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withleeknow · 5 months ago

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moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead.

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.”

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here. “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

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yjhariani · 2 years ago

Text

When you arrived home, Simon was already waiting for you. He opened the door for you, hugged you hi, and kissed you welcome. Upon walking further inside, you were somehow being walked away towards the bedroom.

You stopped walking, you turned your destination towards the kitchen. Simon, immediately blocked your way.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Where are you going?” Simon asked back.

“To the kitchen, get some water,” you answered.

“I’ll get it for you, just wait in the bedroom,” Simon said.

That sounded very suspicious to you. Well, his body language was telling you that. So, you slouched your shoulders as you looked at Simon.

“Why?” you questioned.

“You just got here,” Simon cupped your face with one hand and rubbed his thumb on your cheekbone. “Maybe you’d like to rest.”

“You’re hiding Soap in the kitchen again, aren’t you?” you suspected.

“Not at all,” Simon insisted, gently pushing you towards your bedroom again. “Just wait, alright?”

“What’s in our kitchen, Simon?” you asked anyway.

“Nothing,” Simon promised.

“Let me go there, then,” you replied.

“Worried I can’t do that, love,” Simon sighed.

“Why?” you continued.

“No reason. Just—”

In a swift, quick motion, you managed to manoeuvre your way around Simon. From there, you rushed towards the kitchen with Simon failing to grab you in place.

Soon, you stood in the kitchen and saw almost most of the walls and flat surfaces were black, especially the area by the stove. One of the wooden chairs looked burned, too. Napkins were nowhere to be seen and one that was seen was camouflaged by the charred wall.

Simon caught up with you and immediately stood in front of you, putting his hands on your upper arms.

“I’ll get you the water—”

“What happened here?” you asked him. “Don’t say ‘Nothing’ because I’m looking at the damage. Did you play with grenades? Did Soap insult you too harshly?”

“No—I… there’s, uh—f…,” Simon exhaled as he looked down for a second before looking back at you. “I tried to cook something for you. I was thinking that I should be able to have a few tries if I started midday, but I forgot for hours and there was a fire.”

Seeing that you frowned, Simon moved his hands to your face. However, he retracted his hands immediately before gently placing them back on your face.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I’m fine,” Simon stated.

You put your hands on Simon’s wrists and moved his hands off you. You looked at his palms and saw redness all over. By the looks of it, it was likely that Simon touched something hot by accident—likely a pair of pot handles.

“I’m fine,” Simon repeated.

“Your hands are burned,” you pointed out.

“No,” Simon insisted.

You looked at him in disbelief.

“Alright, I’m sorry I burned the kitchen. I’ll clean up—”

“Sweetheart, you tried something, alright? That’s great and I love you for it, but you hurt yourself,” you cut him off. “You’re not fine.”

Simon did not respond at first, only locking his gaze on you.

“Did you do something about it already? You know what, I’ll go ask the neighbour for some aloe—”

“You love me,” Simon quietly said, but he looked surprised that he actually said that aloud because he did not intend to.

“Of course I do,” you sighed. “Now, let’s take care of you first, alright? We’ll deal with this mess later.”

“I’m fi—”

You cut him off with a finger on his lips. Simon moved your finger off his lips.

“If it makes you feel better, you could just kiss ‘em better,” Simon said. “I’m fine otherwise.”

“No,” you scoffed. “I’ll take care of them, okay? Just say yes.”

Simon took a moment before saying, “Alright.”

You gave him a smile.

“Thank you for trying,” you said.

"I'll try again," Simon said.

"We'll need a couple more kitchens, then," you teased.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader

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bloodxbat · 9 months ago

Note

gojo and fem reader are best friends with a heavy sexual relationship— like so bad that when Satoru sees his bestie all his blood rushes to his cock. add a lil jealousy to that to spice it up

More than friends

Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI, Jealous Sex, Oral (male receiving), Choking, Dom/Sub, Bondage/Restraints

Word Count: 2,638K

Summary: Y/N and Satoru are best friends….with benefits. None of their other friends know this, so when they all go out to the mall and Geto starts flirting with Y/N, Gojo gets heated and wants to show her who she belongs to.

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA THANKS FOR THE REQUEST ANON!!!! Hope you enjoy :))

Masterlist

Taglist

Ko-fi

It was a nice bright and sunny day in Tokyo, and it was a weekend which meant one thing. No school! Y/N, Gojo, Geto and Shoko were out on a trip to the mall for a well deserved break from school. The four had been friends since their first year at Jujitsu High, Y/N was a transfer student at the time but soon found her peace with these crazy three.

Y/N and Shoko were leading the way, laughing at whatever they were talking about. It was good to get a bit of girl time while Gojo and Geto struggled behind carrying you and Shoko’s bags. There weren’t that many, you’re convinced they're just being dramatic.

Gojo and Geto didn’t mind really, they were just putting it on. Part of their “cool guy” personalities you know? Gojo couldn’t concentrate on anything other than staring at you anyways, he could feel the blood rushing to his cock just from the sight of you. He had to quickly cover his crotch with the bags he was carrying, suppressing a blush. As you and Gojo had been secretly fucking behind closed doors for quite some time. Not dating, no, just fucking. Sometimes Gojo would often dream that you two were actually dating, he would love to show you off, spoil you, kiss you freely without fear of getting caught. He often wondered if you felt the same way.

“Guys! That new ramen bar is open just down to the right!” Y/N yells back at the boys “Lets go try it!”. Ramen was always your favourite, you would eat it 3 times a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner if you could. “Yeah sure, I'm getting quite hungry myself anyways, what about you Satoru?” Geto asks, “Yeah I'm down” Gojo smiles looking straight at you.

The four of you were sitting in the booth at the new Ramen place. Get was sitting next to you, Gojo across from you and Shoko next to him. Normally you sat next to Gojo but he decided he wanted to look at you as he ate this time round.

“My my Y/N, not often I get to sit next to such a pretty lady such as yourself” Geto purred next to you, playfully flirting due to the change in normal seating arrangement. You almost choke on your ramen as he says this stifling a laugh clearly knowing that he was being playful.

“I could say the same for you, sitting next to such a handsome strong man” You smirked leaning onto his shoulder. Both of you are smiling and chuckling slightly. Shoko laughed along with you as well, you knew she had a thing for Geto but at least she wasn’t jealous of your playful flirting.

Gojo on the other hand was faking a smile as he continued to eat his ramen. He knew it was just a joke but hearing you talk that way to another man, never mind that man being Geto of all people, stuck something inside of him that made him unbelievably jealous. If his eyes weren’t such a bright blue you couldn't have sworn they would turn red with rage. Geto put his arm around you kissing you on the head laughing. This image continued to play in Gojos mind for the rest of the day.

Once you had all finished eating your ramen til you were so full you could barely move. You all agreed it was time for you all to head back to your apartments. Geto and Shoko lived in the opposite direction as you and Gojos apartments. So half way back you both said your goodbyes to each other.

“Goodbye beautiful” Geto winked, blowing you a kiss. You pretended to catch the kiss and put it in your pocket “Bye Suguruuuu” you sang. Then you hug Shoko goodbye before turning round and beginning the silent walk home with Gojo by your side.

Once you got back to your apartment, you were expecting to turn round to say goodbye to Gojo but instead found him following you into your home. Although you weren’t expecting this it wasn’t at all unusual for Gojo to join you in your home after a day out. So you let him follow you in without a question.

As soon as you lock the door behind you, Gojo drops your bags (you forgot he was carrying) and pins you to the door. Your eyes widen as he does this, “Toru?” you begin to talk but Gojo cuts you off with his hand over your mouth, a whine leaving you as he does this.

“What was that all about back there with Suguru huh? You're just gonna whore yourself out to anyone now?” He growls.

“I-it was just for show Toru, we don’t actually feel that way for each other”

“Is that right? Seemed pretty convincing to me” He was clearly angry and hurt.

“Why do you even care, it's not like we’re dating”

“Oh i wanna change that real fucking soon darling, but first i’m gonna fuck you”

Gojo’s lips crashed down onto yours before you could even protest. The sweet taste of him coating your lips causes you to melt into the kiss. He had one hand on the back of your neck, the other on your waist as he pinned you to the door with his body. Your hands were laying on his muscular chest, gripping onto his t-shirt.

Gojo forced his tongue into your mouth, shoving it so far down your throat you gag a little bit. That noise drives him even more crazy. You feel your knees buckle from beneath you and Gojo takes advantage of this, lifting you up easily as if you were nothing. His hands rested under your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist as you made out.

Gojo growled and moaned into your mouth as he could feel your heat just resting over his crotch. All these noises coming from your best friend were sending you into a place you've never been before, your panties were so incredibly wet they could probably rip in half.

The soft feeling of the bed hit your back as Gojo threw you, instantly climbing on top of you only breaking your kiss to take a breath every now and then. “Fuck Y/N, y’make me go crazy” Gojo moans onto your mouth. You could feel his hard cock through his trousers pushing down onto you, it hurt slightly due to how big he was, but it was a pain you craved when he wasn’t around.

His touch felt like lightning against your skin as he pulled your shirt over your head, almost ripping it with desperation. Skillfully taking your bra off with one hand discarding all of your clothing onto the floor. Leaving you and only you, naked and vulnerable, just how Gojo liked you. Gojo stands up from the bed and knowing your place you stand lying down.

“Fuck look at you” he laughs “you’re fucking beautiful you know that?”

His sincerity almost made you tear up as you watched his bright blue eyes swim all over your naked form.

“And you’re all fucking mine, you got that whore?” his eyes darken as his jealousy over earlier today begins to front.

Gojo walks over to the drawer in your bedroom where you keep all of your toys. He skims the contents for a few minutes before pulling out a stretcher bar and handcuffs. The stretcher bar clips on to your ankles to keep your legs spread wide open. Gojo approaches you with the restraints smirking darkly at you. He forces your legs apart and straps you into the stretcher bar, then trails his hand up your body making you shiver before handcuffing you. You stare up at Gojo, his bright eyes glowing in the dimly lit room.

“Who owns you?”

“Y-you do ‘Toru”

“Good girl” he purrs

He begins to strip from his clothes. Starting with his shirt, pulling it over his head, his muscles flexing as he does so. Gojo was fit, really fit, his abs were so defined it had you drooling. Then his trousers, he brought his fingers down to the zip and slowly pulled it down, he knew what he was doing, he was teasing you. You whine at his teasing and he chuckles in response. He drops his trousers and all that's left is his boxers, his hard cock begging to be released from behind the fabric.

“Take them off…please” you say, squeezing your legs together trying to get some sort of friction from the sight before you.

“So impatient” he laughs

His boxers fall to the floor releasing his cock, it hits his lower stomach with a slap. You moan at the sight, the tip of his cock, red and dripping with precum.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me and suck my cock?”

All you can do is nod your head, not wanting to waste time on words, you needed him and you needed him now. Gojo laughs at your patheticness and walks over to the bed. He pulls you to the edge, hanging your head over the side of the bed, at the perfect height for him to shove his cock down your throat.

“Go on, open that pretty little mouth for me”

As soon as you do, Gojo thrusts into your mouth, slowly pushing until you take all of him. You can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and you gag. Gojo moans loudly at this, your warm mouth feels so good around him. It had been weeks since you last hooked up and you were both desperate for any type of action making you sensitive for each movement.

“Oh my - fuck Y/N you take my cock so fucking well in that pretty mouth of yours”

He grabs onto the sides of your head, grasping your hair slightly to help him thrust into your mouth. The wet noises of your spit covering him echoes around the room. You manage to tap Gojos leg to indicate to him that you needed air. He pulled out of you, letting go of your head.

“Awww was that too much for you to handle, needed a breath of fresh air did you?”

You can only nod as you are gasping for air, normally you can take him no problem but the angle means you are being suffocated by his balls each time he thrust into you fully. Gojo flipped you back round onto the bed properly and climbed on top of you. He quickly smashed his lips against yours, he could taste himself on your tongue. The vibrations from his groans shaking through your whole body. Complete euphoria is what you were feeling, it felt like you were on cloud nine.

“M’gonna fuck you now, m’gonna fuck you til you can’t even think straight, teach you a lesson” he growled into your ear sending shivers down your spine.

Gojo pulls at your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin most likely leaving bruises, bruises that would show others who you belong to. He swipes the tip of his cock through your folds, lubing himself up before he slams into your hole.

“Nhhhhgg FUCK TORU”

You weren’t expecting him to be so rough, he’s normally always so gentle…….you liked it. His cock moulded perfectly with your insides, it was like you were made for him. Gojo was big, very big and with just how rough he was benign you could already tell he was bruising your cervix, walking would definitely be a challenge tomorrow.

Your mind was so foggy as he pounded into you, it was hard to think of anything other than him. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head now and then, almost dipping out of consciousness with Gojos hand round your throat, pressing at just the right pressure. One of Gojo’s favourite sights was his hand round your throat. He could see that you were unable to think straight, he was fucking the thoughts out of you and he loved it. He loved how much dominance he had over you and how you just fully submitted and let him use you.

“Not thinking about him are you huh? It’s not his cock deep inside of you is it?”

He really was jealous of you and Geto flirting earlier. Even though you and Gojo weren’t officially dating, you could see it in his eyes at the ramen restaurant and now you could feel it with how he was fucking you. If this is how he reacted to you flirting with other guys then you need to start doing it more often.

“From this day forward you’re my fuck toy and only mine. Got it?” he growled, not even slowing his pace.

“Y-yes T-toru, on-ly yours OH MY GOD” you screamed the last part as you felt his thumb start to draw circles on your clit, stimulating you fully pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm. The pure overstimulation from touch and the fact that you were completely helpless under him, unable to move any of your body was sending you over the edge.

“Mmmmnnghh fuck, s’fucking tight just f’me, can feel you getting closer. You gonna cum?”

“Ye-s yes m’gonna cum please let me cum” you begged, which was music to Gojo’s ears.

“Go on then, cum for me, cum all over my cock before I fill you up”

It didn’t take long after his words before you reached your orgasm and came, squirting all over him, soaking his lower body and the bed beneath you. You really should’ve put a towel down.

The feeling of your pussy pulsing as you came also sent Gojo over the edge, with a loud groan, his body tightened as he released all of his cum inside of you coating your pussy.

He slowed right down riding out both of your highs slowly and gently, before coming to a complete stop. He collapsed on top of you, both of your breathing so heavy no words were exchanged for a good few minutes.

After a while, Gojo rolls off of you, breaks you free from the restraints and lies down beside you, laying on his arm and eyes closed.

“That felt so good” he breathed

“Are you really that jealous of me and Suguru FAKE flirting?” you asked cocking your head to the side to look at him. Gojos eyes opened to meet yours. He had been battling the fact that he had absolutely fallen in love with you over the time that you have been hooking up. He was dreadfully terrified of confessing incase he lost you completely.

“I- uhm” he started and propped himself up on his hand.

“I have a confession…..a few weeks into us starting to hook up here and there, I- uhh- I began to develop feelings for you” He was avoiding eye contact scared in case he was met with not only rejection but a lost friendship.

Your eyes opened wide, you couldn't believe it, Gojo had actually developed feelings for you?. This whole time you were absolutely in love with your best friend and finally he admitted that he too felt the same way. It felt like you were dreaming again.

Panicked by your long silence, Gojo spoke again.

“Y/N i’m sorry if i’ve ruined everything I just hmmmppff”

You cut him off with crashing your lips onto his, your hands resting on his sweating muscled chest. A smile spread right across your mouth. Gojo melted into your kiss, his heartbeat slowing down the anxiety leaving his body as he got your message.

Glad that you both felt the same way you both fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms. Smiles permanently spread across your faces. You were finally his and he was finally yours.

taglist: @writing-wh0re

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pedgito · 4 months ago

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 | Tommy Miller x reader

summary | tommy's on a path for revenge and you're his unfortunate baggage.

author's note | this is a small blurb for a future series for tommy. for context: joel revenge tour, forced proximity, reader is baggage to tommy, and also mean!tommy. him and maria have already separated before he leaves to go after abby & the group. so if it’s easier to consider this au, please do. this is unbeta'd and based off this post.

content warning | 18+ smut, eluding to past hookups, undefined age gap, tommy is a broken shell of himself, manhandling, a moment of softness from tommy but mostly selfishness, unprotected p in v, mentions of not pulling out. the tommy brainrot is in full effect y'all.

word count —1.4k

He doesn’t touch you like this unless he wants something.

A hand up your back, under your shirt as you bend down to throw more kindling into the fire, taking the broken twigs from his hand.

You feel it, tense slightly as you toss the sticks into the pool of flames and rise, turning your head over your shoulder.

He’s got that distant smile that doesn’t ever reach his eyes, not anymore. The thing with Tommy is that when he smiled, or used to anyways, it was a full body reaction.

His eyes light up, the lines around his mouth creasing as he grinned and the subtle twitch or flex of his hands as he tried to contain himself. As dark as you’ve seen him lately, you knew that Tommy was still buried underneath. Deep, deep down.

“It was once,” you remind him, eyes flicking down at his now empty hands pressing against your hip, slowly caressing its way over your stomach and slipping underneath the fabric there, sandwiched in by both of his hands as he nudged you to turn and face him, “—we agreed, Tommy.”

“You can keep tellin’ yourself that,” Tommy argues, “s’far as I remember you did a whole lotta talkin’ and you still haven’t told me stop,” his hands settling against your waist, squeezing the flesh under his fingertips, “you want me to stop?”

Your eyes follow the path of his fingertips as they clutch the end of your shirts and push up, dragging it up until your skin is bared to him, knuckles dragging over the surface. It was heat, pure heat. Different from the sweltering flames at your sides. It was hunger.

So strong, unbridled. If he wasn’t thinking about this, he was thinking about them. Or him. He has nightmares every night, ones you’ve learned to let him ride out. The one attempt to pull him out ended with you on your ass and a knife to your throat, skin nicked from the sharp blade pressing into your chin.

You shake your head so slightly you aren’t expecting him to catch it, but he does. “That’s right,” he nods, his hand raising to brush against the underside of your chin, thumb dragging over your cheek, “look at me.”

Hesitantly, you do. Heart hammering in your chest you dare, staring back at his unrestrained gaze. There wasn’t admiration or fondness, nothing like that. But, there was understanding.

You help me, I help you.

Mutually assured destruction.

The force of your kiss as you rush into him sends him stumbling, feet hitting the edge of a table before he’s collapsing in an old chair, creaking under the weight of you both.

His head presses against the back of the chair, kissing you back soundly, sloppily as he tongue dives—digs into your mouth and licks away the built up frustration you’ve carried for the past week.

It tastes like resentment and anger, things you couldn’t say to him—things he wouldn’t say himself. It was a dangerous dance that has begun to play out for you both.

He reaches blindly for your jeans, popping the metal button and attempting to squeeze his hand between the snug material and your underwear, struggling with the angle and how desperately your pressing yourself into him as you pull at his hair, dark locks tangled around your fingers and he grunts, heaving out a heavy sigh.

“Get ‘em off,” he orders casually, rubbing his hands against the denim as he pushes you away, mirror your movements as he strips himself of a few more layers; coat, flannel, shoving his pants just far enough down his knees that by the time yours are off he’s ready for your hurried approach.

You climb back over his lap, a salacious grin on his face as you mount him, “alright, atta girl,” followed by a soft catch of his breath as you wrap your palm around his shaft, tugging leisurely as his cock hardens from your touch, brow pinched as he watches, “—careful, honey.”

He joins your hand, using the force of his thumb on his opposite hand as it wraps around yours to press the head of his cock between your cunt, slipping between your folds and notching himself against your clit.

Before you can even think to speak, his hand is wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling it taut in his grip as he forces you still, gaze locked on his own as he pushes inside of you.

He’s already worked up, functioning on pure adrenaline and rage the past few days, knowing that he would soon hit a wall, but not before he allowed himself this. A gentle whine squeezing from your throat as he bucks his hips into you slowly, watching the desperate clench of your jaw as you swallow, eyes falling closed.

If it weren’t for the fireplace, he’d be acting off feel alone—like the last time. A back alley in the decrepit city of Seattle and the low hum of infected in the nearby area. Hand over your mouth, fingers circling of your clit as he fucked you against the moss-covered brick wall.

There was no preamble. Only a look, a deep growl of anger as he snapped and you allowed him to take his emotions out on you—given you were a big reason why his trip wasn’t going off without a hitch like he’d expected.

You were ruining it, dragging him down, but he couldn't just let you go—you were too far from Jackson, too far from home.

“Not gonna be the last time,” you inquire, a breathlessness to your voice as you worked your hips back against him, fingers digging into the material of his shirt and feeling the flex of his abdomen underneath, the sharp snap of his hips as pistons himself into you, “is it?”

Tommy leans forward suddenly, hand pressing against your back for support as you yelp softly, fingers pulling in his hair in a reactionary manner but it makes him curse. Your body goes fuzzy at the aggression in his tone, clenching around him out of instinct.

“You tell me,” Tommy counters, “you sneak outta Jackson, you follow me here, you fuck up my plans—and you just think—“

“Think what?”

“I ain’t that dense, honey,” He snarks, “you’ve been eyein’ me for weeks. He said you were good, mindful—but you are just nothin’ but goddamn trouble.”

He didn't need to say his name, you knew.

You smirk at his assumption of you, a small laugh bubbling from your chest as you fight for the upper hand, pressing him back into the chair against his hardened grip, almost avoiding the nudge of his mouth as he leans in for a hungry kiss, his palms squeezing at your ass cheeks so tight that it pulls you forward too, your foreheads colliding quick and sharp, a collective groan of pain erupting from you both.

It’s in the quiet lull of a look, as Tommy rubs at the sore spot on his forehead that you find yourself laughing—soft and wistful as you rock back, his cock still buried inside of you.

In an instant his hands are at your hips, gripping tight as his lips pull in a thin line, whatever semblance of a smile he did have was quickly gone and focused on you—or more so, the point where your cunt was sucking him in and squeezing, so tight he feels like he might come just like that

“Ease up,” he chokes out, the sweat on his brow glistening with the glow of the fireplace, “keep squeezin’ my cock like that and I’ll come right now.”

You grin, a soft snicker slipping past your lips.

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” Tommy offers in a softer tone, “but I ain’t finished with you yet—so ease up.” It ignites the coil of pleasure deep inside of you, the snarl of his teeth contrasting with his gentle tone.

You knew there was no piecing Tommy back together after everything that's happened—whatever was left of Tommy’s peace had departed the moment his brother had too.

dividers creds: @/saradika-graphics

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller x you #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tommy miller smut #my writing

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lemonlover1110 · 10 months ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 20] Beach Day

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, voyeurism

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Your beach day starts a little late since the three of you were so tired after being woken up in the middle of the night. Truthfully, if it were up to you, you’d continue sleeping. But it isn’t up to you since Ren wakes you up, reminding you that he has to go out. This trip is for him, you can’t just stay locked inside sleeping.

Unlike earlier, the place is packed with people, which makes Satoru feel slightly uneasy. Ren seems to be happy, which is all that matters anyway. You settle down, laying down a towel on the sand, immediately grabbing the sunscreen to put on Ren.

“Sit down for a minute, play with the sand or something.” You order, and Ren pouts because he immediately wants to rush and go to the water. Satoru notices, and his immediate suggestion is,

“Let’s build a sand castle, that sounds like fun!”

“Let me put some sunscreen on you too, Satoru.” You say, but Satoru acts like he doesn’t hear you. Satoru is shirtless, just wearing swimming trunks– And you know how he is, he will most definitely get sunburnt. You roll your eyes, allowing him to get sunburnt because you’re not about to argue with a grown man.

You watch as Satoru and Ren kneel down on the sand and begin to play with it, Satoru trying to guide Ren on how to make a sand castle… Satoru isn’t the greatest instructor since he’s never really messed with making a sand castle before. It doesn’t really matter anyway because Ren isn’t paying all that much attention.

“You can go now!” You tell Ren, and he stands up, sprinting to the water. Satoru runs after his son, making sure to keep his eye on him. You’re thankful for Satoru since he allows you to lay down and relax.

Maybe you should watch how Ren plays so gleefully in the sand, but your eyes feel so heavy. You’re still so tired. Maybe it’s all the exhaustion from the past years that’s catching up to you, and you finally get a moment to fully relax. Your eyes are practically shutting on their own, but you feel someone’s tiny wet hands pull your foot.

“C’mon, mommy. Let’s go to the water.” Ren urges you to stand up and follow behind him. You take the biggest breath of your life before standing up and following behind him, leading you to Satoru whose feet are on the shore.

“Aren’t you going to take off your dress? Kind of weird to come into the water with a dress.” Satoru notices how you’re still wearing the dress that you put over your swimsuit, and you roll your eyes. It’s not like Ren gave you much of an option before dragging you along. Plus, Satoru and Ren went back to the house completely soaked.

“Why do you care?” Your voice is laced with attitude. Satoru bites down his lip before grabbing Ren’s hand and dragging him into the water. Ren is happy with this, but he’s dragging you with him, and it’s getting your dress wet. You don’t care too much anyway, you expected the dress to get dirty anyway, you just didn’t plan on getting it wet. You have the feeling that Satoru just wants to get you in a swimsuit, and you’re not giving him that pleasure. Maybe you’re too full of yourself, but you know Satoru a little too well.

Just as you expected, when the sun goes down, Satoru is sunburnt. It’s funny to see him red, claiming that he is fine and his skin doesn’t feel burnt. When you’re back in the beach house and Ren gets a good look at his father, he can’t help but comment, “You look like a crab, daddy.”

“I look like a what–” Satoru freezes, slowly blinking as he finds himself… Offended? He shouldn’t be, Ren is four, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Or maybe Ren knows exactly what he’s saying since he doesn’t really have a filter.

“A crab.” Ren repeats, which makes Satoru furrow his brows. Satoru walks over to one of the mirrors around the house that are up for decoration, and he bites down his lip. He fucking looks like a crab.

“Should’ve taken my offer for sunscreen.” You shrug before walking to your room to change out of your beach clothes and into something more comfortable for the time being. You would offer Satoru a remedy, but he did this to himself.

When you’re in pajamas, you walk out of the room and go to the living room to find Satoru and Ren playing a card game– Well, Satoru attempting to teach Ren how to play a card game. It’s sweet, but you have to interrupt the moment.

“Satoru, can you bathe Ren while I get started on dinner?” You ask, and Satoru furrows his brows, making you roll your eyes. It’s not a hard task at all, why does he act like it is?

“Make dinner? I’ll just order something. You’re just supposed to relax.” Satoru says. You know the kitchen is stocked up with all kinds of foods, you really don’t see a point in ordering out. Nonetheless, you take his offer because your body is begging for a break.

“Come on, stinky. Time for a bath.” Satoru puts his cards down and picks up Ren, carrying him to the bathroom. You’re left alone in the living room, and you make yourself comfortable, laying down on the couch.

You’ll fall asleep on the couch if you keep laying down without doing anything, but you’re on vacation, you should be fine. Satoru is handling Ren, and right now you don’t have any other responsibility. You can just shut your eyes for a moment… It’s not going to hurt you.

Just as you allow your eyes to rest, your phone rings. You try to ignore it, but you decide to check who it is because it could be an emergency. Everyone knows you’re on vacation so no one will really try to bother you unless it’s important.

You read Suguru’s name, and your breath gets caught up in your chest. Not in the way you’d like it to be. Nerves fill you up, but it’s not the kind you had before. You aren’t excited to talk to him, and you think about answering for a moment. You end up sending him to voicemail before silencing your phone and shutting your eyes again. You need to sleep for at least ten minutes.

Satoru orders some food, waking you up when it gets to the house. You eat together, and for a moment you feel like a family. A complete family where Satoru has been your husband for years instead of being gone the past five years. Until his wife finally gets home after being out all day. She doesn’t join you, simply greets the three of you before going upstairs. You tense up, which Satoru notices.

When you finish, you trust that Satoru will clean up, which makes you stand up and go to your room. You’re just going to take a quick shower, you’re sure Satoru can handle Ren for a bit. You’ll be out within ten minutes, Satoru will be more than okay. You hop into the shower, completely forgetting everything.

“Hey, is Ren–” Satoru barges into the room, not really caring to knock prior to entering. Satoru stops in his tracks when he hears the sound of water from the bathroom. You don’t hear him, the water suppressing any sounds. The door is cracked open and Satoru bites down his lip, quietly stepping near the door.

Oh, it’s so wrong for him to do it but he looks through the cracked door– He knows damn well that you’d gauge his eyes out but he’s willing to take that risk. All the blood rushes to his dick as he sees you naked for the first time in five years. Fuck, he’d do just about anything right now to have you under him.

He can’t keep staring, he came here to ask you a question about what Ren is allowed to do. His son is waiting for him. But Satoru keeps staring. Until you two make eye contact, and you roll your eyes at him. No wonder you felt someone watching you. You yell, “Close the fucking door, pervert!”

Satoru gets even redder than he is as he completely shuts the door. He waits a moment before walking back to his son and telling him, “Yeah, we can watch a scary movie, bud.”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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birdbaddie · 6 months ago

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I promise

yooooo

literally my first post ever so yippeeeee.

I got inspired by another post on here so I decided to make some glop of my own 😈. Reader's technique is basically just wings and healing, I will go in more depth in future oneshots.

ft. Satoru x f!Reader, mostly platonic!Megumi x f.Reader

Both Satoru and reader are around 20 and Megumi is around 8.

-discusses- violence, injuries, hurt+Comfort, poor baby Megumi needs a hug :( and Satoru being Satoru. Enjoy!

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

‘That worthless Tatsuya!’

Megumi kicked a stone as he stomped out of the school gates. Usually he wouldn’t care less when Tatsuya or any of his other goons picked on him but things just kept going wrong for him the past week and to top it off- that rat decided to start talking about you and Satoru and how weird it was that you were his guardians.

“Did you see that tall guy rolling around yesterday because he dropped his ice-cream?”

“Yeah my mom says to avoid them because they are dangerous to everyone”

Megumi didn’t understand when Tatsuya said dangerous. He understood the strength both of his guardians had but he couldn’t have meant that.

“No wonder Megumi is so strange, Do you think he’s as dangerous as his guardians?”

“Let’s not go near him, he can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

Megumi would’ve punched those bullies without hesitation but he made a promise with you last week after the 7th home call about his fighting.

“Megumi, you can’t keep doing this. You know that right?”

He remembers your soft voice and your equally soft hands cleaning the cuts on his hands. He kept quiet though because he knew if he spoke he might’ve either cried or became angry again and that would only make you worry more.

“Listen, I just don’t want you getting hurt. I know you have a good heart and have the right reasons but hitting others is never the right option no matter how right your reason is”

You quickly healed his cuts with your technique and he felt a rush of calmness envelop him, the way it always does when you have to use your technique on him.

“Promise me you will stop doing this, It makes me upset whenever I see even one scratch on you. I know we’re only your guardians but we love you and only want what's best for you, please Megumi….”

He looked at your face for the first time since coming back from school. You had tears ready to fall as you gently gripped his hands. He didn’t know if it was your technique or not but your emotions were always obvious, and with the way your eyebrows were as furrowed as they could be and you biting your lip to stop you from sobbing told him all he needed to know how you were feeling.

And it was all because of him.

“I promise”

Megumi sits on the sidewalk as he waits for you to pick him up.

It’s been 2 years since you and Gojo took him in and he hates to admit that he’s started getting attached to both of you. Attached enough now that if something happened to you or Gojo and it resulted in both him and Tsumiki getting separated from you two, he would give up on trying altogether.

Gojo was meant to pick him up today but with a surprise mission all the way in Osaka, it was your job. Tsumiki has been ill all week too so it was just him.

He sighs and rests his head on his hand as he pretends to draw pictures on the road with his feet. He contemplates releasing his divine dogs to play with or just to keep him company as he waits for you but he decides against it because he thinks you will be there soon anyway.

You were never late.

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It’s been twenty minutes, where were you?

The sky was beginning to turn orange and he was the only one there.

Did she forget?........ No she never does when it comes to him and Tsumiki.

What if she just left him on purpose?

It wouldn’t have been the first time it's happened. Not with her specifically, but what if she’s just realised she can leave him just like his parents?

Megumi begins to curl in on himself as these thoughts keep coming.

‘What if that fight I was in last week was the final straw?’

His breathing started to become heavy as he willed himself not to cry.

What if that fight last week just revealed other things you didn’t like about him? What if you hated the way he’s only been cold and despondent since you took him in? What if you hated the fact you not only had to look after him but his sister too? What if you wanted to get rid of him because he took the rest of yours and Gojo’s childhood? What if-

“Megumi?”

He didn’t even realise when there was a large shadow blocking him from the harsh rays of the setting sun. And he especially didn’t realise the familiar comforting hand smoothing his hair.

He looks up to see your enormous white wings shielding him from the sun and your concerned eyes as you try and figure out what happened by not so subtly checking him for any injuries.

You reach for his face and he flinches. Your concern only grows as you reach again and wipe his tears away. Another thing he didn’t realise that happened.

“Are you okay?”

Megumi just stares as he once again couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, worried he might say too much.

“Did something happen in school?”

“He can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

He felt soft feathers surround him as he heard loud sobs and wailing. The hand that was in his hair went to his back and started rubbing small circles. As heard quiet comforting words come from the woman hugging him.

‘Is that me crying?’

The woman tightens her hug as she feels tiny arms wrap around her.

Megumi mumbled something in your neck so you strained back to hear him.

“What did you say?”

“I'm sorry”

His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Sorry for what gumi?” At this point you were on the verge of calling Satoru to help you with this as you have never seen such a visceral reaction come from this eight year old.

“Please don’t leave us! I promise we’ll be good! I promise we’ll never do anything bad ever again! I promise!-”

“Megumi slow down! No ones leaving you, don’t you remember what I promised you last week?”

Megumi started to calm down as he remembered the rest of your conversation.

“I promise”

You sigh as you both get quiet, with you rubbing his now perfectly healed hands.

“Could you promise me something?”

You look into his eyes with surprise as he asks this. Megumi never asks for anything so it came as a shock, especially when it was as big as a promise.

You smile as you let go of his hands to put the baby wipes back away.

“I guess it’s only fair after I asked you to promise something”

Megumi watches your movements and waits for you to sit back down at the table beside him.

“Could you promise………that you’ll always be here for me and Tsumiki?”

Surprised at his bluntness, you didn’t realise how open Megumi would be tonight. But you just showed him a reassuring smile as you affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Well you’re in luck Gumi, that’s a promise I made to myself the day I met you”

The corners of his lips started to turn up into a smile before the front door burst open with the freak strutting in with the goofiest smile.

A scowl quickly made its way onto his face as he turned away from the idiot making his way over.

“Were you having a family bonding moment without me??? For shame!” satoru quickly threw the medicine for Tsumiki onto the table and decided to plop himself onto Megumi's chair, with Megumi still in it.

“Get off you overgrown lint-roller!” Megumi tries to hit him as Satoru faces you.

“So how was your day Sweets?” Satoru completely ignores the squirming Megumi trying to breathe.

And as you tried and failed to get Satoru off the complaining Megumi, Megumi realised although right now he’d rather be anywhere else- He also wishes to stay right here with them for as long as the universe would let him.

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By now, Megumi has fully calmed down as you helped him to his feet.

“Satoru will be home tonight and Tsumiki has been looking much better today, so why don’t we go and get some ice cream for later, hm?”

And as Megumi grabs your hand to start walking to the convenience store he realises he’ll never be alone as long as you, Satoru and Tsumiki were always with him. He doesn’t have to worry about any of you guys leaving him because you want him as much as he wants you. Screw what everyone else thinks, your little family works and no one could change that.

“Thank you, mom”

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