falling down.

Good, it feels so fucking good. He might go crazy from how soft your hand was. He moaned, not even being able to let out words, or think of a way to respond to you.

"I want that too." you took your hand away, making him to finally look at you as you took your clothes off. Now sitting on top of him, taking his cock back in your hand and trying to take him inside your pussy. But it didn't matter how much you're trying, it was impossible to get at least his head. It hurts, the more you try the more frustrated you became. "It doesn't fit." his dick twitched again. You're killing him, you're saying stuff he didn't imagine you to say, and it was killing him inside.

"I'll make it fit." he pushed you off him, pinning you down into the bed as he got in between your legs, placing kisses on your body as he went lower and lower, until he got to your pussy.

He loved the way you taste, it was better than he imagined. So much fucking better. It was no wander he was trying to devour you, I mean, who knows when he's going to do this again. So he might as well do it until he memorizes your taste.

Your hands went through his hair, tugging at it lightly as you let out soft moans, even cursing under your breath from time to time, letting him know how good you were feeling.

He pulled a few orgasms out of you, loving way too much the way your thighs wrapped around him, or how you're trembling, looking at him with teary eyes and you only seem to want more.

He'll give you more, he'll give you as much as you ask for, fuck, even more. He'll make sure to make you fit him, prepare you so good that you could only fit his cock from now on. He'll give you a reason to keep going back to him.

He got up from between your legs, sitting next to you as he got his hand back to your pussy, slowly pushing two fingers inside and making you gasp. "Is it good?" he whispered in your ear, feeling the way you clench around him. All you did was to nod, looking at him with big doe eyes and leaning more into him, to feel more of his warmth.

"Deeper." you said when he didn't went more than halfway through, moving his fingers at a slow pace that it left you hanging, almost giving you no friction whatsoever.

He kissed you quickly before moving his eyes back on your pussy, resting his cheek against your head. Be careful what you're wishing for, he'll go so deep that you'd feel him in places you never knew existed. It's already hard to hold back, but if you keep provoking him he might let his mind slip for a moment.

So, doing just as you asked him to, he got deeper, curling his fingers upwards and making you squirm. He kissed you again, this time taking no break as he kept bullying your insides, making your walls get tighter around him. How is he going to live without this? How can he go back home and act like everything is normal after this? That's why he couldn't help but move faster, in a irregular pace as he kept stopping from time to time only to go rougher. So you wouldn't get too used to him.

You were a moaning mess, and he seems to only want you to lose your mind, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, kissing you as he made you turn around so he could do it from another position. He wants to go even deeper, to get back at your words, for requesting unnecessary things when he was going to give you what you wanted anyway.

"One more, come on baby. Give me one more." for how much longer is he going to say that? He's starting to get on your nerves at this point. But in the end, he finally took his fingers out of you. Dragging you closer to him so your back could be pressed against his chest, one of his arms under you head as he kept your hair away from your face, so he could be able to look at you. "You'll fit me now." he whispered in your ear, dragging your hips back and grabbing one of your legs, spreading them apart as he start whispering more filthy words in your ear. "Look at how you're taking me in." he said, waiting for you to say something, but to his surprise, you're long gone into the dream world. Sleeping soundlessly in his arms, like you forgot that he was even there.

He can't believe this. You actually fell asleep. You really dared to fall asleep and leave him there after you dragged him in your bed. The audacity you had. He's going to make sure to give you a hard time tomorrow for this. So, he too fell asleep next to you. A bit hard to do so, but he managed somehow.

The next day you woke up with your head killing you. You shouldn't have drank that much, how could you have been so dumb.

You were about to turn around when you realized that someone was in your bed, a pair of muscular arms around you, and someone breathing into the back of your neck. Your heart stopped working, you froze in place as you saw your soul leaving.

"Morning." a masculine voice could be heard from behind you, and you feared that you knew exactly who it was. He pressed his body into yours, letting you know you were both naked, and feeling his hard cock pressed against your back.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run from there and not look back for a single moment. How could you have been so stupid, how could you just do that. Just how drunk did you got?

"Don't tell me you're planning on running away." he whispered into your ear, making you flinch. "You dragged me into your bed, put your hands all over me and now you're going to leave me after you used me as you pleased? I had no idea you were that type of person." you whined, because that's all you could do in that moment. What other explanation do you have?

"I can explain." he pressed his cock into you harder, making you yelp.

"Oh yeah?" one of his hands traveled on your body, now going up towards your boobs, making you gasp when he groped one. "You kept me up all night." you cried at his words. "Don't you remember the way you got on top of me? Trying to get my cock inside then crying about how big it is." you closed your eyes shut, trying not to let out another whine from remembering what happened last night.

"I'm sorry.." what else could you say besides that?

"You weren't sorry when you were telling me to go deeper." his hand went down your body, wanting to go in between your legs to spread them again, but you jumped out of bed.

"I'm sorry, alright. I have no idea what got into me last night." you were really planning on running? Don't make him laugh.

"So you really just used me then, huh?" he stood there, in your bed. Half his body being covered by the blanket while the other was all naked, his skin exposed to you and he didn't seemed to me ashamed at all by what happened.

But if you think about it, he was the one who got a bottle of a really strong liquor and dragged you to the corner of the bar, making you have a glass with him. "It's your fault too." his eyes wided, looking at you like he didn't expected to hear that. "I might have dragged you in my bed, but if you didn't liked it you wouldn't have stayed." he smiled, finally letting his mask drop as his body language suddenly changed. He looked more relaxed, a smirk on his face as he uncovered more of his body.

"Come here. Let's continue from where we were." you moved you eyes away from him, not daring to look in his direction as you could see his cock. "Don't be shy now. You weren't last night, so why should you be now?" you're not going to listen to his nonsense anymore. "You don't want me anymore? How sad." he looked at the way you were going to your closet. "I still want you though." you ignored him as you went to get dressed. But you couldn't even do that in peace because he got behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and resting his chin against your head. "You should wear that, it looks good on you." he pointed at some dress you had in there.

"I'm not going anywhere today." you want to be comfortable, not dress up for nothing.

"Then wear nothing. I like it when you have nothing on." you could feel that, since he made it sure to let you know he was still as hard as before.

"Here." you said as you picked some clothes that were clearly too big to be on your size. "You can wear this." now that's he's thinking about it, something doesn't add up.

"Why do you have male clothes in your closet?" who else wore these? And you dared to give them to him like it was nothing too.

"I like buying them since they're comfortable." oh, that was an option too. Why didn't he thought of that? I mean, it's been quite a while since you last been in a relationship, and he knows that since he always knows what you're doing. What if he's not paying attention to you one time and you get married? He can't possibly let you do that. That empty spot in your bed was reserved to him. "We needed to talk." you said after you got dressed, getting out your closet and walking outside your room.

"About what?" he knows this moment. You always make people sign an NDA before you get into a anything deeper. But what he doesn't like about your relationships is that it's almost never too intimate, you just go out, eat, spend some time together and then that's it. Did one of those fuckers left you disappointed and now you're avoiding contact with other people? How sad. But well, since you have him now you don't have to think about that anymore. He'll get you drunk on his dick, and he'll make sure you only have eyes for him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know if we can continue this." huh? That wasn't what you were supposed to say. "We still have to film the movie, and then the promotions. I don't want anything awkward between us."

"What about after?" you didn't said a thing, only looking down at your feet before looking at him. "So you did play with me, huh?" perhaps this was your revenge for making you feel weak. He can't believe you actually knew of his doings and you didn't said a thing.

"If you still feel the same after everything is done.." huh? What did you just said? You were actually going to give him a chance? The NDA still sounded better, and he'll sign it in a blink of an eye if you do hit him with one.

He thought that something would change, that you'd be more open to him. But no, you were still as distant as ever.

You were playing with him, weren't you? You were just playing dumb because you knew how he actually was feeling. Well, he too can tournament you. From that day onward he kept writing you everyday, placing the letters in really inconvenient places and watching your reaction from not that afar if he could.

He made sure to not let you rest a single moment while you were on the set. It did not lasted for long whatsoever, because the filming soon ended and the film was sent to editing, giving everybody a break until the promotions starts.

You skipped the party, lying about how you got a cold and you didn't want anyone else to catch it, so you stayed at home.

You still remember the day the trailer was published, the way your phone was blowing and how you didn't dared to even look at it that day. But when you did turned it on, everything was worse than you imagined.

The trailer opened with a scene of the city, then it got to the point of where the conflict started, and as you watched more, the more scenes from the movie were put in, the fighting, the peaceful times, and it ended with you and Satoru kissing against a wall. A big long scenes of just the two of you almost fucking in there, and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

The comments? You could smell them from a mile away. You could hear screamings and whistles, like you knew exactly what people were talking about. And you were right because when you opened that section you were met with people talking about you and your costar rather than the trailer itself.

"Was the last scenes necessary?" a comment said, and you couldn't agree more to it. But the replies under it said otherwise.

Your social medias? Filled with people purring about you and Gojo. And he seemed to enjoy this as he kept liking comments about the two of you. And now people were officially calling him your husband. He was the one demanding to be called yours, not the other way. Because you weren't his property, he was yours.

You tried to get out the house in god knows how many days, finally going to the agency to talk to your manager about the situation. Can't you calm it down somehow? And the answer was no. The media was responding so positively about this, you couldn't just say something about it when you were put in such a good light. I mean, look, there were so many people requesting for you appearance than any other times before. Your team was busy responding to phone calls and emails for you.

So many people wanted you in their movies, because if they get you they also get Gojo. Since he apparently, you have no idea when, said that he won't act in a movie unless you're there. And if you accepted a role, then they automatically get Satoru too. Killing two birds with one stone. Having two of the most hot actors, who happened to be a so called power couple, acting in their movie was a free pass to the most sold movie of the year.

But you didn't even looked at those offers, no matter how good they were. You don't want to get involved with him anymore, he was only going to bring you problems.

Instead of accepting any offers, you decide to make a quick appearance on some big show that only asked for you to participate. The first thing you heard today that didn't involved Gojo's name into it.

You were so happy to go there, all a smile and stress free knowing that you don't have to get involved with that guy any time soon.

Did you really think that it was going to be that easy? You just got there on the set and you were met with one of the questions you were trying to avoid.

"First of all, I'm a big fan." the host said when you sat down on the couch. "But I don't really wanna say much so your boyfriend won't get jealous." you awkwardly laughed. "How is he, btw?" you had no idea what to say.

"You know." you said, biting your lip and trying to think of an excuse. "We both been busy." you don't even know in what county is he right now.

"I'm sure you are." the interview went on, moving to other discussions and you managed to forget about the white haired man for a moment. "Hold on a second." the host said as they talked to a staff member. "So, um, I was informed about something. And, Y/N, we actually have a gift for you?" how sweet, you thought. Only to be welcomed with your costar on the set, making the audience clap. "What a surprise, right?" you smiled, putting on your same old business smile on as you tried to keep your composure.

"I was nearby and I was thinking why not paying a visit." he lied as he got closer to the couch.

"It's always nice to have you here." the host said. "Please sit down, I actually wanted to ask about the new movie you two played in."

"I'd love to but I'm kinda in a hurry." he leaned down towards you, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and messing with your hair for a moment. "You two have fun." he said as he got away from you. "I have to go now. I wasn't even supposed to stop to begin with." he waved as he left, making the audience sound way too happy about this.

"Relax, no need to be shy." the host said, looking at your expression. "We already saw the trailer, it's nothing we haven't seen already." you wanted to cry. "So, about the movie. Does it have more of those scenes or were we deceived with the trailer?" you'll make sure to pick a written interview next.

"I'm not really sure if I should talk about it.." you tried to change the subject.

"It's not like you're spoiling the movie for us. We're curious about you and your partner." and that's what you don't like.

"Well.." everybody's eyes were on you. "Let's just say that you'll see more." that was enough to make the crowd go crazy.

Because of that guy now you can't even deny that you two aren't together anymore.

You would have been alright with all of this if the nothing happened between the two of you, and if Gojo felt the same way as you. But he seemed to push the idea of something happening between the two of you to the public. It was driving you crazy because you didn't know how to react. You always told yourself that you won't get involved with anyone from the industry, that you'll make a few more movies and then retire, find someone simple and live an almost normal life.

But instead you're here, stuck with media actually approving of this non existent relationship.

You have to talk to Satoru next time you see him. But you never really got the chance to do that in private when the promotions started.

Interview after interview and it only looked like you were surrounded by more and more people. And he didn't wanted to talk to you when you tried to pull him aside, talking about how people will think something inappropriate about the two of you when he was the one who was saying stupid things in front of the camera.

Now it was the premiere, having to stay arm in arm with him the whole time. And he doesn't hold back even for a moment, letting his hands roam around your body and making the crowd go insane.

"Let's talk." you whispered to him, making him lower his head so he could hear you.

"What about?" he was playing dumb, he already knew what you wanted to say.

"Do you have some time later?" you said as you wrapped your arm around his, following his lead as he was guiding you around the red carpet.

"Who knows." he said that, but at the after party you managed to trap him in a corner not allowing him to go away before he had a talk with you. "There are people watching." a smile on his face as he said that, looking at your angry face as you had him pinned to the wall.

"I don't care. You're going to run again." look at how the roles switched. He had no idea you would actually try to confront him.

"Then." he wrapped his arms around you, looking down at you and grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want to talk about."

"People are thinking that we really are in a relationship." your current position wasn't any better either. People were giving you looks like you were being perverts in public.

"They are?" why was he acting shocked when he was the one feeding that idea to others.

"We don't have to pretend anymore." you said, but that only made him to drag you closer.

"You said you'd give me a chance after we're done with the movie." you said a lot of things that you didn't mean, why was this any different.

"I just said that I don't want people to think we're in a relationship. What do you not get?" snap at him more, he can't be any happier than he's at that moment. He leaned down, his face getting closer to yours and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Keep your promises, don't disappoint me." you huffed, turning your face in another direction only for him to turn it back towards him and kiss you on your lips. "Let's get out of here. It started to get boring anyway." why did you listen to him was a mystery, why you followed him to his car and back to his house was something you couldn't figure it out. And how you ended up in his bed? You can't really respond to that either.

He was kissing you, hands under your clothes and trying to get them off as fast as he could. Moaning into your mouth whenever you touched him, pushing his body into yours and trying to become one with you in a way or another.

How could you think that you could leave him? What would he do if he doesn't have you? What is he supposed to do from now on if he can't think about you 24/7? To even dare to think about abandoning him, he's going to punish you for this.

"Turn around." that stupid dress was in his way, he can't believe your stylist really made you wear this. What if there are fuckers out there who still dares to look at you even after he made it very clearly who you belong to.

Well, whatever. He'll make sure to get rid of that stylist of yours. Not a big problem.

He kissed your back as your skin became exposed to him. With a swift movement taking your panties off and throwing them somewhere easy to spot, to not forget to take them later.

You had to tell him to take his clothes off so you could catch a break, otherwise he would have took you there from how impatient he was.

You just stood there, at the edge of his bed, one leg over the other and looking at him trying to take off his tie faster. He really had to wear a fucking suit, now look at him, he was about to rip it off him. And look at you, you look so calm about this, enjoying seeing him struggle while he was losing his mind. "Undress me." he looked down at you, taking a few steps closer to you, and taking your hand in his and placing over his white shirt to unbutton it.

You might as well do it, you don't see why not. But the problem was him and his stubbornness. Kissing you, almost pushing you in bed while you were just trying to do as he said. It took a long time, and the task seemed to never end, but here you were now, with him on top of you and making you wrap your legs around him. No fancy party could make him miss this, in fact he couldn't even care about that damn premiere to begin with.

His hands were traveling on your body, touching you in some of his favorite places. You were so warm, he couldn't help himself. How you gasp whenever he's groping you, dragging you closer to him so he could feel you even closer, even if there was no more space left between the two of you.

"Put it in already." you demanded, but he wasn't going to just give it to you yet. What if you struggle like last time? He can't let you say such dirty words again or you might not be able to walk at all tomorrow.

"There's no rush." you can act as cute as you want, he's going to take his time with you. After all, you need to see how good he can treat you, make you feel so good that all you'll remember is his name. He kissed your forehead before he moved his eyes on his hand that was going in between your legs. "Look how wet you are." you were a bit embarrassed about it. "And you said that you don't want me." your body can be more honest sometimes, and he'll love to learn more about it.

He got some of your juices on his fingers, moving it around your clit to see the way your body tensed immediately. Weren't you a needy one? He kissed the side of your face before pushing two of his fingers in, paying attention to the face you were making and at the way you were sucking him in.

He moved his hand at a relatively slow pace, it was more about to make you feel the way you're taking him, how deep his fingers can go compared to yours, or anybody else. You can only feel like this because of him. See the way you're still so tight? That's because he wasn't there to stretch you out the way you needed.

"Keep your eyes open, alright baby?" he spoke to you in a baby voice, making you feel like he was mocking you. "Don't hide from me." can't he just fuck you already? Why was he playing around so much.

You did tried to do as he said, keeping your eyes open and trying to avoid eye contact with him because it made your pissy clench. This was so embarrassing, the way he was taking his sweet time and giving you almost no friction at all, and how he seems to enjoy this. Like torturing you was bringing him pleasure.

He didn't let you say a word and smashed his lips against yours, placing his palm against your clit as he finally started to move like he means it. Curling his fingers up so hard it got you squirming and letting out a few moans. And you never seem to stay in place, moving around and arching your back every time he was hitting something that makes you see stars.

You were a mess, the way you were so wet that your juices got on his bedsheets, and the noises your body makes were so obscene and loud it was hard to ignore.

He noticed the way you look at him, pleading for some mercy like you were at your limit about to break. But there was so much more in you, one orgasm wasn't going to stop him from giving you another. And he swears on his name the next one will be even mind blowing.

That's when he took his hand back to himself, making you sit more comfortably in bed before he positioned back in between your legs. This time he'll make sure you'll stay awake and take all of him, there was no other way.

You looked at his face and then at his cock, at the way he had his head at your entrance, almost pushing it in. You'll take him? Like, you're really going to fit him? "You can do it." he said when he finally pushed some of his cock in. "Fuck." he cursed under his breath. "I know you can do it." he let out a moan, throwing his head back for a moment before moving his eyes back on you. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed and the cutest pout you ever showed him. It was like you really had a death wish, to fuck with his feelings like this and making his dick twitch. If he couldn't control himself any better he would had came right there on the spot. "Too much?" he said as he kept pushing his cock all the way in, making you nod as your words were stuck in your throat. "That's too bad."

You won't see any sympathy from him. Does he even knows what that means to begin with? You're too delicious, and the fact that he could pull even more expressions out of you made him push you over your limits.

So here he was, moving in and out of you way slower than he wants, rubbing your clit with his thumb and observing you like the pervert he is. He was salivating, drooling over your weak form as you showed him your off guard self. His cock twitching every time you let out a moan, and making you jolt at the sensation.

"Does it hurt?" he asked as he kept looking down at you, moving his hips in the same old motion. You nodded again, eyes still closed and biting your lip because of how he made you feel. He'll make it hurt even more, don't think that you can rest yet just because he's going easy on you. Fuck, he wants to sink his teeth into you so bad, leave marks all over your body as he rams his cock in and out of you.

But then you looked at him, big teary doe eyes that had him seeing a flash before him. He almost came, like, he almost cum just because you looked at him. If you want him to keep it together you have to talk some sense into him, because he doesn't think he can recover from that.

"You can move." no, don't give him a green light. Torment him more, play with his feeling and edge him till he's losing his damn mind. Don't be so sweet to him, he'll end up locking you up if you do that.

He pressed his chest against yours, his mouth finding yours as he started kissing you like the most starved man on earth. He moved his hips without a warning, slamming into you like you were his toy, and yet demanding for your touch. He was pushing himself into you, trying to steal the air away from your lungs as he seemed more desperate with each thrust.

He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to snap at him and push him off, or tell him that's he's being too rough so he could stop being so delusional. But you didn't, only dragging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him just as needy as he was, both of you being a moaning mess. And not letting go of each other even after you came, wanting to feel even more. To cum again and again, and to be filled by him to the brim, even if you knew that would bring you some serious problems later when you finally come back to your senses.

The next day you woke up with a sore body, your skin aching all over the place, and barely being able to get up the bed.

That didn't stopped you from getting dressed with some clothes you found around the room, what you can only assume it was his since they were way too big.

You got out the room, in hope to find your phone or maybe the white haired man so he could get you back home. And now you were in the living room, looking around for your things. Instead finding a letter, that seemed way too familiar.

That handwriting, you could recognize it everywhere. And that damn signature, the fucking S.

It was one of the letters he didn't managed to 'give' it to you yet. And honestly, you don't know if you should be relieved or terrified because this one was worse than anything before.

You turned around, paper still in your hand and looking at the tall guy who had his back pressed against the wall. He was expressionless, no thoughts behind his head as he seemed to stare at you like he was looking into the void.

It was him, that damn son of a bitch. He played with you all this time and you had no idea.

"I made you breakfast." he said, not every caring if you found out about his doings or not. "Come while it's still hot." he let out a laugh at your expression. You never hold back, do you? Can you at least try to not look like your about to kill him?

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk satoru #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu satoru

336 notes · View notes

nanamisgirly · 3 months ago

Text

PLEASE, STAY

↪ ( ˶ a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you. for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. and then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't. because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.˵ )

pairing ᥫ᭡。richman!Gojo x bodyguard reader. they had a sort of situation ship before.

content ᥫ᭡。fem!reader, no curses au, they're both around 30, smut at the very end, very provocative gojo (?), mean reader ig, a lot of cursing, angst, oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, mention of blood, fights scenes, broken bones, pet name (mostly sweetheart and once baby), sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, explicit content, power dynamics, military mention (mild ptsd), gun mentions

word count ᥫ᭡。13k

notes ᥫ᭡。this is for my 200 followers 🥹 thank you for all the reblogs they are very very much appreciated!! I didn't know where I was going with this fic lmao, I just hope that some of you will enjoy reading it! I'm always open to feed back :))) be mindful this is my first long (?) fic, I threw some stuff together and hoped for the best oops

you were assigned to gojo saturo. of all the men you could possibly protect, it had to be him— you're ex-friend with benefits.

you sat across from him at a table that probably cost more than your entire apartement, fingers twitching under the weight of irritation. the upscale place was dimly lit, the kind meant for quiet luxury.

“you both understood?” your superior asked, sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. Gojo grinned, the same playful smirk on his annoyingly handsome face. the past nine years had only done him favors, he'd grown taller— making him tall like a damn tower— his features sharper, his frame broader. 'maybe he'd been training' you thought. ‘or it’s just life sculpting him into something even more irritatingly perfect.'

you left him when things started to be serious. back then, Gojo had some difficulties to understand he was just a sex friend. but it didn't really matter, you had to leave for the military anyway.

for a long time, you didn't want to process feelings, attachments— that was just bullshit. and now, nine years later, somehow, you were right back where you started.

you retired from the military after sustaining severe injuries. but you still craved the thrill— fights, missions, the adrenaline rush. it kept you on track. like drugs, you were addicted. so you became a sort of bodyguard. over the years, you had protected royals, rich heirs, celebrities— anyone with a target on their back. it owned you the reputation as being the best in your field. you were ruthless, cold-blooded, killing without hesitation if needed.

your face remained stoic, your gaze locked onto gojo as he held yours. “yeah, got it. babysit the rich brat until the gala's over.” you mocked, leaning back against the chair.

satoru chuckled, he couldn't help but tease you “oh, come on now. you make it sound so boring” tilting his head like a cat toying with its prey. “i thought you'd be happy to spend some time with an old friend”

you scoffed. “friend is a strong word, Gojo” that response only fueled his mischief. “you're right” he crosses his arms as he continues “we were never just friends” insufferable brat. “i'm here to do my job. nothing more” you said without a hint of emotion in your tone, fixing him with a glare that should've shut him up.

it didn't.

his piercing blue eyes gleamed with amusement “of course, sweetie," he purred, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in “just admit you missed seeing my beautiful face.”

you exhaled sharply, already exhausted 'maybe a small knife pressed against his throat wouldn't hurt— just a little warning.'

“what i miss, is protecting some quiet person who knows their limits and let me do my damn job in peace. this, is what i truly miss”. Gojo hummed, shamelessly dragging his gaze over you “personally, i missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

“alright, enough,” your superior cut in, his tone serious— a clear warning that he had no patience for the ridiculous back-and-forth between you two. “stay close at all times. there are threats left and right against him leading up to the gala.” he turned his attention to gojo “you don't act up, and you listen to whatever she tells you.” the rich man was clearly enjoying himself “don't worry, i love when she bosses me around” he winked at you before standing up and leaving the restaurant. like this was all a game to him.

your superior exhaled heavily, already bracing for the headache to come. then, he dropped the next bomb. “you need to stay at his place.”

you try your best to keep a straight face. “what?”

“gojo is already informed. you're moving in tonight.” and with that, he left the table, leaving you seething.

your fist met with the surface with a dull thud. “damn it,” you muttered, frustration curling hot in your chest.

this is going to be a long, long week.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you rode to gojo's house, spending the time to talk yourself down. you had spent years perfecting your composure. you had survived war zones, assassinations, and high-profile threats. there was no reason for gojo fucking satoru to get under your skin.

and yet.

his house— no, his mansion— was perched high above the city, a fortress of sleek glass and security. the driveway alone was bigger than some of the safe houses you'd stayed in.

when you pulled up to his gates, the night was well-advanced, the cold biting at your cheeks as you lifted up your helmet. you met some guards at the entrance stating that gojo was expecting you. of course, he was.

the second you stepped through the doors, the place smelled ridiculously expensive. the living room was massive, with a sunken seating area surrounding a glass-enclosed firepit. there are floor-to-celling windows stretched across the space, offering a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape below. a massive, curved staircase led to the second floor, the railings lined with soft, glowing, light strips, guiding the way up.

the place screamed luxury— unapologetically extravagant, but with taste. just like satoru gojo.

you sighed, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you tugged off your gloves. the ride had been long. your muscles ached. your motorbike uniform clung to you, slightly damp with sweat. all you wanted was a shower and some sleep.

“you're so sexy in that uniform” his voice came from above. you looked up to find him leaning against the railing, messy white hair, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, collarbone peeking through his loose neckline of his shirt.

and that goddamn smirk.

“gojo,” you warned, voice firm. he ignored it entirely, blue eyes twinkling as they dragged over you with zero shame. “seriously, bending you over in it wouldn't be so bad.” your fingers twitched. satoru in all his splendor.

“wouldn't be so bad if i curb-stomped you into the floor.” you respond. gojo restrained a laugh, eyes sparking with mirth. he fucking loved this— pushing your limits. “actually, i wouldn't mind that either” you grit your teeth at the comment. “just show me where my fucking room is."

when you reached him, he let out a dramatic sigh, “not even a little peck before sleep, sweetheart?” you blankly stared at him “alright, no need to look at me with so much love” he ironically says as he turned around, leading you to your room.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

4am. the digital clock glowed dimly as you pounded your fists against the heavy bag. you slept only two hours— which, honestly was decent considering you never slept well. the military had drilled into the art of light, vigilant rest, training you to snap into action as the slightest disturbance. and staying here, with gojo just down the hall, only worsened that already unstable peace.

“fuck it” your fist connected with the training bag, a loud thud echoing through the empty gym. you did a home tour by your own after gojo dropped you to your bedroom— and to your relief, you found a fully equipped training room. exactly what you needed to burn off frustration time to time.

sweats dripped down your temple, muscles burning from exertion as you moved with precision and force, the heavy bag jerking with each impact. your t-shirt had been abandoned long ago—tossed to the side as the heat from training built up—leaving you in nothing but sports bra and low-slung sweatpants.

“gojo, are you going to stay there for long?” you snapped as he stayed put in the doorway, thinking you hadn't noticed him those past fifteen minutes, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world. he grinned, unbothered “was testing if you could notice a threat even while distracted” you snorted “well, now that you oh-so-sweetly reassured yourself, could you fuck off?” your fist slammed onto the bag harder, sending it swinging violently.

you felt gojo's eyes on you, it almost burnt holes on your skin. his eyes darted at the sweat slipping on your back. “damn," his voice was low “i think i prefer you like this— hot, sweaty, breathless.” he insisted on the last word. your eyes flicked to his figure as he took slow steps forward. “i think i like you gone.” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as if you disappointed him “why always so hostile? i could be way more helpful than that punching ball.”

you were too fucking exhausted for this, your next punch sent the bag flying so violently it nearly knocked over the weight rack. you caught it with one of your wrapped hand, fingers tightening around the worn leather. you exhaled sharply, preparing yourself to face gojo and his bullshit. “i swear satoru—” you stepped closer to him, closing the space between you. only to realize how stupidly tall he was up close. you weren't small but standing like this— with a solid eight inches between you— made you feel very tiny next to him.

“satoru," he repeats “it's been a while since you've said my name. say it again” he leaned in, eyes lazily tracing your lips, the small hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your skin, your full breasts pressed tight against your sports bra. a strong desire lingering in his eyes as he imagined licking every drop of your sweat. he tested your patience “you know,” he murmured “i really love this view.”

and that was it, you had enough. in no time you grabbed him, hooked your arm, and flipped his ass over your shoulder— slamming him onto the floor. before he could react, you were on him, your thighs straddling his hips, your hand wrapped around his throat. gojo eyes widened in shock— he did not expect that. but the surprise was soon enough replaced by a slow curl of his lips.

“fuck,” he chocked out “that was hot, sweetheart.” you tightened your grip around his neck “gojo, you're a fucking perv.” you felt something hard pressing between your legs. “i'm just a man." he lifted his hand, acting innocent "you kept bouncing around that bag, how could i not get some ideas?”

the worst part of all those stuff is that you were turned on by all his teasing. your panties dampened any time he made a comment over the little talk you both had in those past ten hours.

“gojo, you're a total pathetic man,” you mutter rolling your hips down harder, closing your thighs firmly around him just to hurt a little more. his pupils blown wide and his lips part sightly— that fucking bastard was loving it. “y-yeah, pathetic” he chokes out “i- i'm a- a very p-pathetic m-man." your panties were so damn soaked by now as his length presses sinfully against your core. you refuse to acknowledge the feelings, you don't need it, you don't need him, you don't need to go back to him.

you release his throat with a final squeeze, eyes heavy, dragging your fingers down his heavy chest— feeling the hard ridges of muscle tense under your touch, before you push yourself up and off him. you see his hips twitching up, as if he was chasing the missing heat of your pussy. gojo let out a broken— needy whimper, as you adjust your waistband and roll your shoulders back, trying to gather your thoughts. ignoring the aching pulse between your legs.

your feet leading you to the door. you throw one last glance to gojo, you can see his erection straining against his pants from where you stand, aching to be taken care of— gojo's features twisting in desperation. “be ready at eight a.m. We've got recon to do.” and with that, you leave him there, fighting the urge to go back inside and kiss him senseless.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride to the venue is longer than necessary with gojo whom insisted on riding with you. you should have known better than accepting his demand. he can not keep his hand to himself.

at first, his hands rested innocently on your stomach, but as soon as you took off, he let them slide lower, palm resting on your inner thighs— fingers tracing circles way too close to your core. the vibrations of the bike only make it worse.

at the next red light, you snap your hand down, gripping his wrist. “keep your hands to yourself” you warn him “either way i'll have to cut them off” his chest rumbles with laughter against your back. “what if i don't want to?” you hear his teasing voice through the speaker of your helmet “you're never asking about what i want, sweetheart.” his hands squeezing you through your pants. “i think i'm gonna kick your ass off the bike. go to hell that damn mission” your jaw tightened, ‘why does he have to make everything so difficult’

the light turns green and you don't hesitate to accelerate like a damn crazy— earning some curses from gojo, his arms wrapping around you, his thighs locking firmly against yours. once he accommodate to the speed, he's laughing, slightly enjoying the way you speed down the street like you're trying to outrun the heat pooling between your legs.

you parked in front of the luxurious hotel, one of the most extravagant hotels in the city by the way. the gala will be held there, a beautiful place— a perfect representation of gojo's wealth and arrogance. “gorgeous place, huh?” he muses. “maybe we should get a room after the mission, to celebrate our teamwork.” you swing your leg off smoothly, ignoring him as you unbuckle your helmet.

when you step inside, multiple people are working on the preparations— setting up tables, adjusting lighting, and fussing over floral arrangements. you walk straight past them, heading toward the ballroom where the gala will take place. the room is massive— high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, multiple balconies. it's beautiful, but a logistical nightmare for security. too many places to hide, too many potential vantage points for a sniper.

gojo lets out a low whistle, walking a step behind, hands in his pockets— acting like a damn tourist instead of a man with an actual bounty on his head. you walk past the ballroom, letting him doing whatever he is. you head toward the back corridors, checking the service entrances, mapping out the security offices. The staff is too busy setting up to pay you much attention— except for the occasional glance at gojo, probably wondering if he's some high-profile guest.

then something shifts. a group of security personnel moves in, just a little too fast. too coordinated. you recognize the stance immediately— trained, disciplined. not just the hotel staff. your instincts scream at you, your feet move before your mind fully catches up— you step toward gojo to warn him…and that's when you see it. a figure in the hallway, gun raised. aimed directly at gojo's head.

your body moves before your brain processes. you twist on your heel, muscles coiled, and throw your knife. it slices through the air, and the second it buries itself deep in the shooter's forearm, he lets out a sharp yell, his aim faltering. it's all you need. you charge.

your combat boots barely make a sound as you sprint toward the shooter. you're on him before he even recovers, grabbing his wrist and twisting it outward— hard.

POP. he screams, his shoulder socket dislocating from the brutal angle, the gun slipping from his fingers. your knee flies up, slamming into his sternum. you feel his ribs shift under the impact, his breath leaving him in choked gasp before you shove him aside like trash.

“holy shit—” gojo starts, but you don't hear the rest as you see three more attackers already closing in. one of them lunges with a knife— fast, trained. but so are you. you shift sideways at the last second, grabbing his wrist mid-swipe. then in a brutal motion, you twist. his own blade sinks into his thigh. a strangled gurgle leaves his lips as he stumbles back, collapsing to his knees, clutching the handle buried in his leg.

suddenly you feel arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you from the floor. you snap your head back, cracking the nose of your opponment with the force of a fucking hammer. blood sprays onto your shoulder and the wall. your fast to slam your elbow into his throat, his air supply instantly cut off, his body jerking as he crumples to the floor.

the last guy is bigger, stronger— seems to be military trained from the way he moves. but that doesn't matter, you've had to deal with fiercer men before. when he's close enough, you drop low— leg swings out in a sweeping arc. CRACK.

his legs are ripped out from under him. he fall onto his back, gasping for air. you don't let him breathe, your fist driving down, once.

twice, three times.

the last punch bursts his lip open, blood dripping down his chin. your fingers wrap around his throat. you lean in close, sweat dripping down your temple, eyes heavy of the need to kill. “you fucked with the wrong person.” you hear a broken noise coming from his lung. you tighten your grip.

and then— clapping.

you whip around, chest heaving. and there stands gojo, grinning like the devil himself “well, well, well.” he whistles, stepping over the bodies of the men you just demolished. “i gotta admit, that was fucking sexy” your brain is still catching up, heart pulsing with adrenaline “what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap. “we almost got fucking assassinated.”

his grin deepens. “sweetheart…” he crouches down, tilting his head. “that wasn't an assassination.”

you freeze. you hope it's not what you think it is.

he gestures lazily at the unconscious men. “that was a test.” he lifts his shoulders, unbothered. “wanted to be sur you still got it” he winks, amused.

your blood runs hot. “a test?” gojo shrugs, way too casual for someone who just watched you beat the absolute shit out of four men. his gaze drags over you— knuckles bloodied, chest rising and falling hard— and his smirk only widens.

you don't think much as you launch at him, fury taking over— fully prepared to knock that smug grin off his face for good. but this time, he's ready. he catches your wrist mid-swing. “no, no,” he purrs, his grip tightening just enough to make you aware of his strength. “play nice.” your free hand grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer “fuck you and your stupid games," you spit "i can't wait for this week to end.” you see red.

gojo's amused eyes faded into something darker. his eyes once playful, turn sharp, dangerous. “and what?" his voice is low, cold— jaw clenched so tightly it might break. "leave like you did nine years ago?” his face inches closer, his warm breath hitting your skin. “leaving without a second look?” your stomach twists. he's standing too close— looking at you like he wants to rip you apart.

your chest rises and falls sharply. your body is still burning from the fight, but this— this is worse. you rip your wrist from his grasp, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back a step. and he laughs. an empty laugh, far from his usual cocky, full-bodied laugh. “that's all you ever fucking do, huh?” his voice is sharp. “run.” you flinch, ever so sightly. but he sees it. and he seems satisfied ‘i finally got a reaction out of her.’

"i didn't have a choice". you force the words out, voice controlled. gojo's expression darkens. “bullshit, you always had a choice.” he steps forward, and this time, you don't move back. if he punched you, it will be well-deserved. you wouldn't dodge it. his fist on your face would hurt less than the words coming out of his mouth.

“you just didn't choose me.” your heart stops, feeling something inside you cracks. but you don't want him to see it. so, as much as you hate what you're about to say, you steel yourself and let it out “what, you think i owed you something?” the words taste bitter, burning your tongue even as they leave your mouth.

gojo's lips parts, but nothing comes out at first. then quietly— too fucking quietly “no.” his voice is ragged, raw. “but i thought you cared.” you feel it like a punch to the gut. gojo never says things like this. he surely is all teasing remarks and well-placed avoidance but never is he a looking like you ruined him. like you destroyed a part no one could ever rebuild— except… you.

a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you.

for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. but then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't.

because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride back home is fine. if fine meant quiet, tense, and filled with too much unsaid shit hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. then yeah, it is fine.

gojo didn't pull his usual antics— no wandering hands, no teasing remarks. just silence. his hands stay firmly on his own thighs, gripping the edges of the seat. and somehow that irritates you even more.

you can feel the weight of his gaze the entire ride back, burning into the back of your head like a brand. he doesn't speak, but his presence is suffocating.

by the time you pull up to his estate, he gets off the bike before you can even kill the engine. his movements are sharp, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you, like he's debating something. you stare back, chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline still buzzing through your veins.

but then, with a low scoff, he turns on his heels, and heads inside without a word. you don't follow. not immediately. taking a moment for yourself. trying to gather back your composure.

you stay seated on your bike, hands tightening around the handlebars, knuckles white. heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs. the wind bites at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the cold settling in your chest.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the next day is spent preparing for the gala. you go over the blueprints of the venue again, double-checking entrance and exist, every potential blind spot.

the chaos from yesterday has been cleaned up— not a single trace of the fight remains. the bloodied bodies have been taken care of, the shattered glass replaced with pristine tables, the blood smeared across the walls scrubbed away as if it never existed. as if it was nothing more than a fever dream.

you analyze the guest list, looking for possible threats. you argue with gojo about security placements, mostly because he doesn't take anything seriously. “take a look at this. tell me if you recognize anyone shady.” the tall man barely glances at the screen before muttering, “they're all shady.” you roll your eyes "that's not helpful." he shrugs, stepping toward the grand windows. “i don't really care.” that pisses you off. “gojo, could you at least pretend to care?” you put a hand on your hips, patience thinning.

he exhales through his nose, barely sparing you glance over his shoulder. and then, with a calmness that cuts deeper than yelling ever could, he says, “you're the one who didn't care, remember?” and that shuts you up.

he doesn't wait for your response, doesn't push, doesn't linger. just clasps his hands behind his back, taking a slow tour of the ballroom, his gaze dragging over the chandeliers, the polished floors, the extravagant decor— all while completely ignoring you.

the gala is tomorrow.

and you don't know if you're ready.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

morning comes too soon. you barely slept, torn between the looming mission ahead and the cold, unbearable silence that had settled between you and gojo. since that night at the hotel, it had been nothing but tension— thick, suffocating, unspoken. a battlefield of sidelong glances, clipped conversations, and empty spaces where words should have been. especially your words. words of regrets.

and now, as you sit stiffly across from gojo on his sleek leather couch, arms crossed so tightly your nails bite into your skin, it's clear nothing has changed. he doesn't look at you. he hasn't since that night. since those words left his mouth, cutting deeper than any blade you took.

your superior clears his throat, dragging you back to the present. his voice clipped, all business. “you'll be attending as a couple.” the words slam into you like a wrecking ball.“you're kidding” you say flatly, glaring at your superior. “no,” he says simply. and you hear gojo letting out a laugh. the sound sends cold down your spine.

“it's the best cover. gojo is a known public figure, and he's expected to bring someone. you, on the other hand, aren't on anyone's radar. it's the perfect excuse to keep you close and avoid suspicion.” you shake your head. “there has to be another way.” you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping your own arms as if that'll keep you from exploding. this is a fucking disaster. “there isn't.”

fucking hell.

how are you supposed to play lovers when everything between you is broken, shattered, and stitched back together with nothing but avoidance? you can feel gojo's eye on you, but you refuse to meet them. you already know what he's thinking. that you well-deserved that. that you were the one who ran away from him nine years ago, without any explanations.

your jaw locks as you finally risk a glance at him. he's watching you, studying you. blue glacial eyes pinning you in place. then slowly, he tilts his head. lips curling into a grin. “well,” his voice low, with something dark. “this should be fun.”

the moment your superior is done talking, you push yourself off the couch and stride toward your room, your pulse hammering too fast. it's too much.

the air is still charged, like static before a storm. even more now that you know you're going as a couple. behind you, gojo doesn't say a word. he doesn't try to stop you either. of course, he doesn't.

you try to convince yourself it's easier this way. easier to act like none of it matters. like the past isn't clinging to both of you with bloodied, desperate hands.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. the tension in your shoulders lingers, pressing your forehead against the door. 'focus' you tell yourself. tonight is business, the mission comes first. it's not about him— not about your feelings.

you step into the bathroom, turning the shower knob. water rushed out, steam filling the space almost instantly. hot, scalding— exactly what you need. you peel off your clothes, letting them drop carelessly to the floor before stepping inside.

the first touch of water burns, but you don't move away. instead, you welcome it. let it wash over you, over your skin, over the lingering heat still trapped in your body from the way gojo looked at you earlier. your hands slide over your arms, down your sides, over the curves of your body, the pressure firm as if you could scrub away the past— him.

the water runs through your hair, down your back, down your thighs, and still, you can't shake the way your body remembers him. the way it still reacts to the mere idea of him. it pisses you off. your fingers tighten into fists before you force yourself to exhale, resting your forehead against the cool tile. you stay like this for a while. letting the water scald you, hoping it can burn out the thing still curling inside your chest, still whispering his name in the back of your mind.

by the time you finally step out, steam curls around the mirror, the bathroom thick with heat. you wrap yourself in a towel, sighing as you push the door open. as you step closer to the bed, you notice a box on your bed. black, sleek, expensive. your breath catches for a second, it's not hard to guess who left it. you approach it slowly, a wary sort of anticipation buzzing under your skin.

on the box, a note. a small, folded piece of paper with gojo's handwriting.

‘’ sweetheart, i can't let you ruin my reputation with those cheap dresses you own. i have an image to maintain, after all. a rich man can't have people thinking he's poor. wear this. — satoru ‘’

your breath stutters for a second. sweetheart. something in your chest tightens, flutters, pounds. you crush it, fight it. with steady hands, you set the note aside and lift the lid of the box— and you freeze.

the dress inside is breathtaking. it's a shade of blue so deep, so striking— the same as his eyes. you swallow, fingertips ghosting over the fabric. it's impossibly smooth, slipping through your fingers like liquid, designed to mold to every curve, to hug your body like a second skin. a dress that demands attention. you take it out of the box and immediately notice the back. or rather, the lack of one. the fabric dips dangerously low. with a sort of thin white belt that wraps behind your neck, fastening at the nape before cascading down in a delicate, tantalizing line. tracing your vertebral column. a seductive dress, yet functional enough to fight in case.

you return your attention to the box. your eyes widen as you see a pair of underwear. a soft filthy shade of blue, slightly lighter than the dress delicate and teasing. the panties are sheer in all the wrong places, practically see-through, the thin straps barely qualifying as fabric. offering little to the imagination. there's subtle glittering embellishments, catching the light just enough to draw eye.

just enough to drive a man insane. your throat runs dry. that fucking bastard.

you dig further into the box, only to find jewelry. a necklace so fine it barely feels real, elegant enough to steal attention. earrings that shimmer subtly, matching perfectly with the delicate bracelet nestled beside them.

everything about this is so intimate. you hate that your heart still reacts, that your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the necklace, as you let the fabric of the dress slip between your fingers. every single piece was selected with intent. this isn't just a gift, it's a statement.

gojo satoru is back at it again. back to his games. back to this push and pull. he's testing your limits once again. you need to show him, you need to keep your bold cold. mission. mission then next… gojo.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

8:17 p.m. you see as you finish getting ready. adrenaline rushing through your veins. your hands move on mechanism, fastening the holster around your thigh before slipping the small firearm into place, the slit of your dress perfectly concealing it. since gojo is the host, there won't be any security checks for you at the entrance.

you allow yourself one final breath, steadying your pulse as your hand move to the door handle. tonight, your job is to protect him. nothing more.

you push the door open, and nothing could have prepared you for what is waiting for you. in front of you stand an anxious gojo, fixing his suit jacket, smoothing the fabric before his fingers nervously reach up to adjust his tie.

your breath hitches. the tie he's fumbling with is the exact same shade as your dress— his signature blue, the color of his eyes, the color that haunts your dream more often than you'd like to admit. his scent hits your nose, flooding your senses. something fresh, subtly spiced. it messes with your head, makes it hard to focus. his hair a little bit messy, like he's been running his hands through it while waiting for who knows how long.

and when his eyes find yours, everything in you freezes.

gojo stays still. his usual teasing remark falter, no lazy smirk, no arrogance. just… silence as his gaze consumes you. it's like the weight of the last few days of distance disappears, and all that remains is the way the dress clings to your body.

“i-” he starts. “that's…you- i mean,” he shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. he takes a slow step forward, his hand reaching out. you don't hesitate, taking it in yours. his fingers are warm against yours, his grip tight, like he's afraid to let go. to let you go.

he gently turns you, his eyes trailing over the open expanse of your back. he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “what's happening, satoru?” you tease “you finally dare to look at me, after all the ignoring these pasts days?” you tilt your head back, lifting your chin to meet his eyes. even in your heels, you remain towered by him, his presence overwhelming. gojo's eyes betray something deep— pain, maybe regret.

“sweetheart…” he murmurs, pulling you closer by the hand that holds yours. the sudden motion takes you by surprise, a gasp leaving your lips as your body crashes into his. “you have no idea what you do to me.” gojo growls softly. the heat of his body pressing against yours, makes you weak. you can't stop the way your breath hitches.

the word mission keeps echoing in your head. you shouldn't give in, not when he got so defensive, not when you still had walls built around you. “gojo,” you whispers as his eyes flickers to your lips. he leans in, his forehead touching yours, closing his eyes. “we need to figure it out.” he says simply. “give me a chance.” his hands grip your waist, molding your body to his. “tell me why you left, please.” his voice filled with a raw, aching honesty that make your heart drop.

your brain is racing at a thousand miles per hour, your pulse drumming in your ears. the connection between you two is palpable, undeniable. your hands go to the back of his head, tugging sightly his hair, making gojo groans. you breathe out his name, your lips just brushing against his “after the gala,” you murmur. “but let's go for now. we're running late.” you pull back but the heat remains. a pretty shade of pink creeps onto gojo's cheeks. the sight of it makes you smile.

you both reach the bottom of the stairs, and before you can move toward the door, gojo's voice calls out, low and filled with something close to mischief. “wait.”

you stop in your tracks, turning to look at him, and that playful smirk makes its comeback. he lifts your hands, then loosens his grip just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours. his eyes fixed on your face, watching for your reaction. “it's better like this,” he says, his voice mix of teasing and seriousness. “if we're playing couple, let's do it right,” he adds. you shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “satoru, let's go now." he opens the door, the cold night air hitting your skin “i love when you call me saturo, sweetheart.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the streets blur past, neon lights casting fleeting glows over his sharp features as he drives through the city. Gojo insisted on being the one to drive, choosing one of his luxurious car— not without making a comment on how it'd be nearly impossible to ride your bike in that dress but he'd gladly let you ride him in that dress.

the ride is quiet. not the comfortable kind, but the charged, suffocating kind. you can feel his eyes flicking toward you between red lights.

the hotel appears, tall and grand, its golden lights illuminating the massive entrance. unlike when you came checking security, the driveway is packed with luxury cars, men in tailored suits, women in gowns worth small fortunes. there're even photographers lining the barricades, flashes firing like relentless lighting.

despite your superior's briefing, you still feel nervous. of course you have attented events like this before to protect your clients, but never were you the center of attention.

suddenly, dodging bullets in a batteflied seems far less stressful than whatever the hell this masquerade is. at least, the car windows are tinted, giving you some more minutes.

gojo feels you tense up as he stops in front of the entrance. he turns to you, bringing a hand to cup your face, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. “it's okay, sweetheart," his thumb traces soft, reassuring circles on your cheek. “i'm with you. focus on the job, okay?” then, with an easy smile, he steps out of the car.

the moment he does, you hear people calling his name, cameras clicking furiously. and gojo being gojo, steps out with that infuriating confidence, adjusting his cufflinks like he owns the damn place. pretty fucking bastard

gojo makes his way to your door before the valet even moves. he opens it himself, hand extended, waiting. and you can feel this is not only for the show. you let out a sharp exhales, taking his hand to get out of the car.

the moment your heels hit the ground, the flashes explode even brighter, voices pitching higher, demanding your attention. gojo's fingers intertwine with yours—firm, possessive—as he pulls you closer, leaning down just enough so only you can hear. “wanted to let you know,” his breath tickling your ear “knowing what's under this dress is no helpful to hide my boner in front of these photographers.”

before you can react, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple. then with the smooth ease of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, he lifts your hand to his lips and plants the softest kiss against you knuckles. “also, don't forget to smile.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

inside, the gala is exactly what you expected— crystal chandeliers spilling molten gold over the sea of designer-clad elites, laughter too polished to be real, and conversations laced with unspoken agendas. the air is thick with expensive perfume and quit power plays.

gojo moves through it effortlessly, magnetic as ever. he plays the perfect host, flashing easy grins and exchanging pleasantries with people you couldn't care less about. you, on the other hand, remain sharp, scanning the room, keeping your senses on high alert.

or at least, you try.

it's hard to stay focused when you're super-aware of gojo's warmth. his palm resting low on your back, fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles against your spine. his lips graze your temple as he leans in, voice low with some meaningless observation, but his breath is too warm, too deliberate. a shiver runs down your body.

the hours stretch on, an endless cycle of fake smiles and calculated small talk. the weight of the night starts pressing against your ribs, exhaustion creeping in. you need a moment.

“i'm getting us drinks,” you murmur, pulling away from gojo's touch, ignoring the way your body immediately protests the loss of warmth.

“how thoughtful of my wife” he teases, lips curling into something wicked. you almost fall to the floor, headfirst.

wife. the word comes too easily from his mouth, like it belongs there. you catch yourself liking it.

shaking off the heat starting to take over you, you weave through the crowd, reaching the refreshments table. your mind still lingers on gojo, your thoughts are full of him. you're convince you need him. you don't want to run anymore.

a shadow of a smile tugs at your lips.

when you turn back— two glasses of champagne in your hand— gojo is gone.

your pulse stumbles. your breath quickens, eyes scanning every corner, every exit. nothing. where the hell is he?

you shove the glasses onto the nearest table, ignoring the startled look of a waiter. your training urges you to stay calm, but panic claws at your throat. gojo isn't just your responsibility. he's—

focus.

you spot one of the security personnel near the ballroom's entrance, a stocky man with an earpiece and a sharp gaze. you stride toward him, voice low but urgent. “did you see gojo leave?” the man frowns slightly “he stepped out a few minutes ago. took the private elevator up.”

your stomach knots. “who was with him?”

“not sure. a few men. well-dressed.” fury spikes through you. 'and that didn't alarm you?' you could beat his ass off if it wasn't for gojo right now. where did they find those incompetent men.

spinning on your heel, you move fast, heart hammering. the gala's noise fades behind you as you push through the discreet hallway leading to the private elevators. the display shows it stopped on the roof.

your pulse spikes. you slam the button. nothing. locked.

“fuck” you mutter under your breath. you don't have time to wait. without hesitation, you head for the stairwell, heels be damned. you rip the gun from its hidden strap at your thigh and climb two steps at a time. the adrenaline burns away any exhaustion, pushing faster.

by the time you reach the the top, your breath is ragged. hand tight on your gun, you push the rooftop door open just enough to see—

and your blood turns to ice.

gojo stands near the edge, bathed in city lights, his white hair a stark contrast against the night. the wind howls between the buildings, the breeze fluttering his tie— the same shade of his eyes, the same shade of your dress.

his usual carefree stance betraying nothing, hands in his pocket like he's discussing business over whiskey rather than staring down the barrels of guns.

four men surround him. they're dressed too well to be common thugs, but you know better—real danger rarely looks the part. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar curving at the corner of his mouth, has his gun aimed directly at gojo's chest.

your grip tightens around your own gun.

and then gojo speaks. “i suggest you let me go,” he drawls, voice laced with amusement. “or my wife's going to rip you apart.” he smirks “also, we arranged we talk after the gala, to make things clear, i don't think she'd be very happy that you keep me for the night.”

the men exchange glances, unimpressed. scar-lips steps forward, a cruel smirk twisting his scar. “you're worth a lot, Satoru Gojo.” a ransom situation.

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose like they're giving him a headache. “look,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “i don't know who sent you, but this is embarrassing. four of you? to handle me? if i were you, i'd start running before she gets pissed.”

they barely have a second to process his words before you make your move. you can't risk any longer. and gojo is doing perfectly at distracting them.

one breath. one shot.

you step out. aim. fire

the bullet buries itself into the shoulder of the man nearest gojo. he stumbles back with a pained grunt—

and gojo moves.

he moves faster then the wind whipping through the rooftop. in the time it takes for scar-lips to turn toward you, gojo there. a sickening crack echoes through the rooftop as gojo drives his elbow into the wide man's jaw with enough force to send him staggering. without pause, he pivots, driving a brutal kick into another's ribs. the crack is sickening.

you react instinctively, ducking behind an industrial vent as one of the men pulls a gun in your direction. another shot rings out— gojo's this time. he moves like liquid shadow, disarming one of the attackers with terrifying efficiency. the man barely has time to process that he's slammed into the ground.

scar-lips, despite his disoriented state, reaches for his gun again.

gojo doesn't let him. he's on him in a blink, gripping his wrist with an almost lazy ease before twisting it violently in the wrong direction. the man screams, his gun clattering to the floor. gojo doesn't let go. instead, he leans in, voice sickeningly sweet. “told you she'd be mad.”

you freeze. you've seen trained fighters. you are one. but this? this is something else. the speed, the precision, the sheer control— it's unsettling. suspicious.

the last man standing tries to flee, you take aim and fire a warning shot near his feet. he freezes, hands trembling in surrender.

the rooftop falls into silence, only the labored groans of the fallen men breaking the stillness. the adrenaline still surges through your veins as you lower your gun, stepping closer to gojo, who brushes nonexistent dust off his sleeve like he didn't juts annihilate four men in less than two minutes.

“you good?” he asks, eyes flickering over you, concern hidden beneath his usual playful tone. “i should be asking you that.”

“what? you think a couple of suits can take me down?” he winks, but there's something unreadable in his eyes. something he doesn't want you to see. you don't press. at least, not now.

instead, you step forward, pressing your heel into scar-lips' injured arm. he yelps “so, who sent you?” scar-lips stay still, unwilling to say anything.

the other men groan on the ground, the sting of their broken bones keeping them from trying anything stupid. gojo sighs as if he's bored. as if this whole thing is an inconvenience rather than a threat to his life. he reaches into his jacket, pulling out his phone.

“you know,” he hums, tapping the screen with a lazy smirk “i could call someone. but they wouldn't be as nice as she is.” he gestures at you with a tilt of his head, his tone light, but his eyes? glacial.

scar-lips doesn't flinch. you press down harder on his arm. “fuck! alright, alright!” gojo grins like you just made his night.

“contract” he grits out. “someone put a price on your head. it's big. too big to ignore.” gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “that's vague. who?” scar-lips looks like he's debating wether answering is worth the consequences. “not local”

“international” you press. he nods, slowly. “someone wants you dead, gojo. badly. all we got was a time and place.” his gaze flicks up to you, sharp despite pain. "and instructions to take you too".

the air grows thick. “me?” the man on the floor exhales “whoever hired us knew you'd be with him. they want you alive.” something cold settles in your stomach. gojo, however, laughs. it's quiet, then louder, echoing against the rooftop.

scar-lips looks at him like he's lost his damn mind. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” gojo wipes at the corner of his eyes like he actually found that funny. “man, you guys must be new do you know how many times someone's tried to put me in a body bag?” he leans in closer, voice dripping lower. “and not one of them ever succeeded.” gojo nods toward you, lips quirking. “someone wants her alive? buddy, you should be more scared of that than anything else.”

you glance down, they want you alive. that means whoever put out this hit isn't just after gojo— they're after something he has. the implications make your blood runs cold. but you don't have time to dwell on it.

one of the men on the ground— one you thought was barely conscious— lunges.

it happens fast. too fast.

a blade glints under the rooftop lights, aiming straight for gojo's ribs.

your gun fires before you think. the gunshot rings out, echoing accross the night.

the man crumples.

scra-lips yells, trying to scrambles back, but gojo's hand shoot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up. “i'd be annoyed if this wasn't so damn prediactable.” his voice has lost its amusement. it's cold now. deadly. “you made a big mistake touching what's mine.” gojo's fingers tighten. for a second, you think he'll kill him.

but instead, gojo sighs—a sound full of tiredness— and his grip loosens. “i'd love to drag this out, but we have a gala to return to,” he says, and with that, he lets go. the man collapses to the ground, coughing violently.

gojo steps over him like he's nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. he reaches for your hand, gently pulling you away. “someone's coming to pick you up.” he adds, his tone far too casual for what just happened “be grateful. i called someone to take care of you, buddies. i only do that to my special guests.”

he slams the rooftop door shut behind them with a sense of finality, cutting off the chaos that lingers in the air.

as you make your way down the stairs, you abruptly stop, questions swirling in your mind. “what's wrong?” gojo asks. you meet his gaze, searching his eyes, trying to figure out what he's hiding from you. he steps closer "you okay?” you should nod. should brush it off like you always do.

but you don't answer, and you feel the weight of silence settles between you. it's suffocating, you don't know how to break it. so you shake your head. you want to ask him why he hired you. why he needs you when he could've handled everything alone. you want to know if there's more to this—more to you—than just being his bodyguard. the questions burns at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down, afraid of what the answer might be.

gojo's hand pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, his touch gentle—like always when he touches you—making you gasp. his palm cups your cheeks. “hey.” his eyes are full of concern, worried. his tumb brushes over your cheek, a fleeting touch, as if he's trying to ground you. you're not sure if it's for your sake or his.

“you're acting weird,” he murmurs, tilting his head. your throat tightens. “and you're acting like this is normal.” a short laugh escapes him, not a single hint of humor in it. his grip on your face loosens, but he doesn't pull away. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to tell me why,” the words come out quieter than you intended, but no less desperate. “why hire someone to protect you?” something flickers in his gaze, quick enough that you almost miss it. his fingers twitch against your skin. “you really think i need a bodyguard?” the way he says it sounds wrong—too light, too easy.

“exactly. you don't." your voice is unwavering now, the certainty of it strengthening you. “not after i saw what you did tonight. the way you fought— it was effortless. you're better than any soldier i've ever seen.” you hesitate, the memory clicking into place. ”better than me.” and now that you think about it, you remember your punch he blocked that night, back at the gala preparations. the sheer force he used. you should have realized then.

gojo is quiet for a moment. then, finally, he sighs, letting his hand drop from your face. the loss of his warmth makes your chest ache. “i thought it'd be obvious by now,” he mutters, looking away.

it isn't.

it's not obvious at all. and the fact that he won't just say it outright makes your frustration curl tight in your chest.

you take a step back, shaking your head. “well, as you can see… it's not.” you cross your arms, the hurt leaking into your voice. gojo's head snaps back toward you, eyes narrowing. “you overthink too much.” you scoff, anger bubbling up despite your exhaustion. “then give me answers. if you did, i wouldn't have to.”

his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he's going to throw out some flippant remark, something to brush this all under the rug like he always does.

but then—

he takes a step forward.

and another.

until there's barely any space left between you.

“maybe i don't want you to know,” he says, voice low, almost quiet to hear. the words send a sharp pang through you. he's never been this blunt before— not like this. “why?” you whisper, almost afraid to ask, but you need to go through this. together. “once you know, you won't look at me the same.”

your heart clenches at the quiet honesty in his voice.

“satoru," you murmur, refusing to back down, “you dressed me tonight. you brought me here as your date. you even called me your wife.” your voice shakes, but you keep going. “and i was scared to lose you tonight.” the words slip out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered, the weight of them hitting the space between you with unbearable force.

gojo stills. his breath is uneven, and his eyes—those brilliant blue eyes—widen just slightly. you close your own, exhaling shakily before continuing.

“i ran once. nine years ago.” your voice is barely a whisper now. “i was young. i was afraid. and it was a mistake.” his entire body tenses. “Satoru,” you open your eyes, meeting his. “i want you. all of you. and surprisingly, i'm willing to stay. to stand next to you. to kill for you if that's what it takes to keep you safe.” you pause, your voice thick with emotion. “i'm not afraid of threats. i don't want to run anymore.”

gojo looks wrecked. completely and utterly undone.

you step closer, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “nothing you could ever say will change the way i see you.” your voice is firm “nothing.”

he swallows hard, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn't know whether to pull you in or push you away— to protect you from people that would want to hurt you, only to hurt him.

but then— he breaks.

his arms wrap around you, crushing you to him, his grip almost desperate. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. and for the first time, gojo satoru—the untouchable, unshakable man— trembles.

“making me go through all that," he says against your hair, "being irrefutable with me and letting me beat the hell out of four men—" his fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes like he's terrified you'll disappear. “it took you all that to finally tell me what's on your heart?”

you let out a watery laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly “i'm sorry.” he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your temple. “stay,” it's not a command, not a plea— just a confession. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, into the way he holds you like he's never wanted anything more. “i'm not going anywhere.”

and just like that, nothing else matters.

the gala, the stares, the whispers— none of it exists as you slip out through the back entrance, hands locked together, ignoring the world you're leaving behind.

gojo doesn't let go.

not even when he open the car door for you, not even when he slides into the driver's seat. his hand stays on your thigh, fingers warm and steady, tracing idle patterns against your skin. every red light is an excuse— an excuse to lift your hand to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses on your knuckles, the pads of your fingers, the inside of you wrist.

you shiver, watching him through lidded eyes. “you're being soft.” gojo hums, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. “you love it, don't you?” and you don't deny it.

the drive is quiet, heavy with something unspoken. when he pulls up in front of his house, fingers still tracing slow, burning circles on you thigh, the weight of earlier comes crashing back. you shift in your seat, eyes flicking toward him.

“what were you going to say earlier?” his hand pauses for just a second— just long enough for you to notice. then, instead of answering, he leans in, his breath hitting your jaw as his lips ghost over your skin. “you really want to talk about that right now?”

the air is charged, thick with frustration and need. his lips press against the corner of your mouth— featherlight, teasing, but you can feel the restraint in the way his fingers grip your thigh. you tilt your head, giving him more access as a sigh leave your lips. “i need to know.”

gojo groans, low and deep. his hands move— one sliding up higher up your thigh, the other tangling in your hair as he pulls you toward him, his lips finally crashing against yours.

the kiss is messy, heated, all tongue and teeth and pent-up frustration. you don't even remember shifting onto his lap, only that his hands are on your hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks. his breath is ragged when he pulls back, forehead pressed against yours. your lipstick stains his lips, smudged, messy, sinful.

“you really wanna do this now?” his voice is rough, uneven. his fingers slip beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin. “because if i start talking now, i won't stop. and i'd rather have you like this, falling apart in my hands. or my tongue. begging for more.”

your pulse is wild, but you don't back down. “satoru.” you lift a hand, softly wiping the lipstick from his lips. “tell me.” his sigh is one of defeat, his head falling back on the headrest. “i didn't hire you to protect me.” his voice is quieter now, raw in a way you've never heard before. “i hired you because i wanted you close.”

your breath catches. gojo chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “you ran from me nine years ago,” he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck— wet, lingering. “did you really think i was going to let you do it again?”

your eyes burn with emotions— ones you don't have time to process because gojo's lips trail lower, his tongue flicking out, teasing, tasting. "being an influential young man got me some enemies. I had to know how to fight like a soldier— if not better. as the years went by, I became even more influential. and with some quick calls, I was able to find you."

“i don't think i deserve you, gojo.” the words spill out, breathless. gojo clicks his tongue, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his hands frame your face “sweetheart,” his voice barely above a whisper “let's go inside,” his teeth graze your skin “i'm going to show you just how much you deserve me.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you barely step through the threshold before gojo's hands are on you again, pushing you against the wall. his kiss is devastating, all-consuming, a plea and a demand in one. his hands roam, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers again.

“you're killing me,” he groans, voice hoarse, “i need you. need to taste you.” your dress is barely hanging on, undone but still covering you like some cruel temptation, and that makes it worse for him. he doesn't pull it off— not yet. his fingers skim the fabric, then push it up, bunching around your waist. that's when he sees them.

your light blue panties— delicate, sheer, adorned with tiny pearls. the one he meticulously chose for you earlier. he fucking loses it at the sight.

“sweetheart.” his voice shatters, his breath stuttering as his thumb brushed the pearls, the fabric already damp. a pretty little thing wrapped up so nicely just for him. his hands shake when he presses his palm flat against your cunt, cupping you through the soaked fabric. “you're so wet. you wanted me this bad?”

you whimper, nodding, your knees already weak.

he drops to his knees so fast it's almost embarrassing. he doesn't even push your panties aside right away. instead, he leans in, kissing up your thighs— not just to tease, but to worship. his lips press against every scar, every mark, each one a silent promise. “my pretty strong girl,” he murmurs, his fingers squeezing your legs. “i will take care of them later.”

“satoru—”

his mouth finds the inside of your thigh first, biting down hard enough to make you whimper before soothing the mark with his tongue. then finally, finally, his mouth is on you. a hot, wet, messy kiss pressed right against your cunt, sucking you through the fabric of your panties. you gasp for air, your hands tightening on his white hair, earning a moan from him, an actual moan.

his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, teasing you through the pearls and lace. you gasp, body jolting, thighs trying to squeeze together, but he won't let you. his strong hands hold you open, force you to take it.

“f-fuck—" you breathe, fingers diving into his hair.

gojo grinds his face into your pussy like a possessed man. “god, you taste sweet even through this,” he slurs, drunk on it, his voice muffled. “missed having my mouth on you.”

his tongue dragged over the fabric, lapping, teasing, sucking, his fingers slipping underneath to pull them to the side. “Gojo—” your head slams back against the wall.

he didn't let you finish as he spreads your pussy open with his thumbs and buried his face between right into your core, eating you out like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else. like he needed to prove something.

it's sloppy, desperate, obscene.

he's licking into you with long, deep strokes, his nose bumping against your clit. his fingers dug into your ass, yanking you closer, forcing you to grind against his mouth, fucking his tongue with every rool of your hips.

“t-too much—” your body is trembling.

“been too long, huh? missed me eating your pretty little pussy?” sliding his tongue down to fuck into you, groaning when you clenched around him. you were so wet, so fucking wet, dripping down his chin as he worked you over, puling moans out of you that made his cock throb painfully against his zipper.

his arms wrap around your waist, locking you in place, forcing you to take everything he gives. his moans vibrate against your skin, needy, delirious, he's getting off on this as much as you are. “taste so fucking sweet,” his voice is muffled by your heat. “could stay down here forever.” he doesn't stop, doesn't let up— not even when your thighs squeeze around his head, when you're shaking so hard you can barely breathe.

your body locks up, pleasure tightening, so close it hurts. his fingers dig into your flesh, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking just right, and that's all it takes— you break apart with a cry, shuddering, coming all over his tongue.

gojo groans like he's tasting something forbidden, something addictive, lapping it all up, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

by the time he pulls away, his lips and chin are glistening, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he just ran miles. your dress is still on, but your panties are pushed to the side, and gojo is a wrecked mess between your legs, staring at you like he's ready to die for you.

“come here.” you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a flithy desperate kiss. his hands scrambled to get his belt open, shaking so badly he barely undo it. “l-let me help,” you whisper, your hands brushing his as you pull his belt free, undoing his zipper. “i want to make it up to you” you look at him in the eyes “for running away.” your hands slide over his thighs, palming the thick outline of him through his pants. he's already rock-hard. gojo let out a pathetic whimper. “s-shit, you don't have to—”

the second you slide down his boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, flushed, dripping. “f-fuck—” he lets out when your hand wraps around him. he's so hard it must be painful, a bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip.

you dropped to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes “i need to, satoru”

gojo chokes “fuck— yeah, please—” with nothing more you took him in your mouth. his hands immediately flying to your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to ground himself

his entire body jerked as your tongue drags up his length, flicking over the tip before you sink down, taking him deep. tongue pressing against the thick vein running along his dick. you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head, your hand stroking the rest of him. it's slick and obscene, the sounds echoing in the hallway. your lips stretched around him.

“f-fuck— sweetheart,” gojo is a mess above you. a whimpering, panting mess. his thighs tensed, his whole body shudders. “fuck, f-fuck— too good, it's too fucking g-good—” he wants you to let you continue. he wants to watch you take him apart.

but he wants to feel you. it's been nine long years for fuck sake. he just needs your pretty little cunt wrapping around his cock. “i-if you don't stop— shit— if you d-don't stop r-right n-now, i'm gonna—” he grabs your wrists, and you pulled off with a sinful pop, lips swollen, eyes gleaming.

“bed. now.”

except… you don't make it to the bed…

you get as far as the couch before you're shoving him down, straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders. his cock is still out, flushed, leaking, twitching against his stomach. and your soaked panties are still on, pulled to the side, teasing him.

“reverse cowgirl.” you say, full of tease. his brain short-circuits. “w-what?” you don't answer. you just move, shift until your back is to him. you give him a full view on the open dress, the curves of your body, the barest glimpse of your soaked panties sill clinging to your folds.

“oh, fuck— ohhh fuck.” his head drops back against the couch. his hands finding your waist as you took his base and let your hips ever so slowly sink down.

you both are drowning. “t-toru— ahh, ‘s big—” your voice breaks. you forgot how fucking big he is. surely the biggest cock you’ve ever took. “th-that's okay, s-sweetheart,” gojo is hardly holding on, shaking beneath you. “you're d-doing good— fuck— your walls are sucking me i-in. i— fuckfuckfuck—”

inch by inch, you take him, stretching, gasping, feeling him pulse inside you.

sweat drips down your back. gojo leans in, licks it up. and then—

he loses his patience.

he grabs your hips, slams you down, and fuck, you both scream. his fingers are bruising, his breath wrecked against your spine, and you're already a trembling, cock-drunk mess in his lap. “t-toru— please—”

“shhh, sweetheart,” he pants, barely coherent. “let me make you mine again.”

he drags you down onto him, thrusting up to meet you, filling you so deep you can feel him in your stomach. “ohhh— fuuuck, toru—” your hands scrambling for purchase against the couch as you rock back against him.

“that's right, sweetheart,” his forehead pressed against your bare spine. “take me— please, take all of me.” he pulls you back onto him harder, a desperate, needy little sound escaping his throat when he sees the way your pretty blue panties cling to you, your pussy stretched around the base of his cock, underwear soaked. “s-shit, your panties— fuck, that's so—” gojo can't even finish his sentence. his hands slip under your dress, his fingers finding your hard nipples and pinches them through your bra.

“satoru, i—” you sob, rolling your hips, grinding down. “that's it, ride me,” he begs, his hands palming your soft breasts. “you feel so fucking good, s-so tight—” you lift your hips just to slam back down, picking up a rhythm, and gojo loses his fucking mind. his moans spilling out in rapid desperate gasps. “fuck, baby—”

his length throbs inside you, his hips bucking up uncontrollably. he grabs at you, at your dress, your thighs, anywhere he can touch, his lips pressing frantic, open-mouthed kisses along your back.

“d-don't stop— please— ohh f-fuck, please don't stop—” he sounds so ruined, so completely fucking gone.

somehow you grind down even harder, sending the poor guy's body jolting. he's straight-up choking, his moans turn high-pitched, pathetic, whimpering. “sweetheart, i-i can't— oh fuck, i'm gonna—” his voice breaks, shaking “i can't hold it— i can't, i can't—”

you lean back against his chest, turning just enough to catch the sight of him— his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted, his entire body trembling beneath you. “t-toru,” you whimper, tightening around him. “cum for me.”

that's it. that's all it takes.

Gojo slams you down onto him one last time, a ragged, broken cry ripping from his throat. His cock pulses deep inside you, his grip on you almost bruising as he spills into you, moaning like he’s coming apart at the seams. his chest rising and falling erratically, his entire body completely ruined.

and even as the pleasure fades, he doesn't let go. “you're mine. not letting you go again.” he doesn't give you time to respond as he suddenly grabs your wrists, shoving you face-down into the couch. “but that doesn't mean i'm done with you.” his body is still trembling, his cock still throbbing inside you, slick with both of your release.

“one round isn't enough,” heavy voice in your ear. he rolls his hips once, slow and deep, dragging his dick through the mess he's made of you.

your whimper is swallowed by the cushions, fingers clawing at the fabric as he strats moving again. his pace is slow at first, torturous, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open again. then he pulls out almost completely—just the tip remained inside— before slamming back in, so deep your vision blurs.

“mhhh— satoru!” the force of it knocks the breath out of you, makes you choke on your own moan. his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your back, fisting your hair.

“look at you, sweetheart,” he pants, voice slurred, filthy. “so wet—so messy—fuck, listen to yourself.” and oh, you can hear it. the lewd, obscene squelching of your cunt sucking him back in with every thrust. it's dripping down your thighs, coating his cock, soaking the couch beneath you.

“s'dripping” he groans, pulling out just to watch the way your hole clenches, fluttering around nothing. your slick mixed with his cum spills out. glistening, pooling between your legs. “fucking— shit” he grits his teeth, fisting his cock, slapping it against your swollen cunt. “such a pretty mess."

“p-please,” you sob, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him. you're so sensitive, already teetering on the edge again. “please what?” his grip tightens in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips brush your ear. “use your words, sweetheart. beg for it.” your brain is mush, squirming beneath him, but you give him what he wants.

“please— please, t-toru fuck me— use me. w-want you s-so bad— need you so bad—” his breath shudders “you're so hot,”

and he slams back into you, deeper, harder, faster. you scream, your arms giving out as he fucks you into the cushions. his pace is wild, frantic, desperate— his cock found your g-spot. hitting it over and over again. until you're body is nothing but raw nerves and white-hot pleasure.

“y-you like this?” gojo struggles finding his breathe, sweat dripping down his temple. “like getting fucked stupid? like being ruined?” you can't even speak— just babbling his name.

“sweetheart, im not gonna last— fuck, i wanna feel you cum again, i need to feel it—” he moans, he swears your cunt was made perfectly for him and only him. one hand slipping between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit in messy, quick circles.

“come on— cum on my cock, wanna feel your cum all over me,” your whole body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard you think you black out for a second. you scream his name, back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching tight around him he nearly collapses. “ohh— ohhh ‘s gooood— wrapping around my cock aghn,”

his hips snap forward, his voice breaking as he lets out white long hot creams. he cums so much, it leaks out around his dick— balls.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the lewd, sticky wetness between your legs, the faint creak of the couch beneath you. gojo breaks it with a breathless, shaky laugh. “you're a fucking dream,” he mumbles, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your shoulder. his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“satoru…” you whisper his name, running your fingers through his damp hair. he exhales and lifts you into his arms. he carries you like you're something sacred, irreplaceable. something he'll never allow to slip through his fingers again.

"bedroom," he murmurs against your temple. “i need to love you properly.” your breath catches, a lump forming in your throat. this is different. you wrap your arms around him as he carries you through the dimly lit house, his body still inside yours, still pulsing, still clinging to every last bit of warmth you give him.

tonight, he took you like he was desperate. like he had something to prove, like he needed to reclaim you after all these years apart. but now…

now he's looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

when he lays you down on his bed, it feels like the world stops. like you both exist in your own universe. gojo hovers over you, his hands tracing over every inch of you. he maps your body with his touch, memorizes you with his lips, presses soft, reverent kisses over your skin.

and he pauses when he reaches your scars. trembling hands ghost over them, his expression unreadable. his eyes, impossibly blue even in the dim light, flicker up to yours. his fingertips linger on your scars, tracing them so gently it make your breath hitch.

“nine years,” his lips press over each mark, worshipping. “nine agonizingly years without you.” your chest aches. you cup his face, wiping the single tear coming down his cheek with your thumb. gojo closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like he needs it to breathe. “you don't get it.” murmuring it more to himself than you.

he looks down at you like you're everything. like he doesn't believe you're real.

you don't get a chance to respond before he's kissing you—slow, deep. it's not just hunger, not just lust. it's grief, it's relief, it's the kind of love that breaks you open and remakes you all at once.

when he finally pushes into you, it's not desperate. it's deliberate— he's trying to mold himself to you, he wants to leave an imprint of himself inside you forever. “satoru—”

“i know, sweetheart,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. “let me love you.”

you do. you let him take his time. let him move in deep, slow thrusts that leave you breathless. let him pull every last moan from your lips until your nails dig into his back. his name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over again.

“feel that?” satoru takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. “feel how deep i am? how i'm filling you up?” there's no rush, just the overwhelming feeling of being connected— having each other the way you were always meant to.

“toru, please,” you gasp into his mouth. “i've got you,” he mutters, nose brushing against yours. his fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands above your head, your legs wrapping around his waist, your body arching into him.

“you're everything,” he whispers. “you always were.” your chest tightens, you feel yourself shatters as heat coils in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter.

you're so full of him, of love, of longing, of everything you've spent nine years trying to ignore.

“i love you,” and it sets something free inside you.

gojo chokes on his breath. his rhythm stutters. his fingers tighten around yours. his lips tremble against your skin. “say it again,” he begs.

“i love you, Satoru.” his hips snap into you harder, pace remaining slow as if he's trying to commit every part of you to memory. “say it again, sweetheart.”

“i love you—” his body tenses, his release crashing over him at the same time you hit yours. his lips find yours as you both shatter together.

when he collapses on top of you, he doesn't let go. doesn't even try. you're still tangled together, still connected when he speaks. “i was serious,” you hum, sleepy, completely boneless in his arms. “about what?” his fingers stroke over your hip. “about calling you my wife.”

you tilt your head, searching his face. he's looking at you like you're his entire world. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. “i don't just want you here tonight,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “i want you here forever.”

tears sting your eyes, but you smile, brushing his hair out of his face. “then start calling me that now, satoru.” gojo grins— that beautiful, bright, devastating grin.

“come here, wife.”

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

270 notes · View notes

lxndonorris · 9 months ago

Text

a special day in maranello - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut Charles shows off his special black Monza suit x word count: 4880+ taglist: @game-set-canet @pitstopreality-f1 if you dont want to be tagged, or you want to be tagged, just let me know! requests are open for x-reader or ships :) EN: Went a little further than expected, but I hope you'll enjoy this"

It is the week of the Monza Grand Prix, one of the most anticipated weekends of the year, not just for the Tifosi but for the entire motorsport world.

The atmosphere is electric, with fans flocking to the region to witness Ferrari in action on home soil. But before the chaos of Monza can begin, there is an important stop to make at Maranello.

The Ferrari headquarter in Maranello is a place Charles and you have come to love. But this visit is different. This time, it isn't just about the preparations or meetings. There is something special planned, something that has been kept under wraps until now.

Charles invited you to join him for a photoshoot, something that is supposed to be "special." That's all he would say about it. No details, no hints, just that mischievous smile of his that both excites and unnerves you.

You are used to surprises with Charles, but this one has you feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

You arrived at Maranello in the early afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the landscape. Ferrari reserved a private room for you, a place where you could prepare for the shoot in peace.

The room is simple yet elegant, with a large window that offers a stunning view at the headquarters. Inside, there are racks of clothing, a few chairs, and a full-length mirror on one side. The gear is neatly arranged, but the most striking piece of equipment is a large, black privacy screen that stands in the corner.

Charles leads you into the room with his hand gently placed on the small of your back.

"This is it," he says with a grin. "Our little secret hideaway for the day."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, but you are also burning with curiosity.

"So, what's this all about? You've been so mysterious lately."

He chuckles softly, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You'll see soon enough. But first, I need to get ready."

You watch as he walks over to the privacy screen, picking up a neatly folded set of clothing on the way.

You're really not going to tell me anything, are you?" You ask, crossing your arms with a playful pout.

"Nope," he replies with a wink, disappearing behind the screen. "But don't worry, you won't be disappointed."

You take a seat in one of the chairs, your eyes glued to the screen. Even though you can't see him, you can hear everything—the rustle of fabric, the soft hum of his voice as he starts to change—it all adds to the anticipation.

"So," Charles begins, his voice light and teasing, "you're probably wondering what I'm putting on first."

"Obviously," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your heart is racing.

He chuckles again, the sound warm and inviting.

"Well, first comes the Nomex. You know, the fire-resistant underwear. It's essential for safety, but it's also surprisingly comfortable. Here, let me show you."

'He's putting on a racing suit', is the first thing that comes to your mind, making your heart race faster. You love seeing him in his red suit, but this visit means only one thing: a special suit for Monza.

And, of course, he isn't going to show you right away. Instead, he describes the feel of the fabric as he slides on the shirt and pants, his tone almost sensual as he runs his hands along his chest.

"It's soft, like a second skin," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It fits snugly, molding to every curve. You'd be surprised how something so thin can make you feel so safe."

You swallow hard, your imagination running wild.

"I bet it looks good on you."

"You'll have to wait and see," he teases, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

Next, there is a pause, followed by the sound of a zipper being pulled.

"Now, the racing suit," he announces, his tone turning playful again. "This is the real deal. It's custom made, fits like a glove, and when you put it on, you know you're ready for anything."

You lean forward in your chair, straining to hear every word.

"And how does it feel?"

Charles lets out a satisfied sigh, clearly enjoying himself.

"It feels powerful. When I zip it up, it's like I'm putting on armor. It's tight, but in a good way. Every movement feels controlled, precise. It's a part of me, and when I'm in the car, there is nothing else like it."

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some sembience of composure.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little," he admits, laughing softly. "But I'm also enjoying teasing you. It's fun seeing you squirm."

"Charles!" You exclaim, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

"All right, all right," he says, his tone turning a bit more serious. "I think it's time for the big reveal. Are you ready?"

Your heart skips a beat.

"Yes."

"Good," he replies. "I'm going to count down from five, and when I get to one, I'll step out. But I want you to promise me something."

"What's that?" you ask, intrigued.

"Promise me that whatever you see, you'll give me an honest reaction. No holding back."

You nod, even though he can't see you.

"I promise."

"Okay, here we go," he says, and you can hear the excitement in his voice.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

And then he steps out from behind the screen.

Your breath catches in your throat.

He is dressed in a black racing suit, but this isn't just any suit. It is sleek, form-fitting, and accentuates every line of his body. The material shimmers slightly under the light, giving it an almost otherworldly quality. Yellow accents trace the contours of the suit, adding a bold, striking contrast that makes the entire outfit pop.

But it isn't just the suit that takes your breath away. It is the way he carries himself, the confidence in his posture, the way he stands there with a slight smirk on his lips, knowing exactly the effect he has on you.

"So," he says, his voice low and velvety, "what do you think?"

Charles strikes a pose, his body angled in a way that showcases every contour of the racing suit. The black and yellow fabric clings to him perfectly, accentuating the sleek lines of his physique. His confidence is palpable, and the way he presents himself is nothing short of magnetic.

He holds the pose for a moment, his stance strong and assertive, his chest puffs out slightly as he tilts his head to the side. The suit gleams under the studio lights, the yellow accents highlighting the definition of his muscles and the tailored fit around his waist.

Then, with a fluid, almost theatrical movement, Charles begins to spin slowly. His movements are graceful and deliberate, allowing every angle of the suit to be seen.

As he turns, the black fabric shifts and ripples, the yellow highlights catching the light and creating a stunning contrast. He spins with a kind of effortless elegance, each turn revealing a new aspect of the suit. and his physique.

The way he moves is mesmerizing.

His broad shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful legs are on full display, each turn emphasizing the perfect fit of the racing suit. His smile is confident, and his eyes sparkle with a mix of pride and playful satisfaction.

It's clear he enjoys the attention, relishing the chance to show off how well the suit complemented his body.

As he completes another spin and faces you once more, he strikes another pose, his body perfectly angled to highlight the sleek lines of the suit.

His gaze meets yours, a hint of challenge in his eyes, as if daring you not to be completely captivated.

For a moment, you can't speak.

You can only stare at him, taking in every detail.

Finally, you find your voice.

"You look.... phenomenal."

His smirk widens into a full-blown smile."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. I really do." You say, taking another look at him, all of him.

He looks absolutely stunning, almost unreal in his black and yellow racing suit. But it isn't just the suit that makes him so captivating.

His tousled hair, with that perfect, 'just out of bed' look, the slight stubble along his jawline, his soft, inviting lips, and those pretty green eyes—they all come together to create a sight that is simply irresistible.

As he walks toward you, his movements are slow and deliberate, almost like a predator closing in on his prey.

His hands roam along his suit as if he can't resist touching the fabric himself. He runs them down his arms, across his chest, over his sides, and then down his abdomen, his fingers tracing the lines of his body.

You watch, completely entranced, as he licks his lips absentmindedly, his gaze locked onto yours.

There is an electric tension in the air, a palpable pull that you can't ignore.

Your body moves on its own, your hand reaching out, fingertips grazing the fabric of the suit. The material feels incredible under your touch—smooth, almost like silk, but with a strength that is unmistakable.

Your fingers roam over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric, and you can't help but marvel at how good it feels.

Charles smiles, clearly pleased with your reaction.

"You like it?" he asks, his voice low and intimate, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

You nod, still running your fingers over his chest, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

"I do. It feels amazing."

He grins, a flash of pride lighting up his eyes.

"It's like carbon fiber. Ferrari put a lot of thought into it."

"You can tell," you reply, your fingers still exploring the suit, tracing the yellow accents that highlight his lean physique. "It looks good on you."

Charles's smile widens, and he leans in a little closer.

"I'm glad you think so. But you know, I could get used to hearing that a bit more."

You meet his gaze, and the playful challenge in his eyes sends a thrill through you.

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I think I deserve a few more compliments, don't you?"

You can't help but smile at his playful arrogance, but you are more than happy to indulge him.

"You look incredible, Charles. The suit fits you perfectly, and the way it shows off your body... it's almost unfair."

He hums softly in response, clearly enjoining every word.

"Go on," he encouraged, his tone teasing.

"You've got that effortlessly sexy look going on," you continue, your voice soft but sincere.

"Your hair, that stubble, those eyes... you're practically irresistible. And the way you wear this suit, like it's just an extension of you—it's like you are made for this."

Charles lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes darkening slightly with desire.

"I love it when you talk like that," he admits, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest.

"I love making you feel good."

"You do," he replies, his tone filled with a mix of affection and hunger.

He reaches up, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine.

"You always do."

For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside of the room fading away.

Charles leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips bruhsing against yours in a kiss that is both soft and intense.

The sensation of his lips, warm and inviting, sends a spark of electricity through your body, and you melt into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders.

As the kiss deepens, his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, the fabric of his suit is cool and smooth against your skin. There is something about the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, that makes you feel like you are the only thing that matters to him in that moment.

Then you notice the distinct, alluring scent of his cologne surrounding him. It is a rich, sphisticated fragrance, subtly blending with the fresh scent of the racing suit. The aroma is warm and comforting, with hints of cedarwood and a touch of citrus that lingers in the air, creating an intoxicating combination that is uniquely Charles.

The scent envelopes you as you get closer, creating a sensory experience that is both soothing and exhilarating. It's like being wrapped in a cloud of his presence, and you feel the warmth of his body through the fabric, the scent adding another layer of intimacy to the moment.

Charles seems to notice your reaction.

His eyes soften with a mix of amusement and affection as he looks down at you.

"You like my cologne?" he asks, his voice low and slightly teasing.

You smile up at him, letting your fingers run down his chest again, savoring the feeling of the fabric and the scent that seems to blend perfectly with him.

"I do," you admit, your voice soft. "It's like an extra layer of you."

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your response.

Charles leans in closer, his eyes smoldering with a mix of affection and desire.

"Fuck, I'm getting so hard," he whispers, his voice carrying a hint of that familiar confidence.

You meet his gaze, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

"I can see that," you reply, your voice soft but laced with playfulness.

Your eyes begin their slow journey over him, taking in every detail once more.

The way the black racing suit hugs his body accentuates every muscle, every curve, in a way that is striking yet sensual. The suit seems almost to pulse with his energy.

His muscles are taut and defined, the fabric of his suit now straining slightly under the pressure, emphasizing the hard lines of his physique.

Charles grins, a pleased smile stretching across his lips.

"This feels so good."

You reach out slowly, your fingers grazing the surface of his suit, tracing a path along his chest, feeling the subtle shift of his muscles as you move your hand down his sides and across his abdomen.

Your touch is light but deliberate, savoring the warmth and firmness of his body.

Charles sighs contentedly, his eyes closing briefly as he enjoys the sensation of your fingers through his suit. His breath hitches slightly when your fingers trace the letters of his name along his waistline, the fabric stretching slightly as you move.

The intimacy of the moment, the way his body responded to your touch, makes your heart race.

Encouraged by his reaction, your fingers wander lower, exploring the contours of his body with newfound confidence.

You feel the tension in his muscles, the way the suit accentuates every movement. Each touch is met with a soft sigh or a subtle shift, and it is clear that he is thoroughly enjoying the attention.

Charles's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you continue your exploration. The sensation of his body under your fingers, the way the suit clings and shifts, creates an intoxicating mix of excitement and intimacy.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" You murmur, your fingers tracing along his hips, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath the fabric.

His eyes flutter open, his gaze locked onto yours with desire.

"Absolutely," he says softly. "It feels amazing. But it's even better because you're the one doing this."

You smile, leaning in slightly, your fingers continuing their journey.

"I'm glad I can make you feel this way."

He lets out a low, contented hum, almost a purr, his grip on your waist tightening as he revels in the closeness.

Your fingers trace a little lower, savoring the way his body responds to your touch. The suit seems almost to come alive under your fingers, amplifying every sensation, every movement.

His reaction, the way his breath hitches and his body tenses, makes you feel like you are exploring a private, cherished part of him.

"Does this feel good?" You ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"More than you can imagine," Charles replies, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how... good I feel right now."

Each sigh, each shift of his body, makes the moment feel even more special.

As you gently stroke his abdomen, Charles's eyes close again, his breathing deepening as he savors the sensation. He leans into your touch, his expression one of pure contentment. It is clear that this moment, this connection, is something he cherishes as much as you do.

The air between you crackles with anticipation as your hand slowly finds the zipper of his suit. His eyes dart open and follow your movements intently, every breath between you heavy with expectation.

You hesitate for just a moment, letting the tension build before you begin to slowly pull the zipper down.

As the zipper descends, the black fabric parts to reveal the Nomex underneath, hugging his body like a second skin.

The slightly damp fabric is smooth, taut, and incredibly form-fitting, showing off every muscle, every contour of his athletic physique. The red fabric contrasted sharply with his skin, making the sight even more captivating.

Charles sighs softly, the sound full of both relief and pleasure, his chest rising and falling as he exhales deeply. You can't help but marvel at the sight before you—the tight Nomex accentuating his lean muscles, the way it clings to him, leaving little to the imagination.

Your heart races as you take it all in, your fingers itching to touch him, to feel the heat of his body beneath the fabric.

However, before you can make another move, Charles slips out of the upper half of his racing suit, letting the top half fall to his waist, revealing his torso.

Through the thin Nomex, you can see every line of his chest, the muscles of his abdomen flexing slightly as he moves. The material is so thin, so close to his skin, that it is almost as if nothing is there at all. It is an invitation you can't resist.

You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment, and place your hand on his chest.

The Nomex feels cool to the touch, but underneath, his skin is warm and firm. You feel his muscles shift under your fingertips, flexing subtly as he responds to your touch.

All of him is intoxicating—the power, the strength, all right there under your hand.

Charles lets out a low, pleased hum, clearly enjoying the way you are exploring him.

His hand slides to your waist again, pulling you closer until your bodies are almost touching. His other hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

His lips hover just above yours, his breath warm and sweet against your mouth. He is so close that you feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, sense the way his chest expands and contracts with each inhale.

"How do I look?`" he asks, his voice a deep, husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

You are breathless, completely caught up in the moment, on him.

Your eyes roam over his face, his hair still tousled, his stubble giving him a rugged, irresistible edge, his green eyes dark with desire.

And his body, clad in the tight Nomex, is a sight that leaves you utterly speechless.

"Amazing," you finally manage to whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean into him, your heart racing.

That is all he needed to hear.

Charles closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in an intense kiss. The moment your lips meet, it's like everything else fades away—the room, the world outside—all of it ceases to exist. There is only him, only this.

His kiss is full of passion, but there is also something gentle, something reverent about the way he holds you, as if you are the most precious thing in the world to him.

His hands on your waist tighten, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the heat of his body through his shirt; the hard lines of his muscles press against you.

You melt into him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, then down his chest, feeling the way his body reacts to your touch. His muscles tense firmly under your fingers, the sensation sending a rush of heat through you.

The kiss deepens, and you respond eagerly, your hands exploring every inch of him, reveling in the feel of his strong, powerful body under the thin fabric.

"Mhmm," he moans into your mouth as his hands move to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss even further.

You feel his breath quickening, matching the rapid beat of your own heart.

When you finally break apart, you are both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other's, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted, a small, satisfied smile playing on his face.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he whispers, his voice rough and his accent coming through more.

You smile, your heart swelling with desire.

"I think I do," you whisper back, your fingers still tracing the lines of his chest.

He opens his eyes then, looking at you with such intensity that it makes your knees weak.

That's when you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against your waist. A shiver runs through you at the sensation, and you can't resist the urge to tease him, a playful smile curving your lips.

"Well, someone's enjoying themselves," you murmur, your voice light and teasing as you raise an eyebrow at him.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound deep and rich.

"Can you blame me?" He replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Look at what I've got in front of me."

His playful response only makes you bolder; your hands begin their slow descent down his body, fingers tracing over the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, feeling the way his breath hitches slightly as you move lower.

The closer you get to his waist, the more you can feel the tension building in him, the anticipation.

As your hands continue to roam, Charles lets out a soft, involuntary moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

You let your fingers dip lower, stroking him through the racing suit, feeling the heat of his arousal against your hand.

Charles bites down on his lower lip, his eyes darkening with desire as he gazes down at you. The way he looks at you, the way he responds to your touch only fuel the fire inside you.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice strained, though still laced with that playful edge. "You're going to drive me insane."

You smile up at him, continuing to tease, enjoying every moment of his reaction.

"Isn't that the point?"

Charles let out a low, appreciative laugh, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

His breathing quickened as he let out another low sigh.

"I'm really close," he admits, his voice strained with desire and frustration. The evidence of his arousal presses firmly against you, growing more intense as your fingers continue to stroke him through the suit.

The fabric stretches, forming a visible tent, yet the black fabric is slightly hiding it. Still, you feel the warmth of his arousal growing, and you notice the fabric growing damp with his pre-cum. His breath hitches, and his eyes plead with you, showing just how close he is to the edge.

You look up at him; your expression a mixture of playful defiance and genuine affection.

"You can't ruin the suit yet," you tease softly, though the warmth in your tone reveals just how much you are enjoying this.

Charles's eyes widen slightly with frustration, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he tries to steady himself.

"I'm just so close," he says, his voice a desperate whisper, his body trembling as he fights to hold on.

You keep your touch light and teasing, drawing out the moment as much as you can.

"Patience," you murmur, your voice a gentle caress against his ear.

"The suit's not going anywhere. And neither are we."

Charles's grip on you tightens even more, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

"You're really driving me crazy," he whimpers, a soft groan escaping his lips as he struggles to keep his composure.

You smile at him, your fingers continuing their slow, teasing caress.

"That's the idea, I told you," you whisper, your voice full of playful affection. "But I promise, we'll have our time. Just a little longer."

The tension is almost unbearable, the heat of the moment making it clear how much you both want to give in to your desires. His eyes are dark with need, his body presses firmly against yours as he fights to maintain control.

"I'll be patient," he says finally, though his voice is thick with desire. "But only if you promise me that we'll finish this soon."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips."You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"I promise."

With a final, lingering kiss, Charles reluctantly steps back, his arousal still evident but his composure regained.

As Charles adjusts his suit in preparation for the photoshoot, his movements are deliberate and confident; his hands glide over the fabric, smoothing it out and ensuring everything is in place.

Yet, there is a clear focus on specific areas—his chest, his abdomen, his thighs, and the prominet bulge that is still slightly damp.

With a mixture of frustration and need, his hands linger on his chest, his fingers tracing the defined muscles beneath the Nomex. He then moved to his abdomen, his touch firm and almost possessive, as if trying to regain control over his body's reaction.

His gaze drops to the growing bulge at his waistline, and he sighs, his breath catching slightly as he feels the evidence of his arousal.

"Barely held on there," he murmurs, his voice thick with both relief and frustration as he glances at you, his expression a blend of desire and amusement.

You can't help but tease him, a playful smile spreading across your lips.

"I can tell," you reply. "Looks like you're having a hard time keeping it together."

Charles's eyes sparkle with a mix of annoyance and amusement as he meets your gaze.

"You're really pushing your luck," he says, though there is an undeniable edge of affection in his tone.

"You make it so easy," you tease, reaching out to gently brush your fingers against the damp spot on his suit, feeling the warmth of his arousal through the fabric. The contact makes him shiver, his breath hitching again.

He gives a soft, almost helpless laugh, shaking his head.

"You're impossible," he says, though there is no real reproach in his voice. "But you're right. It's all your fault."

You lean in closer, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Charles's lips twitch into a reluctant smile, his eyes dark with desire once more.

With one last, lingering look, he adjusts his suit one final time, making sure everything is perfectly in place before you have to leave for the photoshoot.

His movements are more controlled now, though the lingering evidence of his earlier arousal is still apparent.

With a final glance in your direction, he reaches for his black ferrari cap on the nearby table. He flips it in his hand for a moment, as if considering something before sliding it onto his head, the bill casting a shadow over his eyes, giving him an air of confident mystery.

He turns to the mirror, his eyes roaming over his reflection. Slowly, he licks his lips, his gaze focused on the way the cap and the racing suit completed the look.

You watch him for a moment, the way he studies himself, clearly satisfied with how everything came together. Unable to resist, you smile and ask.

"Are you satisfied with what you see?"

Charles chuckles, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

"I think I am," he replies, his tone playful but with a hint if genuine appreciation for the way he looks.

He takes another moment to admire himself, running his fingers through his stubble and along his jawline, before letting his gaze linger on the way the suit fit his form, especially around the waist, before turning to dace you fully.

"You know," he adds, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, " I think I might even like it more with you standing next to me."

You blush slightly at his words, a soft laugh, escaping you as you shake your head.

"Always the charmer;" you tease, though you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at his compliment.

"Only for you," he murmurs, his eyes softening as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture tender and full of affection.

With a final look in the mirror, Charles takes a deep breath, the playful edge returning to his expression as he turns to you.

"Alright," he says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's go show them what this suit can do."

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 smut

437 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Text

Main Masterlist || Navigation || All works are F!Reader || All images sourced from Pinterest ||

SONGS THAT SOUND LIKE SEA-FOAM || Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In which a lone mermaid finds good company with a handsome fisherman who trespasses in her cove. But the word isn't what it used to be...hunting ships patrol the waters.