#and it’s just fun to fuck around with the board

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony shrugged as he linked his hand with Clint’s.  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with someone sleeping around and never settling down.  Or Not.  Or whatever with sex and sex life.  As long as everyone is on board and having fun.  I never really saw myself as a relationship person.  I have trouble sitting still.  I get really focussed on things to the point that everything else gets cut out.  And people seem to not like being around me for long periods of time.  But I like sex.  I like drinking and taking drugs and gambling.  Those things don’t have to hurt anyone else.  So I did them.  It was nice having people around me who were enjoying being around me even if it was just one night.  Sex is nice, even when it was with someone I wasn’t going to see again.  Especially if it was with someone I wasn’t going to see again, because then I didn’t have to worry about being there when they woke up, or letting them down.  I don’t really regret those things.  The things I regret are when it did hurt other people.  I regret making Pepper kick out my one night stands.  That wasn’t fair to her.  She is so good at what she does and I had her have to do shit like that.  There was once…”  He paused and sighed, his shoulders slumping a little as he looked down at the ground.  “There was a party that Hugh Hefner threw in my honor because of how good of a Playboy I was.  I remember going and taking my first drink, and I do not remember anything for the next two weeks.  I woke up naked in bed with two strangers in a flea bitten hotel on the other side of the country.  I had nothing on me.  So I called up Pepper to come and get me.  She showed up a few hours later and bailed me out, and instead of thanking her, when we got back home, I told her that I had given her so much now and she owed me and that she should sleep with me.  I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.  I don’t even know if I was thinking.  She slapped me in the face and I didn’t see her again for two weeks.  I was sure she was compiling a sexual harassment suit.  But when she came back, she didn’t say anything, when I tried to say sorry she told me to shut up, and neither of us ever spoke about it again.  That was probably the worst thing I ever did.  At least actively and personally. That’s the kind of shit I regret.  But the parties and the sex?” He shrugged.  “I don’t regret that.  It’s not for everyone, but I don’t think anyone should be judged for things that don’t hurt other people.”

Clint walked with him and took Tony’s hand and held it as they walked and smiled a little bit. “That’s good that you don’t regret all of it,” he spoke and nodded a little bit and stroked his thumb over his knuckles and thought for a moment.

“I had my… sleeping around moment when i accepted that I had been widowed, or well.. was alone,” he spoke and chuckles a little bit. “I had… a lot of one night stands and it sometimes was such a mess,” he spoke and sighs a little bit. “That’s why I was a bit… hesitant at first when I mentioned being friends with benefits to begin with. it just never worked out for me,” he spoke and nodded. “Luckily it really worked out this time.”

[little-wicked10]

buy me presents🎁

Summary: Soldier Boy can’t help his obsession with his little Beverly Hills beauty and spoils her for Christmas.

Warnings: Smut 18+, cursing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy vibes, possessive behavior, subspace, degrading, praise kink, creampie, and lots of other goodies🔞☃️

Notes: OBVIOUSLY inspired by “buy me presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. I went REALLY feral with this one🤭 Merry Christmas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side 🎄

//

“I sure wish you were coming here for Christmas, daddy,” she purred into the phone, twirling the cord around her manicured finger.

Ben groaned on the other end of the line, “Gonna get me hard on set, doll. Don’t be naughty. You know I got a shit ton of PR bullshit to do ‘round here.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t wanna buy me any presents,” she pouted her red lips.

His chuckle in her ear sent tingles across her skin, “I’m startin’ to think all you want is my black card.”

“That’s not true!” she playfully whined, “I want your dick too.”

Ben smirked, “I know you do, baby. Daddy’s been dyin’ without that sweet lil’ pussy on his dick, his mouth, his fingers.”

He was trying to tease her, but his plan backfired when he felt his dick strain in his pants. The little pathetic whimper he heard made it twitch. “Shit, you better not be playin’ with yourself!” he growled.

“N-No, I’m not, daddy. But, you’re being so mean and unfair,” she whined.

“I know, honey, I’m just a bastard, aren’t I?” his cocky tone made her groan in annoyance, “Keep bein’ nice, and Santa is gonna spoil the shit out of his Vixen.”

She moaned and rubbed her thighs together at the playful name. Damn Vought for making him work. Damn the modeling agency for making her work. She’d give anything to skip her latest photoshoots to be back in the arms of her Supe lover. It’s been weeks since the last time she was wrapped around him, and the ache was starting to get unbearable. Chills trickled down her spine remembering the way he slammed the head board of his Alaskan King bed into the plaster as he felt her creaming all over his pistoning cock. By the time she had to leave for Beverly Hills, the whole damn tower knew her name.

As the memories swirled in her lust riddled eyes, a whimper slipped from her painted lips. Ben’s deep groan pulled her from her thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby? Thinkin’ about how daddy had your naked body pressed against the cold glass of his penthouse last time you were here? ‘Cause I think about that all the time. How hard your nipples got, how our body heat fogged up the glass, how you soaked the carpet underneath us by the time I was done with ya,” he grabbed his bulge, “Bet those assholes in make up had a hell of a time coverin’ up all those hickeys.”

She clutched the phone tighter in her hand, panting and moaning into the receiver. He didn’t play fair. She wasn’t allowed to touch herself unless he said so, and he rarely said so. Soldier Boy was a glutton for her suffering and neediness, for those desperate pleas for sweet release. She only disobeyed him once, concluding he couldn’t possibly tell the difference, but he certainly did. The punishment was fucking herself on him while he didn’t do shit, simply sitting back and smoking a joint while she weakly tried to get off without his help. Absolute torture.

“Please, let me touch myself, daddy,” she whined pathetically, “Could be an early Christmas present.”

His laugh made a pit of disappointment settle in her stomach, “Nuh uh, sugar tits. You can wait till I get there next week.” Suddenly, there was the sound of voices in the background. The supe barked at them to fuck off he’d be there in a minute. “I gotta go, honey.”

She pouted, “Fine.”

“Be good, Vixen,” he chuckled, “Santa’s coming to town real soon.”

They were having way too much fun with the Christmas themed teasing.

//

It was around 10 o’clock the next night when a knock echoed through her empty home. She’d fallen asleep draped across the couch waiting on their nightly call. She yawned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Adjusting her silk robe, she slipped off the couch and padded towards the door. She wondered who could possibly be knocking this late as she slipped down the main hallway. A familiar figure came into view, identity hidden by the frosty privacy glass around the door. She didn’t need to see his face to know who was standing on her front porch. A delighted squeal left her lips as she rushed towards the door and flung it open.

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Ben smirked.

“You better not have any other ho’s,” she playfully scolded, “What are you doing here? I thought you had PR with Vought.”

“Yeah, I told those fuckers to gargle my ballsack I gotta see my lady,” he smiled.

Removing the duffel from his shoulder, he swept her into his arms and walked into her home. The metal buckles of his suit were cold through the thin silk of her robe and pajamas. Lipstick marked his skin with every kiss she bestowed upon his handsome face. “Save some of those kisses for later, honey. You know how much I love lipstick on my cock,” he growled into her ear.

“Depends on what Santa got me before I decide if I’m feelin’ generous,” she teased.

“Well then let’s get to openin’,” he smiled as he carried her into the beautifully decorated living room.

Once he set her down, she bounced onto the couch, sitting on her knees patiently. Ben sat next to her with a huff and swiftly unzipped the black bag. She giggled excitedly as he began pulling out the most gorgeously wrapped gifts and set them on the coffee table. The paper was a shiny baby pink wrapped with a velvet hot pink ribbon. Once all the presents were spread out for her to pick apart, the supe propped a foot up and lit a cigar. She took a moment to admire the handy work of some poor intern at Vought Ben had most likely intimidated into doing it. Soldier Boy didn’t wrap gifts.

He watched with an amused grin as his spoiled lover suddenly perched herself on his knee and opened every expensive gift he’d picked out: beautiful jewels from Cartier and Tiffany (he couldn’t decide which was better so he went with both), designer clothes and shoes from her favorite name brands, lingerie, and even a sable fur coat.

“Ben! Oh my god, baby! Is this real?!?” she gasped as she held the fur to her chest.

“Of course it’s real. Only the best for you,” he smirked as smoke curled from his perfect lips.

She wrapped her arms around his strong neck and passionately kissed his lips, tasting his cigar. A large hand held her waist as he slipped his tongue against hers. She was quick to face him and straddle his lap properly, “I’m feelin’ very grateful, Santa. I must have been an awful good girl to get all these presents.”

Ben squeezed the plush of her ass, “It’s the naughty things that got you on my nice list, Vixen. And, Santa’s got one more for ya.”

“Oh I can feel it,” she ground her hips down into his.

He clenched his teeth and groaned, “Not that. That’s in a minute.”

Ben picked her up and placed her on the couch, setting his cigar in an ashtray. Kneeling down before her, he took her right leg in his grasp, resting her foot against his shoulder. She leaned back and shivered as his soft lips and rough beard tickled her ankle. They dragged up towards her calf, smirking into her skin when he heard her quiet moan. His free hand reached into his pocket to pull out a small silver chain with a charm dangling from it. The metal was warm as he wrapped it around her slender ankle. Once it was clasped and freely hanging, Ben sat back to let her look at it.

“An anklet?” she asked curiously.

“Mmhm. Look at the charm,” he encouraged.

She removed her foot from his shoulder and tucked her leg against her body, looking down to admire the charm. It was an exact replica of the metal eagle patches on the upper arms of his suit. Her fingers felt engravings on the back. Flipping it around, she read the words, ‘Property of Soldier Boy.’

“I would have paid for a tattoo, but I know that’s not your style. This is muuuuch sexier,” he brought her ankle back to his chest, admiring the silver gleaming in the dim light, “Had it made special for ya. Something pretty to dangle in your face when I’ve got ya bent in half.”

“Isn’t that what your face is for?” she teased as she push her foot against his chest.

With a deep chuckle, he caught her behind both knees and yanked her legs open, pulling her to the edge of the couch, “It’s also a little reminder of who owns this ass.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, “Make sure no body touches what’s yours, daddy?”

“Oh nobody would ever dare come near ya. If not from my lil’ reminder, then your expensive taste would bleed’em dry,” he leaned forward and kissed her neck.

She thread her fingers through his soft hair, “Your fault for spoiling me so much. Ruined me for any other man with that black card and thick dick.”

“Damn fuckin’ straight, honey,” he bit down hard where her neck and shoulder met, “Ya gonna let me unwrap my present now? Drink you like a warm glass of milk? Santa’s pretty thirsty.”

She nodded with a sweet sigh as his hands began to roam her body with determination. A moan slipped from her throat when he sucked on her jawline below her ear. Small hands slipped down his body and expertly began to unbuckle his suit. Ben let go of her long enough to slip it off. Her flimsy robe went next as his hands greedily shoved up under her tank top, groping her breasts in his large hands. She whimpered as he bit her lip and pinched her nipples.

“Fuck me, I missed these tits so much,” he groaned. She moaned into his mouth and ground her hips into his abdomen. The warmth from her pussy radiated through her flimsy shorts and into his skin. Every pass of her hips made her wetter, soaking through the silk. “C’mere,” Ben yanked her closer to wrap her legs around his waist and stood up.

It was a quick sprint up the stairs before entering her bedroom. He tossed her to the mattress, and she bounced, tits jiggling beautifully. “Naked. Now,” the order was gruff as he began unbuckling his belt. The green of his eyes turned dark watching her slip out of the cute little sleeping set. Only thing left on her body was a silver anklet and a sultry smile. She maneuvered herself on the bed to lay on her stomach, face inches from his hips. Ben’s gaze never left hers as he tossed his boots and pants aside.

He had a cocky swagger as his hard dick bobbed with every step. Her mouth watered, and she licked her lips at the sight. A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest, running his fingers through her hair before taking a handful, “I know that look, doll.” She bit her lip and stared up at him through her lashes, her crossed ankles swaying in the air. She leant forward and placed a bright red kiss mark at the base of his cock. He shuddered at the feel of her soft lips and warm breath.

Just as he asked, she decorated his cock in her lipstick. First, leaving kiss marks all the way up to his head. They all began to smear once she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down until she was ready to take more. The hand tangled in her hair started guiding her as his hips started fucking into her mouth. Tears burned in her eyes, mascara beginning to run, but she kept going. He was taking it easy on her considering how long it had been since the last time they’d fucked.

“That’s my girl. You remember how to do this. Relax your throat a lil’ more for daddy,” Ben growled, “J-Just like that. Fuck, you’re such a good girl!”

She moaned around his length.

“Gonna cum down that pretty throat, honey,” he growled, “Swallow it. Fuckin’ swallow it!”

Her throat constricted around his girth as he came. He slowly began to pull his cock out, still throbbing and squirting into her mouth. He smeared the head of his dick against her tongue. She held her tongue out to show the last of his essence before swallowing. Ben kneeled with a sly grin and wiped her tears with his thumb, “That’s my good lil’ slut.” Her eyes were glazed over and her lips wet as she nuzzled into his hand. He suddenly picked her up and laid her against the plush pillows.

He caught her shamelessly watching his muscles stretch and flex as he laid on his stomach, throwing her legs over his broad shoulders. The tinkling of the anklet made a feral feeling settle in his body. “Your turn,” he grinned.

“Oh daddy!” she cried as his mouth enveloped her pussy.

The way he swirled his tongue around her clit then dip into her entrance made her begin to pant. Tiny, pathetic whimpers escaped her lips as she tried to roll her hips against him. The scratch of his beard her favorite sensation when he went down on her. Ben moaned and shook his head side to side, letting his tongue and facial hair rub against her sensitive folds. “I fucking love your beard, daddy! I want beard burn on my pussy!” she cried. His chuckle vibrated against her. He loved the sound of her desperate babbling.

Her small hands grasped at his hair frantically when he stuck his tongue inside her and ran his thumb over her clit. The calluses on his fingers added to the sparks tingling her nerve endings. She suddenly arched her back to rub her pussy against his face more. Two thick fingers replaced his tongue, and he sucked her clit into his mouth. Hooking his fingers, he assaulted that sensitive little spot inside her.

She nearly screamed as the damn burst, and she gushed all over his face and hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! YES, DADDY!” she screamed.

Ben’s groan vibrated through her and helped in adding to her pleasure. Her body trembled and spasmed as the waves crashed over her. Her first orgasm quickly bled into another as he kept up the pace. He only stopped when she began to push his head away and whine. “T-Too much, daddy! Need your cock! Now! P-Please!” she hiccuped.

His hot breath panted against her abused center. Their eyes met, and he could swear he saw cute little pink hearts in her blown pupils. Sitting up on his knees, Ben wiped his beard before pulling her hips to his. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his massive length rested against her slick sex. He held her hips in his hands as he watched her large breasts heave with each pant that escaped her bitten lips.

“Those fuckers you work for should put this image right here on the cover,” he felt her pussy lips clench on the underside of his cock, “Fuck, you like the idea of people seein’ what a cock drunk lil’ whore you are, baby?”

She dumbly nodded, not a thought forming in her fuzzy, lust-fueled mind.

Ben rut his hips back and forth, coating himself in her slick, “That face right there is why Santa was so good to you this year. Ain’t even put it in yet and you’re already a fucked dumb whore.”

She whined and whimpered, hips wiggling in anticipation as he notched his tip at her entrance. The need burned deep in her stomach, but she was being patient for him.

“My fucked dumb whore. My pretty lil’ slut,” he started to press his hips forward, “My favorite girl. Daddy’s spoiled princess.”

Ben moaned as her cunt clenched around him at his praises. He was a possessive son of a bitch, and feeling that anklet pressing between his lower back and her ankle made him fucking animalistic. His right hand slid from her hip to circle her clit with his thumb. She cried out and he moaned when their hips were flush together, tip kissing the back of her cervix. She never got tired of that overly full feeling only he could give her. That sweet stretching of her opening was addicting. Ben leaned over her, left hand holding her hip while right leaning against the mattress next to her head. Just as she was about to beg for him to move, his hips snapped forward. Each thrust hard and deliberate in reshaping her plush, velvet walls to his cock again.

Small hands held on to his strong neck and broad shoulders as her eyes watched his abs flex. She drooled over the way his body looked as he fucked her. She didn’t know what possessed her mind to conjure it, but she thought he was so pretty. Prettier than any gift he’d gotten her. It was odd to think of a man so ruggedly handsome as pretty. His forest green eyes dark with lust, his long hair hanging in his face, perfect smile adorning his face every time she cried out his name. It was beautiful.

“Sss…ssso pretty, d-daddy,” her right hand skimmed down his chest, red nails tracing down his V-line, “Prettier t-than m-me.”

Ben chuckled down leaned down on his forearm to brush his lips against her cheek, “Not prettier than you, baby, but I appreciate the compliment. Ya like daddy’s pretty cock inside ya?”

She gasped when he picked up his thrusts. The way her nails kept tickling his V-line made him shudder. Suddenly, he took her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and holding them above her head. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips as he drove into her deeper. The only sound leaving her lips ‘uh, uh, uh’ over and over again. He sucked on her neck, leaving large bruises all over her neck. Each love bite soothed over with the pass of his tongue.

Her whole body was tingling and writhing. This was why he didn’t want her to play with herself. Her body was so sensitive and responsive to him it was insane. Selfishly, he wanted her to only get pleasure from him. Only cum when he wants her to, in the way he wants her to, however many times he wants her to. She was completely at his mercy, addicted to his touch. He suddenly flipped them, placing her on top before letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her. She slipped hers around his neck and head, grasping his brown locks to make him look her in the eye.

His thrusts continued at a brutal pace. His teeth bit into her bottom lip as she moaned and trembled. When his right hand trailed up her spine, he took a fist full of her hair and pulled her mouth to his. The mind melting way he kissed her made her move her hips more with his thrusts. Suddenly, his left hand moved down to harshly grab and slap her ass. He swallowed her gasp when he suddenly circled his finger around the hole he wasn’t fucking. “O-Oh, fuck, baby!” he stuttered as her inner walls choked his cock, “Didn’t know you wanted daddy to play with your asshole, did ya?”

She could only whine, enjoying the constant circling of his middle finger over the small hole. The way their bodies pressed together made her rub her clit against his pelvis. She frantically rode him as he kept fucking up into her. Her voice went up higher in pitch the closer she came to exploding. “Look at you! Gettin’ off to daddy teasing your ass and fucking you raw. I’m gonna have to pull out.”

She gasped and held him tighter, nearly sobbing, “No! D-Don’t pull out, daddy! Stay i-inside! Want…huh…it inside!”

Ben smirked at the sound she made when he ground the tip of his dick into her cervix. He fucked her like a beast, primal need driving him to claim her in the most feral ways possible. And, she was going to let him for as long as he pleased. Her orgasm hit them both like a truck. She dug her nails into his chest, screaming and whimpering as she squirted all over his lap. The wet sounds filling the room were fucking obscene. It sounded like a dog drinking water as he kept ramming into her.

“Oh fuck, you can’t stop,” he laughed, “You can’t stop cummin’, can ya? This pussy won’t stop squirtin’!”

She let out little panting whines as her body jerked and convulsed. A scream of ecstasy came from her mouth when Ben hooked the tip of his finger into her asshole and slammed her on his cock. Both nearly blacked out as he came deep inside her with a loud roar that bled into a moan. The way her walls constricted and tried to push him out made him pump harder, deeper, forcing her sensitive body to spasm around his cock.

The two rode their highs, gently rutting against one another. Sweat clung to her skin while only a light sheen dusted the his. It would take a couple of rounds before the supe truly broke out in a sweat. Ben whispered sweet things in her ear as she floated down to earth.

“You did good, baby. Daddy’s so proud of ya,” he cooed into her ear, hands moving soothingly over her skin, “Best Christmas present I could’a asked for.”

She only hummed as she littered his chest and neck with kisses. Neither moved from their position, staying as close as possible. She stayed pressed against the expanse of his chest as he leaned over and took a joint from the night stand. The lighter flicked to life and the smell of weed filled the air. Her mind was still foggy and lightheaded, snuggled up in a syrupy sweet state. If he pulled out right now, she’d throw a desperate and pitiful tantrum, but he had no intention of leaving her insides any time soon.

Ben heard her heart rate slow and breathing begin to equalize. Her mouth nuzzled against his jaw playfully as her hands wondered over his muscles, “I have a present for you, daddy.”

“Another one? The only present I want is to do THIS until one of us passes out,” he smirked.

“We do that all the time,” she giggled, “Grab the black folder from the drawer.”

Holding the joint between his lips, he once again reached to the small table. He opened the drawer to find black folder with his Supe name printed on the cover in silver letters. Ben settled back onto the bed and opened the gift to reveal a spectacular sight. Picture after picture of her in the most revealing, jaw-dropping lingerie, while posed in the most ball-achingly, sinfully delicious positions.

“Holy shit! When did you do this?” he asked looking down at her.

Her giggle turned into a whimper as she felt him begin to throb and harden inside her, “Playboy asked to do a shoot with me a few weeks ago. I asked Hugh if I could borrow the set up for something special for America’s Hero.”

The more he kept flipping through the glossy pictures, the stiffer he became inside her. She weakly pushed herself up to sit up and on his dick. By the time he tossed the folder on the bed, she was rolling her hips and frantically fucking herself on him like a bitch in heat. “You read my fuckin’ mind, doll,” he moaned as she took his large hands and placed them on her tits.

“One…one more…present,” she panted, hands encouraging his to be rougher with her chest.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from where his dick disappeared inside her, “Thought I was supposed to spoil you? What else did ya get me?”

Her eyes had been pinched closed, but she pried them open to look at him. She bit her lip before finally letting it slip, “I want you to f-fuck me at H-Herogasm. In front of everyone, daddy!”

Ben almost came again, “Goddamnit, seriously?!? Are you for real?”

She nodded frantically as she kept bouncing, “Only you. N-No one else!”

His head thumped against the headboard as he groaned in deep satisfaction, fingers pinching her nipples, “Just me, honey, you got it! Christ on a cross! I think I’m in love!”

She let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling into the back of her head, “M-Merry Christmas, daddy.”

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, baby,” he moaned.

//

Have a very Nonsense Christmas🎄💋

[ispeakforthetrees19]

Puck Me

Hockey Player!Levi x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Hockey Player Levi and Coach Reader make a bet...who will win?

A/N: I can't stop writing this and I'm having too much fun with it to enjoy it alone. I suck shit at fancy Tumblr HTML and theme, but here it is.

This story is based on some of my own experiences as a figure skater. This will eventually feature smut, and I will update the tags as I go. I may update again this weekend. Thanks to my beta @nilfgaardianleviosa, as always.

Cross posted to my AO3 in my blog.

Tags: Levi Ackerman/Reader, AU-Modern Setting, Hockey Player Levi Ackerman, Figure Skater and Coach Reader, Enemies to Lovers, You know where this is going, this will be explicit in the future, 2nd person POV, female reader.

TW: bad words, fuckboys

Words: 2.7k

Chapter 1: Teaching Tots

You step out onto the ice with Petra, fresh and smooth after the Zamboni cleaned up from morning sessions. You bend your ankles, testing your laces to make sure they’re tight enough, and start skating around the rink, warming up against the cold air.

You do some basic footwork and finally you feel warm enough to take off your jacket, leaving you in leggings and a form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Petra is at the boards when you skate up to hang your jacket on the side; she has her foot up, stretching out her hamstrings.

Public ice is pretty dead today, maybe ten or fifteen people in rental skates starting to get on and wobble their way around the ice as they cling to the wall. You smile at the toddler bravely making their way out to the center, holding onto the PVC pipe support that kids use to stay upright. His mom calls out to him, begging him to come back to where she can’t leave the wall, too unstable in the mediocre skates with limited ankle support.

“Wanna run through jumps?” Petra asks, smiling at you with her big, hazel eyes.

You shrug. “Sure.”

You and Petra each claim a side of the ice, doing crossovers to gain speed, running through your single jumps in order, then your doubles. You’re warm now, and you take off your shirt, grateful for the cool air to hit your arms and shoulders uncovered by the tank top you have underneath.

“Fuck, my double lutz is kicking my ass,” Petra complains as she finds her way next to you. “I just can’t get enough oomph on the entrance.”

“That’s because your toe picks are weak as fuck,” you laugh, pointing to her blades. “They aren’t big enough to really dig in and get you the momentum you need to get your ass in the air.”

“But your blades are so expensive,” Petra whines, looking down at your skates.

“Black Friday still happens for figure skaters,” you remind her. “It’s almost the holidays, why not put it on your Christmas list? Not like your dad can say no to you anyway.”

Petra laughs and pushes your shoulder. “Maybe I will. Hey, are you working on your triples?”

You grimace and shake your head. “A little. Waiting for the bruises on my hips to subside before I bruise them again.”

Petra’s about to respond when you hear loud voices whooping from across the ice. You turn to look at the hockey team getting on the ice and roll your eyes.

“God, the Titans,” Petra mutters. “Don’t they have practice later?”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Tell me you aren’t already drooling over Ackerman being on the same sheet of ice as you.”

Her cheeks light up pink, and she shakes her head furiously. “No! It’s just—ugh, he’s so distracting.”

You laugh at her embarrassment, pulling her wrist to drag her away from the boards. “Come on, let’s work on our jumps before they take over the whole ice running drills.”

Petra pouts but follows, and you both run through some more doubles before the hockey team starts running exercises, tearing through the ice with their abrupt stops and deep edges.

Eventually, you give up trying to squeeze in practice and just skate around the rink with Petra, staying out of the hockey players’ way.

“I’m annoyed,” Petra pouts. “I wanted your help on my double axel.”

You shrug. “They’ll get off like thirty minutes before practice so they can gear up.”

“But the ice will be ruined!” Petra whines.

You laugh at her valid complaints. “Well, if you can learn to land a double axel on shitty ice, think about how well you’ll do in competition with fresh ice.”

Petra visibly debates your logic for a moment before nodding. “I can try.”

You’re about to suggest a break for hot chocolate and a protein bar when you hear, “Oh shit!” and something solid collides into you.

Arms wrap around your waist, and you turn mid-fall, your back pressed against firm muscle of someone’s chest as you go sliding across the ice.

“What the fuck?” you ask as the arms release you to roll onto the ice.

You look over to see Levi Ackerman himself, captain of the hockey team, groaning as he pulls himself off the ice. “For someone who looks as good as you do in tights, you sure weigh more than you look.”

You sit up, glaring at his smug expression. “Excuse me?”

“Just saying,” he mutters, getting to his feet. He extends a hand out to you to help you up and you swat it away, getting up yourself.

“Can you watch where the fuck you’re going?” you ask him bitterly.

“Can you? You know we’re running drills,” Levi says, crossing his arms at your rejection of his assistance.

“I was skating forward! You hit me from behind!” you protest. “How am I supposed to watch out when you sneak up on me?”

“Pay attention, princess,” Levi says mockingly. “It’s not just your ice.”

You’re absolutely fuming, ready to unleash on him, when you feel Petra’s hand on your arm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, noticing the snow in your hair.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, looking away from Levi’s piercing blue eyes. “Jackass knocked me off my feet.”

“Jackass?” Levi questions, irritation shining through his expression.

“Yeah,” you say emphatically. “Jackass. I think it’s perfect to describe you. Or do you prefer Captain Jackass?”

“Bitch,” he mutters, skating away back to his team who are carefully watching the interaction.

“Fucking hockey players,” you grumble to Petra, who loops her arm through yours as you start to skate around the rink again. “Think they own the ice. It’s not even time for their practice and they’re running drills, terrorizing the public skaters.”

“Yeah,” she says, unconvincingly. “Jerks. But hey, at least he broke your fall, right?”

You turn to look at her, mouth parted open in shock. “Seriously? He slammed into me from behind and you’re giving him brownie points for not knocking me unconscious?”

“Well,” Petra says sheepishly. “I saw him turn so that he fell against the ice and didn’t fall on top of you. He was going pretty fast.”

You press your mouth into a line, shaking your head. “You’re a simp, you know that? An Ackerman simp. He could burn this rink down and you’d still justify it, fawning over him.”

Petra protests and you giggle at her poorly crafted excuses. You shake your head, pulling her off the ice to the lobby, where it’s warm and loud.

“Hey,” your boss says, waving at you from the rental counter. “I know it’s not your day for Learn to Skate, but we need coverage on Saturday. Can you do it?”

“Miche, come on!” you whine, sighing dramatically. “I work two of the three sessions every week. Tuesdays and Thursdays. One day more than my contract actually says, because I’m so generous and nice.”

“It’s just the tots,” he says, eyes pleading.

“Miche, no!” you exclaim, unable to help the smile spreading across your face. “You know I hate teaching the little ones.”

“Come on,” he says. “I booked a trip out of town for Nanaba and I’s anniversary and I totally forgot she’s on Saturday rotation. Please, help me woo my wife and preserve my marriage.”

“Miche, you’re really a piece of work,” you sigh. “You know I can’t say no to helping my coach.”

“I knew there was a reason you’re Nanaba’s favorite,” he says with a smile. “Thank you so much!”

“You owe me!” you call over your shoulder, walking over to the viewing bench. “Man, I can’t believe I have to cover the tots. I hate that shit.”

“But they’re so cute,” Petra protests.

You groan at her utter betrayal. “No, they aren’t! They fall and cry, and cry and fall, for almost an hour. It’s horrible. I finally worked my way out of teaching tots.”

“It’s just one Saturday,” Petra consoles. “Plus, I’m on Saturdays too! We can get lunch after.”

You pout your lips out at her. “Fine. We can get lunch.”

Your blood is pumping as you skate down the rink, edges ripping into the ice as you precisely carve delicate swirls with your blades. Loud techno music plays over the speakers as you skate, all in perfect synchronicity with the other skaters as you do footwork.

“Faster!” Coach Pixis is sitting on the boards at the side of the rink, sipping from a water bottle that certainly isn’t filled with water.

You reach the goal line and circle back to run the same footwork back down the way you came. Power class continues like this for another twenty minutes until Pixis finally dismisses you, calling it “slightly less than abysmal this time”.

As he swings his legs over the boards to walk back to the lobby, you collapse onto the ice, chest heaving. Your best friend peers at you from where she stops beside you, eyes curious.

“You alright?” she asks, out of breath herself. Petra’s face is flushed after thirty minutes of on-ice cardio.

“So...sweaty,” you groan, enjoying the feeling of the cold against your overly warm skin. “Cold feels good.”

“You’re in a tank top, you’ll get ice burn if you don’t get up,” Petra chides. “Come on, it’s almost time for hockey practice anyway.”

You reach up a hand and she pulls you to your feet. You brush the snow off of your leggings and tell her you’ll catch up, grabbing your jacket and water bottle from the boards.

The hockey players spill onto the ice, immediately skating laps at high speed forward and backward around the rink, warming up. You purse your lips, annoyed that they couldn’t wait another fifteen seconds for you to grab your shit and get off, instead making it nearly impossible for you to reach the exit closest to the coach’s room, meaning you now have to walk around the entire rink from the bench.

You decide to wait them out, annoyed with their crappy behavior. You lean against the boards, your things in your arms, for the full five minutes, watching them, making eye contact, waving at one or two that you know.

They run laps until Commander Erwin calls for them to line up on the blue line in front of him. When he does, you leisurely skate behind the group of men to get off at the exit you wanted.

They all turn around to watch you, evidently surprised you didn’t chew them out like usual for doing this. You smile at them, your eyes finding Levi’s from where he’s smirking at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and exit the ice, feeling him watch you until you disappear behind the bleachers.

Petra is inside the coach’s room already, unlacing her skates as she sits in her assigned chair. You sit in your spot next to her, following suit.

“Ugh, did you see Levi?”

You roll your eyes at Petra’s simpering expression and wide, hazel eyes.

“Why are you such a simp for him? For any hockey player? They’re dicks and they smell bad,” you complain.

“Not Levi,” she says with a dreamy look on her face. “Remember? He helped me when I cut my hand.”

“He wrapped a dirty hockey rag around your hand and told you to stop bleeding on his ice,” you say flatly. “He’s not exactly a knight in shining armor.”

Petra continues on, dithering about how Levi is, in fact, kind of an asshole but if you look past his harsh words, sour attitude, huge ego, and generally rude demeanor, there’s probably a decent guy in there. Yeah, okay.

You slip on your tennis shoes and pull Petra out to the lobby, grabbing a Gatorade and a protein bar from the concession stand.

“Let’s sit on the bleachers,” Petra says, trying to be nonchalant.

“Because we don’t spend enough time here, let’s go watch the hockey players on our break?” you ask sarcastically.

But it’s hard to say no to Petra, with her wide eyes and pouty lips. So you cave, agreeing to go sit on the bleachers, grateful for the cool metal against your back as you lay against the bench. Petra sits at attention, watching the players skate up and down the ice, practicing formations and plays.

“He’s looking over here!” she practically squeals.

You roll your eyes, scrolling through Spotify for a bass-laden playlist to mentally prepare for spending an hour with the tots later this morning.

There’s a loud crash against the boards and you jump, nearly falling off the bench. You shoot up, glaring at the plexiglass, behind which stands a smug Levi Ackerman, smirking at you. He raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs, feigning innocence. How mature, hitting the boards to startle you.

Petra gives you a sidelong glance, a slight furrow in her brows as you roll your eyes at Levi who’s wiggling the fingers in his glove in a semblance of wave. For which you return a middle finger, setting off a round of laughs between his teammates.

You look over at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she’s so concerned about, but she shakes her head and turns back to face the ice, eyes watching intently as they start running drills.

Later, you teach the tots a fun fishing game, where they pull out fish from the ‘pond’ you drew on the ice with a marker, and then you teach them how to skate away according to the type of fish they caught. It’s nearly time to go, and the class has been surprisingly smooth.

However, as your last student pulls out a “big fish! So big and scary!”, and you all skate backwards away from it, doing swizzles on their unsteady little feet, your smallest skater falls.

Oh fuck, here we go.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, lip trembling as he clutches his hand to his chest. He’s two feet tall, you know he’s fine, but he thinks he’s hurt, so you let out a quiet sigh and kneel next to him.

“Oh bud, that was a big fall,” you say empathetically, pulling off your gloves and taking his ‘injured’ hand between yours. “You did great though.”

“I did?” he asks tearfully, clearly wanting to have a huge meltdown but also wanting to hold it together to earn your praise.

“You did,” you confirm with a nod. “You know what I do when I hurt myself from falling? I take a big deep breath, and I shake the ouch out. Have you ever done that?”

He shakes his head no, eyes wide, and you smile at him, a little charmed by his chubby cheeks.

“Hey, isn’t that the chick you nearly took out on public the other day?” Eren nods to the ice as he throws his bag over his shoulder coming out of the locker room. “Is she a coach?”

Levi looks over and sees you kneeling down on the ice, holding the hands of a tot who must have taken a fall. He watches you shake out your hands, and the little boy imitates you. You throw your head back to laugh at the boy’s enthusiasm, quickly wiggling his whole body, and take his hand to pull him back to the other tots who have been watching curiously.

You lead them in a line that snakes around the designated area until you reach the door of the rink, making sure they all get off and into the waiting arms of their parents.

He catches your eye, thinking about how pretty you look when you aren’t flipping him off or cussing him out. You give him a hesitant smile before you’re pulled into a conversation with one of the parents.

Eren is looking at him, mouth open as he watches Levi watch you. “Uh, hello?”

Levi looks at him blandly. “Yeah, yeah. She must be a coach if she’s teaching Learn to Skate.”

Eren raises an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re down bad. For a figure skating coach, of all people.”

“Fuck off, Yeager,” Levi says, pushing him into the wall as he heads for the doors.

[imogen-rhitt]

She giggled, rolling her eyes before giving them another kiss. “Fine, but I’ll remind you of that when you’re complaining about stinky kisses one day.” Dissolving into proper laughter as they started to talk about the encounter they’d caused with Elliot the night before, eyes widening when Theo said he’d wanted her to go back to Jack. “Wait what?! Terrible advice from Elliot - bad bad bad. I’m going to have to have a serious word with him next time I see him about how horrible that advice is. Don’t ever encourage me to go back to that asshole. Not that he’d want me anyway but joke is on him because…well we’re not together anymore.” It was adorable how they were trying to explain their thought process the night before because…well as scared and stressed as Imogen had been when Theo got back home it was super sweet how they’d been trying to convince her they could do this even while drunk off their face. “I know…we were both freaking out. I’m still kinda freaking out, just for the record. I don’t know how long I’ll be freaking out but I think it’s going to be a while.” 

Watching as they clicked through the app she smiled softly at the explanation as well as the pride in their voice. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, no one looked after Imogen like Theo even when she wasn’t pregnant. “You’ve been doing good, I’ve not really been doing anything. Just promise me I don’t have to have rice for breakfast because I think that might actually make it worse.” Pulling a face at the idea of waking up and immediately having to eat a bowl of rice, it was hardly an appealing one. Toast on the other hand she could get on board with. She knew they were right about them needing to keep tabs on things for the sake of the baby but the whole conversation was getting a little overwhelming. She didn’t know how Theo wasn’t still freaked out by everything but they were just so calm it was impressive. Admirable. “Babe….hold on a second please. This is a lot all at once and I want to engage in it and talk to you about it but it’s very overwhelming.” Shit, was this something she was going to have to get used to as well? Getting overwhelmed and feeling like she was going to start crying at the drop of a hat? Jesus, her ever suffering partner was in for a fun ride as well. She immediately felt guilty for that. “I’m still trying to get my head around the fact there is another human inside me which is just fucking weird. Do you not find it weird? Also I wanted to ask you something, about something you said last night as you were falling asleep. Just about if you meant it or whatever.” @theoxkent

When she pulled back from the kiss because of morning breath, Theo kept her close and kissed her again just to say they didn't care, "I rather have a stinky kiss than no kiss." They smiled close to her lips and pecked them again before they added. "God, poor Elliot. I don't even know what the fuck did I say to him or what he said to me. I think he kind of wanted you to go back to fuckface which freaked me out more." A mall chuckle as they shook their head, biting their own bottom lip at how ridiculous that whole night was. "I think I thought... if I could prove to you that I could be a good parent then you'd choose me over fuckface. God, I was really freaking out. We were both freaking out." Another soft chuckle left their lips.

Showing her the different parts of the app like the size of the baby depending on the week, Theo explained further, "We were right about the ginger and mint drinks. It also adds bland food like rise, toast which I also gave you that first morning... we've been doing good." A proud smile across their face as they realized they just knew how to take care of her. "Well, it's important and it's something that we're going to have to pay attention to so we know you and the baby are healthy." They answered calmly to her horrified surprise, still taking it all in stride as if it was all just something they were acquainted with their whole life and not for the last hour. "I've also been researching a few real-estate agencies, hoe do you feel about moving out of downtown. It'll be a bit of drive to work but I think it'll be best for us to move to a different neighbourhood. Something like where Elliot lives." The post it notes behind her had some of the things they were telling her about. And they hadn't even started on the pre-schoold they researched or university founds and pet shelters, unrelated but, well not really.

[morganbritton132]

17 year old CEO Tim Drake sending out a company wide email letting the board of directors know that he won’t be in the meeting this afternoon because he’s going to the DMV to get his driver’s license. Lucius Fox will be there in his place.

This is the third time he’s missed a meeting for this reason. Also the third time he’s sent this email to everybody in the directory.

[quietwingsinthesky]

crucial to the vision that lucifer does not actually like. make up for torturing sam. or possessing castiel. or some other third thing he did to dean. it’s just that he’s mary’s boytoy now and they can’t kick him off the team because of it.

[girlivealwaysbean]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????

[waywardsalt]

i don’t think i could survive a serious conversation about my own elden ring build the last time i played i spent like thirty minutes at my favorite rune grinding spots until i got enough for two more levels somewhere in the level ~210 range and put them both into endurance for a whopping 72 endurance now

[skrunksthatwunk]

still thinking about how one of my first yyh meta posts got reblogged onto an sjw cringe comp blog in the year of our woke 2022. truly tumblr dot com, the last bastion of progressivism, has fallen (<- sarcasm) and also i'm kinda baffled that they didn't choose like. me putting yusuke in a skirt or something

[khaothanawat]

what i appreciate about midnight motel is that it’s super fast paced, in a really engaging and hilarious way, but it’s also slipping out details about the characters in what feels like the slowest way possible.

the details get fed to us in tiny slithers, flashing unobtrusively up onto the screen in between the beats of the main story - and that makes the pacing of those reveals feel dissonant to the rest of the episode in a really cool way.

and it’s fascinating because it feels like they’re just leaking out small drips of information and then not talking about them again.

but because this is a dark comedy, it’s so hard to know how seriously to take it all - like, are these tiny bits of character story clues as to what’s actually going on? or should we just be taking it at face value, for the wild heightened reality it is?

we’re halfway through and there are all these tiny little plot threads that are appearing without being resolved - like who has pat’s money, what was up with that conversation between mote and doy about kat, who is the boss, what the fuck even happened to pat exactly. also why could tawi from not me track pat’s car, but not his PHONE? bitch, you don’t have find my friends on? also i have questions on literally everything involving sun and kat. so so many questions. also is mote really a teenager bc off jumpol is my age and i look youngish but “teen” is a stretch and like… off… off, my hetero husband, i swear i’m gonna save you from being cast as a teenager one day like i KNOW you’re talented but you don’t deserve to be teencoded like this like i’m gonna help i’m gonna get you out of here-

i’m just so curious as to whether i should be paying closer attention or not to the little things the show has been quietly telling us, or if it’s simply better to just go with it, because it’s a 6-episode comedy that repeatedly breaks the fourth wall, and why think about it too hard.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[anonymusbosch]

really truly Feelings about coming back to my hometown and seeing it as an outsider (I only knew it as a child with my motion constrained by school and parents and being under 18) and an outsider (it's changed since I've been away these last 8 years) and an outsider (showing it to my partner and finding it both familiar and unfamiliar, and special and inadequate) and an outsider (my parents and sister have all moved and my childhood home is no longer mine - staying in a building with a door code to learn and furniture still being moved in) and an outsider (my favorite places have changed, moved, closed, repainted) and an outsider (new murals! new buildings! new bike lanes) and an outsider (how the Fuck do the bike lanes on the east bank connect) and an outsider (it's changed [you can never step in the same river twice] and I have too)

[panb1mbo]

i played chess against this AI based off a real chess player who was some famous athlete and anyway he TAUNTED ME? made like one mistake and still kicked his ass and this computer man was making fun of me like no one's business. YES he hurt my feelings but he also made me want to leave his metaphorical entrails spitefully splattered all over the fucking board. "oh, so you've been watching film?" NO. i watched the queens gambit like once bc anya taylor joy and drugs seems like a fun mix, remembered i like chess and refused to learn any specific plays just like i did when i was a child. i play chess sir. i never said i take it seriously.

[twinliches]

my family is fucking addicted to macgyvering and it's becoming a problem. every time something in this house breaks, instead of doing the sensible thing of replacing it or calling someone qualified to fix it, we all group around the offending object with a manic look in our eyes and everyone gets a try at fixing it while being cheered on or ridiculed by the rest.

it's a beautiful bonding activity, but the "creative" fixes have turned our house into a quasihaunted escape room like contraption where everything works, but only in the wonkiest of ways. you need a huge block of iron to turn on the stove. the oven only works if a specific clock is plugged in. the bread machine has a huge wood block just stapled to it that has become foundational to its function. sometimes when you use the toaster the doorbell rings. and that's just the kitchen.

it's all fun and games until you have guests over and you have to lay out the rules of the house like it's a fucking board game. welcome to the beautiful guest room. don't pull out the couch yourself you need a screwdriver for that, and that metal rod makes the lamp work so don't move it. it also made me a terrifying roommate in college, because it makes me think i can fix anything with enough hubris and a drill. you want to call the landlord about a leaky faucet? as if. one time my dad made me install a new power socket because we ran our of extension cords

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you’re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.���

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. “You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-”

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fadetouchedsilk]

'fixed' is a strong word here, i think even if he'd stayed on board veilguard still would have been a soft 6/10 at Best just based on the nightmarish production cycle alone

i definitely don't want people to take this post as a defence of gaider lmao, to the best of my knowledge he still hasn't walked back any of his previous bullshit takes (which he's Definitely had more than enough time to do by now & instead just elects to sound vaguely smug/bitter when it comes up on bluesky so. not a lot of hope there tbh). the biggest things we're missing without him at the helm would definitely apply more to tonal cohesiveness & how the lore is generally treated. ea getting their fingers into things & having the game suffer for it was to be expected, but based on past games i still thought we would at least be getting compelling parts (i love dragon age, but i definitely won't go around saying it's objectively Good lmfao)

whether he stayed on or someone was brought in who functioned similarly where it mattered & made up for some of the real world-related shortcomings & blind spots (would have been the ideal in this situation), i think weekes was just Not the correct choice for taking the lead here. from the outside, i would assume the choice was made on seniority & previous experience working on the games which makes sense on paper. but the cohesiveness & maturity of the writing is just completely missing. it is so, so painfully emotionally shallow & it's glaring in the scant character interactions we get.

given how many people love the writing of da2, i don't even know if it would have been an issue of crunch here since we've seen it pulled off in a short period of time before (another point where having ea breathing down everyone's neck this time didn't help tbf). but a lot of that success can probably be attributed to having a lead who had a strong sense of the setting & would have been able to bring everyone up to that same level. apparently having the shorter timeline was actually a benefit to the da2 development, since there was less time to go back & forth with decisions.

anyway all that is to say, i think 'we got objectively better written games under gaider than we did with weekes as lead' is a pretty fair statement to make. i have no doubt that there are other people who could have delivered a Better game than either of them could too, and i honestly wish we were living in the timeline where that theoretical person ended up with the position instead

im definitely not a fan of this man on a personal level for several reasons but guys im starting to think da lost a load bearing wall when he left