#I want to find time to do it but I’m so fucking busy

[btsgotjams27]

late nights | knj

summary: late nights with namjoon turn into a heated session when you’re in need of a stress-reliever.

✨ title: late nights (don't push your luck couple) ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: pwp, smut, co-workers, enemies to (maybe) lovers ✨ rating: R (MDNI!!) | ✨ word count: 2.9k ✨ warnings: cursing, fingering, oral (m. & f. receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected penetrative sex, (some) begging, use of pet names (baby, darling), both are playful in their words but ofc there are feelings ✨ author's note: after watching the rpwp docu, i haven't been able to stop thinking about this man 🫦 so here's a horny word vomit. excuse my writing because it's been a minute, so i apologize in advance if it's no good 🙃 i'm also tagging @kingofbodyrolls bc i promised i would when this came out <3 <3

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | previous ~ pitch fest

Late nights with Namjoon were becoming a regular affair—for work, not for play, at least for tonight.

The pair of you crunching numbers and proposing an improved business plan for next week’s investors meeting had your panties in a twist. The past year in publishing proved to be a lot harder than expected—you didn’t realize how tough this industry was without a big name behind you.

Your nose is scrunched and your eyes are focused as you’re furiously scanning the presentation for errors. Namjoon stares you down then covers your hands with his. “Your eyes are going to pop out of your head if you don’t slow down.”

“We have too much to lose. This presentation has to be perfect or else we’ll lose the company.” As you continue on, ensuring the slides are flawless, you can only feel Namjoon’s dragon eyes burning through you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re gonna eat me.”

Namjoon chuckles and leans forward. “Because I do—want to eat you.”

You’re not gonna lie—your panties are twisted because of this presentation, but now they’re soaked too. You hate how easily you crumble under his words, but you won’t let him see just how easily you can come undone.

“I’m gonna kick you out of my place if you don’t stop,” you threaten, continuing to type away.

The wooden chair legs scraped against the hardwood floor as Namjoon stood up, his footsteps echoing behind you as he walked closer. “What exactly are you working on anyway?” he asks, leaning down so close you can smell the cologne that you love on him.

Clearing your throat, you reply with a gulp, “Just…the presentation.”

Honestly, you’ve spent too much time finding the perfect font, but does it really matter at this point? Investors won’t give you money because they liked your presentation looks, it’s about how much they’ll have in their pockets.

His presence overwhelms every hair on your body, and when his hands begin to massage your shoulders, you’re practically melting into a puddle. “You’re so tense.”

One hand continues to rub circles on your nape, causing you to groan. “Fuck…” you hiss when he reaches a knot. “Joon…” you whine.

He hums, then proceeds down your spine. The pads of his fingers wrap around your torso, dangerously close to the underside of your breasts. You’re already imagining him taking a handful and giving them a good squeeze.

Your eyes flutter shut as he continues. His thumbs pressing deeply into your back—you’re convinced he’ll leave marks just like how you do to him. It’s embarrassing when you see the red scratch marks peeking from under his dress shirt at work, however it does give you the satisfaction when he meets with an attractive author or investor and they just happen to see it as well. You’re petty and you know it.

The soft groans escaping your lips are undignified. But it goes to show just how much stress you’ve been under—you’re like a volcano bubbling, getting ready to burst and overflow, overtaking everything surrounding you, and Namjoon is the not-so-innocent bystander.

His lips barely touch the shell of your ear and he asks in a low whisper, “You okay?”

You’re not okay. You need more.

More of him. Touching you everywhere. Having you in any way that he wants. You’ll do anything no questions asked.

Your dignity—nonexistent.

Your morals, values—what the hell is that?

You need Kim Namjoon to fulfill every single fantasy you’ve had and it’s more than you like to admit.

And before you know it, your hands cover his, tugging them forward, encouraging him to do as he pleases, and he does so willingly. With ragged breaths, you relish in his touch, softly uttering his name under your breath.

Namjoon leans down from behind, kissing your shoulders and squeezing your breasts. A small whimper leaves your lips as his big, warm hand reaches down your top to the pert, pebbled nipple just aching for more of him.

You’re well aware of your actions when you chose to wear your dusty blue pajamas that match perfectly. The bow tie top is overly available for Namjoon to access. You noticed his eyes wandering throughout the night, and now you’re ready for him to strip you bare.

His plush lips leave trails of kisses down your neck, making you lean back into him. 

“Joon…” You’re embarrassed at how easily his name rolls off your tongue—maybe you’ve been practicing too much at night by yourself.

He hums before kissing your shoulders and pulling your top to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his mouth. When you turn around to look for his lips, they are drawn to each other like magnets and refuse to part. You stand, snaking your arms around his frame.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, causing you to groan. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?” you ask with an exasperated sigh.

“Whiny. Needy.” He smirks, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger, though you’d rather have something else wrapped around his finger at the moment.

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

He leans in, his lips ghost over yours, barely touching. He’s teasing, wanting you to beg for it, but you don’t give in. You swipe your tongue against his bottom lip, hoping he caves and gives you what you want. He smiles against your lips, his warm breath fanning you.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. You can feel the rumble of his words against your chest, sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently, urging him closer. He resists, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, a challenge he wants to win.

“Maybe,” you breathe, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting how much you want this—him.

Namjoon chuckles. His hand slides up underneath your top, fingertips tracing your spine. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, lips brushing against your ear.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers dance along your skin. The heat of his body, the teasing touches, it’s all too much, making it hard to string along coherent words.

“You,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want you, Joon.”

His smile widens, triumphant yet tender. “Was that so hard?” he teases, but there’s a gentleness to his tone that makes your heart flutter.

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours, passionate and demanding. The kiss is everything you’ve been craving—hot, deep, and overwhelming. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you pull him closer, eliminating any remaining space between your bodies.

His hand at your back presses you firmly into him, and you’re savoring the fact that his erection is throbbing against you. He wants you just as much as you want him.

When you finally break apart, both gasping for air, his forehead rests against yours.

“Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to fuck you tonight?,” he utters, his voice rough with lust. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more.

“Cocky, are we?” you challenge, your hands sliding down to his throbbing cock, giving it a good squeeze. “Just because I want you doesn't mean I wanna fuck you. What if I just wanna cuddle?” you utter the worst lie known to man. Joon knows all your bullshit.

He growls low in his throat, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Yeah? Don't want me to fuck you, hm?”

In one fluid motion, he lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you toward the bedroom, his strong arms supporting you effortlessly. As he lowers you onto the soft sheets, his dragon eyes never leave yours, burning into you with an intensity.

Your hand toys with the end of the tie on your top, slowly undoing them, slipping the top off your shoulders, revealing your breasts. This isn’t your first time sleeping with Namjoon, but somehow you feel even more exposed. You’ve denied your feelings for so long, and you think you’re ready to bear it all. Maybe even give him a piece of your heart.

“Thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” He asks, voice proud as he cocks his head.

His eyes don’t wander down to your chest—not yet, they’re still fixated on you. He removes his sweatshirt, exposing his taut and toned body, and the black Calvin Klein briefs shouldn’t be affecting you, but they are. His gray sweats sit low on his waist, and you want nothing but to tear it off of him.

The outline of his erection is demanding attention from you—eyes, mouth, and hands ready to feast upon the dessert you skipped tonight. You’re greedy. You don’t want to share with anyone, but you won’t let him know just how urgently your mouth wants to be wrapped around his cock.

You reach out, fingers grazing the waistband of his sweats. His breath hitches as you slowly pull them down, revealing more of those tempting briefs. Your mouth waters at the sight of his impressive bulge straining against the fabric. “Joon, fuck me or leave,” you demand, voice thick with need.

He steps out of the sweats, kicking them aside before joining you on the bed. His weight dips the mattress as he hovers over you. He leans down, tugging your pajama pants off. His hand traces the curve of your waist, and his finger is hooked underneath your lace undies.

His fingers tease along the edge of your lace underwear, sending sparks of electricity through your body. You arch into his touch, silently begging for more. Namjoon’s eyes darken as he watches your reaction, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, voice husky with desire. “I love how your body reacts to me.”

Slowly, torturously, he peels the lace down your legs, his fingers igniting glowing particles along your soft skin. You lift your hips to help him, desperate to feel his skin against yours. As he tosses the underwear aside, his gaze roams over your now fully naked body, appreciation and hunger evident in his eyes.

“Fuck—you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. His lips trail lower down your chest. When he reaches your breast, he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You gasp, arching into him as pleasure courses through you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His hand slides down the expanse of your stomach, teasing along your inner thigh before finally touching where you need him most.

A moan escapes your lips as his fingers explore your wet folds. He groans against your skin, clearly pleased by how aroused you are for him.

“So wet for me already?” His thumb finds your clit, circling it slowly as he slides a finger inside you.

“Ah!” you gasp, hips bucking against his hand. The dual sensation of his fingers working you and his mouth on your breast is overwhelming.

Namjoon lifts his head, eyes dark with lust as he watches you writhe underneath his touch. He adds a second finger, curling them inside you as his thumb continues its maddening circles.

“That’s it, baby.”

Your body arches off the bed as pleasure builds within you. Namjoon’s skilled fingers work you closer and closer to the edge, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need him. Inside you.

“Joon,” you pant, tugging at his hair to get his attention. You no longer care about your pride. “Please, I need you inside me.”

He looks up, shaking his head. “Not yet, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want to taste you first.”

Before you can say anything, his mouth is on you, tongue laving through your folds. You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he devours you. You moan louder, uninhibited, as he brings you closer to the edge. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re begging for.

He seems to understand, and with a final, deep thrust of his fingers, he withdraws them, leaving you aching and empty.

Fucking Namjoon. Of course, he doesn’t finish the job.

There’s a devious smirk on his face. He knows what he’s doing.

He removes his briefs, his impressive length springing free. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length and giving him a few slow strokes.

Namjoon groans at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. You flick your tongue before kissing the tip of his cock. Your lips wrap around him, taking him deeper, savoring the weight of him on your tongue. His hands tangle in your hair as you bob your head, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick, teasing licks.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips jerking slightly. “Your mouth feels so good, baby.”

You hum around him, the vibrations making him shudder. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding your movements as you continue to pleasure him. You can feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming more ragged.

Just as you think he might finish, your pace fastens.

“Baby, baby, baby…” Namjoon stutters.

You continue to bring him to the brink before he has to pull away, making you pop off.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he rasps, leaning down to kiss you.

You can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightens your arousal. Your hands roam his broad back, feeling the muscles beneath your fingertips.

“Condom?” he asks against your lips.

“I’m on the pill,” you breathe. “I want to feel all of you.”

It’s risky, you know that, but Namjoon is a risk you’re willing to take.

He groans, his forehead resting against yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod, pulling him closer. “I trust you.”

His eyes soften at your words because he knows you don’t give away your trust so easily.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every ounce of his emotion into it. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you arch your hips, begging him to hurry.

You both moan into the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensation when he finally pushes into you.

“Fuck—” he mutters. He pauses for a moment, his breaths slowing down. He knows he needs to pace himself or he won’t last long.

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Namjoon groans, burying his face in your neck as he begins to move. His thrusts are slow at first letting you adjust to his size, but soon pick up pace as your bodies find their rhythm.

“Could do this forever if you let me” he pants against your skin, nipping at your pulse point.

“Shut up.”

“Don't deny it, darling,” he persists with his teasing.

“Joon—shush!” You pull him down, crashing your lips against his, then you throw your head back, lost in the pleasure of having him inside you. Your nails rake down his back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, causing him to hiss and thrust harder.

“Right there—” you gasp, holding in the moan you want to let out.

“Let me hear you,” he rasps.

Namjoon lifts his head, his dark eyes locking with yours as he continues to buck into you. The room fills with the sound of your moans, and the slap of skin on skin as he picks up the pace.

“Faster,” you plead, digging your heels into his lower back.

He obliges, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. The change in angle causes him to hit that spot deep inside you, making you roll your eyes back. It’s as if you’re flying through space, seeing stars go by as he pounds into you.

You feel the familiar tension building in your core, your body tightening around him. Namjoon seems to sense your approaching climax, his movements becoming more focused and deliberate.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his voice strained with his own impending release. “Come for me.”

The pleasure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. Namjoon’s movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

“Joon,” you moan. “I’m so close…”

His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your sensitive bud and rubbing tight circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you.

Your walls clench around him, and Namjoon groans deeply, his rhythm faltering. With a few more thrusts, he buries himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he finds his own release.

For a moment, you lie there, panting and intertwined. Namjoon’s weight on top of you is comforting, grounding.

But the moment doesn’t last long.

There’s a loud smack.

“Ow!” Namjoon exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he rolls on the bed, laying next to you. “What was that for?”

“As if you don’t know!” You roll over, facing away from him.

He cuddles you from behind. “Is it because I didn’t let you finish?”

Your non-answer speaks volumes.

Namjoon chuckles, throwing himself back on the bed. “You said you wanted me inside you. I was only doing what you asked. Am I wrong?”

You turn to him. “I hate you…” you say, in a sing-song voice.

He pulls you on top of him. “Oh, it didn’t sound like you hated me earlier.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he threatens, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Gladly,” you quip before kissing him.

You’re beginning to wonder if these late nights should move back to the office, so you don’t always end up sleeping with him. Regardless, you’re sure Namjoon will push his luck.

[warping-realities]

All For The Family - Part 2

“Ryan… Ryan… bro… wake up!”

Brian didn’t wanna wake up; that dream was where he wanted to be. No worries about work, no competition with his brother… brother? What brother…?

“Ryan, brother, get up… NOW!!!” Someone yelled, chucking a pillow at him, waking him up with a start.

Br-Ryan shot up, “WTF? What’s with the pillow, RJ?”

“We’re late for work, you dumbass! Dad’s gonna skin us alive if we take too long. Get your act together!” The muscular guy in front of him said. Ryan still remembered the dream, envying the other guy’s body. Could he ever reach that size? Wait, why would he want to be that big? Something felt off… that dream… and…

“Dude! Get up right now or I’m dragging your skinny ass outta there!”

“Okay, okay, just let me take a shower and brush my teeth!” Ryan replied, getting up and deciding to worry about strange dreams during his downtime. Easier said than done, because as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, a surprise awaited him.

“What The Fuck!” he exclaimed, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The skinny physique he was used to had been replaced by a toned body, like he actually lifted weights, either at the gym or on the job. The physique in front of him was the same as in that dream… had it really been a dream? Maybe it was a memory… but how could he remember something he never lived? Or had he lived it? While he tried to process that info, he was interrupted by RJ, standing in all his muscular glory at the bathroom door. Had he gotten even bigger in the last few minutes? No way, that’d be impossible!

“Bro, you’re playing with fire! I know you’ve made some sick gains since you started working here, but now’s not the time to be admiring yourself!” said the muscle giant, though he sounded more satisfied than scolding. More importantly, that explanation made sense in Ryan's confused mind, causing a smile to spread across his face as golden sparks surrounded him.

“Okay bro, just a minute. I really gotta pee.” He said while sniffing his armpit, finding the smell acceptable; even if it wasn’t, he knew the shower would have to wait. After a long pee, he grabbed his clothes tossed by the bed—a worn-out pair of jeans, a tank top, and work boots—and headed for the kitchen, following the familiar path he had taken for months. The first thing he noticed was the delicious aroma of Mrs. Abernathy’s cooking. Following that scent, he found her chatting with Debra, lunch already well underway. The two didn’t even seem to notice his entrance into the cozy farmhouse kitchen; they were so caught up in their lively conversation. For some reason, Mrs. Abernathy looked more radiant today, as if the weight of a few years had been lifted from her, and even Debra seemed to glow. It must be the joy they were sharing at that moment, Ryan thought.

Not wanting to interrupt, he turned to the table where the two biggest guys he’d ever known were seated, Mr. Abernathy, Roy, and Roy Jr., RJ. They both smiled at him, taking up the whole kitchen with their massive frames.

“Jesus, Ryan. You took your sweet time, son. Sit down and eat a good meal; today’s gonna be busy, so even though we’re late, I don’t wanna risk seeing you hit the floor from lack of fuel!” Roy said, still smiling, but that last part made something click in Ryan’s mind, something about…

“And what about my car?”

“Oh bro, don’t sweat it, we’ll check it out at some point today, either after lunch or later in the afternoon. Now, do what Dad said and stuff your face!” RJ replied. Realizing he was starving, Ryan sat at the table and began piling food onto his plate, way more than he’d ever eaten in his life… or had he? He had the distinct feeling that this was the usual routine every morning since he started working here… so why did it feel so… new? He was trying to wrap his head around that incongruity when a loud burp next to him made him turn to RJ, who was laughing openly.

“Damn, that was a big one! Come on, Ryan, show us what you got!”

“I… I don’t know if… I should!”

“Come on, son, better out than in, and with all you’ve eaten, your stomach must be bubbling.” Roy encouraged as Ryan realized what he was saying was true; he was stuffed, and something was pushing up from his stomach with high pressure until “Burrrrrp.” Ryan let out an even bigger burp than RJ’s. It sent all the guys at the table into fits of laughter, while Mrs. Abernathy shot them a disapproving glance.

“Boys, have some manners at the table!” she said with a serious expression.

“Marisa, leave the boys alone; boys will be boys, right?”

“Then let them be far away from my kitchen!”

“Alright, alright! Time to get to work, boys… and Ryan, I’m really proud of you; you’re showing yourself to be the right kind of man!”

Hearing that made Ryan beam, golden sparks erupting around him once again.

After that, the real work began. Harvesting was tough. The more experienced Roy and RJ took turns driving the combine and the truck that collected the grains, while Ryan helped guide the flow of seeds to make sure they didn’t fall in the wrong spot. Every grain counted, given the family’s tight financial situation. Ryan wondered how they managed without him? Having been there for a year, arriving shortly after the last harvest, he now understood why the family treated him with such care; the work must have gotten a lot easier with him around. After they finished the hearty lunch delivered by Debra in generous portions, without even leaving their vehicles, Roy called for a break. There were only a few acres left to harvest, which could be done the next day. So if the boys wanted, they could work on Ryan’s old Mustang.

As they arrived at the barn, laughing and chatting like the good friends they were, RJ asked Ryan to wait while he grabbed the tools for the car repair. Still chuckling at a story RJ had just told him, Ryan sat down on an old bench. This was the first moment he’d been alone for more than a few seconds since he arrived at the Abernathy home… from where? Didn’t his car have a problem? But his car was currently covered by an old tarp in one corner of the barn and looked like it had been sitting there for months collecting dust. He was sure he had been working for Roy for a year now, but where had he worked before that? The answer that popped into his mind was a bank? But that didn’t make sense; why would he work at a bank? Those were the thoughts racing through the young man’s mind, with light brown hair and well-toned muscles, until he was interrupted by a persistent voice.

“Ry… Ry… RY!!! What’s up, bro? You look like you’re on another planet!”

Ryan looked up to see RJ holding a wrench, his work tank top discarded somewhere along the way, and a worried expression on his face.

“Hey… b-bro… do you remember where I worked before I came here… was it at a bank? I can’t seem to recall what I did after college…”

“Ry… this is a joke, right? Someone like you could never work at a bank! And college? Guys like us don’t do that!”

“Guys like us…?”

“Yeah, man, guys of the land, manual labor, real men. Like me, like you!” RJ replied, smiling.

“You think I’m like you?”

“Of course, you’re exactly like me!”

Hearing that sparked a fire of acceptance in Ry’s chest, which somehow led to another wave of golden sparks surrounding him as a smile spread across his face.

“Now let’s get to work on what you’ve been itching to do, let’s fix your car, bro!”

“Hell yeahh!”

Hours passed as the two worked on Ryan’s red Mustang; there was a lot to do, but luckily they both knew their way around cars. Right after leaving school, Ry had jumped from city to city taking on various jobs, the longest being at a mechanic shop, where he had coincidentally acquired the car they were now trying to fix.

“Man, I’ve always been obsessed with cars. To me, the American Muscle Car is the pinnacle of automotive achievement!” an excited RJ said.

“Dude, I totally agree with you. I needed to have this beauty here. I knew with the right work, it’d be perfect! I don’t get why my brother got so mad at me!” Ry replied, stopping immediately after that comment. Did he have a brother?? Then why couldn’t he remember his face or even his name? He wondered, an expression of anguish creeping his bearded man's face as his defined muscles involuntarily tensed in discomfort.

“Shit…” RJ muttered quietly before quickly recovering. “Your brother? Bro, I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a brother, and I’d never criticize you for buying a badass car like this! It’s like you haven’t learned in all these years we’ve known each other that I’ll support you even in your cra ziest ideas, just like you support me in mine, and buying the Mustang isn’t even close to being as wild as some of the things I’ve done!”

“Years…?”

“Now you’re really worrying me, brother! Dude, we’ve known each other since we were kids! My greatest joy was when you came to work with us right after we graduated. Can you imagine? Working with my best bro!”

“Best bro? I… I’m your best bro?”

“Of course you are, Ty! You and I are best bros for life!”

“Best bros…” Ty repeated, a smile breaking across his face as the biggest wave of golden sparks enveloped him, his strong, toned muscles relaxing as he looked at his lifelong best friend.

“Sorry, man, I’m feeling kinda weird today.”

RJ, sensing that the thinh they are doing was coming to a close, went for the final push while discreetly notifying Roy that their plan was nearing its climax.

“Chill out, man, I know just the thing to help! How about we take a break here and really work out? My muscles are aching for a pump, and even though you’re not a skinny twig anymore, you still have a ways to go to catch up to me.”

“This is definition, bro!”

“No, this is malnourishment, Ty! Let’s head to the back right now.”

The two moved toward the back of the barn, where there was a separate room that, to Ty’s surprise, was basically a fully-equipped old-school gym.

“Wow man, this is sick as hell!”

“Ty, bro! You talk like you don’t live here with me and haven’t used Dad’s gym since we were kids, even though you still seem like a little weakling to me.” RJ said, grinning.

“Shut up, asshole!” Ty shot back, mirroring RJ’s smile. But that quickly faded as he sat down, lost in thought.

“But it’s true, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, man. It feels like something’s off with me. You’ve spent the whole day reminding me of things I already know; I feel fine for a while, and then everything gets muddled again. Am I going crazy?” he questioned RJ who was standing right in front of him, wearing nothing but some extremely short shorts that showcased his massive muscles.

“Ty, bro, you need to stop worrying about that. Now it’s time to work out and try to get close to this!” he said, flexing his powerful chest and arms.

“I… work... out? Yes! But… I… don’t remember… that’s what I’m telling you… there’s something… missing…”

Before RJ could respond, a deep voice interrupted them.

“Can I know what’s going on here?” Asked Roy Abernathy in his work clothes with a serious expression.

“Roy… Mr. Abernathy… I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I wasn’t feeling well, and RJ wanted to cheer me up…”

“I know, son. What I want to know is why you didn’t say anything. You’re like a son to me, TJ. I expected you to see me as a father too!”

“Like a… father?”

“Of course, boy! I’ve watched you play with RJ in these fields since you could fit in the palm of my hand. I’ve followed your football games from Pop Warner all the way to the state championship semifinals in high school. You’ve brought me as much pride as my own son, boy.” Said the bigger man with a smile.

That seemed to trigger the golden sparks once again.

As the trademark smile spread across TJ’s face, knowing how little time they had left before their work was finished, Roy quickly stripped down, donning only some shorts that were just as tight and short as his son’s. His muscular body was less defined but much larger in mass and power.

“Let’s go, kid, take off those pants and show me what you’ve got! Who knows, maybe one day you’ll match this!” he said, flexing his arm and grinning.

“I think that’s pretty unlikely, Roy, but let’s see what I can do!” TJ replied, smiling.

“Start with the warm-up, son! How about some squats?” Roy suggested as the younger man positioned himself.

“And, TJ?”

“Yes?” TJ answered, starting the exercise.

“My friends call me Roy. My sons call me Dad! Show me who you really are, son!”

That phrase, amidst his concentration on the exercise, ignited a new wave of golden sparks. As TJ squatted down and pushed up, his mind flooded with various memories: childhood days playing with his twin brother, who was just a few minutes older, under their father’s watchful eye. The two brothers, inseparable best friends, taking care of the farm chores together. The football games that had led them to the semifinals of the state championship. The decision to stay on the farm to help their parents with the work. Finally, the gaps in his memory were filled. He finally knew who he was. With one final push upward, Tyler James Abernathy finished his warm-up set, smiling at his father and his brother.

“Warm-up done, old man; how about we move on to something real?”

“Not before you do what I asked; show me what you’re capable of. Flex for me, son!”

“Dad, come on!” TJ replied, a bit exasperated.

“Hey, are you gonna let an old man outdo you?”

Smiling at his dad, who despite being frustrating was still his greatest role model, TJ flexed his massive muscles as a grin spread across his face.

…..

As the sun set that day, the twins walked home, chatting animatedly after making significant progress on the Mustang’s repairs. However, they stopped dead in their tracks when they encountered an unexpected scene that made their cheerfull expressions turn serious.

Their father was standing with his arms crossed, staring at someone with his imposing physique blocking their view. But both knew their dad’s posture well enough, even from behind, to tell he was fuming. And a very angry Roy Abernathy was exactly what the other man was seeing.

“I already told you I haven’t seen the guy you’re looking for, officer!” Roy said, his voice steady but firm.

“I don’t want to doubt your word, Mr. Abernathy; I’m just asking to take a look around your property. The last I heard, my brother was supposed to come here yesterday. Brian is many things I don’t approve of, but irresponsible isn’t one of them,” the man said, stepping into the twins’ line of sight.

“Hey, you two, I’m Officer Lucas Harding. Have either of you seen my brother Brian?”

“Fuck!” exclaimed a startled RJ.

Just as Debra and Marisa Abernathy emerged from the house, and Roy turned to his sons. All eyes were fixed on TJ, who stood frozen in place while the same question ran through the minds of the rest of the family, what had gone wrong? Worse than that: what else could happen?

Continue....

[thebigqueer]

"Pretty Blue" - Caitvi - One-Shot

Summary: fluffy one-shot of drunk caitvi. there's no real story its just them being drunk and fluffy. Word Count: 2938 Notes: TWs for alcohol and slightly sensual content (but nothing sexual). also i know the ending is really abrupt but again this was more of a drabble vibe than an actual story so thats why its abrupt Read on AO3

“Cait!” Vi calls. When Cait doesn’t respond the first time, Vi says her name again and turns her gaze over to the bed. Cait’s lying on her back, facing the ceiling with her eye closed and her hair splayed out around her like a halo. When she still doesn’t answer, Vi decides it’s time to say, “Caitlyn,” because Caitlyn is her business name, and Vi means serious fucking business right now. 

This does the trick. Cait’s head tilts towards her, a frown pinching her eyebrows. When she spots Vi, she sits up. “What are you doing with that?”

Vi grins at her and pulls the cloak tighter around her. “I’m wearing your dumb cape.” She twirls around once, and the cape follows her movements, drifting around her. The lights of Cait’s room blend around her as she spins, and the floor underneath tilts before she finds her balance again, and she feels so free. She loves Cait’s bedroom.

When the world stills again, she hides her face behind the collar of the cloak and looks at Cait through her lashes. “Look at meee,” Vi taunts, now with an exaggerated attempt at Cait’s accent. “I’m a decorated officer. Commander Kiramman is my name. Caitlyn fucking Kiramman.” Vi snorts and pulls her face out of the cloak. She spreads her arms out, admiring the golden design in the light. “It’s snug in here. No wonder you liked it so much.” 

“I didn’t,” Cait mutters, watching Vi. “I wanted to burn it.” 

“Nooo,” Vi says, twirling around in it again. Her vision tips, but she doesn’t mind. She feels too important and shiny and warm to care. “You look so fucking good, though. You look like a candle. A really hot candle. I’d let you burn me.” 

Cait shakes her head, but a small, hazy smile slips over her. “Can you come back? I’m starting to fall asleep.” Vi starts stepping forward with a new fervor, but then Cait puts her hand out. “Without that thing. I don’t want to look at it.” 

Vi scoffs and wraps herself further into the cloak. “No way you’re telling me what to do. I’m Commander Kiramman. No one tells Commander Kiramman what to fucking do.” 

“If you’re Commander Kiramman, what does that make me?”

“You’re just a cupcake.” 

“Just a cupcake?”

“You’re the cupcake.” Vi grins. “You’re all the cupcakes in the world.” She starts stepping forward again, but something catches on her foot, and all of a sudden the world tumbles over her, mixes into a whirlwind of blue and orange and green and violet. Then an ache erupts in the heels of her hands, and when she looks up, she finds herself level with the floor. 

A twinkling sound echoes around her, and Vi’s heart soars at the realization that it’s giggles. She made Caitlyn Kiramman giggle. The thought makes her smile, because she loves to hear Caitlyn Kiramman giggle. She starts to lift herself up into a sitting position, and as she does, a weight on her back starts to slide off, too. 

Then a pair of feet block her line of vision, and she looks up to see Caitlyn Kiramman looking down at her. The golden lights of her bedroom arc around her like a halo, and Vi thinks that’s kind of fitting. She is an angel. 

A smile crawls over Vi. “You’re so fucking tall.” 

Cait laughs again, and the sound of it makes Vi’s heart flutter because she loves hearing her laugh. She sits down on her knees and reaches around Vi, and the weight that was on Vi’s back climbs away as Cait drags a blue cloak off her and tosses it to the side. Was Vi wearing that? No wonder her back felt so heavy. 

Cait turns her gaze back to Vi again, and a new giddiness bubbles in Vi’s chest. Something tugs at her jaw, and then her head is being tilted up, and suddenly Vi can barely even see the rest of the surroundings; only Cait fills her line of sight. Her good eye glows green in the soft golden lighting of her room, and the scar on her other one flashes, and her hair swings down her shoulders, so soft and perfect and beautiful.

Vi’s smile melts even wider, and she finds herself crawling forward on her hands as Caitlyn pulls. “Wow,” she breathes. “You’re hot.” 

Cait smiles, and the pressure on Vi’s jaw intensifies. She can feel the insides of her cheeks sinking into her teeth, and it makes her heart full. “You’re precious when you’re drunk,” Cait says, her voice echoing around Vi’s eyes. 

As Cait leans forward with the prettiest smile in the world, Vi reaches and pulls her along into her lap. Her arms rest against Cait’s waist, and she can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her nightshirt. Something falls out of Vi’s chest, something airy and soft, and Vi realizes she’s laughing. “Who says I’m drunk?”

Caitlyn fixes her with a raised eyebrow, and the sight makes Vi’s stomach flutter. An audible sigh floats out of her, and she eases herself backward. She feels like she’s on a cloud. Except when she twists her head to the side, she realizes it’s just Cait’s bed cushioning her head. Cait has a really soft fucking bed.

“I say you’re drunk,” Cait says, and then she tilts her head a little, and a new ray of light shines right past her, and Vi’s heart swells. Her mouth falls open because, wow, Cait is so fucking pretty. She’s so pretty that Vi wants to bite a pillow. 

So Vi tugs Cait forward, pulls her closer so that she can feel her chest pressing into her own. And not only is she fucking pretty, but she’s fucking warm. Of course she is. And also she smells like violets. She smells so good. Vi wants to lick her, and that want turns into Vi kissing her, and she can feel Caitlyn’s arms tighten around the back of her neck, feels her hands fluttering through her hair, and she tugs Caitlyn even closer. Maybe if Vi tries hard enough, she can tattoo Cait into her skin. 

Vi pulls back to meet Cait’s eyes, and huff of amusement falls out of her. “I’m drunk on love,” she says, tucking a piece of hair behind Cait’s ear, and then something catches her eyes: the cuff piercing. She leans forward and gently touches it. When did she get that? Then she meets Cait’s eye again, and she doesn’t even remember what she was looking at. “Because I fucking love you.” 

Cait’s cheeks flush softly, and Vi touches them. She wants to soak in her heat under her fingertips. Vi drags her knees in and Cait leans back against her thighs. Her legs embrace Vi’s waist, and Vi feels so happy because she loves to be between Caitlyn Kiramman’s legs. Her legs are so fucking cool. Vi runs a hand over Cait’s thigh, soaks in the goosebumps on her skin, the growing hair trying to poke out. Vi knows Cait likes to shave her legs; she says it gives her an excuse to stay in the bath longer. Vi hopes she lets her be the one to shave it next time. Then she’ll give her a real reason to stay in the bath longer. 

Vi presses a kiss to her knee, then leans her head against it as she looks back up at Cait, and a brand new smile warms her. “Are you not drunk? Last I checked, you were a fucking lightweight.”

“Which means I know my limits.”

Vi scoffs. “Okay, Commander Cupcake. Who was the one ranting about the difference between a blimp and an airship fifteen minutes ago?” 

Cait tugs on Vi’s bottom lip, and the touch steals Vi’s breath from her. Her grip on Cait’s thigh tightens. “Remind me, who just fell over on my cape?”

“You did. Remember, I’m you. I’m Caitlyn Kiramman.” 

“Which means I’m also Caitlyn Kiramman.”

“No, you’re Cupcake.” Vi tugs Caitlyn’s finger from her lip and kisses it, then holds it gently between her teeth. Caitlyn giggles as she licks it, and Vi is so fucking happy right now. She loves feeling Caitlyn on her, loves tasting her, loves being surrounded by only her. 

Vi leans forward again, this time to kiss her on the mouth, but the momentum sends her head spinning and instead she lands against Caitlyn’s shoulder. 

“Myyyyy bad,” Vi murmurs into her shoulder. She should really lift her head, but Cait is so warm and soft, and she smells so good. She presses a kiss to Cait’s shoulder, but now, even so still in Caitlyn’s embrace, the world starts tilting under her, and she closes her eyes. “Ohhhh.” 

The hands in Vi’s hair start crawling away, onto her shoulders, and it tickles. Vi can’t help giggling, and the sound of her own giggles makes the color behind her eyelids spin in this really ugly combination of red and green and blue. Then, for a brief moment, she’s floating, before something soft hits the back of her neck again. When she opens her eyes, she’s staring up at the ceiling, the drapes of Cait’s bed posts fluttering overhead.

She doesn’t move her head, but something makes her gaze flick down, and she finds herself staring at Cait through her lashes. Caitlyn fucking Kiramman. Most beautiful girl in the whole world. A smile slips over her and she closes her eyes again. 

“Vi?” Cait’s voice calls, and it’s enough to bring Vi to open her eyes again. Her face is blurry, but Vi thinks she can see a smile on her. Except it looks strange. Not totally happy. Why doesn't Cait look happy? Tears spring into Vi’s eyes. She just wants to see Cait happy.

“Are you alright?” Cait’s voice rings around Vi’s head, but this time it feels something closer to gongs the way it reverberates through Vi’s skull. And Vi fucking loves Cait’s voice, maybe even secretly gets turned on any time she just says a word in that posh little accent, but this just feels downright uncomfortable.

“Yeahhhh,” Vi says, closing her eyes again. “I’m fiiiiine. But I think I should just keep my head here for a little bit.” 

Cait scoffs. “And you said you weren’t drunk.” 

Vi hums, but she doesn’t feel like answering. She just wants to feel Cait breathe against her. A pair of hands crawls over her face, warm and slightly calloused, and a smile tugs at Vi’s lips. She wonders how she even got here, with the hottest girl in the world on her lap, breathing through the alcohol buzzing in their bodies. 

“My head feels funny,” Vi sighs. Her words bounce around her ears. “Can you kiss me?”

A beat of silence passes before Cait speaks. “How is me kissing you going to help you?” But Vi can feel her voice on her lips anyway, so close she can almost taste her words. 

“You solve all my problems,” says Vi. “All of the world’s problems could be solved by a kiss from Caitlyn Kiramman. Commander Cupcake.” 

Cait snorts. “If only it were that easy.” Then her lips brush against Vi’s, not quite a kiss just yet, but Vi can still feel the smile against her lips. “But I do like solving your problems.” 

Then she catches Vi’s lips in her own, and Vi’s heart explodes. 

Cait’s thumbs press under Vi’s chin, tilt her head further back, and Vi can feel her tongue against hers, warm and soft and familiar. A desperate frown pinches Vi’s brows, and she brings a hand to the back of Cait’s head, trying to pull her in deeper, trying to swallow her whole. 

As if in response, Cait drags one hand down, painful and deliberate as she pulls it over Vi’s neck, down her chest, teases the hem of Vi’s shirt. Her fingers feel like matches dragging down Vi, as if she’s looking for something to ignite her fire.

“Fuck,” Vi mutters. It’s kind of embarrassing how turned on she is; Cait’s barely even done anything. But also Cait is just amazing, and anything she does drives Vi crazy, drunk or not. 

Cait huffs a laugh against Vi’s lips, and then a hand slips under Vi’s shirt. Vi’s neck arches further at the feel of her fingertips against her stomach, against her sternum. She feels like a painting, the way Cait’s hands brush over her, carving over the lines of her body. But then she presses a hand against Vi’s breast, and at first Vi doesn’t mind; she welcomes the pressure building at the pit of her stomach. But the second time Cait does it, the ugly red and green and blue colors behind Vi’s eyes come back, and the dizziness in her head feels a little worse. She sighs and then, slowly, painfully, she pulls Cait’s hand out. 

“Sorry,” she mutters. “Is it okay if we just… hold each other?”

Vi’s eyes open, if only to stop the ugly colors, and she meets Cait’s gaze. Through the haze building up in her vision, Cait’s eye is a star in Vi’s focus. It’s a pretty blue, prettier and bluer than the one behind Vi’s eyelids. She can’t tell if Cait’s smiling or frowning, but when Cait leans forward and presses a kiss to Vi’s forehead, a wave of relief falls over her. “Of course,” Cait says. Then, almost nervously, she adds, “Sorry. I got carried away.”

For some reason, the nervousness in her voice makes Vi’s chest ache. She made Cait feel bad. She hates making Cait feel bad. An ache presses against Vi’s throat, and she tries to swallow it away.

A thumb brushes against her cheek, and Cait says, “Why are you crying?”

Vi says, “I made you sad,” and she’s surprised at how badly it hurts to talk. She can barely get a word over the lump in her throat. 

“You didn’t.” Cait smiles at her now, a soft and warm smile, and Vi’s heart swells at the sight. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“I love secrets.” 

Cait brushes a thumb against Vi’s lip, then leans forward and presses her face into Vi’s neck. Her hair tickles Vi’s shoulder, and Vi leans her head on top of Cait’s. Cait’s arms wrap around her waist now, and Vi runs her fingers through the back of Cait’s hair. It’s so soft. It's so pretty.

“You make me so happy,” Cait says into her shoulder, and Vi shivers at the heat of her words. “Every time I have to go to some meeting without you, that’s what makes me sad. I only like the meetings where I can go with you. I love hearing you tell the council to go fuck themselves when they say something you don’t like.”

“They deserve it.” 

“They do.” Then Cait pulls away and gazes at Vi, and the way she watches Vi, it makes her head spin in a really good way. “I love you.”

Vi’s chin trembles. Caitlyn Kiramman loves her. Vi closes her eyes and sighs, and Cait kisses her shoulder. “You’re such a fucking cupcake,” Vi mutters. “You’re too sweet.” Then a grin creeps over Vi. “You want to know a secret?”

“Always.”

Vi presses her cheek to the side of Cait’s head. “I think I’m drunk,” she whispers. 

“That wasn’t a secret. Your head is rolling all over the place.” 

“That explains why I’m so dizzy.” 

Cait snorts, then she places her hands on either side of Vi’s face, and the grin on Vi’s face grows wider now. She loves feeling Cait on her. “Maybe it’s time to go to bed.” 

Vi nods, but now that Cait’s mentioned the prospect of having to stand up and move, her head starts to feel heavy again. Cait shifts against Vi, but Vi doesn’t want to get up, so she just tugs on Cait’s waist. “Wait. Not yet.” Before Cait can respond, she presses Cait’s body into hers, and Cait relaxes. “Give me a minute. I just want you right now.”

Cait sighs against Vi, but she gives her a minute anyway. More than a minute. Five minutes. And with each passing second, Vi’s head grows a little bit heavier. 

The ugly red and green and brown burst in Vi’s eyes again, and she frowns. Suddenly Cait’s breathing feels too loud against her, her skin too hot. But Vi doesn’t want to let go, not yet. 

Cait sits up, and the movement makes Vi feel even hotter. She kind of wants to peel her skin off. 

“Vi?” 

“I’m okayyy,” Vi says, but her words feel kind of like cotton in her mouth now. The ground tilts a little too much, and she presses the back of her hand to her eyes. She waits a moment, trying to will the world to stop moving. But it doesn’t. The ground starts pressing a little too hard into her right leg now, and with a start, she realizes that she’s tilted over slightly.

Her head falls back against the bed and even though it’s so soft, her skull pulses and the colors behind her eyes burst in an ugly brown. “Ohhh,” she groans. “I think that last shot was a bad idea.” 

A curtain of cold falls over Vi, and when she opens her eyes, she finds Cait standing over her. Even through her haze, she can see something soft and loving in her features, and Vi wants to smile, but the colors around her are starting to twist.

Cait holds her hand out. “Bathroom?”

Vi nods. “Bathroom.” 

[k3nz1ekorn]

Jayvik actor au- first meeting

There’s a new show airing based on the popular video game League of Legends! Filming has just started and while it’s the first day on set, it’s also the first meeting of costars Joel and Vlad, set to play Jayce and Viktor. 

DIsclaimer: obviously I do not own the game League of Legends or any of the characters. Because this is an au some of them are going to be very out of character but this entire au is self indulgent for me so idrc. Hope you enjoy tho! also I have no idea how acting or set lots work and I have no intention of looking those specifics up for this, if that bothers you feel free to correct any inaccuracies in a comment!

Vlad was nervous to say the least. It wasn’t as if he was an inexperienced actor, just that this was a pretty big role for him. Big budget, some big names, a huge video game company, and he got to play one of the main male roles? Yeah no he definitely didn’t want to fuck this one up. He took a breath before opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement, the frigid air surrounding him was a strong contrast to the heated car he’d just been in. He should definitely find his trailer fast, his knee did not like the cold. He slung his bag over his shoulder with ease and grabbed his cane out of the car with his opposite hand before shutting the door and starting down the path to the lot, 24B it was? Everything was busy, he noted, costumes and mechanical equipment moving around him this way and that. His head was almost on a constant swivel to make sure nobody was about to knock him off his feet, ducking and weaving here or there to make sure the stray props and cart wheels didn’t take him out. He was actually quit good at it all things considered.

“Coming through, heavy equipment!” He heard from his right, and it seemed as if he spoke a bit too soon. His efforts seemed to be in vain because as the cart had almost passed him, the wheel went over a rock and the boom mic jostled. Just enough in fact to blindside him with a bop right on the forehead. He stumbled backward for a second before a pair of very large hands were steadying him. He groaned lightly for a second before blinking a few times. A broad chest was in front of him when his eyes regained focus, squinting in confusion he looked to the hand on his arm, before following it up to find- Oh. Oh wow. 

“You alright there?” He was broken out of his very minor trance by the new voice, deep and gravely. He blinked a few more times before letting out a cough, taking a small step away, and responding.

“YES! Yes I’m fine, thank you for the concern though.” He gave a chuckle and a small smile as he finished readjusting his bag. He took a moment to look over this new person, and yes his initial observation was oh so correct. He was so very good looking. Vlad preferred his men a bit more rugged truth be told, usually a beard or longer hair, but all things considered this stranger was striking. He started to move to introduce himself when the man spoke again.

“Good, I’ll be on my way then. ‘Scuse me.” He gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and slipped past him. Vlad turned to watch him walk away for a moment before giving a small huff. Not even a name to put to a face, huh. With a shake of his head he carefully continued on.

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After arriving at his destination and getting settled into his trailer it was time to get down to business. Hair and makeup flew by in a breeze with the help of a quick coffee, and costumes had been fitted to perfection previously. He admitted he looked quite good in this one, the lace up sides of the vest did wonders for his already nice figure. With one more look in the mirror he gave himself a nod and picked up his script and cane before descending the custom ramp out of his trailer. Immediately he was met with his assistant, Skylar. She handed him his second coffee of the day and he adjusted so he was holding it in the same hand as his smaller copy of the script. They settled into a comfortable pace as they made their way towards the set. She went over a few key notes on the way there.

“So your first scene today is set in the aftermath of when the character Jayce’s apartment blew up, you’re almost grilling him on why, how, yada yada, asking questions, being snarky, etc. okay? Should be fairly easy for you. Your counterpart for this scene is Joel Torres, he’s already on set. He filmed a few other scenes already today so he’s already all warmed up and ready to jump into it.” She seemed almost anxious? Exasperated? It was hard to tell with her sometimes. “Other staff have said he’s a bit…cold? Just don’t take it personally if he doesn’t take to you immediately, is what I’m getting at, mmkay?” Vlad scoffed a bit at that. He never took it personally when people didn’t like him, if they were coworkers he did like to be cordial at least. It was just better for the production and flow of things that way. 

“That will not be a problem, I am a professional in the art of not speaking,” that definitely earned him a skeptical look, “and I’m caffeinated now, highly I might add, so whatever this Joel does or does not say is eh…water off the head? Is that the saying? It’s some kind of body part, yes?”

“Well yeah, but it’s-”

“Fantastic, onto the important issue, did you discuss what their potential relationship is building to with anyone on the production team? I know of my own interpretation, but this script it…leaves you guessing some, no?” He held up the papers before taking a sip of his overly sweet coffee and raising his eyebrow in question. She pulled her mouth into an almost grimace and sucked in through her teeth.

“So I did ask, and they said it was meant to end up brotherly almost? Like by the end of the season?” she shot him a sideways glance as she mirrored his movement to drink from her own cup. “If you’re able you can always talk to Mr. Torres and discuss how you both would want to portray the relationship.” Vlad gave a hum in response as they continued on their way. A bright head of pink hair came into view as they got closer. It was a shorter girl, probably one of the female leads? She was leaning on a table with a donut in one hand. In front of her stood a taller woman with deep blue hair, immediately he was able to recognize her as Cathrin Kristy. The shorter one caught his gaze and gave a small wave and a smile, with her mouth full of course. Cathrin turned with a raised eyebrow before giving a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgement. Vlad copied the move to both of them before turning his attention back to Skylar to finish their briefing. The set came into view and he stopped at the edge of it to give everything a brief once over. He turned side to side a bit to fully take it in and get used to his new surroundings before stopping dead in his tracks and giving a slight smirk to himself.

Well hello again handsome. Sitting just a few feet away was the same man he bumped into not even two hours ago, clad in the same ‘Academy uniform’ as the costume department had called it. This must be Joel then, the cold demeanor he’d encountered earlier certainly fit the description Skylar had been telling him about. “One moment Sky, I’ll be back.” He heard her make some kind of annoyed confused sound as he walked away, right up to his new coworker. He appeared to be reading over the script, they were about to film a new scene after all so it made sense. He takes a moment to fully look at him as he approaches. Even under the uniform he can make out thick muscles, beautiful tanned skin on his clean shaven face and oh those hands. His hair was slicked back, not perfect though, an artistically styled messy to give the illusion of disarray while keeping the clean cut illusion the character had. As he’s just a few feet away the other man glances up at him, he squints his eyes a bit as if in confusion before recognition settles in and he lifts his head to acknowledge him. Vlad opens his mouth to speak before he stops, he’s not too far in front of the other but at a comfortable distance for a couple of strangers. He doesn’t plan to be strangers for much longer though. “Well hello again, quite a surprise to see you here. It seems our paths have crossed once again. I admit I didn’t mind the first, but this one is definitely preferred. I’m Vladamir, you may call me Vlad though if you’d like.” He reaches out a hand in front of him. His counterpart takes a glance down at his hand with a raised brow before setting down his script. He looks back up at Vlad’s eyes before taking his hand to give it one firm shake. Dear gods he’s strong…and those eyes- his train of thought is cut short as the other finally speaks. 

“Joel. Just Joel.” He retracts his hand and places it in his lap to intertwine his fingers with the other one. There’s silence as they just stare for a moment, and he thinks he may imagine Joel taking the time to give Vlad a once over, he really hopes he isn’t blushing too hard. Vlad brings his hand back to his side and tilts his head with a light smirk, as he opens his mouth to speak again a bell rings. They both turn their heads as they hear the director call them to places. Vlad gives a light hum before he turns back to Joel once more.

“I believe they need us on set then, shall we?” he doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns and walks to his place. He definitely doesn’t imagine it when he hears a deep exhale and the shuffling of papers behind him before any footsteps follow. 

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“What happened here?” Vlad gets into character easily, this is a fun one for him after all. He turned and gave a wave of his hand, his cane clicking on the ground with ease, it helped that it was fitted to actually be the right height for him.

“Science I guess?” ‘Jayce’ says. This character is very different from him, he could tell as much from the script alone. The actress for Grayson says their line easily, moving out of the way for ‘Viktor’ to approach. He furrows his brows as he turns back to ‘Jayce’ and continues with his line.

“Nor was this approved by the Academy. Who authorized your research?” He says pointedly, he takes care to not kick any of the prop debris as he makes his way over to the other, acting as if he hasn’t had the last twenty minutes to look over the set before they started shooting.

“It was an independent study. Who are you anyway?” he shoots back accusingly as he looks up at him.  Vlad has to force down the immediate urge to look back into his eyes, scrutinizing the blackboard for a moment more.

“I’m assistant to the dean of the Academy, who it may serve you to remember is also the head of the council.” With that he finally looks at ‘Jayce’ again, they lock eyes for a brief second and it almost feels like he stopped breathing. Almost. He is a great actor after all. He breaks eye contact to look back at the board and it feels easy to breathe again, “He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed safely.” More glancing at the room, anything really to avoid looking into those eyes again. “Which, according to my list, includes you.”

“What!?” More eye contact, it’s brief this time thank the gods. “How am I dangerous?”

“Uh, that is for the council to decide.” He holds the focus of those beautiful golden eyes for barely another second before looking at ‘Grayson’ as she drops the handcuffs into view. ‘Jayce’ hangs his head in defeat and then the shrill bell signals the end of the scene and he glances back at Joel, who had quickly gotten up to listen to feedback from the director. They make eye contact again and Joel raises a thick brow at him. Vlad quickly turns away to hide his blush and busies himself with going over his lines for the scene again with Skylar, making little notes for himself for the next take. This is going to be a long show for sure.

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A Bonus for this one:

When Joel gets back to his trailer for lunch he sits at the booth and lets a long sigh overtake him before he throws his head against the back of his seat. His hand covers his eyes before he pinches the bridge of his nose. All he can picture are those beautiful eyes looking back at him in nearly every scene he shot today. Letting his head drop forward again he removes his hand and glances down at the script. Nearly every scene with him huh? He lets out a defeated chuckle, yep. He’s fucked.

Author’s notes: Wow so I whipped this out in about 5 hours with leftover Christmas mimosa supplies. Literally can’t wait to add Mel in. Don’t know when but I will because I love her so much.

[katethetank]

The Dungeon - Chapter 2

Rating: Mature Plot: Eddie Munson has been living the rock star life for years. Constantly moving around, he hasn't had the luxury of a real connection with someone in a long time. All of that changes when he steps into a D&D themed coffee shop and falls for the gorgeous man behind the counter. Steve Harrington has been looking for love in all the wrong places. Ever the hopeless romantic, he wants nothing more than the perfect movie meet cute where he finds his person. Fate comes knocking when a handsome stranger walks into the kid's shop. CW: Steve is oblivious, mentions of oral sex in regards to song lyrics Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, Rock Star Eddie, Counselor Steve, Eddie is gay, Steve is bi, Steve has no idea who Eddie is, slow burn, idiots in love Word Count:2189

Chapter 1<<>>Chapter 3

The rest of the night seems to drag on, every minute passing by like another hour. And Steve keeps looking back at the door, waiting and hoping for it to open and bring his beautiful stranger back.

Steve was knocked a little off kilter when he first saw him standing on the other side of the counter. Dark hair piled on top of his head. Half his face hidden behind some serious Audrey Hepburn shades, but beneath those, the most pillowy, kissable lips. And god, he looked so soft and cozy. Something about a man in sweats just made Steve want to nest. Cuddle up on a couch under blankets, exchange soft and lazy kisses, maybe take a little nap and snuggle. 

God, he’s not beating those “mom” allegations anytime soon, is he?

But Jesus, when he whipped those sunglasses off and batted his big old doe eyes at Steve, smirked, called him sweetheart…He was a goner.

He hoped he played it cool, but in the back of his mind he knows better. He used to be able to charm the pants off of anyone, but all of his time spent with the kids-who-are-no-longer-kids have robbed him of his cool points, and Robin had turned him into a rambling mess much like herself. 

There was some kind of spark there though, right? He wasn’t imagining it? Steve was rightfully bummed when he…Eddie…ordered his drink to go. He was hoping to work on his charm a little more, attempt some flirting of his own, see if he could bring out a blush on Eddie’s cheeks too. 

But fate just doesn’t work that way for Steve. He doesn’t get the romantic meet cutes that lead to true love. He doesn’t get the happy ending. Lord knows he tried. He’s a sucker for love and has tried to find it in not always the best places. He’s left every single one of his hookups hoping for something more, that maybe this one would be the one. But they either ghost him or only want to fuck again. 

Steve wants something more. Something deeper. He wants to be happy. He wants to find his person. Robin does her damnedest to hype him up and they both believe his person is out there, somewhere. He’s just been having to kiss a lot of frogs trying to find them.

The clock ticks on and Steve starts to lose hope that Eddie will come back. Why would he? It’s a weeknight, he said he had to work, the last thing he would want after a long day and late night is more caffeine. 

He busies himself around the shop, doing the chores the kids asked him to. He’s got Billie Eilish’s new album playing over the speakers, and it’s helping to chill him out a bit. No way metal could have the same effect, fuck your very much Mike Wheeler.

He’s wiping down the machines behind the counter, singing along with Billie about eating pussy, and doesn’t hear the door open. He doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching. Doesn’t hear someone slump onto the counter. 

“I’ll run a shower for you like you want! Clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on! If I’m allowed I’ll help you take them o-o-o-o-off!

“Well hot damn, that’s the nicest offer I’ve had all week!”

Steve, not being startled in the slightest, shrieks like a girl and throws his rag at Eddie’s face.

“Oh my god! Do I have to put a bell on you?! You scared the shit out of me!”

Eddie is laughing so hard he’s bent over the counter, his face is red, crinkles appearing around his eyes. Steve can’t help but laugh with him.

“Sorry!” Eddie gasps and raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you! Oh my god, you said earlier that you could scream, but that honey? That was something else!” 

Leave it to Steve to make a total ass of himself in front of a gorgeous man. Now that his heart rate is coming back down, he’s registering how gorgeous Eddie actually looks. 

Gone are the cozy sweats and Hepburn glasses. His hair is down, wild and untamed and Steve wants to bury his face in it. He’s got some black eyeliner smudged around his eyes, making them look even darker and deeper. A black leather jacket covers his broad shoulders and peeking out from underneath…is that mesh? Dragging his eyes down further, he lands on a handcuff belt buckle resting above skin tight leather pants that look like they were painted on. Lord help him. His mouth goes a little dry. 

Clearing his throat, he meets Eddie’s eyes again - which are dancing with mischief. A Cheshire grin plastered on his beautiful face. Fuck. He caught Steve gawking at him, didn’t he?

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. You want a..?” He points, intelligently, to the menu while he tries to get a fucking grip Jesus, Harrington!

Eddie just smiles, shakes his head, and leans on the counter.

Damn, that man knows how to lean.

“So what uh…what brings you back?”

“Well Stevie, I said be back to see you later, and I am nothing if not a man of my word. How was your night sweetheart?”

Steve is going to die. He’s going to simply pass away while this insanely hot man is leaning and smiling and giving all of his attention to Steve. “Fine. It was fine. Kinda boring actually. Not a lot of action around here on a Thursday night, you know?”

“Aw, honey, a man as pretty as you should have no trouble getting all kinds of action.”

Steve almost audibly rolls his eyes. “Wow that was awful! Does that kind of line usually work? I’m almost embarrassed for you!” 

Eddie’s face falls. 

Shit. He was going for cheeky and it came off bitchy.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so-“

Eddie, throws his head back and cackles. “Steve! You’ve got some claws, sweetheart!” He slaps his hand over his heart and admits, “You’re right! You’re right, that was horrible! My deepest apologies m’lord. I do appreciate your honesty, and I promise I’ll workshop some of my material a little more for next time.”

Steve breathes a sigh of relief. Thank god he didn’t fuck this up so quickly! “Next time, huh? You making plans for me already?”

Pulling a lock of hair over his full lips, Eddie looks almost bashful as he says,”I don’t know, how willing are you to be subjected to more heinous pickup lines?”

You could lay them on me forever. Lay on me forever.

“Hmm… depends. How willing would you be to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

Eddie perks up and Steve swears if he had a tail, it would be furiously wagging right now. ”I - yeah! I could do lunch! Where uh… where are you thinking?”

“There’s a place on the other side of town, by the community center. Wayne’s Diner? They make a mean grilled cheese. Have you been there before?”

Eddie gets this look on his face that Steve can’t pinpoint. Something almost…fond. “Yeah. I think I know the place. I can meet you there around 1:00?”

Steve’s heart is doing fucking backflips in his chest. He can’t believe this guy actually wants to go out with him. “It’s a date.”

There’s the blush Steve was hoping for. It looks really pretty on Eddie. 

They just kinda gaze at each other for a moment when Steve realizes that he’s supposed to be closing up the shop soon. “Ah shit, it’s getting late. I better finish up here, make sure I got everything done so I don’t catch hell from the shitheads.”

Eddie snickers and nods his head.”I’ll get out of your hair, sweetheart. My carriage is about to turn into a pumpkin anyway,” he says while pointing to the clock in the wall reading nearly midnight. Before heading out, he reaches for Steve’s hand, slowly brings it to his lips, and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

Steve? Swoons.

Nobody has ever set off fireworks like that in him before, especially not from something as simple as a kiss to his hand. He watches Eddie saunter out of the shop and Steve has to brace himself on the counter before he passes the fuck out. 

No sooner than the door closes that it flies back open again and a whirlwind of chaos comes barreling in. 

“Steve!  Why did we just see Eddie fucking Munson leaving our fucking shop?!” This is the most hysterical Steve had ever seen Dustin. All of them really. Even Max and El, clinging to each other while jumping up and down, are apparently losing their minds.

“How do you guys know Eddie? He was in here earlier today and he came back to uh… well. I’ve kinda got a date with him tomorrow.”

If it wasn’t for Billie still playing on the speakers, you could have heard a pin drop.

Steve looks around the cluster of faces, seeing shock, surprise, elation, disbelief, and (ok fuck off Mike) disgust. The kids have known forever that he’s queer as fuck, so he can’t fathom why they’re all reacting like this. Dustin seems to snap out of it first and slowly steps up to the counter.

“Steve. Buddy. Pal. You need to tell me everything, right fucking now.”

Steve quirks his eyebrow. What the hell has gotten into these dipshits? Oh fuck, they didn’t actually end up doing drugs did they? “Are you guys high? Did you take something at the concert? I fucking told you, don’t take shit from people you don’t know, it’s not safe!”

They all collectively roll their eyes as if they’d been rehearsing it, which he wouldn’t be surprised if they had. Max pipes up from behind the boys, “No mom, we didn’t take anything! Now spill, I want the dirty details!”

“Not much dirty about it kiddo, he came in earlier while you guys were leaving, ordered a drink to go, talked about music, and he kinda…flirted a little bit. I mentioned I’d be here till close and he said he’d try to stop by after work. I totally didn’t think he’d show up again, but he popped in just a little while ago and I asked him out. We’re going to lunch tomorrow.” Steve shrugs at that and turns around to gather his shit from behind the counter. The kids can lock up, he’s exhausted and is ready to climb into bed.

The silence from them is loud so he turns back around to see them staring wide-eyed back at him.

“What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “Of course. Of fucking course Steve would be the one manning the shop while Eddie fucking Munson comes in. And you seriously had the balls to ask him out?! Unbelievable. He’s like a dorky mother hen and he manages to get a date with a fucking rock star.”

Wait. What?

“Wait. What? The fuck are you talking about?”

A collective groan fills the room. Dustin, looking at him like he’s an idiot, asks “Steve, what drink did he order?”

“Uh…The Corroded Coffin?”

Dustin nods his head slowly and asks, “And what concert did we go to tonight?”

“…Corroded Coffin…”

Oh fuck. No. No no no.

The pieces all begin to fall into place. The incognito outfit, the questions about the band, him showing up again later looking like…yeah, looking like a rock star.

The color drains from his face.

“Oh shit. Oh my god. Guys, I think I really fucked up.”

Mike’s eyes go wide. “What did you do??”

Steve grimaces. “I might have…talked shit about his band. Called it ‘noise’ and said his singing just sounded like screaming.”

The outburst from the kids makes him wince.

“What the fuck, Steve?!”

“Are you serious??”

“You did NOT?”

“This is hilarious!”

“You’re dead to me”

Steve runs his hand down his face and says, “Guys, I didn’t know! I don’t listen to your weird music, ok?! What the fuck do I do? I can’t believe I screwed this up already.”

The girls step up to the counter, always more logical than the boys thank god, and offer some reassurance. El, the angel of the bunch, rubs his shoulder and tells him, “I’m sure it’s not that bad. He still came back right?”

Max agrees, “Yeah, if he was totally repulsed by your idiocy, he would have bailed. But he didn’t. And for some reason actually agreed to go out with you. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Steve nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right. What do I do though? I’m meeting him for lunch tomorrow and I’m gonna feel like such an ass when I see him.”

“Apologize, dumbass!” says Dustin. “Seriously, do we have to tell you everything? You’re not a child.”

This kid’s gotta get his ego in check.

And Steve has got to prepare himself to do some serious groveling if he has any hope of salvaging whatever this is.

Chapter 1<<>>Chapter 3

************************************************

Comment if you'd like to be on the taglist! It's my first time doing this, so let me know if I screw it up. This is also posted on my ao3 account if you wanna check it out there.

@annachronisme

[v3x-y0urs3lf]

Jinx and Powder names

I saw someone comment on how ‘Powder’ is something of a deadname to Jinx— and I’m not saying I don’t agree with that, it’s just I don’t fully agree with the idea that Jinx hates the name ‘Powder’ or necessarily being called Powder.

Mind you, I haven’t finished Arcane and it is taking me a GOD awful long while to.

From the spoilers I’ve seen, Jinx verbally corrects people whenever they call her ‘Powder’. She also doesn’t react positively when people (In one instance, Ekko) calls her ‘Powder’ and genuinely blows herself up. She also reacts physically (breath hitching) when Viktor calls her Powder.

Like the name Powder is a curse (intended like the word ‘Fuck’, but ‘Curse’ as in magic works too) Which is interesting to me, because the name Jinx seems like the bigger ‘curse’ here.

And here is where my (probably obvious) headcanon comes in.

Jinx does not hate the name Powder, she hates the idea the name Powder brings.

Powder and Jinx are obviously very different people, but there are still similarities as we see in the AU.

But I’ll mainly focus on Young Powder.

Powder is a child who is shown to be very dependent on the people around her, not only to seemingly survive but to also entertain herself. Which we see in both how she relies on the help of others and immediately goes to the bar(?) to chat with Vander whilst Vi and the others are busy. (I honestly don’t remember what they were doing, I think that was the scene Vi was defending Powder from Mylo, though.)

Essentially, Powder was a physically and mentally weak kid. Which, understandable, she was a kid.

Powder was naive, but she was smart. Powder was able to see value in objects, which was something Mylo, and potentially both Vi and Claggor were unable to do. (Though, I’m pretty sure Vi only implied that to get Mylo off Powder’s back and potentially help Powder feel more useful.) Powder was also mature, or at least was a lot more mature compared to the Jinx in season 1.

Jinx has obviously changed a lot since Powder. Powder was someone who needed protecting and help to survive, Jinx is someone who didn’t care on whether or not she survived and had countless times shown that with her suicidal tendencies.

Powder is someone no one would want to be. A burden.

Jinx is someone who everyone had given up on, insisting on being a ‘Jinx’ when someone tried to show potential in change for her.

Jinx is seemingly a name used for Powder(at least in childhood) when she has not only done something wrong, but when they have lost faith in her. As seen in (I believe two out of two times) of someone calling her a ‘Jinx’.

By calling Jinx ‘Powder’, someone is essentially putting faith in her. They believe that she is still, or has the potential to be, a defenceless, physically weak, dependent child. I’m not saying that’s what Powder is, I’m saying that I believe that’s what Jinx sees Powder as.

There are instances when Jinx allows people to call her ‘Powder’, though.

Vander

Someone else who I can’t find clips of. (I think it was Isha, but she more acknowledges herself as Powder rather than calling herself Powder.)

This is Jinx no longer being weak. By calling her ‘Jinx’, someone is accepting that she has changed; that Powder is no longer around and therefore no longer a weak, defenceless, dependent person.

But there are people (I’m saying person.) who Jinx will allow herself to fall into ‘Powder’ with and allow to see her as Powder. Vander. She doesn’t need to be Jinx around him, she doesn’t need him to know how far she’s fallen and she doesn’t need him to acknowledge that she has changed.

Vander is an exception to Jinx being acknowledged because, in my opinion, Jinx doesn’t want Vander to lose complete faith in her.

Okay, I wasn’t going to add this into the Final Cut, but I did want to say— when I was finding clips to talk about, Jinx is having a talk with Isha and

“I thought I was rid of her for good.”

Obviously, this is post-shimmer so it could just mean that ‘Oh, Powder drowned. She’s ‘dead’, No more’. But I am taking this as Jinx completely denying and disregarding Powder’s existence at one stage.

She denies being Powder, she denies being weak. She has always been a Jinx.

Only in Season 2, she accepts that Powder was a thing now that Isha represents Powder.

Isha is small, she’s a child and she’s very creative— Just like Powder. Powder looked up to someone just like Isha did, Isha was a tinkerer (Although I’m pretty sure she picked that up from Jinx) and Isha had a knack of getting into trouble and needing to be saved.

Also, I’m not using past tense on purpose. I always do that, don’t mind me.

But Isha also represents a lot of what Powder wasn’t. Isha doesn’t back down in the face of danger and Isha very much shows that she wasn’t afraid to do the wrong thing if she thought it would help the ones she cared about (which is what Powder did with Monkey Bomb.) except Isha executed her plan perfectly.

Even before the war, Jinx had accepted Powder as something she no longer minded now that Isha was around.

I don’t know what else to add so I’m finishing it here. Just a cliff note, these are my interpretations and I don’t have to be right! (I, however, will think that I’m right because I’m egotistical like that.) thank you for reading.

Edit: because it’s no longer 2 in the morning for me, I’ll add on a final thought.

After Isha, Jinx realises how similar Isha and Powder were— but Isha was anything but defenceless, weak and whilst Isha was dependent, Isha was just as brave (if not braver) than Powder was at presumably her(Isha’s) age.

I believe the reason Jinx accepts that Powder was a thing now is due to being able to see the similarities in Powder and Isha. Powder was someone who made mistakes and Isha? Isha was someone who— whilst also making mistakes to try and help others has good intentions and is overall a good kid.

So perhaps Powder wasn’t so bad after all.

Perhaps it’s okay for Powder to have existed, even if she is now Jinx.

[this-is-moony-lovegood]

And I can tell you one thing, honey, I can take the upper hand and touch your body

Explicit | 9.3k | NFL Coaches!Buddie, Part 5

“I know that you would prefer to go up against the Steelers rather than the Ravens next week, but stress-watching this game is not going to change the outcome of it.” Buck tells him. “Tomorrow we can make a game plan to go up against whoever it is. But, tonight you are not going to keep watching and driving yourself insane over what-ifs.”

“But Buck-” Eddie tries to protest, but Buck is too quick for him. In a matter of moments, he’s tossed the remote on the far end of the couch, crossed over to Eddie, and tugged him to his feet by the collar of his shirt. He wastes no time in slamming his lips on Eddie’s, pulling him into a searing kiss that Eddie instantly melts into. Buck’s hands find their way to Eddie’s hair, tugging harshly at the strands, and Eddie moans loudly into Buck’s mouth at the sensation giving Buck the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in, deeping their kiss even more.

The game is long forgotten as he lets Buck completely take control of him, practically attacking his mouth in a kiss so domineering that Eddie thinks his knees might just buckle from how turned on he is by it. Within a few minutes, his cock is straining against this underwear and sweatpants, nearly soaking through the fabric with how much he’s leaking. He’s so thankful that Christopher went home with one of his friends after the game to work on a school project, because Eddie is ready for Buck to throw him down and fuck him right here in the middle of the living room, and Christopher would have a fit if he knew they might break his one rule no sex on the couch.

When Buck finally pulls back, leaving Eddie panting as he chases Buck’s lips with his own, Eddie can’t help but notice just how dark his eyes have gotten. His pupils are blown wide, only a sliver of that beautiful ocean blue that Eddie loves peeking out from around them. “Now, I’m going to take you to bed and I’m going to make you come so many times that you’re going to forget all about football for a few hours, because you’re too busy writhing on my tongue, my fingers, my cock… anything that lets you lose yourself in the most pleasure you’ve ever had. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Holy fuck, yes, please.” Eddie swears, but every word sounds more and more like a moan than he intended. God, he can’t help it. He wants Buck to take him apart so fucking bad right now that he’ll do absolutely anything that he says.

Read More on ao3 HERE.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! 🎁 Enjoy Part 5 of your favorite horny NFL Coaches Eddie and Buck! Catch up on parts 1-4 HERE.

[bunbunnies]

plaything | part 2

🔞 wriothesley x f!reader | minors dni 🔞

word count: 3.2k

tags: pwp, dom!wriothesley, sub!reader, bunny hybrid!reader, OFFICE SEX, light exhibitionism, possessiveness, daddy kink, praise, light degradation, cum play, penis in vagina penetration, masturbation, light voyeurism

(series) plaything :: one | two | three | four | five

At the Duke's office in the Meropide, you’re sitting on a couch, patiently waiting for Wriothesley to finish his work. He has laid out some snacks, and books for you to entertain yourself with, but you aren't that interested.

You spend most of your time pretending to read, secretly stealing glances at him as he diligently works.

He knows that you're not reading, never hearing a single page flip in the hours that you've sat on that couch. But he never bothers to mention it, finding it cute.

"How are you feeling, bunny?" he asks, his scanning eyes remaining on his papers. 

“I’m okay… a little bored.” you quietly admit, bunny ears drooping. 

He lets out a tired chuckle, looking up from his paperwork to look at you. “Sorry, Bunny. I have some extra work to finish today…” he says. He glances over at you for another moment, before he pushes himself, and his large chair, away from the desk. “C’mere”, he says, patting his lap for you to sit on.

You excitedly get up from your couch, practically dropping the book in your hand, and jump onto his lap. Your knees plant on both sides of him, into the soft, red cushion of his chair. 

“Hi, baby… I’ve missed you,” he smiles, holding your face as he leans in to gently kiss you. He’s been thinking about you all day, but has been too busy to show you that.

Your arms wrap around him, pulling yourself closer to him as you return his affection.

His tongue dances with yours, fighting for control- you easily let him take over, as you always did. Only after a few minutes does he break the kiss, leaving both of you catching your breath. 

His eyes bore into your own, darkening as they see your flushed face. He leans into you, slowly peppering a wet trail of kisses and licks down your jawline and neck, as one of his hands gently wraps around your neck. His other hand slips underneath your shirt, and finds its way to your lower back, pushing your hips closer to his. 

Stretching your neck to give him more access, you let out a soft gasp from his touches. As he pulls your hip in closer, you feel his erection slowly growing against you. Almost instinctively, your hips slowly grind into his crotch, feeling the heat against your pussy.

Wriothesley lets out a low groan against your neck, as he feels your hips grind against his growing bulge. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, and can see the way your body is reacting to his attention.

"Is my little bunny needy?" he teases, his voice low and husky as he continues to kiss your neck. His hands hike up your short skirt, gently squeezing your ass. He lifts his head up from your neck, and leans into your ear. 

"Do you want Daddy to take care of you? Make you feel good?" he taunts, his breath hot against your ears.

You let out a pathetic, needy whimper, feeling your arousal build in your pussy. You were already getting so wet for him. Wriothesley groans at your sounds, as he feels your growing wetness against him. It sends a wave of arousal to his cock, hardening in his pants. He resumes kissing and nipping at your neck, his hands roaming your body possessively.

"Daddy's going to fuck you so good, bunny…" he murmurs against your skin. "...Gonna make you scream his name." He slides a hand between your legs, his fingers brushing against your panties. He lets out a shaky huff feeling how soaked you are- his cock throbs with need. He needs you just as much as you need him. 

"Do you want Daddy to fill this needy little pussy?" he teases, fingers hooking and pulling your panties aside to tease your folds.

"Yes, please! I've been so good and patient for Daddy today!”, you breathily gasp. 

Wriothesley smugly grins, hearing your pathetic beg. His hands slide underneath the waistband of your panties, and slides two fingers into your tight, wet heat- it’s like his fingers are being sucked in. 

"Daddy's so proud of you, bunny," he mumbles, pumping his fingers in you slowly. "Gonna reward you for being such a good girl for me." 

You grind your hips against his long, thick fingers, letting out soft gasps.

His free hand unbuckles his belt, reaching underneath his pants to free his hard cock. He grips it in his hand, stroking it slowly as he continues to finger you. His swollen tip squeezes out beads of precum, dripping onto his hands, as he lazily gives it a few strokes in front of your stomach. 

Suddenly, he pulls his finger out of you.

“Undress, now.” he demands. He watches you as you hastily lift yourself off of him and the chair, taking the chance to pull his pants down lower. 

You fumble as you pull off your top, then your panties and skirt, letting them fall to the ground. Giddy from excitement, you eagerly crawl back on top of his lap right after with a smile.

He smirks, seeing your obvious excitement. Holding his length between the two of you, he slaps the veiny, thick, hard cock on your bare stomach. The swollen, red tip leaves precum on your skin. 

Slap.

"Does bunny want Daddy’s cock?" he teases, his eyes locked on yours.  

You nod eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes!” you pleaded, eyes seeking for his own. 

Wriothesley groans, lining his cock underneath you. He grips your hips, and pulls you down onto him in one smooth motion, filling you up to the brim. 

You let out a loud gasp at the feeling of him burying himself into you. 

"Fuck, bunny," he gasps, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him. "You’re so wet and tight,"

You start to bounce on his cock, with his hands guiding your movements. 

"Good girl, ride daddy…" he commands, his voice rough with pleasure. "Show how much you want it." He leans forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting your sweetness, muffling your moans. 

"Daddy's going to fill you up, bunny," he murmurs against your lips. “Breed this needy little pussy." 

Tilting his head back to catch his breath from the kiss, Wriothesley devours the sight of your dishevelled look as you ride him. Your flushed face, hazy eyes, jiggling breasts- it's a sight that he could never get tired of.

He takes a hand to brush his index and middle finger over your lower lip. Without a word, you slightly open your mouth, and he pushes his fingers in for you to gently lick and suck on. 

You moan around his fingers, feeling full of him. The fingers help muffle your noises, knowing that there's still people outside the Duke’s office. Not that it mattered much to him.

Wriothesley lets out a growl as he feels your wet tongue lapping at his fingers, his cock twitching inside you. He pumps his fingers in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of your bounces on his lap.

"That's it, bunny," he murmurs, his voice husky. "Suck on my fingers while you ride my cock.” He grips your hip harder, and starts to thrust up into you. His cock hits deep inside you with each movement.

Breaths turn into hot pants, and movement becomes more frenzied. The sound of skin slapping, and desperate breathing fills up the room. Already, he can feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening with each thrust, his thighs clenching. You drive him utterly insane.

"Daddy's close, bunny," he pants heavily. "Daddy's going to cum inside you." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, both hands latching onto your hips as he thrust harder into you.

But just as he's about to orgasm, he gets a loud knock on the door. 

Both of your movements instantly halt. Wriothesley glances towards the staircase, before looking back at you. He’s gripping your hips tightly, holding you still on his cock.

“Shh, bunny," he whispers, his voice urgent. "Daddy's going to keep you filled with his cock while we have company. Be a good girl and stay quiet for Daddy, okay?" He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He can feel his cock throbbing inside you, the need to cum almost overwhelming. 

You feebly nod, face warm at the thought of someone seeing you like this, on top of the Duke of the Meropide. You wrap your arms around him, in an attempt to hide your face.   

"Come in," Wriothesley calls out, keeping his voice low and steady despite his arousal. 

A guard walks in, seeing your bare upper half intimately slouched against Wriothesley. They spot your discarded clothes on the floor, but they try to avoid obvious eye contact with it. Luckily, they don’t see that you're currently speared open on his cock, behind the desk. But honestly, it wouldn’t take much to fill in the gaps.

"What is it?" Wriothesley asks, his voice sharp. He tries to keep his tone neutral, despite the arousal coursing through him. He feels your walls clench around him, aroused at the thrill of being caught. 

The guard nervously stutters out an apology, their eyes darting around the room before lowering their head into a deep bow. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but there's a situation in the production zone that requires your attention."  

Wriothesley nods curtly. "I'll be right there," he says, his voice strained. "Dismissed." 

The guard doesn’t waste another second in the room, quickly scuttering down the stairs and out of the office. 

As soon as the door closes with a heavy thud, Wriothesley lets out a shaky breath. You lift your head from his shoulder, resting your arms around his neck as you face him.

"Did my little bunny enjoy almost getting caught?" he asks, teasing you with a grin.

You look back at him shyly, before giving a slow nod.

Wriothesley's eyes darken with lust at your shy admission, his cock twitching inside you. "What a naughty, little bunny,” he smirks. His lips crash into yours, capturing you in a hungry kiss with his tongue, tasting you deeply. 

You let his tongue explore your mouth, his hands holding your head as you taste one another. You clench around him as his kisses make you feel fuzzy sensations in your stomach, filled with excitement and need.

He gently tugs at your lower lips with his teeth, before letting go of the heated kiss. He rests his forehead on yours. 

"Daddy's going to cum in you now, bunny,” he softly whispers. 

Immediately, he grabs your hips and starts snapping up into you. He thrusts into you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. "C’mon, take Daddy's cum, bunny," he pants, his fingers digging into your hips. "Take every last drop."

“P-please, Daddy! Want your cum! Please!” you whine loudly, weakly holding his shoulder as he roughly uses you, making your breasts bounce against your chest. The chair creaks underneath the two of you, slightly wobbling from the force of his thrusts. You feel your own orgasm building, a tightening sensation.

He grunts at your words, feeling his balls clench. He feels your walls flutter around him, seeking his cum. He watches his length slide in and out of you, your face contorted with pleasure. It was so erotic, seeing you so cock drunk from him. 

With a final thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot release. "Fuck! Bunny!" he loudly groans, his head falling back against the chair and gasping for his breath. His seed comes in waves, thick ropes painting your walls.

Chasing your own orgasm, your fingers rub tight circles around your clit, and your hips continue to ride him through his high. “Please… want to cum…”, you whine. 

He shakily replaces the fingers on your clit with his. “That’s it, bunny, use Daddy’s cock. It’s all yours.” he says, breathy from his own orgasm. 

Hearing him proclaim his cock as yours sends your brain into a frenzy. The tightening sensation finally snaps, and you come undone around him, repeatedly whimpering his name. 

Wriothesley groans as he feels you coming on his cock, your tight heat squeezing him for every last drop of his own release. He doesn't stop circling your clit.

As you come down from your high, your body falls limp against him, thighs wanting to press together. But he holds you up with his steady hands, fucking his cum deeper into you with shallow thrusts. You whimper and whine on top of him, unable to muffle your sounds as he uses your sensitive hole. You're positive that everyone in the Fortress knows how hard the Duke is fucking you.

"That's it, bunny," he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Take Daddy's cum deep inside you.” 

“Too-, much-,” you softly whine, his thrusts sending you into overstimulation.

He slowly stills his movement, and looks down at the mess that the two of you have made on his lap. He begins to feel his cum leaking out around his softening shaft, onto himself, as you sit on top of him. 

He gently holds your face by the chin, taking your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. “Daddy’s going to take care of some matters. Daddy will be back to fuck you again soon." he whispers. 

Your lips pout a little, wanting to be with him for a little longer, but you know that he has duties to attend to. “Okay…” you mumble.

He lifts you up, pulling you off of him. His arms steadies you by the hip as you stumble standing up, legs shaking. With a gentle squeeze to your hips, he stands up himself and grabs a tissue to wipe the mess on his thighs before tucking himself back into his pants. He pats and straightens out his clothes, his expression shifting from lustful to authoritative.

"I'll be right back, bunny," he says, making his way down the stairs. His large, metal handcuffs strapped to his belt jingle with each step down the stairs. Soon after you lose sight of him walking down the stairs, his large office door closes with a thud.

You lean your body weight onto the edge of his table as he leaves. Your thighs gently rub together, still needy for him. Your heightened sense of smells picks up on how the room smells intoxicatingly good of you two, only making you want more.

Eyes wandering, you spot his black and red coat, that he often wears, left dangling on his chair. An idea pops up in your head, and you’re too needy to think better. You take his jacket to the couch, throwing it on a pillow to bury your face in. 

Wriothesley's coat envelops you in his scent as you bury your face in the pillow, deeply inhaling the musky aroma of his cologne mingling with the heady scent of sex. You arch your back up, with your small bunny tail up in the air, as your fingers find your aching clit to rub slow, teasing circles around the sensitive, swollen nub. You softly moan into the fabric, your hips bucking into your touch. The memory of his cock stretching you, filling you so completely, sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you.

"Daddy," you whimper, your voice muffled by the coat. "Daddy's cock feels so good inside me."

Your fingers dip lower, pushing into your dripping pussy. You're still so tight and wet from his thorough fucking, your walls clenching around your own fingers as if trying to suck them in deeper.

"Daddy's cum," you moan, his seed dripping out of you onto your fingers. "Daddy's cum is so warm inside me."

You imagine him watching you, his eyes dark with lust as he sees you touching yourself. "Daddy, I need you," you mewl, your hips rocking faster against your fingers. "Daddy, please fuck me again." 

Wriothesley's scent spurs you on as you writhe on the couch, your fingers plunging into your aching pussy. But it's not enough. No matter how hard you fuck yourself, it doesn't compare to the feeling of Wriothesley's thick cock stretching you, filling you up so perfectly.

"Daddy," you whine, your voice desperate and needy. "Daddy, please. I need you."

You buck your hips frantically, chasing your high. Your clit throbs, but it's not enough. Your fingers are a poor substitute for his cock. It's not the same as being split open on his long, hard shaft, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

"Daddy, please," you quietly sob against the pillow. "Daddy, I can't... I need your cock. I need you to fuck me. Please, Daddy."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you realize that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to satisfy this ache without Wriothesley.

The sound of the door opening startles you out of your desperate haze, and you look up to see Wriothesley standing at the top of the staircase. His eyes rake over your disheveled form, taking in the mess you've made of yourself on his couch.

"Bunny," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "What have you been up to while Daddy was gone?" He strides over to you, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and lust. "Did my little bunny try to satisfy herself without me?" he asks, his voice a harsh whisper. He looks down at you, with your ass perked up and face pressed up against the pillow with his jacket.

Bending himself down to you, he cups your cheeks, fingers gently rubbing the tears from your wet, flushed skin. "Daddy told you to be a good girl, didn't he?" he says, his tone threatening. "Daddy told you to wait for him."

He lifts his hand from your cheek, shoving them between your legs. The fingers push into your dripping pussy. "And what did Daddy find?" he asks, his voice mocking. "Daddy found his greedy little bunny trying to fuck herself on his couch." 

Your hips immediately grind into his fingers.

But the pleasure is cut short when he pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to your lips. "Clean them," he commands, his voice harsh. "Clean up the mess you made." His grey eyes intimidatingly glare into yours.

Looking back at him, you feel yourself shrink from his menacing gaze. Your lips form a pout with fresh tears in your eyes, looking away at him. "S-sorry Daddy... I wanted you so badly... but you weren't here..." you shakily stutter. You didn’t mean to disobey him- you’re his good little bunny.

Wriothesley's eyes soften slightly as your voice trembles, your tears glistening on your cheeks as you become too scared to look back at it. He didn’t mean to hurt you- he never would. He knows how much you need him, how desperate you are for his touch. 

"Shh, it's okay, bunny," he murmurs, he bends down on his knees to face you. His hand cups your cheeks, fingers rubbing soothingly against you. "Daddy's here now," he says, his voice gentle. "Daddy's going to take care of you."

a/n: AAHAHAH god the draft of this was like less than 2k. now its 3.2k....... 💀 but lowkey kinda speed running posting this series coz the drafts of it have been sitting for awhile now... i will likely never be posting this quick again... 💀

++ i dont think this needs to be said, but pls dont use this fic as advice on how to go about your exhibitionist kinks…. consent, consent, consent (from all parties) <3 dont go fucking around unconsenting ppl n dont do it if ur partner doesnt consent

[fingertipsmp3]

No one:

Me: does anyone want to hear what my sims family did today

[mossiestpiglet]

Just saw a professional, full length skirt with normal ass belt loops at the top like any pair of slacks would have and I was immediately overcome with gender euphoria and also what I can only describe as textile lust

[lightspren]

google how do i be a normal person

[scatteredcloud]

Alright well I guess faggots aren’t allowed in ace hardware anymore

[bibleofficial]

walked up to my cousin’s step son after the wedding to see if he was doing ok & i was like ‘what u up to :D’ & he said ‘i got a new pet !’ & we looked at the table to see a yellow jacket he caught under the cup, which he described as a bee …. APPALACHIA

[realcowboysdrinkjuice]

i’m so excited to see troy’s dad i listened to the rolled today and apparently it’s not what we expect so like is he gonna be like amazing or is he going to somehow be worse then troy like what happened im so excited

[kuiinncedes]

ahhhhh

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR EX HUSBAND FINDS OUT YOU'RE DATING AGAIN, HOW DO YOU END UP FUCKING HIM IN YOUR BED ?? ❞

✧ pairing: ex-husband!satoru gojo x f!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you -- well you married him and you wanted him, but when he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you had no choice but to divorce him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date? and how is it you always end up under him?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, exes to lovers, modern au! (no curses), gojo is a CEO of a company, gojo has a daughter with you, divorced, some angst, switch! gojo, nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (near entryway), semi exhibitionism, sex (p in v), creampie, swearing,

✧ wc: 8,271

“You were supposed to be here at 6:00 PM,” 

Satoru Gojo stood in your doorway, as opposed to splashed on the covers of magazines and countless front page articles — you would think it would be business magazines, but you would only be partially correct — he made the covers of business, fashion, health, entertainment, and even a few women’s magazines. 

And what every single one had made apparent in their colorful print was that Satoru Gojo was anyone’s ideal man — the CEO of the wildly successful Six Eyes Corp, a philanthropist in his free time spent mentoring children and teenagers through establishing proper programs, and he was flawlessly beautiful — ocean blue eyes you could drown in, porcelain skin seemingly without a blemish or scar, and pretty lips that were a weapon when curled in a smirk. 

Just as they were now. 

“Well,” he smirks, leaning against your door frame, “I’m sure it’s 6:00 PM somewhere,” 

“Well, I’m not concerned with somewhere else since you daughter exists here, not elsewhere,” your words lacked their usual bite, only tinged with annoyance rather than cutting anger, “but good thing I told you to be here an hour and half earlier than I needed you,” 

Needed him as just as you did before you had divorced — just as you asked him to be. But he only grew more distant by the day — and soon he was already out the door when you had served him with divorce papers. 

And now, you can almost forget how it used to be — your eyes catch sight of the picture on your mantle of the two of you with your daughter, Satoru’s lips pressed to your cheeks as yours were pressed to your little angel — almost. 

He gapes at you as you walk inside, as he follows behind you, the click of the door closing overshadowed by the sound of his voice. 

“How could you lie to me, sweetheart? Thought we had a bond of trust,” you don’t have to look back at him to know he has a pout on his lips that would quickly melt into a grin if you conceded. 

“Bond of trust ended when you showed up two hours late to pick up our daughter,” and he grumbles, cheeks tinged with pink. 

“That was one time! I’m never that late. And it’s only on a Fridays when I have—“ 

“Meetings all day,” you finish with a sigh, “I know, Gojo, I know it’s not on purpose — but I know you’re always late on Fridays so I found a solution,” your lips curl, “anyway, our girl is napping still, so give her a bit before you wake her, but you can stay here until she does,” you’re shrugging off your bathrobe, littered with flecks of makeup, only to have a gorgeous black dress underneath. 

One that he very much hadn’t seen before — and he would know, he’s explored every centimeter very intimately of each one of your dresses, but this is new. His eyes skim down the exposed skin of your thighs — very new, but very familiar. 

He’s running fingers through his hair, not bothering to hide how his gaze rakes over his body, “Special occasion? Don’t tell me your birthday suddenly moved months, or I forgot our anniversary,” 

You scoff, as you pick out earrings from your jewelry box,  “Does an anniversary count when you’re divorced?” you can’t hide the hint of bitterness in your voice, and he’s stepping closer as you look in your vanity to put your earrings on, only to meet his gaze in the mirror, deep blue sucking you in as it always does. 

“But you’ll always be mine,” and you roll your eyes, expecting a cheeky grin, but find genuine longing in his expression, before it's hidden away behind a frown, “but you still haven’t told me where you’re going, sweetheart,” 

A sigh stuck in your throat, ignoring the use of your usual pet name that he had lost the rights when the ink dried on your divorce, as your teeth graze your bottom lip, “I have a date tonight,” 

He tilts his head, “A date?” and you can already hear it in his voice — ice creeping over usually still waters, “who’s the lucky guy? And do I get to meet him?” 

“And have you scare him off?” And he only grins in reply, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“If he’s intimidated by me, isn’t that more on him than me, sweetheart?” His footsteps only grow closer, as you turn to look at him, his hand on the wood of your vanity, nearly caging you in on side, “after all, he may be your date, but I’ll always be your husband, and the father of our daughter,” 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss him or slap him — slapping him was self explanatory, but the want to kiss him was a lingering feeling, one that you couldn’t shed — no matter how much time passed. But that was the thing about Satoru Gojo — it was easy to fall in love with him, but even harder to fall out. 

And a part of you could never admit to yourself that you never did. 

No matter how hard you try.

“You haven’t been my husband for a year and half now, Gojo — a year legally now,” 

And he’s changing tactics, “You still haven’t answered my question, who are you going on a date with?” And you already can feel the beginning of a headache throbbing in your forehead, and you know why no one could say no to Satoru Gojo — because you’re sure he’s never understood it. 

“Why do you need to know?” And he's tilting his head, a small scoff parting his lips. 

“I need to know who you're potentially bringing home, don’t I?” and he’s far too close, and you don’t know why you’re not pulling away — his breath warming your skin, as he drags a finger down your cheek, “The man who might step foot in our home, might meet our daughter,” and his thumb brushes over your lips, “might kiss my wife—“ 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects you. 

You rub at your temples — yup, you definitely have a headache now. You brush past him, heading to the living room to pick up some of the mess, hoping your ex would somehow fall and hit his head on the doorframe and forget this conversation.

“And this dress?” Ah, no such luck, “did you buy it for the date?” 

“Do you keep a catalog of my wardrobe?” you scowl as you pick up the strewn about toys and things to collect into your daughter’s toy bin, and he’s bending down too to pick up your daughter’s things in his hundred thousand yen suit. 

“So you didn’t deny it,” and you sigh again, but grit your teeth all the same, his sharp words finely grating on your nerves. 

“This isn’t a business negotiation, you don’t win just because you use my words against me,” you stand up after picking up the last of the things, “yes it’s a new dress, and yes I bought it for the date since this is my first date in years, happy?” 

“Thrilled,” he says flatly, and you know it’s not the end of the discussion, “remember our first date?” 

And how could you forget? But you decide to humor him, if only for a break from the interrogation. 

“Which one? Because one was a date, and the other—“ 

He raises an eyebrow, “It was a date too, I asked you out—“ 

“You asked me to hang out—“ 

“And we kissed—“ 

“Only because I told you how I felt first—“ and he smirks again and you know you’ve dug yourself into a hole, cheeks burning at his stupidly smug face, “shut up,” 

“And what did you say again?” He slips the things you have in your hands into the toy box, his fingers brushing yours, and his touch is the same as you remember, even the barest brush was enough for your traitorous soul to yearn for more. 

“You know what I said,” his lips curl, the same smile he had given you all those years ago that made you fall for him in the first place, but his raise of his brow tells you he’s not going to let it go until you say it, “I told you that I liked you for a long time, and I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Because maybe by then it would be too late,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight — just as the bunches of butterflies that bloom in your stomach. 

“And you say that wasn’t a date,” and you scoff, biting back the small smile on your lips, “will any other first date compare to that?” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you know his brow is furrowed without having to look at him, “do you have to call me by my last name—“ 

“I do, because Satoru was my husband, and Gojo is my ex—“ 

“I’m still your husband—“ and you give a bitter chuckle. 

“In what world? We’re divorced, it’s over,“ 

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

“But it does. This isn’t me confessing to you on a movie night curled up on my twin bed. This is my ex-husband asking me to give him another chance far too late,” you slip past him, but he follows behind anyway, as you stand near the entryway to your home,  “it’s time to move on,” and you’re stepping from your bedroom and only reach the doorway when he speaks. 

“How can I move on when I never wanted to?” You still yourself in your tracks, fingers curling into a fist. 

Not this right now. Not now. “Gojo—“ you sigh. 

You’re so tired. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. You never had expected to have this conversation, not when you wanted to only marry one man your entire life was the one to break your heart. 

“It's almost two years too late for this conversation,” you willed your voice not to break — not when your heart was long broken by him, and you wouldn’t allow him to do it again, “you should have had it with me before I filed. When I asked you to spend your time with us, when I asked you to take time off, when I asked you to be present in our lives—“ 

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap. 

“Don’t call me that,” your quiet words hang in the silence, the wedding bells he heard in his head were nothing more than the sounds of bells drowning out the mourners screams, “don’t call me that when you don’t get to anymore,” 

“I’ll always be yours, sweetheart, a few papers don’t change that,” and he’s stepping towards you, but you’re rooted to your spot, and you want to say it’s stubbornness, but you know what it really is —weakness, because Satoru Gojo was your one and only weakness. And even now, walls raised and erected against him came tumbling down with one touch. 

Because he knew exactly where to touch and what to say. 

“Do you think any other man could please you the way I can? I know every place, every sound, every inch of you — inside and out,” he’s nearly against your back now, “are you going to let a stranger do that? Let them learn how to please you, but knowing your husband knows how to do it better,” 

“Ex-husband,” and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “we shouldn’t—“ 

“And yet you’re letting me,” his nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, warm breath sending a shiver down to the tips of your toes, and his words sending a wave of need right to your core, “because you know it’s true,” his hands tentatively brush against your hips and when you don’t resist, he squeezes, drawing a gasp from you, lips curled in a smirk, “more sensitive than usual, Princess? Been too long?” 

“I swear to god—“ he’s cutting you off with a bruising kiss, a rubber band snapping back against your skin, and now it’s taut against you, ensnaring you in its grasp. And yet, his kiss is so sweet, affection dripping from the slide of lips to the caress of his fingers against your cheek, and it reminds you of just why you don’t want to let go. 

“You don’t have to swear yourself to me, but I’d appreciate it, Princess,” and his mouth reminds you of the reason you (and that you don’t). 

“Gojo—“ and he’s placing more kisses along your jaw now. 

“Shouldn’t you at least call me Satoru now that we’ve kissed?” 

“You’re impossible—“ 

“And yet I’m here,” his teeth nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tongue flicking over the blooming love bite, “almost forgot how sweet you taste,” he’s humming, as he kisses along your shoulder before he toys with the strap of your dress, “almost,” his large palms slide down your body, skimming your bare thighs as he’s pressing you against the walls, “but your skin isn’t what I want to taste,” 

You gasp, “we can’t—“ but why were you letting him? Irritation overrode by lust, and he knew the spots to make you bend to him, his hands squeezing your hips, “fuck you,” you wonder if his touch are phantoms engraved against your skin and muscles, forced to repeat the same patterns again and again — and a hand slides back up to cup your cheek. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” his lips find yours again, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before slipping inside. His hand is lifting your thigh around his waist, as his lips part from your own, eyes raking over your pretty, bitten red lips, “do you know how much I missed you?” 

“No, I don’t,” and his smile slips from his lips, as he cups your chin, “Satoru—“ 

“Even all the days I was gone, there wasn’t a second I didn’t think of you,” you waver a moment at the sadness rippling through his gaze, “I know I wasn’t there—“ his lips press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why weren’t you?” 

And that’s when there’s a knock at the door that makes your heads snap over to stare at the door a good four or five feet from you, the shadow of feet visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you were sure it was your date. 

“Fuck,” you whsiper under your breath, “you have to go—“ your palms pressed flat against his chest, but Satoru doesn’t budge, “please, I have to get the—“ 

And his hand is slipping up and under your dress, hiking the material higher, “do you really want to go on your date like this, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your soaked panties, a gasp pulled from your lips, lithe fingers rubbing and pinching your clit through the thin fabric, “gonna go see him when you’re this wet?”

“Please—“ and his fingers snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin, drawing a squeal from your mouth, “fuck—“ 

“Any louder, Princess, and he might hear us,” he’s leaning down to press his forehead to yours, forcing your gaze to meet yours, “but maybe I should let him, let him know who’s the only one who can make you feel this good,” his words only make your cunt flutter, as if your body was in agreement, even if your mind was still in denial, “you’re much more honest down here, Princess, but you always were,”

Another knock as your attention is being tugged only for him to yank it back as his finger slips inside you. You’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your moans — his fingers were so much longer than yours, reaching places you could only have dreamed of — when you had dreamed of him. 

His finger squelches as he fucks you open, walls squeezing around him as your molten insides cling to his touch desperately. Small whines and pants are muffled against your hand as you clamp it over, your phone vibrating uselessly with your date’s messages inside your purse. 

“Please, Satoru let me—“ and he’s ripping your underwear, as he’s forcing your dress higher, “I have to tell him—“ 

“Tell him what?” His eyes are nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescents leaking in from the living room, “tell him you’d go on your date with him but you’re too busy being finger fucked by your husband?” And he’s sinking another finger into you, making your head loll back against the wall, “tell him that you’d let him fuck you in our bed, but you’re too busy letting me?” 

“Sa-toru—“ you’re biting back your whines, glancing at the door, but he’s forcing your gaze back to him, his thumb pressed against your chin, “just let me—“ 

And he’s turning you in front of the mirror near the entryway, forcing you to look at yourself — your lips kiss bitten and ruined, your dress hiked up and mussed, and underwear tugged down to your ankles. 

“Do you want him to see you like this?” His breath is hot in your ear, a soft murmur that makes your knees nearly buckle, “want him to see you how much of a mess I’ve made you?” His fingers sink into you again, a third finger with the other two. The lewd squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, your eyes catching sight of your own moans and pants in the mirror, your walls squeezing around them, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, sweetheart, and now you can watch too,” he’s guiding your gaze back to watch yourself, watching him knuckle deep in your sweet cunt, “gonna make you watch your tight pussy break my fingers,” he spreads his fingers inside you, letting you watch your slice drip down his fingers and wrist and splatter on the floor.

And your head falls back against his shoulder — he’s thrusting into you faster, your walls working deeper and deeper into you — fingers curling against your molten insides, until he’s finding that one spot that has your lips falling open, “I’m so—” your voice is a broken whisper, and he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Please—“ 

“Cum f’me baby,” his thumb rubs at your clit, and you do, walls clamping down as you cum, his fingers relentless as they fuck you through your orgasm, a wordless moan of his name on your lips. He’s holding you up as he does, your body buckling under the pleasure, blood roaring in your ears that slowly ebbs away, as his fingers slow, and you’re shuddering under his touch, “good girl,” and your walls flutter as he pulls out as if they want him to stay, and he’s tilting your gaze, “watch,” your eyes open reluctantly, a small moan on your lips as you watch him carefully each one of his fingers clean, pink tongue darting out to lick at the trails of your juices that had dripped down his palm and wrist, “still the sweetest thing I’ve had, princess,” 

And there’s another knock, as he clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t give up does he?” and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, “must have really done a number on him and he’s willing to wait this long for you, huh?” he hums, nuzzling the hollow of your throat, “but I can relate. So, should I let him down for you?” 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his cheeky gaze with a glare, “Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“What? You still want to go out with him? Be my guest, but,” and he’s pulling at your ruined underwear until they rip under his touch, “can’t wear these, can you?” you gape at him as he pockets the ruined panties with a shit eating grin, “for later,” and you’re scoffing, and you hear a call of your name through the door. 

And you take a better look at yourself — completely disheveled and marked up along your neck from his kisses and nips, your skin shiny with a sheen of sweat, and your lips obviously bruised and bitten from his treatment. 

“Fuck,” you can’t go out like this — it looks as if you’d spent the morning before getting ravished, panic sets in as you hear his voice through the door. 

“Want me to send him on his way?” Satoru’s hands curl around your waist, “our angel’s still fast asleep, and that means we can spend some time together—“ 

“Fuck off,” you hiss, walking over to the door, “Atsuya, I’m sorry I can’t go out today. I’m not feeling well,” 

“Eh? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” And Satoru steps forward to speak but you cover his mouth with his hand. 

“No, I’m fine, but I have the flu and I’m still contagious, so I don’t want to get you—“ Satoru drags his tongue between your fingers — this fucker, “sick,” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and take care of you?” Satoru’s hands are dragging over your sides, squeezing your far too sensitive hips. 

“Hear that?” Satoru’s whispering to you between the gaps of your fingers, “He wants to take care of you. Should you let him? Maybe he could fuck you better in the home we bought together and in the bed we shared,” 

“No, I’m fine, really, I-I—“ and Satoru’s sucking at your finger, tongue curling around the digit, and you grit your teeth, “I’m going to rest. I’ll text you later, I’m sorry—“ and you don’t get to hear the rest of what he says, as Satoru’s pulling your hand away, and finding your lips in another kiss. 

You hate how good this man is at kissing, his lips and touch must have the ability to leech sense from your brain, and leave lust in its place. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you mumble against his lips, as his lips burn a trail of kisses down your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except that I love you,” he’s pouting again, “you think that guy could please you the way I could?” 

“No, but maybe he would actually be there,” you bite back and his kisses pause, smirk slipping into a frown. 

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“ 

You give a bitter chuckle, “Mistakes? You left us,” 

He opens and closes his mouth, “you’re right I did, and I’m sorry,” his words are slow, but so is the anger building inside you, “but I’m asking for a second chance, begging for one more chance—“ 

You finally turn to face him, and you can only hope the tears welling in your eyes weren’t noticeable, “You don’t get to beg, when I already did,” your voice finally breaks, as your clenched fist shakes, “where were you? After our daughter was born, you were gone. You kept saying you would make time for us, you would be there for us, but you just busier and busier, and the only time I’d see you were the nights you made it home to crawl into bed,” 

“I—“ 

“No, I’m tired, I’m tired of waiting and being upset, I’m so done—“ and he’s pulling you into his arms, and the familiarity of his grasp is nearly enough for your defenses to crumble, but you can’t, “Satoru” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve you or our baby, not after all I did,” he’s murmuring, “but it was never because of you or her,” 

Tears spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks, “I used to cry, thinking that not only that I wasn’t enough, but your daughter wasn’t enough either—“ 

“You weren’t the ones that wasn’t enough,” he cuts you off, “I am,” the last words come out a whisper, as he runs fingers through his hair, “I’m the one who wasn’t good enough,” 

You stare at him, “What do you mean?” 

He’s scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know how to be a husband, much less a father. I didn’t think I even wanted to be either, until I met you,” his voice softens, “and then I wanted it all if it was with you,” 

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

“I thought I could handle it — but when I saw you two — the two most important people in my life — how much you were counting on me, how much you needed me to not fail — I threw myself into work,” he’s swallowing, “I thought if I could support you both, things would get better. But it only made things worse because I pushed myself away,” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought I’d mess it up — I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a husband until we got married,” and you swallow, “I thought I never would after watching my dad neglect and abuse me and my mom,” you knit your brow together, “and there were so many nights when you were sleeping, I got so frustrated with our angel. She wouldn’t sleep, she screamed for hours, and I just felt like I had failed her. And I would just fail you too,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “so—“  

“So you ran away,” you finish, voice caught in your throat. 

He gives a curt nod, “And when you filed, I knew it was coming, but I thought you both would be better off. I thought even if I was miserable, it would be worth it to see you two happy—“ 

“Satoru, do you think I would be happy without my husband?” Your sigh stuck in your throat as your fingers find his cheek, featherlight, but he crumbles and melts against it, as if he was a statue made to wait for your touch, “you’re nothing like your father. I see you with Satomi, I see how much you love her — you dote on her, you know what she likes — she gets a cut and you’re panicking,” you chuckle as he huffs, a cute blush settling over his cheeks, “and you were a good husband, when you talked to me and didn’t run away,” 

“I know,” and the question unspoken hangs in the air, “can I be again? Your husband,” and your instinct is to pull him into your arms, where you wanted him to be, where you always wanted to be, but your instinct is tangled in fear, barbed wire dragging you down and digging into your skin. 

“I want you to be,” his eyes light up, hope flicking across his gaze like a comet tail, until it burns out with your next words, “but I’m scared,” you swallow, arms crossed, hoping if you physically hold yourself maybe you could hold yourself together, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” 

“I won’t, I promise,” he’s cupping your cheek again, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, “every night I only thought of you and Satomi — there’s no one else that matters,” he’s drawing closer again, it makes you want nothing more than his touch again — it had been too long — too long without him. 

And your lips find his again, it’s a chaste kiss at first, a breath shared a centimeter apart, as his eyes find yours, brow furrowed, “We have a lot to talk about,” you murmur, as your lips graze his again, and he’s chasing your lips, “but it’s going to take time,” God, you want to kiss his knowing pout away, as you drag a thumb down his lips, “a lot of making up to me and our angel,” He’s nodding obediently, a complete puppy under your touch, as he shivers as your fingers run through his hair before tugging, “are you ready for that?” 

“Yes, baby,” he’s biting his lip, fingers twitching wanting to touch you. 

Your lips curl, “Good boy.” 

“All that big talk and now look at you, Toru,” Satoru’s white knuckled fingers fisted at the sheets of your shared bed, as your own fingers teased the head of his leaking cock through his boxers, “such a mess for me,” 

You kneel at the foot of your bed, settled between his thighs, and though you were on your knees, you were the one who held the power. Fingers tracing the trigger right within your grasp, his cock twitching against your hand. 

“Please, sweetheart, fuck,” he’s hissing when your lips lean down to press a kiss to his clothes weeping slit, the wet heat of your mouth seeps through, making him twitch against your touch — a spark of need that burns against his skin and boils his blood underneath with need, “please, don’t tease me,” 

“Well that’s not fair,” you hum, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the elastic against your skin, sending a shiver up his body along with an ache that reaches his bones — and he wondered how he had let your grip on him grow this deep — and how he had ever let it go when it felt this good, “when you’re being teased I’m supposed to relent, even though you made me cum downstairs in my entryway?” 

And he’s swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing just as anticipatory as the rest of his body, a bow string drawn tight just waiting for you to release it. But you wished to toy with the arrow more. 

“I have half a mind to make you clean my cum off the floor with your tongue,” you click your own tongue as a taunt, but that only makes him squirm, “but maybe I’ll spare you since you’re being so good for me,” you’re dragging your fingers down his boxers, freeing his cock— already far too hard, flushed and dripping with precum as it slaps against his stomach, the flared head nearly begging you to touch it, “tell me what you want,” his cock is far too gorgeous, you thought that from the first time you saw it  — long and curved, and the veins that ran along it were so pretty— just like the man himself. 

And a whimper escapes his lips, “sweetheart, please, touch me—“ 

“With what?” you thumb his tip lightly, smearing the cum down his shaft, “my fingers? Or my mouth,” and your lips lick the pre that clings to your thumb clean, dragging your thumb down the flat of your tongue. 

“Y-Your mouth,” and you’re smiling, your lips curling as his pretty gaze pleads with you, “please,” 

“Imagine your subordinates saw you like this, begging your ex-wife to blow you, nearly ready to blow your load already just from fingering me,” your fingers toy with his balls, while you leans down to trace the tip of his tongue up the bottom of his cock, “what do you think they’d say?” And your lips part to let his engorged tip enter, as his head falls back with a groan, the wet and warm mouth, as you start to bob your head up and down his length. 

“Fuuuuck, pretty,” and you’re pausing as you wait for a reply to your question, his own tongue tying itself in knots, “think I’m down bad for my wife,” he’s grunting, the words ‘my wife’ and his groans sending white hot arousal to your needy cunt, “think I’d let her fuck me anyway she wants and they would be right, sweets. I’d let you use me,” your tongue is wrapped around his length, as his dick sinks deeper into your mouth, nose brushing against his pubes, his hips held taut as he forces himself not to face fuck you. 

And his eyes flutter down to meet yours, only to find your eyes drowning in lust, molten with need that nearly burned him with want, lips sloppy and dripping with a mix of precum and your spit out of the corners of your mouth, and your fingers —buried deep in your cunt as you sucked him off. 

Fuck. 

With the nasty way you slurped at his length, the noise ringing in his ear as your fingers begin to squeeze and stroke his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips bucked against your mouth, and he’s muttering apologies but you let him, moaning as his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“I’m close—where—“ and you’re sucking hard, tongue flicking against his slit and when he fucks your mouth once, twice — he’s gone. He’s cumming down your throat, hot spurts of cum painting your lips and mouth, his head falls back, fingers gripping the sheets as his eyes flutter open. And he watches you pull away from his cock, sticky strings of cum and saliva connecting you to his length still, “fuck, sweetheart,” his softening dick already twitching at the sight of you — your pretty tongue darting out to lick his cum from your lips. 

“You taste as good as I remember, Toru — always so sweet,” and you’re pulling your own fingers from inside your tight pussy, and he snaps. 

You’re on your back on the bed now, flopped down against the mattress as his hand closes around your wrist of the hand that was just inside you. Your words are lodged in your throat but come out a shiver when he brings your soaked fingers to his lips, he kisses each one before sucking and licking them clean. 

“Toru—“ and he pulls away from the last finger with a pop, eyes clouded with need, “I—“ 

“And you say I taste good?” he’s humming, as he leans over you, “wait until you taste yourself, Princess,” and his mouth is insistent on giving you an entire course of your taste on his tongue, mapping out a detailed cartography of very crook and crevice of your mouth, “aren’t you so much sweeter?” He’s pulling away from your bitten red lips, spit connecting your lips still, “and that taste is all mine, just like you, wifey,” 

The pet name sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, stoking the burning need already threatening to consume you both, “Toru—“ and he’s already stripping your dress away, pulled away up and over your head, thrown away like every thought of why this was a bad idea. Your nipples perk in the cool air of your bedroom and under his hot gaze, standing at attention as if they’re begging for his attention. And he’s more than happy to oblige. 

His fingers toy with the buds, rolling between your forefinger and thumb, until he’s bending down to take one in his mouth, and you’re arching into his touch, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulders. 

“Bet Atsuya would love to see you like this, huh?” He’s switching to the other side, teeth dragging against your nipple to draw a gasp from your lips, “Would love to see you such a mess like this, spread out and needy,” and he’s spreading you with warm palms, his half hard cock brushing against your thigh, “Were you gonna let him fuck you on this bed? Our bed?” 

He doesn’t allow you an answer as his fingers spread your dripping walls, “Gonna let him taste you like this?” His lips warm your fluttering pussy, nearly begging for his touch and to swallow you whole, “when I already said this pretty cunt was mine,” he clicks his tongue far too close, making you whine, “g’nna have to answer my question first, Princess,” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” and he presses a chaste kiss to your dripping pussy, making you whimper, your walls spasming around nothing, “Toru,” 

“Remember when we moved into this home?” his lips are teasing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against your hot skin, “we broke the bed in all night long,” he’s looking up through half lidded eyes, “think he could please you like that? Make you moan his name?” 

And you’re growing desperate as his lips draw close to your clit, tongue dragging against it, only to pull away to your thighs again, “no, no, only you, Toru, please—“ 

“Only I what?” oh you know he’s goading you, but your want is drawn taut like a stringed instrument, tweaking your strings when you’re dying for him to play you — “c’mon sweetheart,” 

“Only you make me feel this good — fuck, Toru, I swear to god—“ your head falls back into the pillow as his face buries itself in your cunt, his laugh vibrates against your walls, pleasure rising faster than smoke from a burning building. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place now, settled between your legs. 

“You swear to me what?” and you swear his god complex gets worse and worse, and the way you moaned with his head between your legs wasn’t helping, “sorry, Princess, I have my mouth full,” and his tongue as silver as his words were, parting your folds with ease, as his lips slurped at your folds messily. 

Fuck, he was too good at it, and he knew it, smirk on his lips as the wet, nasty noises of his mouth wrapped around your cunt and your bordering pornographic moans filled the silence. Pleasure ribboned up your body, mixing with the sharpness of his fingers pressed against your plush thighs to keep you in place. 

“Gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, Princess,” and you hear the telltale squelch of his hand around his weeping dick — the shudder of your groan making him moan all the same, “taste so fucking good, never gonna go a night without tasting you again,” he murmurs far too reverently with his tongue dipping back into your folds for more of your juices, “you know how many times I fucked my fist to the thought of eating you out again? Never gonna spend a second without burying myself in this cunt,” 

“Toru, I’m close—“ and you are, greedy tongue flitting over your clit, his nose bumping against his folds, and the practiced ease of his touch — he knew just what to do to make you cum. And he did, his mouth closing around your clit, before sucking harshly. 

You cum on his face, swallowing your slick with the thrust of a desert weary man, his eagerness apparent on his soaked face, as you finally came down your high. He doesn’t waste a drop, only pulling away with a pop when your orgasm ebbs away, licking his lips clean of your juices. 

“Still dripping even after I licked you clean?” He clicks his tongue as he watches your slick soak the sheet, “gonna have to find another way, maybe you need something bigger,” he hums in fake contemplation, “what can we use?” 

“I have some sex toys that might do the trick,” and he scoffs, as he kisses up your body, before pressing his hard erection against your thigh. 

“Don’t think any toy you have compares to me,” and you’re gasping as he drags the head of his cock against your puffy clit, “nothing can fill you up like I can,” and he groans as he watches your releases mix, “just for that, g’nna make you beg for it,” 

“Toru,” you’re whining, but he’s only teasing your entrance with the head of his dick, your walls fluttering, already begging for him to sink into you, but he’s waiting for your mouth to do the same, “please, fuck me, I need you inside—“ 

He grins, “Well how can I deny my pretty wife when she asks so nicely?” And he’s splitting you open with his thick cock, balls deep with only a thrust of his hips. Your hands are grasping at him for purchase, needing to hold onto him as his cock stretches your walls out. It’s as if you remember him, walls sliding to accommodate him as they always did, but clinging to him desperately, a grunt parting his lips, as if they never wanted him to leave again. And you didn’t. 

“So fucking tight, Princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, a swallow roll of his hips drawing a chorus of moans from both of you, “don’t have to break my dick off to keep it — I’ll take you anytime you want,” and he’s pressing your thighs forward, slinging one over his shoulder, as he presses himself even deeper. 

A whine leaves the back of your throat, “too deep, Toru,” and his cock twitches inside you at that, “fuck,” and it takes everything in him not to blow his load there and then, 

“You love it when I fuck you like this, Princess, or do I have to remind you?” And he does, beginning to piston in and out, the lewd slaps of skin and moans filling the air of your bedroom, “be careful or our daughter might wake from the sounds of her mommy getting fucked,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe we should give her another sibling?” He’s watching the way your cunt eagerly welcomes his cock, sinking in and out with ease, “fuck another baby into you, hm? Would you like that princess?” 

“Toru, ngh,” your walls flutter at the thought of a kid, of his seed filling you up, “please—more—“ 

He gives a chuckle, “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart — fuck you so full that you’ll be dripping with my seed for days,” he’s grunting, legs trembling as his thrusts grow more sloppy as his orgasm begins to build, “fuck, you feel so good for me, “gonna give you another baby, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, my wife—“ 

“G’nna cum, Toru,” you’re falling back against the mattress, as he bends down to press a messy kiss to your lips, all tongue and teeth, before his fingers reach down to rub at your clit. Your eyes finding his, face flushed a pretty pink, eyes shrouded in a deep lust that was reserved only for you, and as he bucks into you even deeper, he brushes against that spongy spot that has the taut string snapping as you fall apart. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, as he grazes teeth along your neck before biting. And you cum hard, toes curling as your mouth falls open with only moans of his name on your lips. The way your walls squeeze around him has him only rutting into you harder, deeper, messier — as he watches the ring of cum pool around the base of his cock, fucking you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum—“ and you’re pulling him into another kiss, legs wrapped around him as he falls over the edge with you. Hot cum spills in ropes inside your walls, his hips rolling as he does, if only to fuck his cum deeper inside you. 

“Toru, s’good, I—“ you’re incoherent nearly under him, soft kisses pressed along your jaw as you both come down from your highs, cock softening inside you only him to pull out, another groan of your name on his lips when he watches his cum drip from inside you, staining your thighs along with the sheets. 

And you whimper when he’s gathering his spilled cum on two fingers only to push it back inside, “can’t let you waste a drop, can we, sweetheart?” 

He’s finally pulling away, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he finds your lips in a lazy but far too sweet kiss, “Toru,” you mumble, “I never stopped loving you, because I don’t think I ever could,” 

His eyes grow glassy, his fingers finding the back of your neck, “I know nothing I’ll do will make up for what I did — to you and Satomi, but,” he presses his forehead to yours, “if you both let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” 

And tears burn at the corners of your eyes, “Just stay with us, and promise to never leave — that’s enough,” and your lips brush his, “you’re more than enough for us, Satoru,” and he kisses you again and again and again, nearly climbing on top of you again, when you both hear a tiny gasp from the door. 

Your heads both snap over to your baby daughter leaning against the door, badly hidden behind it, as she pokes her head in, “did mommy and daddy make up?” 

Your cheeks burn as you cover your face — you both had checked on Satomi before but she was fast asleep still, and now — you checked the time — 9:30 PM, you were sure she’d be up all night. 

“Yes baby, mommy and daddy had some stuff to talk about,” Satoru grabs your robe for you, handing it over as he pulls his discarded boxers on under the sheets, “come here,” and she squeals as she runs into her daddy’s arms, Satoru scoops her up before pressing kisses all over her face, her giggles and his grin nearly too much for you. 

“Now she’s gonna be up all night,” you murmur to Satoru, and he’s smiling. 

“I can tire her out,” he grins, and then he adds with a whisper, “and then I’ll tire you out,” and you flush, shoving him playfully, “come on, my love, let’s go play for a while and let mama rest,” and he’s sliding out of bed, carrying her out of the bedroom, and you watch him, lying on your side, with a smile on your lips.  

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a husband — especially when it was Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru lets you and Satomi sleep in the next morning, making a smoothie for himself, as he starts to prepare breakfast. He did tire you both out last night, especially you — and you did some exhausting of your own, his fingers running over the hickies you left all over his neck and collarbone with a slight hum. He tied your apron on himself, only boxers and a sleeveless tee on. 

He started to crack eggs into a bowl with one hand. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again — he meant what he said. He would make it up to you, or at least he would try — and he would spend the rest of his life treasuring you and his kid — and maybe another if you let him have his way, he thought, biting back a grin. 

You had turned him down last night when he asked, 

“Don’t you think it’s time we try for another one?” His arms are winding around you, half hard erection already pressing into you, as the two of you stood right outside your daughter’s doorway, watching the angel sleep, “we did do well with the first one,” 

“Toru, we just got back together, we’re not having another kid,” and he’s already pouting, you know without looking at him, “but that would be nice — for our daughter to have a sibling,” and god, it made him to take right there (which he did), but he couldn’t wait until all three of you were ready. Because he wouldn’t dare to miss a second of it — never again. 

And then a knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and his brow furrows. Who could it be this early?

He walks over, checking through the peephole, a grin growing on his lips, oh, perfect timing. Satoru opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Yes?” 

Atsuya Kusakabe frowns, jaw nearly dropping as he attempts not to gape at Satoru Gojo standing in his date’s doorway, nearly dropping the bag of medicine and soup he had packed up for you, “Uh, sorry, I was looking for—“ 

“My wife?” He raises a brow, and Kusakabe’s face blanches, as Satoru only smiles with a shrug, “sorry I should say ex-wife, we did get a divorce,” and Kusakabe’s mouth opens and closes, “but you know, she never stopped being mine,” 

Kusakabe clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “where is—“ 

“She’s sleeping still,” Satoru’s lips curl, as he sighs, “she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I think I made her feel better last night,” and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, movement drawing his attention to your marks littering his body. 

A flush crawls up his neck and ears and he clears his throat, “I-I see,” he thrusts the bag into Satoru’s hands, “could you please give this to her and let her know—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing at his temples, “tell her whatever you want.” 

And he’s gone, door slamming behind him, click of the lock. He holds the bag behind him, only to walk forward to see you peeking from the bedroom, his button up shirt thrown over your head, as you rub your eyes,  “who was it?” 

He only smiles at you, dropping the bag in the trash, “No one important,” and he’s finding his way to your side, arms winding around your waist, “I made us breakfast,” 

“Oh really?” You hum, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that only makes you sigh contently, “what’s the occasion?” 

“Oh, just the first day of the rest of our lives, nothing too big,” he hums, and you laugh, his favorite noise that only makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that was even possible, “have to treat you right don’t I, wifey?” 

“Yes, you do,” and your lips find his again, “my husband,” and the word sticks in his chest, a missing piece that fits right back into place, and fixes a hole that had been aching for far too long, “should we go wake up our daughter?” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Together.” 

✧ a/n: so i didn't think i'd finish this week with being at my sister's and having a con this weekend but i found the time! i hope you enjoyed this one. this is my reality for gojo i'm living in :) fun fact, satomi and satoru both mean enlightenment! :)

✧ taglist: @jasminelee324 , @forest-hashira , @spider-fan72 ,, @rougebrainsludge , @theshylittleelfgirl , @ririchurl , @johannakhalafalla , @hanlay , @fawnlikelore , @vickkysthings , @dead-kats , @hantaslittlearsonist t , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @augustwinesworld , @forest-fruits-jam , @kirashuu , @catsgomurp , @daddytojji , @notgoodforlife , @hyori2 , @shrimpy109 , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @sunamatic , @rougebrainsludge , @redmangotango , , @psychxbby , @nakariabnrb , @mua-for-now @dazailover1900 , @alwaysfreakingout , @yamaguccitadashi , @equikaz , @gojosatorubrainrot