#best way to sleep I can bury my face in his hair

[monkie-man]

Hey MK you big spoon or little spoon with Red?

Big!! Big spoon all the way!! Red likes being held 😊😊!!

[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.

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[nanaslutt]

not so sneaky sex

ʚ synopsis: gojo and reader have sex while geto sleeps in the same bed

ʚ cont: fem reader, 4th year satosugu (19), the one bed troupe, sneaky not so sneaky fucking, dirty talk, exhibitionism?

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You held your breath as your eyes locked on Suguru's relaxed sleeping face, your eyes fluttering and your breath catching each time Satoru plunged his cock inside you. You were all so exhausted after your joint mission, that you insisted on stopping at a hotel for the night in a town none of you were familiar with. Of course, they only had one room with one bed. Luckily, the bed could accommodate two large men and yourself, so there was still a good bit of distance away from Suguru and yourself, but not nearly as much as there should've been when his best friend had his cock inside you.

Satoru held the underside of your knee up for better access to your cunt, making the blanket tent with your leg to accommodate the movement. His hand was firmly placed over your mouth to keep any of your whines and whimpers at bay, but even then it was hard to keep quiet when the tip of his cock was rubbing your g-spot raw. "you feel so good," Satoru whispered against the shell of your ear, his tongue finding your earlobe to bring to his lips before he bit down on it hard enough to make you wince.

"Did you like that? You just got so tight," Satoru laughed breathlessly, his cock throbbing with each thrust as he slowly fucked it in and out of you. "Mmmm," You tried to respond, but he refused to move his hand from your mouth as he kept fucking you. "Shhh… you don't have to answer, I already know you liked it," Satoru responded cockily, moving his lips down to your neck where he sucked his soft lips against your skin.

You tilted your head back against him, allowing him more access as his thrusts got rougher, the bed starting to shake with his movements—Suguru shaking with it. You watched Suguru's beautiful hair shake and fall off his shoulder onto his solid chest that was bare from the lack of clothes he had on. It turns out that sharing a bed with two other people can get pretty hot.

You gripped his wrist harshly at the change of pace, your whimpers slipping past the cover of his hand, seeming so loud in the otherwise silent motel room. "Rub your clit for me baby, my hands are a bit full," Satoru instructed against your neck, his breaths coming quicker as your cunt worked hard to milk him for all he was worth. "Hurry," He whispered when you didn't immediately respond. "Suguru isn't exactly the heaviest sleeper and-" He cut himself off with a loud groan when you reached down and started rubbing your clit in fast circles, your pussy squeezing him tighter than before.

"That's it pretty, make yourself cum all over my cock while you look at Suguru." He laughed through a groan as his pace picked up again. It was a miracle Suguru wasn't awake already. If not for the bed shaking then the loud squelching from where the two of you were connected or the not-so-subtle sounds that were slipping from your lips and Satoru's throat. Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, a whine vibrating against your skin just as you felt his pace get sloppy.

"Are you close?" He whispered, clearly on the verge of falling off himself. "Please tell me your close baby, I don't wanna cum without you but fuck," He groaned, biting into your shoulder and making you release a too-loud moan before he released you again, "You're so wet, it feels so good." You nodded quickly, trying to respond from behind his hand but the sound was muffled.

"Yeah? You gonna cum?" Gojo asked, his voice needy and strained with the effort it took not to groan the way he wanted. You nodded in response, your fingers rubbing quickly over your clit, making that sensation of your orgasm wind itself tighter and tighter. "Fuck, oh fuck fuck-" Gojo groaned, his cock now spearing into your cunt with no regard for the man sleeping just in front of you.

Moans were being torn from your throat as you were pushed over the edge by the force of his thrusting. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you let your orgasm flood through your body, your leg shaking and trembling in Satoru's hold while he held it up as he continued to fuck you through your high. "I'm cumming, take my cum p-pretty," Gojo whined, biting your neck as he stilled against your ass, his cock throbbing inside you as he fucked you full of his cum.

You could feel his abs clench and twitch behind you as he rolled his hips in a circle against your ass, his cock massaging your oversensitive walls as he let your cunt milk him dry. His body finally went slack against yours just as he placed your leg back down, keeping himself buried inside you. Your eyes were still shut as you caught your breath, your head leaned back against him.

The hand that was covering your mouth gripped your chin and turned you to face him as he met your lips with his own in a lazy, slow kiss while the two of you basked in the aftershocks, his cock still twitching inside you.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you jolt out of Satoru's hold, your head snapping back to the man in front of you. Satoru didn't seem alarmed in the slightest, he just laughed as he met Suguru's eyes from behind your body. "Are the two of you going to let me get some rest now, or were you planning to invite me for round two?"

[semiis]

their cuddle positions w/haikyuu

pairing: various x reader

genre: headcanons ; fluff

warning(s): none

a/n: this is an old post i uploaded on my hq blog from 2020. this was one of my favorites so I thought it was be nice to post it again. back then, i went with the ones i wrote for so i'm keeping it just the way it is. i’m really sorry if your favorite isn’t there. i hope you guys like them !!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

atsumu, ushijima, daichi ⥼ the sweetheart cradle. i personally think this would be his go to cuddling position. his arm wrapped around you, holding you close while he lays on his back, your head buried deep into his chest while you inhale the scent of his cologne. most definitely pats or strokes your head as a sign of comfort or whispers nothing but comforting words to you. 

suna, kageyama, tsukishima ⥼ the leg hug. i don’t know why, but this is definitely you guy’s go to. the two of you would be chilling on either one’s bed, sleeping, on the phone, playing games etc. while one of your legs are entangled together. it’s much more relaxing to him and you both get the physical contact you were craving from each other. 

oikawa, sugawara, kita, asahi ⥼ the honeymoon hug. oikawa loves the physical affection between you two and whenever he’s feeling touch starved this is his go to. the both of you are entwined together, holding the other tight, arms wrapped around each other - almost as if refusing to let go. his chin (or yours) is delicately propped up on top of yours. he can feel your breath against the crook of his neck and he adores it. sometimes find him or yourself peppering soft kisses on the other. 

bokuto, lev, yamaguchi ⥼ the spoon. he loves cuddling, especially when it’s with you. he mostly loves cuddling after a long day a practice when he’s beat and worn out.  he lives for having his arms securely around your torso while your back is pressed up against his chest. you would sometimes find his hands caressing your sides or arms and he’d be eager to leave the most tender kisses against the back of your neck. 

hinata, osamu, noya, tanaka ⥼ the butt pillow. you or him laying on your stomach while the other has their head propped up on your butt. also an easy way to tease his s/o. he loves it. the “best pillow in the room” and the only one you guys want to lay your head against. it’s common if he strokes/caresses your leg, might even draw an invisible heart on it. 

tendou, kuroo, iwaizumi, semi ⥼ the cradle. he enjoys when you're laying on top of him, legs on either side of his body, cradling him while his arms hold you firm against his chest. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat and almost find yourself falling asleep to the soothing, rhythmic sound. 

kenma, sakusa, akaashi ⥼ the lap pillow. he’s fond of laying his head in your lap and often finds himself doing it every time he comes over to your place and vice versa. play with his hair, stroke his cheek with your finger, boop his nose, bend over to place kisses on his face - all of them would make him melt. loves peering up at your face from that angle and admires just how attractive you are. 

© semiis 2024 ; do not translate, repost, modify, or copy my work.

[miupow]

I need a fic where pregnant reader feels so gross and unattractive but she doesn’t realize Soobin is so down bad for pregnant her. Like he goes out of his way to show her just how turned on he is but nothing works, until one day he presses himself against her and it finally clicks for her and she gets the nastiest wetted sex of her life like he’s trying to get her pregnant again like ugh

⧼ 🍼 ⧽ ── GROWING PAINS 。

soobin needs you to know just how much he loves your new body。

╭♡ pairing 。〃choi soobin x fem!reader ! genre 。〃pure smut , fluff ! warning 。〃minors do not interact! pregnant!reader , husband!soobin , pregnancy kink , lactation kink , breeding kink , dirty talk , praise kink , sub top!soobin , handjob (m.rec) , oral (f. rec) , mentions of unprotected sex

a/n 。〃not proofread ! my first time writing pregnant!reader, so let me know if it sucks! also take a shot every time i use the word “nipple” lol

♡ ⸝⸝ ꒰ 1.7k ꒱ ‧ ꒰ m.list ꒱ ‧ ꒰ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ꒱

you had found a lot of solace in baking as of recent— it was one of the few things you could still do this far along in your pregnancy, big belly and aching joints always getting in the way of everything else. you just couldn’t stand the thought of laying around all day, wasting all of your maternity leave doing nothing except waiting for your husband to come home from work. you had to make yourself useful somehow.

you hear the front door open just as you slide your pie into the oven, the soft jingling of keys reaching your ears as your husband drops them in the trinket dish you keep in the hallway. before you can turn to greet him strong arms wrap themselves around your protruding belly, soobin’s tall frame hunched over to bury his face in your neck, plant sweet kisses to your skin.

“i’m home, bunny,” he mumbles against your collarbone, his trail of kisses slowly leading down your shoulder. “how are my perfect girls doing?”

“hi honey, you’re home early,” you giggle, turning your head to give him a kiss; he hums against your lips, big hands rubbing your belly through the loose dress you wore. he was always extra touchy after getting home from work, but this was odd even for him. he must have had a bad day, you thought. “‘m all sore ‘n tired; the twins woke me up from my nap and i couldn’t go back to sleep so i decided to make dessert early so it’ll be cooled down by tonight.”

“mm, you’re so good to me. i’m sorry the babies are bothering you, honey,” soobin replied, pressing his body flush against yours. “the boss let me go early; i finished up that project he wanted done before the deadline, he said i needed to go home and help out my wife. go rest and i’ll take care of you, i’ve been thinking about you all day, baby….”

“oh, sweetie… well, i wouldn’t mind a hand in cleaning up the kitchen—“ you start, but stop dead in your tracks— you can feel soobin’s cock against the swell of your ass, thick and heavy through his slacks. he rocks his hips up against you gently, an almost inaudible whimper falling from the bunny lips he buried in your hair.

“binnie,” you whimper, arousal pooling in your belly despite your shock, “you’re hard.”

“‘m sorry, bunny,” he groans into your ear, deep and dripping with desire. it knocks the wind out of your lungs, makes you gasp against his lips when he leans in for another, filthier kiss. “you’re just so sexy, i’ve been needing you so bad… thinking about your beautiful body all day while trying to get my work done..”

you frown at the words ‘beautiful body’, squirming in your husband’s grip. he notices in an instant, your sweet husband always so perceptive to how you were feeling; whining and pouting those plump bunny lips you adored. “i don’t understand why you’re so self conscious… god, you’re so perfect— this is the best you’ve ever looked, you look so beautiful carrying my children, baby. it makes me so fucking crazy, you have no idea…”

“really..?” you turn to look at him, and his eyes lock with yours— the raw hunger you find in his gaze is unlike anything you had ever seen before from your sweet, shy husband.

his hands caressed your tummy and hips, slid up your sides to cup your swollen, sensitive tits, bare underneath your dress. the gentlest squeeze was enough to get you to gasp and moan, your puffy nipples threatening to leak, soobin drinking up your reactions like he wishes to drink your milk. “let me show you how much i love your body, please…”

⸝⸝

“binnie, oh my god, slow down! you’re gonna make me cum again!” you wail, your hands shaking as they tug at the hem of your little dress. you couldn’t see your husband over the swell of your belly, but you could feel his lips and tongue hot and heavy against your pussy, sliding up between your pussy lips to swirl around your clit. you were still recovering from the last orgasm he slurped out of you, your pussy drunk husband refusing to let up his onslaught of pleasure even as you cried, begged, and tugged at his hair— far too soon was that dizzying pleasure building back up in your tummy, your thighs shaking in soobin’s grip as he pushed you further and further to the edge.

“fuck yes, do it, cum for me!” soobin moans with his mouth full, tongue dipping deep into your hole, big hands tightening their grip and tugging you impossibly closer. “cum on my face, baby, please! make a mess—!”

his desperation does you in; you cum again with a sharp cry, your overstimulated little pussy pulsating uncontrollably as soobin eagerly laps up every drop of your release. you soak your thighs, your dress, and the bed underneath you— and, as soobin presses a kiss to your clit and pulls away from your slippery pussy to shoot you a silly, satisfied smile, you can see that you’ve soaked the bottom half of his face as well. it drips from his chin as he crawls up over you, his eyes slowly trailing from your flushed face down to your quivering tits.

and just as he takes in the sight of your heaving chest, his eyes widen and his mouth drops agape. confused, you follow his gaze… and take in the sight of two identical wet patches seeping through your white dress, your puffy nipples visible and budding noticeably through the fabric.

you had leaked milk in the midst of your climax.

“oh god,” you whine shamefully, raising your hands to attempt to hide the mess. “i’m so sorry, don’t look—“

soobin grabs your wrists in a rush before you could cover yourself, big brown eyes still glued to your tits. “fuck, bunny..” he marvels, licking his lips, “did i make you do that? that’s so sexy, holy shit—“

“s-sexy?” you stammer, shocked at his reaction. soobin nods.

“can i touch?” he asks in almost a whisper, eyes finally leaving your chest to blink up at you wantonly “please let me touch you, please..”

a hesitant “okay…” was all that he needed, instantly letting go of your wrists to tug down the top of your dress and take large handfuls of your breasts. more milk leaks out onto his fingers from the rough handling, making him groan deep in his chest as he marvels at the sight of the pearly white droplets cascading down the swell of your tits. your spent, sensitive pussy throbs at the sound, your husband sounding so unbelievably ruined and needy.

“so pretty…” soobin mumbles, wet fingertips beginning to pinch and tweak at your embarrassingly hard nipples. “my wife’s so pretty with my babies in her belly. gonna be such a good mommy… god bunny, i want to keep you pregnant forever, all full of me, claimed by me, so everyone knows you’re mine—!”

his fingers tighten harshly around your nipples, the pressure causing your milk to squirt out obscenely; soobin watches in awe, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he pants like a dog, kneads your sensitive swollen tits rougher and rougher. you fist the bedsheets and writhe under his touch, your high-pitched, broken gasps and moans reverberating off the walls of your shared bedroom— briefly you have half the mind to pray that your neighbors aren’t home.

soobin dips his head to nose along the contours of your breast, his hot breath tickling your skin; those spit-slick bunny lips just barely ghost your bud, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine as his tongue sneaks out to lap the lingering milk off of your skin.

he looks up at you with watery eyes, smirk plastered on his lips at your pathetic whimper. “can i.. can i have a taste?” he asks quietly, deep voice octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it. “let me taste you…please, baby, i can’t take it anymore…”

you nod desperately, throwing your head back against the pillows, and soobin shoots you a deadly smirk before sealing his lips around your nipple.

he lets out a deep moan as his mouth fills with milk, sucking with a voracious hunger; you cry out in pleasure, letting go of the sheets to grab desperately at his dark hair. you tug mindlessly at the strands as his suction deepens, soobin letting out the prettiest choked whimper that goes straight to your quickly wetting pussy.

he sucks until your tit runs dry, pulling off of your irritated bud with an obscene string of saliva— wordlessly he moves on to your other neglected nipple, his fingers coming back up to play with the one he released. the combined sensations are almost too much for you, your shaking legs wrapping tight around soobin’s trim waist; you can feel the curve of his rock hard cock grind against your dripping cunt, drenching the thin fabric of his boxers and aiding in the delicious slide of his hot fat shaft against your slit. your pussy suddenly feels so painfully empty, your hips bucking in desperation as soobin empties your other breast of milk. “you feel what you do to me?” he mumbles against your flesh, hips picking up speed, “feel how hard you make me?”

the hand you had in soobin’s hair trails down his chest to his straining cock, rubbing his twitching shaft through his boxers; soobin cries out around your nipple, his hips stuttering, and you can’t help but giggle as you dip your hand below his waistband.

the tip of his cock throbs an angry red, thick fat shaft slapping wetly against his taut belly. “all this for me?” you purr, gathering the precum dripping from his cockhead to slick up your hand; it only takes a few slow pumps of his cock to get soobin begging, your poor husband wound up and aching for release.

“please, please baby, let me fuck you— i gotta fuck you, i’m so hard it hurts,” he whimpers, releasing your tit with a wet pop, “gotta fill you up, put more babies in you… gonna be such a happy family..”

what kind of wife would you be to say no?

[lunebulous]

Playing with your body in non-sexual ways

A.N: This is my first time writing fanfiction. Any feedback is very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! I have no idea what tags to put here so, just trust me bro. cw: thigh worshipping (zayne), plus-size reader (rafayel).

Xavier

There wouldn’t be a lot of occasions where his caresses would be in a non sexual way - that's why he's known to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. But don't get me wrong, being sexual does not equal condescending or rough. Not for him. - well, sometimes. - It's just that if he focuses too long on your face when you’re sleeping soundly, or when you're admiring the lantern lights at another festival, he gets this sensation that he should own you once more, just to be sure you're his. 

So when he kisses, it's only to leave you wanting more of him.  So when he caresses your body, it's only to let himself know he's the one making your skin get goosebumps.  So when he embraces all of you in a tight hug, it’s only to feel like you’re finally real this time.  And when all of these inevitably turn into that feeling of ownership again, he frowns internally. Initially, he wishes that he was different and that he wouldn’t feel like this everytime he stops to think about you; But it's just so much love that it overflows from his heart, dripping right into the lowest part of his torso. When he realizes, he’s slowly kissing you against the wall again. He can’t help it, he's naturally drawn to you like a magnet. And that feeling gives place to a necessity, a craving that hurts so deliciously he gives up on being different. So when you gasp for air and tug at his hair to breathe a little, he just can’t understand why. Or how can you do this to him. He wants more. And more. And more. He needs it so bad he can’t help but pin your hands to the wall so he can kiss you longer, raveling in the way you squirm under him. After all, just because he can't help it, doesn't mean he's not enjoying every second of the fruits of his own possessiveness.

So he caresses you all the time - the problem is that it often turns into a primal need to own and to explore each cute face - each little sound - you make for him. He feels like a victim to his own desires. Poooor Xavier… (irony included).

Rafayel

Rafayel is completely enamoured by your hands, making sure to always kiss them whenever he gets the chance. When he doesn’t, he’s more than expected to caress them while you wait for food in a nice restaurant, or when you’re walking on the shore with him. He is the king of intertwining your hands all the time - never letting go even if for brief moments. He says his bodyguard should be aware of where he is at all times, and when you replied that having one of your hands busy would actually get in the way if danger arrives, he puffed his chest, saying something along the lines of “i’m lucky I have the best bodyguard that can fight 10 men with only one hand then!”. You sighed, giggling because of him. “You’re not actually expecting me to fight with 10 men without letting go of your hand, right?” “Well, I'm pretty sure that was on your job description when I hired you.”  “No it wasn’t.” “Now it is.”  --- He also kisses and grabs your stomach and love handles all the time, especially when lying down, like now. There were some times when it made you feel a little bit insecure, but he always buried his face on it with a big smile, hugging your waist. When you voiced your insecurity to him for the first time, he simply said: “Well, I never saw a painting of any muse that didn’t have enough body for me to drown in it. - he stares up at you intently, before looking at your stomach again. - In fact, it is the only scenario where drowning would be possible for me. - Now he’s getting a hold of your love handles. - And actually, i'd love it. Thank you, my muse!” Right before nuzzling his face on your belly again, giggling. You blush furiously, caressing his purple locks, but he’s too busy to see it.

Zayne

Zayne would always need a bit of a push to touch you like he wants to - and you know that. He’s slowly coming out of his shell and being more confident when it comes to being intimate with you, getting over his irrational fear of hurting you again. The ‘push’ he got today was seeing you come home after brunch with your friends, wearing a dark and muted red lipstick, blended on your lips so perfectly it reminded him of a vintage doll. He made a note to himself to compliment you later when you had your attention on him - because you were busy taking off your shoes, your coat and yapping about some BIG gossip you just found out. He listens attentively, putting two and two together with you as you happily stride towards him. 

You sit beside him on the couch and hug his arm, leaning on his shoulder. He places his hand between your thighs, trying not to pay too much attention to it - a task quite hard for him, as you were wearing light brown stockings that made your oh-so-loved thighs look even more bite-deserving; But he tries to shake the thought away. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re well-invested in the documentary he is watching, but the position is getting quite uncomfortable now, so you crawl between his legs and rest your back against his chest, both of you laying down on the chaise part of the couch. First he stares at you, finding adorable how you don’t hesitate before making yourself comfortable with him. He lays a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, making you snuggle against him even more, getting it just right like two puzzle pieces. And he swears to himself he’s a good man. He is not going to turn this into something more just because your ass grinded against him innocently, no, no. Breathe, you touch-starved man! 

But the same man now is fighting for his life to NOT look at your thighs, the stockings making them look so shiny for him, he couldn't help himself but imagine the shadows his fingers pressing onto your skin would look like. He imagined you in not-so-innocent lightings more than he’d ever admit, and as his thoughts stray away, he doesn’t notice how he’s been caressing your chest and collarbones for some time now, lightly using his fingertips to circle around your skin, as if memorizing each part of it. Then he's slowly directing his way to your neck, with four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, going up and down with featherly touches as his eyes are glued to your legs, completely blank, admiring each curve going from the arch of your feet to your calves, and then to your thighs, stopping at the start of your tight skirt. Now he’s gripping your neck - just lightly pressing on it, your airflow is completely free. (for now). You can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his mind, lying to yourself that feeling his firm hand around your neck is not making you want to rub your legs together, but you're already doing it a bit, discreetly, not knowing you’re being very thoroughly watched. As he’s breathing deeper to try to not get excited, you feel his hand slowly letting go of your neck and you whine inwardly at it. But then his hands hesitantly go higher, his slender fingers sliding across your chin to play with your lips as he remembered to compliment you. He opens his mouth to do it, but being so lost in thought he just stops. Staring at your legs with an empty gaze, completely out of it. God, they’d look so good around his cock. Fuck.  You look up, a bit surprised with his actions, slowly tilting your head to the side, looking at him. - the movement makes him get out of his trance, suddenly confused as to how his fingers got to your lips - but as if reading his mind, you part them, waiting. And then he gets it. The key to making himself touch you like he wants to is just to - not think. It makes sense, it's a part of him he never let himself explore. He then lets himself do what he wants, sliding his middle and index finger on your tongue, experimenting. As you close your lips around them, looking at him so puppy-eyed, he can't help but smirk as realizing he could get used to this very quickly. You start feeling him growing against your ass now.

He presses down on your tongue, smiling. “You look so beautiful wearing this color, love.”

So, Zayne doesn’t play with any part of your body - because as soon as he does it, he gets a problem under his trousers. And now that he knows how to let go of control, - you got one too.

Sylus

Sylus wouldn’t be the type of man to touch you without being full-on intentional with it. The same amount of hate he has towards ‘quickies’, he has for the idea of touching your most sensitive parts without being completely devoted to them. So when playing with you, it is usually filled with admiration and love, silently appreciating your presence by his side. That’s why you often find him mindlessly braiding your hair as you lay your head on his lap to watch a movie, or how he gently runs his fingernails - once claws - on your calf under the table when he’s discussing his next moves with the twins. Yeah, sometimes his hands wander a little bit higher, a little bit firmer, but always looking at you to watch your reaction; as if to just - test the waters, tease you to see your ears turn red.. or warm you up for what’s coming next.

[tender-rosiey]

pretty babies – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: idk about yall but I love me some drunk gojo

satoru never drinks, but when he does, ohoho, you’re in for quite the ride.

today was one of the days when he was less of a chaotic handful but more of an emotional mess who apparently can’t even remember his own wife. you sip on your drink, ignoring the drunk satoru leaning on the bar.

he slurs his words as he tries to flirt, “you’re sooo pretty, y’know that?”

you nod with a hum and give him no further reaction. in situations like these, you figured out that letting him go all out until he is tired and sleepy is the best solution. it really is like treating a baby.

thankfully, after many years of being in the presence of one gojo satoru, you’ve built up some patience.

he rests his head on the counter and he looks up at you, eyes wide and in awe, “I bet,” he hiccups and it is followed by a silly little giggle, “we’d make superrrr cute babies! like all round and chubby and we’d much on their cheeks like…mochi! yes! mochi…now I am hungry.”

a smirk makes an appearance on your face as you glance at satoru who is blabbering about building a family with you and spoiling you rotten.

a little teasing won’t harm anyone. so you quip, “you know,” and his attention is already on you, “you already gave me three super cute babies.”

his mouth is wide open in disbelief as he sits up, “no way!”

“yup! and they’re waiting at home for us.”

his eyes crinkle because of his wide grin, “really?!” he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, “you got photos?! please tell me that you do!” and he switches to a pout so quickly, it gives you whiplash.

however, you gladly pull out your phone and show him the multitude of photos you have.

ones ranging from him being in a crib to help the youngest one sleep to ones with two of the three kids ganging up on him and him desperately calling for your help. satoru goes through every single photo, head on your shoulder and cheek squished.

he is silent throughout it all and when he is done, he looks up at you, “so that means that you’re my wife?”

you nod and your fingers, naturally, find their place on his head. he feels a little shiver of satisfaction before he smiles, one lovesick and silly smile, “I really hit the jackpot.”

you laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I guess you did.”

so you take him back home where the kids are already asleep. satoru crashes on the bed right away, steady breaths filling the room. slowly, you take your place beside him and you feel his arms wrap around you.

he pulls you closer and buries his face in your hair. and you close your eyes, letting yourself be lulled to the land of dreams.

when you do wake up, you’re greeted by satoru literally on top of you and deep in sleep. you would like to let him sleep more especially since he looks so comfortable, but you’re going to suffocate at this rate. so you pat his back lightly, “satoru, honey, wake up.”

he groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling something along the lines of ‘five more minutes’.

not budging? then fine, you decide. you take as deep of a breath as you can then call for your kids, “who will help mama?!”

it’s quiet and you can feel satoru smirking against your skin. it looks like he won, but then a bunch of footsteps are heard and it’s your turn to smirk.

your husband lifts his head to glare at you—of course, not without sporting one of his famous pouts.

the door is then slammed open and your eldest son is there, “WHO DARES HURT OUR MAMA?!”

he gasps, very dramatically like a certain someone, and points at his dad, “PAPA?! you’re suffocating mama!”

“again?!” your daughter pops up from behind her brother, staring at her dad in disbelief.

they both stand beside your bed glaring at him and he glares back, the three of them forgetting why you called for your kids in the first place. so you do them a favor and remind them, “satoru…I AM GOING TO DIE LIKE THIS!”

satoru is pulled  back by his shirt and your kids take turns in—trying—to beat him up. you get up, greedily breathing air till you’re satisfied. you ignore the screams of your husband until you’re done with your morning routine.

luckily enough, when you got out of the bathroom, you found no one except your husband.

laying on the ground.

presumably dead.

with a bunch of drawings on his face and his hair contained with multiple hair bands.

you snap a picture of him very quickly then you sit on the ground next to his corpse. you poke his butt and he groans, making you giggle, “what happened to the strongest sorcerer?”

he turns towards you with a small frown, “his pretty wife didn’t kiss him good morning so he had no energy to fight,” his head snaps towards the two tiny figures giggling behind the door, “these monsters.”

they squeal and run away once again before he catches them.

you gently take the hair bands off, “you’re lucky that our youngest devil is still asleep,” you then smooth down his hair and pat his head, “I love the smiley faces on your cheeks.”

he whines and rests his head on your shoulder, “stop bullying me!”

you hum and stroke his hair, “you know, you did something pretty cute yesterday.”

“I am always cute; what’re you talking about?”

“you flirted with me, your wife, and said we would make ‘super cute!’ babies,” you reveal and satoru seems unbothered. in fact, he seems proud and very happy with himself so you continue, “so I had to remind you of our three little devils and then I showed you pictures.”

he stands up, posing all confidently, “what can I say? I excel at everything even being cute—“

“then you cried like a little baby when I showed you my picture post labor and kept apologizing.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @jisbizarre @kunikida-simp @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird's Wings - Part 30

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny’s first thought when he woke up in the morning was how rested he was.

It was almost shocking.

He’d been so exhausted for for the past few weeks that to feel rested was a relief that almost made him cry.

Danny’s second thought was about his wings, which he still seemed to have. That was a pretty quick revelation caused by the fact that he was asleep on his stomach. The wings pulled at the sheets as he stretched lazily. At least they hurt less than yesterday at least. He was careful as he sat up, a cumbersome affair with the wings. It basically resulted in Danny getting his legs off the side of the large bed and simply standing up backwards, but at least it did result in him standing.

Grateful for Alfred’s thoroughness, Danny brushed his teeth before taking an awkward shower. He kept to the shower wand only and tried to keep as much water off his wings as possible. Despite the care, he still felt (and looked) like a rain ruffled bird after he had dressed in the modified sweater and a pair of his normal pants. He did what he could to at least tame his hair, swallowed his morning medication, and left the sanctuary of his borrowed room.

“Master Danny, impeccable timing,” Alfred said when Danny came across him in what Danny thought was the foyer. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee or tea to start your day?”

“Coffee would be great, if it’s not any trouble,” Danny said with a bashful smile. He still wasn’t quite sure how to handle Alfred’s uncanny ability to show up and offer his service.

“A standard request of coffee is hardly trouble,” Alfred said in such a way that Danny felt bad for trying to be polite.

He didn’t think that his Midwest manners were going to get him very far in this house. Manor.

Still trying to puzzle out how his life got him into things like this, Danny followed Alfred to the kitchen. Bruce was already there, looking still half a sleep as he sipped on his own mug of coffee. For the moment, the table was children free.

“Cream or sugar?” Alfred ask as he headed towards the counter.

“Cream please,” Danny said. He turned to Bruce and gave a little smile. “Morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bruce said, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. (Danny did his best to fight the blush that the tone caused.) “Would you like some help drying off your wings?”

So much for not blushing. “Ah, yeah. That would be really nice. I tried to do what I could, but…”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Completely understandable. It’s a very awkward angle to try and manage.” He set down his mug and stood. “Fortunately for you, Damian is quite the animal buff and I was sent some very extensive articles on caring for wings.”

“Oh gods,” Danny said. The words were muffled by the way he buried his burning face into his hands.

“Damian simply wants the best for you,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure, but still,” Danny said. He rubbed at his face as he let himself lean his head back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not a pet.”

Danny saw Bruce come over out the corner of his eye, towel in hand, and rolled his head a little to glance at him. He thought it was progress that he didn’t flinch when Bruce reached out, clearly telegraphing his motion, to run a hand over Danny’s wing.

“No one thinks that you’re a pet, Danny,” Bruce said with so much sincerity in his eyes that Danny had to look away. “Knowing how to take care of your wings is the same as making sure that Damian has easy access to vegetarian meals or that the computers at the manor have a dyslexic friendly font installed for Dick or that Barbara can easily get around in her wheelchair. Your wings, even if only sometimes, are part of you. And for better or worse, my family and I seem rather intent to see you well.”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Bruce. “Part of it may be that I’m not exactly used to that sort of attention. I mean, Lucius tries to make me take care of myself, as well as some coworkers, but in Gotham that sort of feels more like new rogue prevention,” Danny joked.

Luckily Bruce chuckled at that. “I am sorry that we’re so overwhelming.”

“No, don’t be. It’s… excuse the bird analogy, but it’s just a very full nest, isn’t it? It feels cozy. It’s just something different to try and wrap my head around,” Danny explained. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t still have issues, as much as it’s something that I’ve worked really hard on personally and in therapy, dying at fourteen leaves a person with some issues.”

Not to mention being a super hero, staying half dead, dying a second time, and all of the other things that went on during his high school years.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Bruce said after a pause. His voice was soft and sad.

“Bruce—”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “When Jason was fifteen, we thought he had died. He ended up out of reach and with extensive brain trauma and memory loss. I know how much it effected him. I’m sorry you had to go through something at that age also.”

Danny squeezed one of Bruce’s hands where it was clasped tightly around a towel. “He’s here now. He’s alive and he seems happy. He has a boyfriend and everything. I’m not saying it doesn’t still pull at him, but it hasn’t dragged him to the bottom. At least not anymore.”

Bruce smile was a somber, soft thing. “Thank you. And you’re here too.”

Danny blinked at that. Bruce wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know almost any of the story, but he wasn’t wrong. Wings and all, Danny was still alive. He smiled softly back. “Yeah, I am.”

[ofbatsandballads]

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

[aestas---estas]

With all that we've been through, it's still you

MDNI 18+ | Read on AO3 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~3,1k words | fem!reader, plus-sized/curvy reader (few mentions), light angst, fluff, emotional sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PiV sex (wrap it in real life folks), creampie | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me

The first day after Simon gets back from deployment is always the best and worst 24 hours of your life.

He's home, he's alive, he's safe — and that makes your heart soar, especially after missions where he has to go dark for weeks at a time.

But it's also like living with a ghost. He exiles himself to the guest room, sleeps on the ugly pull-out couch the two of you bought specifically because it was easy on his back.

The only reasons you even know he's home are the boots by the door and the jacket hung on the hook. He doesn't talk to you, moves as quiet as a mouse, only leaves his self-imposed enclosure when he knows you're busy elsewhere in the house.

He can't bear the thought of touching you with bloodstained hands. Even when his skin is squeaky clean after several washes before even leaving for your shared home, the haunting images in his mind remind him of what he does during his time away. So he turns the shower as hot as it'll go and scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until his skin is red and raw to the touch. And even then he still waits, bides his time, until he can close his eyes and imagine you without your pretty face morphing into the bloodied and dying visages of comrades and enemies alike.

But just like clockwork, after 24 hours and 3 showers, Simon finds you and huddles up close. In the kitchen, with his arms wrapped around your middle as he crowds you against the counter, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. In the living room, laying himself down next to you with his head on your plush thighs, guiding the hand you're not using to scroll on your phone to card through his hair and scratch his scalp. In the bath, kneeling next to the tub as he begs with his eyes to help you wash your hair or just holding your hand and rubbing circles into your skin; reminding himself that you're alive, that you're safe, that you're not afraid of him despite the various atrocities he's committed.

Your favourite, however, are times like tonight, when it's the middle of the night and you wake from the mattress dipping behind you as Simon climbs in under the covers. He slides an arm around your middle, pulling you close, pressing his chest to your back until there isn't a sliver of air separating your bodies.

“Missed you, dove,” Simon murmurs, his lips hot on the back of your neck. His soft kisses make goosebumps rise on your exposed arms, and a barely suppressed shiver runs down your spine when he catches your earlobe for a quick, gentle nibble.

“Missed you too, Si,” you sigh out blissfully, body already relaxed and soft from his ministrations, anticipating the pleasure to come.

“Want you,” he says in between hot, open mouthed kisses. His hand has slid up under your sleep shirt, resting warm and heavy with intent on your stomach — waiting for permission before venturing further.

“You have me,” you promise, pressing yourself impossibly closer to his chest, one leg hooking over his.

You tilt your head, exposing more of your throat to Simon, a soft moan slipping from your lips when his big palm reaches up and grabs at a breast. It's gentle, a massage almost, and it makes your eyes flutter shut.

“My sweet girl.” Simon's voice is like liquid silk to your ears, low and sensual and full of unadulterated lust. You gasp when his rough fingers finally pay attention to your nipple; rolling and tugging at it until it's pebbled and sensitive.

You push your hips back against his, feeling the evidence of his arousal press against your ass. A low moan rumbles through Simon's chest as you move against him, his free hand pushing your shirt out of the way, up over the swell of your breasts, before rolling you to your back swiftly.

He's on top of you within a second, fitting himself in the cradle of your thighs, the vast expanse of his chest covering yours. His big paws frame your face and then you're kissing. It's soft and gentle, all lips and tongue; slow and reverent but no less passionate. 

Simon's heavy on top of you, almost crushingly so. But if this is the way you go, unable to breathe with your lips glued to the man you love, then so be it. He's your favourite weighted blanket and you'd give anything to just stay like this forever.

Your fingers wander over his naked back, tracing and mapping the scars and marks littering his flesh; both old and new. When morning comes, you'll pepper them with kisses in the soft glow of the sun, but for now you're both satisfied with just touching and feeling each other.

“I love you,” Simon whispers, and you make a reluctant noise in your throat when he pulls his lips away from yours to say it. But your complaint dies the moment his mouth trails hot down your throat, sucking and kissing and licking at your skin all the way down to your chest.

You can feel his lips move as he mutters something against your sternum — more to himself than to you — but his voice is muffled, face pressed in between your full tits making the sound swallowed and unintelligible.

With one hand still running up and down the expanse of his back, you push your other one up and into his hair, petting and scratching until Simon preens under your touch. He stays there for a moment, listening to your heartbeat under his ear; reminding himself yet again that you’re alive, that you’re safe, that you love him.

You don’t get impatient with him, never. You always let him take everything at his own pace, and tonight is no different. He whispers muffled apologies against your skin, words dripping with feelings of both remorse and conviction. He does what he does because he needs to — someone always needs to. Like taking out the trash of the world, it’s not pleasant, but it is necessary. And the fact that he’s good at his job only means he gets to come back to your side. You, with your soft body and cradling arms and loving words.

Simon mouths his way to your already pert nipple, softly kissing around it before engulfing the sensitive nub, flicking it with his tongue, letting his teeth just barely make contact. Your breath hitches in your chest and a silent moan escapes your lips. And then he switches sides, keeping the pleasure on your abandoned breast with his fingers as he rolls and tugs at your nipple, all while licking and sucking on the other.

“Simon,” you hum in satisfaction, inadvertently spurring him on. His chest rumbles, something low and hungry that vibrates through him to you. His hands get rougher, calloused fingers digging into your flesh as he kisses his way down your chest until your thighs frame his shoulders.

He doesn’t ask, not verbally, but his eyes meet yours and you can see the need, the hunger, the desperation, in them clear as day. So you smile and give him a nod, lovingly stroking his cheek before settling your hand back in his hair — not pushing or pulling, just resting there, like an unspoken anchor to keep both of you connected in the moment.

Simon kisses your cunt over your underwear, once, twice, three times, before pulling the fabric to the side to get his tongue on you.

He doesn’t eat like a man starved, despite the lust in his eyes. No, he takes his time; practically making out with your pussy, slowly and steadily, almost romantically if it weren’t for the downright pornographic noises. His tongue is lapping and flicking at all the right spots, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to keep you spread for his broad shoulders even when your body reacts to his ministrations and instinctually tries to close them. Simon knows what he wants and how to get it, and he won’t stop until you’re shaking with pleasure.

You come undone when he sucks your clit into his mouth, your hand grabbing a fistful of his hair as you breathe “right there, god, right there, Si”. Your back arches, the muscles in your thighs lock up, and then the feeling consumes you whole — it swallows you as white explodes in your vision, heart beating frantically as if trying to escape from your chest. Your lips form the syllables of his name, but you can’t be sure what exactly came out with how loud your blood rushes in your ears.

Simon licks you through the waves, moans in satisfaction as he laps up your slick, hips rutting against the soft mattress because you’re just that sweet. Your grip on his hair just barely borders on painful, but the slight sting only gives way to the much louder feelings of pride and satisfaction.

“You with me?” he asks once the aftershocks have rolled through your body and you’re trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice shaky but no less joyous — you have Simon back, not just in body, but in mind and soul. He’s back with you emotionally for the first time since he walked through your front door 24 hours prior.

Simon gives you a smile, a true one, not one of those cocky smirks he throws other people's way, and angles his head to press a kiss to your thigh. If this was any other night he would’ve bitten and sucked a bruise into your skin, but not tonight; tonight was all about reconnection, about soft and sweet love, about celebrating that you’re both alive.

He sits back on his knees, keeping your legs spread open with his hands, just looking down at you for a moment, taking it all in. Your breathing hasn’t steadied just yet, your chest rapidly rising and falling, and droplets of sweat decorate your heated skin. The shirt is still pushed up over your breasts and your underwear are crooked from when he pulled them aside instead of off. You’ve never looked more beautiful to Simon.

“Got another one in you?” he questions, running his hands down your thighs until his fingers are hooked in elastic, ready to tug the fabric away at your say-so.

You smile at him, lovingly and warm and radiant, and nod your head enthusiastically. You help him in discarding the rest of your clothes, throwing the few pieces both of you have to a heap on the ground. He settles back beside you on the bed, one big palm cradling your cheeks as he turns your head to look at him. 

Unspoken I missed you’s and I love you’s exchange between your gazes. Words aren’t necessary right now, his and your expressions alone speak volumes about the devotion you both hold for the other.

Simon’s free hand wanders down the length of your body, slow and tender, almost teasing in its gentleness. You gasp as a thick finger prods longingly at your cunt, a few slow pumps before curling inside to massage that spongy spot that makes you see stars; his thumb rubbing firm circles over your clit in a tandem of pleasure.

“More,” you breathe, clutching at his bicep, feeling the muscles work as he obliges and stuffs you full with a second then a third finger. He works you up, pumping and rubbing at all the right spots, making sure you’re prepared for when he finally gets to slip his cock inside. He doesn’t let you fall off the edge, though, keeps you teetering on it until you’re a panting, shaking mess; like putty in his hands, so soft, so pliable, begging him for more, more, more.

It's not until you say his name, half pleading, half scolding, that he takes pity on you. The sound of his fingers sliding out of you is squelchingly wet, like your cunt is complaining, unwilling to let them go. And when he sucks the digits into his mouth it makes your face heat with a combination of arousal and embarrassment. He savours your taste, as if he didn't get enough of it, of you, while eating you out; eyes closed, throat humming in satisfied contentment, and you can't help but be hypnotised by the sight.

Simon lets his fingers go with a pop before leaning over you, opening the drawer on your bedside table to rifle through it blindly until he finds the bottle of lube he knew was there. You've taken the full length and girth of his cock without this much prep and help countless times before, always relished in the stretch and slight pinch, but on nights like tonight he wanted you to feel nothing but pleasure.

“Your hand,” he says, voice low and gruff, the lust in it unmistakable.

The lube is cold when he deposits a dollop of it in your waiting palm. The click of the cap and closing of the drawer are loud in the otherwise quiet room, only amplifying your anticipation as you heat the gel between your hands. His eyes never leave yours until your fingers wrap around his achingly hard cock, making a moan rumble through his chest as his eyelids flutter shut.

You stroke him languidly, squeezing and twisting just the way you know he likes, the way that makes him twitch in your grip as you kiss his shoulder reverently. It makes his heart ache with deep seated love, and he has to look up at the ceiling to blink away the tears that start to form from the intimate act and overwhelming emotions of finally being home, being with you.

Simon surges forward to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours so hard and passionately it nearly makes your head spin. He's already close from having grinded against the bed while licking your cunt, and your hands on him feel heavenly. So when he stops your movements and whispers that he won't last long, you tell him it's okay — because it is, because you're up there, dancing on the edge together with him. His earlier ministrations had made you sensitive to the touch and the bliss of Simon's cock sliding inside you for the first time in months already has you clinging to his form and your walls clenching around him.

His arms are hooked under yours, hands cradling the back of your head, your face pressed into the crook of his neck; like he's protecting you, shielding you from the world, keeping you safe from all of its horrors. He stays there for a moment, cock nestled all the way inside your welcoming warmth, his already near aching balls resting against your ass; both of you basking in the moment and the wonderful feeling of each other.

It's not until your knees dig a little into his sides, impatient, that Simon starts moving; slowly sliding out of you, only the tip notched happily inside, before pushing back in, making sure to go as deep as he can possibly get without hurting you with every roll of his hips. One of your hands burrows into his hair, threading your fingers through the soft locks to pet and reassure, and to grip when the pleasure overtakes. Your hips are canted just right so his every thrust hits perfectly against your G-spot, making you screw your eyes shut and cling to him a little tighter.

You know Simon gets off on getting you off, knows he loves hearing your pleasure loud and clear as your moans mingle with his. So you mumble encouragements and praise and directions into his heated skin — you tell him how good it feels, gasp loudly when his hips start snapping instead of rolling, tense in his grasp and press your knees tighter around him as you practically mewl with pleasure.

And Simon, to his credit, isn’t silent either. He’s breathing heavily, cursing every so often when you clench around his cock. “Touch yourself for me,” he manages to moan out, cock sawing in and out of your cunt faster and faster as he approaches his high. “Wanna feel you come apart.”

So you wedge your free hand in between your sweaty bodies, a feat in itself with how his entire torso is pressing down onto yours, and find your swollen clit. It takes only a few quick circles with your fingers and the orgasm he had dangled in front of you while fucking you open on his fingers comes rushing back full-force.

You don’t even have the time to give him a warning before you’re trembling and calling his name, toes curling and legs shaking. Simon’s thrusts grow sloppy and near frantic within a second, your fluttering pussy practically milking his cock as he loses himself in you, spilling inside until his spend is leaking around his length still buried deep within you.

The room is quiet except for your laboured breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, hearts beating hard and fast in tandem, your fingers in his hair curling around strands and nails softly scratching against his scalp. There’s a small wet spot next to your head on the pillow from where Simon had finally let the cathartic tears from before roll silently down his cheeks — he knows you’d never judge him for crying due to overwhelming emotions, so he doesn’t exactly hide it, but it’s not something he’s particularly used to flaunting. So he wipes at his eyes without a word, still keeping you tucked away against his shoulder, and lets your petting hands soothe him.

It takes you a near herculean effort to convince Simon to let you up so you can pee and clean up, even when all you want to do is just stay under him and trace invisible patterns on his flushed skin. He follows close behind you to the bathroom, a compromise, never letting go of your hand even when he turns around to offer you some privacy as you sit down on the toilet. Simon quickly wets a hand towel to swipe over his sensitive cock with his free hand, hissing slightly at the sensation of too much which makes you chuckle, before offering a clean one for you.

You cuddle back in bed afterwards; your back to Simon’s chest, legs intertwined, his arm curled around your middle. His nose is in your hair and you can feel every exhale on the back of your neck — you’ve never felt more safe or loved.

“I'm really glad you're back, Si.”

His hold on you tightens and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

“I'm glad to be back, love.”

--- CoD Masterlist

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Breastfeeding kink w Felix (drabble)

pairing: felix x fem!reader

warnings: mommy kink, breastfeeding, milk, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, breeding kink, pls don't read if u don't like this😵‍💫 (reader's baby dad isn't in the picture)

a/n: can't sleep so🤭

Thinking about...

Your best friend Felix who's always there for you even when you had a baby and your boyfriend left you, you had no one but him.

Seeing you with the baby makes feelings stir inside him that he thought he buried long ago. When he thought you'd be nothing more than friends and his affection is one-sided.

Felix can't help but stare at your engorged breasts all the time, and you don't even wear bras anymore so you can easily breastfeed the baby.

You even start breastfeeding in front of Felix because you're close to him and you feel comfortable enough to be vunerable like that in front of your friend.

Felix feels dirty for it but his cock twitches when he sees your leaky nipples and breasts full of milk. He licks his lips, wanting to taste you and drink from you.

One day, when you're hanging out at your place, after the baby falls asleep, Felix begs for you to let him taste your milk.

You're shocked and bashful at first but the thought of his pretty plump lips wrapped around your nipples makes you throb with desire.

You unbutton your shirt and Felix feels like he'll burst from excitement, your breasts heavy and full just for him. He leans in, wrapping his lips around your tender nipple immediately and he starts sucking.

His eyes roll back at the sweet taste and he grabs at you desperately. You gasp and moan, he's sucking on you strongly, it's a completely different feeling than when you feed your baby.

"Lixie~"- you moan, your hand in his hair as you tug on it slightly and he looks up at you sweetly, innocently, swallowing your tasty milk.

"Mommy~"- he whimpers, tongue lapping at your leaky nipple, his eyes glassy and dark.

He wants more even after sucking on your tits, something he wanted for such a long time, his cock straining in his pants as he touches your wet cunt through your panties.

"Mommy let me taste your pussy, please."- he almost cries and you let him, your brain and body heavy with arousal.

He yanks your panties down, his fingers on your folds spreading the wetness to your clit as he plays with it.

He leans in taking your nipple in his mouth again, moaning around you as you whimper quietly, your legs spreading more for him.

Felix leans down between your legs spitting his saliva mixed with your milk all over your pussy before he buries his face between your legs and starts lapping at you hungrily.

You gasp and whine loudly, your hand clasping over your lips so you don't wake the baby as Felix eats you out, moaning desperately into you and making you incredibly wet.

His fingers replace his tongue, he pushes them in and fucks you, while his lips find your nipple again and he sucks on it harshly, gulping down on your sweet juice.

"You taste even sweeter when I please you."- his tongue runs over your nipple, collecting the drips of milk.

"Mm- Lixie!"- you moan as he hits your sweet spot. He continues ramming his fingers into it until you can't take anymore and you spill all over his fingers. He pulls them out and sucks on them eagerly as his big eyes stare at you sweetly.

"Please, let me put my cock inside you mommy!"- he begs, already pushing his sweatpants down.

"You gonna be a good boy and fuck mommy right, hm?"- you smirk, your hand on his cheek.

"Yes mommy, I'll fuck you so good, I swear!"- he whines, pressing the head of his hard cock on your clit.

"You can fuck me, baby."- you say and Felix mewls as he pushes into you making you moan as you hold onto his shoulders.

He grabs your boob and sucks on it, squeezing it and making the milk spurt out on his face and tongue as he fucks into you desperately like an animal in heat.

Both of you moan, your hips meeting his, you're loving the way he slams his cock deep into you, shaping your pussy to fit him perfectly.

"Mommy, I need to cum. I need to breed you mommy, please!"

"Breed me, Lixie!"- you whine just as desperately as he does and he cums hard, filling you up to the brim, claiming you as his. He pulls out and you feel his cum gush out of your fucked out pussy.

"Mommy's mine forever."- Felix says into your neck, his fingers between your legs as he plays with his cum and pushes it back into your fluttering hole.

"Yes, I'm yours forever, baby."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght

[woozinhos]

Hi can you do waking up to seungcheol eating you out/morning sex with seungcheol?

notes: ahh thank you for requesting hope you guys enjoy my new layout!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆

Seungcheol woke up early in the morning, feeling restless and unable to go back to sleep. He looked over at you, still asleep beside him, and felt a pang of desire.

He watched you for a moment, admiring the way your hair fanned out on the pillow and the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He felt his body responding to you, his cock hardening beneath the sheets.

Unable to resist any longer, he leaned over and gently shook your shoulder. "Wake up," he whispered in your ear. "I need you."

Seungcheol smirked as you didn't respond, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew exactly how to wake you up.

He moved closer to you, his body pressed against yours, and began to trail kisses down your neck. He nibbled on your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin.

"Wake up, baby," he murmured, his hand sliding down your side to rest on your hip. "I need to taste you."

Seungcheol chuckled at your continued unconsciousness. He knew you were a heavy sleeper, but he was determined to wake you up in the best way possible.

He continued to kiss and nibble at your neck, his hand moving further down to gently caress your inner thigh. He could feel the heat radiating from between your legs, even as you slept.

Seungcheol moved down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses as he went. He pushed the sheets aside and settled between your legs, his eyes fixed on your core.

He could smell your arousal, even in your sleep, and it drove him wild. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your clit, testing to see if you would stir.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips as Seungcheol continued to kiss and tease you. He smiled against your skin, pleased with your reaction.

He began to use his tongue, licking and teasing your clit with slow, deliberate movements. He could feel your body responding to his touch, even as you remained asleep.

Seungcheol slowly worked his tongue between your folds, tasting you fully. He hummed in appreciation, loving the way you felt and tasted on his tongue.

He was careful not to wake you too quickly, enjoying the way you squirmed and moaned in your sleep. He gently held your hips down, his grip firm but gentle as he continued to eat you out.

Seungcheol could feel your body starting to respond more fully, your hips lifting slightly as he worked his tongue inside you. He could tell that you were waking up, but he didn't stop.

He kept going, his tongue moving faster and deeper as he woke you up with pleasure. He wanted you to wake up feeling amazing, knowing that he was the one making you feel that way.

You began to stir, slowly coming out of your sleep as you felt Seungcheol's tongue on your core. Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked down to see him between your legs, his head buried between your thighs.

You let out a soft moan, your body arching up to meet his touch. "Cheol..." you whispered, your voice still rough from sleep.

Seungcheol looked up at you, a sly smile on his face. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said, his voice low and rough. "I couldn't help myself."

He continued to eat you out, his tongue moving in slow circles around your clit. "I just couldn't resist waking you up like this," he added, his eyes locked on yours.

"God, Cheol," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. "You're so bad."

He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "You love it," he replied, his tongue flicking against your clit.

You couldn't deny it. You loved the way he woke you up, the way he made you feel so good so early in the morning.

You reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he continued to work his magic on you. "Please," you begged, your hips lifting off the bed. "Don't stop."

Seungcheol looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Can I?" he asked, his voice rough with need. "Can I fuck you after I make you come on my tongue?"

You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you whispered, your grip on his hair tightening. "Please, Cheol. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned at your words, his tongue working even harder to bring you to orgasm. He loved the way you begged for him, the way you craved his touch.

It didn't take long for you to come undone, your body arching off the bed as you reached your climax. Seungcheol held you in place, his tongue lapping up every drop of your release.

When you finally came down from your high, he moved up to hover over you, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You're so beautiful when you come," he whispered, his eyes roaming over your flushed face.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss, his body pressing against yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a tangy sweetness that only fueled your desire for him.

He broke the kiss and pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with lust. "I need to be inside you," he growled, his hands roaming over your body.

You moaned at his words, your body still sensitive from your orgasm. "Please," you begged, spreading your legs wider for him. "I need you too."

He positioned himself between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing against your entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a possessive hunger.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Mine to touch, mine to taste, mine to pleasure."

You watched as he stroked himself a few times, his hand moving over his length with a practiced ease. You could see the tension in his body, the way he was struggling to hold back his own need for release.

Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly began to push inside you. He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, the tightness making him dizzy with desire.

He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size. You felt so full, so completely filled by him.

"You're so tight," he growled, his voice strained. "You feel so good around me."

He began to move slowly, his hips thrusting forward in a steady rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you arch up against him.

He gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he picked up the pace. His thrusts became harder, faster, as he lost himself in the feeling of being inside you.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he groaned, his eyes fixed on your face. "You were made for me."

You moaned in response, your body responding to his every move. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the sensations.

Seungcheol's voice was rough and husky, his moans growing louder as he lost himself in the pleasure of being inside you.

"I could do this all day," he panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "You're so perfect, so beautiful. I could wake up to this every morning."

You could feel your second orgasm building inside you, the sensation growing stronger with each thrust of his hips. Your nails dug into his back, your body arching up to meet his every move.

"Cheol, I'm close," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so close."

He smiled down at you, his eyes softening as he stroked your cheek. "Come for me, baby," he whispered, his voice filled with love and desire. "Let go for me."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continued to thrust into you.

Every time he pulled out, you felt a moment of emptiness before he thrust back in, filling you up again. The sensation was addicting, driving you wild with need.

You clung to him, your body trembling with pleasure. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your mind consumed by the feeling of him inside you.

Seungcheol could sense how close you were, and he increased the pace of his thrusts, determined to bring you to your second orgasm.

"That's it," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you come apart around me."

He shifted his hips, changing the angle slightly, and suddenly you were seeing stars. The new position allowed him to hit that spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As you neared your climax, your body grew wetter, the sound of your arousal filling the room. Seungcheol groaned at the feeling, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he felt your body respond to him.

"You're so wet," he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. "You're driving me crazy."

Your body convulsed as you reached your second orgasm, your walls clenching tightly around his cock. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Seungcheol held you close, his body tense as he struggled to hold back his own release. He gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt you come undone around him.

Seungcheol continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent as he felt his own release approaching.

"I'm so close," he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours. "I'm not gonna last much longer."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close as he chased his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath against your skin.

"Come for me, baby," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "I want to feel you come inside me."

That was all it took to push him over the edge. With a loud groan, he buried himself deep inside you and released, filling you up with his hot seed.

Seungcheol's body shuddered as he came, his thrusts slowing to a stop as he emptied himself inside you. He collapsed on top of you, his body limp with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Gonna wake you up like that every morning ," he panted, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

You held him close, stroking his hair as he came down from his high. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, his body still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a few moments, he lifted his head and looked at you, a sated smile on his face. "You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

[archangeldyke-all]

Hear me out, comforting Sevika.

She just lost the closest thing to her best friend, has to take over his responsibilities, and take over Jinx duties plus the addition of Isha. Poor baby is stressed.

Imagine this. After giving Jinx the guest bedroom, setting Isha up in the same room(I feel like she would want to sleep on the floor, she seems like that type of kid.) Gently coaxing Sevika into the bath, washing her hair with the expensive shampoo and conditioner that made her hair the texture she loved so much. Then settling with her in the bed, bringing out the protein infused Peanut MnMs(I feel like she would be a protein fiend.) and setting her favorite record on before cuddling until you both fall asleep.

Just a moment of peace among a war, I dunno I need to hug her rn,

oh yeah i love this soft shit like this

gonna combine this with two more asks (just to spoil the shit outta her hehe)

@lushh-s3vik4s: Can we hear about the stories when sevika was younger? Like the trouble she got into 🤭 like reader and sev just chilling on the couch and she starts telling reader about what she did as a child 🤭🤭

and @cewl-casper: PLEASE ANYTHING WITH EATING SEVIKA OUTTTTT. The new episodes got me feeling some type of way. I NEED TO BE BRUIED BETWEEN HER THIGHS

men and minors dni

isha eats four servings of dinner, then passes out on jinx's shoulder, snoring and drooling at the dinner table.

you chuckle, shaking your head at the pair. "seems like you've been jinxed, jinx." you say.

she huffs. "she won't leave me alone."

"'s the same thing silco said when he first took you in." sevika mumbles across the table.

jinx rolls her eyes, but you can see a tiny smile pulling at her lips.

you gently nudge her foot under the table, pulling her wandering eyes to you. "tell me the stories about sev as a kid." you request. sevika groans beside you, and jinx grins.

"you never told her?!" jinx asks, pointing at sevika with glee. sevika buries her face in her hands, and you chuckle, kissing her forehead.

"it's fuckin' embarrassing--"

"she'd go up to piltover dressed in this frilly, ruffly dress, find the biggest mansion she could, then she'd put on the waterworks, tears and snot all over. when someone would come outside to see what's wrong she'd say she was lost. 'course the suckers would take her in and call the enforcers-- but by the time they got off the horn she'd be gone-- and so would as much of their silver as she could carry." jinx giggles.

you grin, looking over at your wife. "how old were you?"

"i dunno. i started when i was five but i kept at it until i was like twelve." she says with a shrug. you laugh.

"she tried to teach me and vi how to do it when we were kids, but i could never get the crying right, and vi refused to wear the dress." jinx chuckles.

you smile, kissing sevika's cheek and stacking the plates on the table. "jinx, i want the two of you to stay here until shit up top blows over." you say. sevika huffs beside you, but she doesn't say anything to revoke the offer. jinx pouts, her pink eyes fluttering back and forth as she tries to think of a way to worm her way out of the request. "where the fuck else are you gonna go?" you ask. "half of zaun is looking to turn you in for some cash, and there's a fuckin' team of enforcers gassing the streets to find you. c'mon. take it as my thank you for fixing sevika's new arm."

finally, jinx relents with a gusty sigh. "fine. we'll stay." she says. sevika grunts and takes the plates to the kitchen. when she's gone from sight, jinx whispers. "thank you."

you smile and shoot the kid a wink, walking to the living room to make up the pull out couch for her and isha. you'll make them both bathe tomorrow-- tonight, they need sleep.

isha doesn't stir as jinx settles her under the covers, and before you can even turn the lights off for her, jinx is passed out beside isha, one of her arms curled around the girl.

you chuckle, pulling the blankets over jinx's shoulders before heading to the bathroom.

sevika stumbles in as you're drawing up a bath.

"get in." you gesture to the tub. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"you're awfully bossy tonight." she says, slowly working to strip her clothes. you chuckle, holding her hand as she steps into the tub, then gently helping her arrange her new arm so it doesn't get in the water.

sevika sighs, her eyes falling shut and her shoulder slumping as the steam and bubbles envelop her.

"who were you all fighting?" you ask, dragging a stool over to the tub.

sevika chuckles. "vi's an enforcer now. jinx wanted to kill 'er. didn't work."

you snort and shake your head, starting to lather up a washcloth. "poor jinx." you say. sevika quirks an eyebrow at you and you shrug. "lost silco and found out her sister joined the force that killed her own parents within the span of a week. same week she became a mother, too." you say.

sevika snorts a bit.

"isha's a cute kid, eh?" she asks. you chuckle.

"you're a sucker. 's so cute." you tease, leaning forward and kissing her head as you scrub her back.

sevika sighs, leaning into your touch. "you take such good care'a me." she whispers.

you chuckle. "'s sorta my job isn't it? 's why you gave me my ring?"

sevika's responding grin is dazzling, her flesh arm reaching out of the tub to grab your own, fondling the ring she'd given you so many years ago. "guess so, yeah." she whispers, kissing your hand.

you take your time washing her off, massaging her shoulders and scrubbing her scalp, waiting until she's sunk down so far under the water's surface that only her nose is sticking out before pulling the plug and helping her get up.

sevika's sleepy while you dry her off and herd her toward your bedroom, and she doesn't question it when you push her down into bed before dressing her up in her jammies.

it's only when you spread her legs and kneel down in front of her that she starts to catch on, a smirk forming on her lips. "we're doing the whole baby-making thing wrong. think we're supposed to fuck before the kid shows up." sevika jokes.

you snort, kissing up her thigh toward her cunt. sevika spreads her legs farther, sighing as she relaxes back on her elbows. "think you can stay quiet?" you ask, your breath puffing on her cunt. sevika nods down at you with stars in her eyes.

"yeah. i'll bite the pillow." she says, dragging your pillow down the bed to rest beside her.

you smirk, reaching up to pinch her chin and drag her down for a quick kiss, before pushing her down to lay on the bed and burying your face between her thick, powerful thighs.

sevika sighs, pulling the pillow up over her mouth as you start licking long stripes up her cunt, groaning at the taste of her.

there's nothing quite like taking sevika apart like this. she's so fucking strong, her thighs are so powerful-- she could crush you in an instant if she wanted to.

but she doesn't. instead, she lets herself melt into the mattress, giving herself over to you completely. it's a huge show of vulnerability and trust, and it turns you on immensely.

you suck her clit into your mouth and sevika squeaks, her thighs twitching in pleasure. you chuckle against her, sinking your nails into her hips to pull her closer to you. fuck, you could die happy right here, drowning between her legs as she muffles her groans into your pillow.

"you take such good care of everybody, sev." you pull away to whisper, kissing her cunt as you speak. "you gonna lemme take care of you now?" you ask. sevika nods, reaching down with her flesh arm to grab your hand. you chuckle, intertwining your fingers with hers. "fuck. i love you so fuckin' much baby. could die happy between your legs." you sigh before ducking back down and shoving your tongue inside her.

sevika's back arches off the bed, one of her legs hooking around your shoulder to pull you closer to her. you're sloppy and loud as you eat, sucking and slurping on her like she's a ripe peach. you pray to every god you know that jinx and isha are still sleeping, because with the way you're groaning and moaning into her cunt, you're certain you can be heard through your flimsy bedroom door.

sevika's whole body tenses up, her nails dig into the back of your hand, and she cums with a muffled "love you!"

you groan as you lick up her cum, happy to keep eating to your heart's content. sevika has different plans though, and she squeaks as she shoves your face away from her pussy.

you crawl up onto bed beside her, smiling at her as she tries to catch her breath. sevika blushes a little at the sight of you. "you're covered in my cum." she whispers.

"aren't i lucky?" you ask.

sevika snorts, then pulls you in for a kiss. "not as lucky as me." she says against your lips. you grin.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz

[witchywithwhiskey]

just want you for my own

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x curvy!female reader

summary: you convince your husband to stay home from work and pretend you've been snowed in so that you can spend the day decorating for christmas.

warnings: fluff, kissing, a married couple making out a lot, some under the shirt groping, some dry humping if you squint, talk of bucky's prosthetic arm/bucky doesn't wear his prosthetic arm to bed. that's pretty much it!

word count: 2.2k

a/n: here's my third fic for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "It's too cold, stay in bed." one of these days, i'll get back on track of my original posting schedule for this challenge, but today is not that day 😅 anyway, have some festive fluff, i'm off to bake cookies!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

You weren’t sure what woke you, the world around you beginning to creep in as you started to rouse. But then, despite the fact that you were buried under a veritable mound of blankets, a shiver raced down your spine. Your body felt a little chillier than it had before you’d woken—you were certain of it.

Opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of snowflakes falling from the sky, gently swirling and dancing down the Brooklyn street you called home. They were pretty to look at, but you were glad they were outside, while you were tucked in bed, as snug as a bug. Or, almost, at least.

The mattress dipped on the other side of the bed, so gently, you might not have felt it if you hadn’t already been awake, and you realized what had woken you. Your husband, Bucky Barnes, was trying to sneak out of bed without disturbing you.

Rolling over with a disgruntled harrumph, you reached out and managed to curl your fingers around his side, making him pause and catch your eye. You were still buried in blankets, but Bucky never had a problem finding your eyes, or any other part of you. 

“It’s too cold, stay in bed.”

Your voice was soft around the edges, sleep still clinging on, and despite your best efforts to hold your husband’s gaze, you could feel your eyelids beginning to droop. 

Bucky rolled back to you with a smile, his hand burrowing beneath the blankets until it found your plush curves. With one arm—since he never slept with his prosthetic anymore, and it was probably in the dishwasher—he dragged you to him.

Your legs tangled in the blankets, but the rest of your body went willingly into his embrace. Your arms pulled him even closer, until you were snuggling into his chest. 

Bucky was so warm, you made a soft, contented little sound as you buried your face into the soft hair covering his broad chest, nuzzling into him while his arm tightened around you.

For a few moments, Bucky held you in silence. But before long, you couldn’t ignore the tension in his body. He wasn’t relaxing the same way you were and you pulled back so you could look at your handsome husband, a quizzical frown pulling the corners of your mouth down.

“Val wants me to come in,” he explained, answering your unasked question while his mouth flattened into a grim line. 

Val was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the closest thing Bucky had to a boss. She had a sharp tongue and a quick wit, and you might’ve liked her, if she wasn’t always dragging your husband away on some mission or another. 

You also didn’t like Val because your gut told you not to trust her, which was something you’d confided in Bucky not long after you’d met her at gala in Manhattan. Bucky shared your sentiment, but he still had to report to her, at least until he knew what she really wanted.

“Screw Val,” you huffed, leaning in to your husband and brushing a kiss to his deliciously stubbly jaw. It was getting long again, just the way you liked it, and you nuzzled deeper into Bucky’s cheek, nibbling playfully at the skin beneath the coarse scruff. “Besides, you said we’d decorate today—I cleared my schedule and everything.”

A rumbling contented sound came from Bucky’s chest and you could feel him softening, even as he said, “I don’t think Val cares about our plans.”

You snorted and bit a little harder at Bucky’s skin, drawing a growl from him. Muffling a laugh against his skin, you pressed a palm to Bucky’s stomach. Your fingertips dug lightly into the beefy layer of softness that cushioned the hard-packed muscle beneath, before you smoothed your hand up your husband’s bare chest in a soothing caress.

Your touch turned even more gentle as you neared the socket where his prosthetic arm attached to his body. It had taken a long time for Bucky to allow you to touch him there, and you knew how important it was that he trusted you enough to let you. Your fingertips grazed tenderly over the skin at the edge of the socket, before trailing down to his ribs. 

You’d never take it for granted that your husband trusted you to touch him anywhere on his body, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t use his body to get what you wanted. He was a trained, super-soldier assassin, after all, and he’d been the one to teach you to use any advantage you might have in a game of persuasion.

Curving your fingers around Bucky’s ribs, you pushed him onto his back, draping your much softer body over his as you hovered above him. A bulge in his boxer briefs pressed into your thigh, and you felt it twitch eagerly against your softness, making you smirk. 

“It’s snowing,” you pointed out, shifting again so that Bucky could look out the window. 

The movement pressed your tits to his chest, only the thin barrier of your sleep shirt in the way from him feeling your hardened nipples against his bare skin. You heard your husband swallow and watched the Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

Hiding your deepening smirk against Bucky’s stubbled jaw, you licked him shamelessly before you murmured in his ear, “Tell Val you’re snowed in.” 

Bucky cut his eyes to the window, taking in the flurries that were dancing on the December wind. 

It wasn’t a snowstorm by any means, and the weather reports had said New York City might get a light dusting, if anything stuck at all. You knew all this, but you still held your breath as Bucky seemed to consider what you’d said.

“I don’t think Val will buy that I’ve been snowed in in Brooklyn, baby,” he rumbled, regret in his voice. 

You were so distracted by the way your heart was sinking with disappointment that you didn’t notice the way your husband’s body tensed. A split second later, Bucky flipped you over onto your back, pinning you to the bed with his considerable weight. 

His hand pushed beneath the hem of your sleep shirt, groping your chubby waist and plush hips. Then his mouth found your jaw and he gave you taste of your own medicine, nipping at your skin playfully while you laughed and squirmed beneath him.

“I’ll make it work,” he murmured into your soft cheek, his mouth working closer to your lips while you panted beneath him, your heart racing in your chest. “Val owes me a day off—and I’d much rather spend today with my girl.”

“You better,” you muttered moments before Bucky’s mouth captured yours in a kiss. 

No matter how many times your husband kissed you, you’d never be get over the sheer perfection of it. His mouth molded to yours, kissing you hard even as there was still an edge of playfulness to it. And when Bucky licked at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, you parted for him as you always did, accepting him into your body like you were welcoming him home. 

For a long time, you and Bucky kissed in your bed, taking enjoyment in each other’s bodies while the snow continued to fall outside the Brooklyn townhouse you called home. It was cozy and warm and perfect beneath the blankets, especially since the two of you were together.

Eventually, though, your stomach rumbled and Bucky had to call Val to let her know he wasn’t coming in. Together, you and Bucky dragged yourselves from bed and put on some more clothes before you made your way to the kitchen. Bucky pulled his metal arm from the dishwasher and attached it while you made coffee, then he put together some breakfast for the two of you.

You sat together at the island in your kitchen, your legs tangling with Bucky’s while you ate your breakfast and drank your coffee and caught up on each other’s weeks. The whole time, Bucky couldn’t stop touching you, his hand resting on your thigh or his arm wrapped around the back of your chair, holding you close.

After breakfast, both of you pulled on some snow boots and winter coats, and headed out into the snowy day to pick up a Christmas tree from the bodega around the corner. You argued over what made the perfect Christmas tree—whether it was height and robustness or character—before picking one out. Bucky hauled it back to your apartment easily, and you ran ahead, opening the doors for him. 

You sat on the couch and sipped a second cup of coffee while he got the tree situated in the stand and hung the lights. At one point, you offered to help, but Bucky waved you off, telling you he liked seeing you relaxing in the home you shared. When it was time to put up ornaments, though, you insisted on helping, since that was your favorite part.

All day, you and Bucky worked together, decorating your Brooklyn townhouse with as much Christmas cheer as you could manage while festive music played in the background. When you were finally done, you collapsed on the couch together and admired your work. 

The apartment looked great, but, in your opinion, there was still something missing—presents.

“Now comes the hard part,” you said solemnly, turning to Bucky, the corners of your mouth flickering as you struggled to keep the smile off your face. “What do you want for Christmas, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky’s eyes were molten blue when they met yours. A slow, predatory smile curving his mouth as his gaze raked down your body. You could feel his look scorching through your clothes, and your body responded, warming and coming alive as your husband ogled you shamelessly.

“All I want is you, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, laying an arm along the back of the couch behind your head and leaning into your personal space. You swatted at his chest, but it didn’t stop him from moving even closer.

“Bucky, I’m serious!” you scolded him, but you couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up behind your lips, taking all the frustration from your tone. “I need to wrap something and put it under the tree.”

Bucky’s eyes dipped to your full tits, which were heaving gently in your sweater as your breathing picked up. He licked his lips, and you just knew he was picturing something filthy. Unfortunately for the conversation, your body warmed further, your nipples hardening in your bra.

“You won’t see me complainin’ if ya wanna wrap yourself up in pretty ribbons and wait for me under the tree,” your husband rumbled, pushing in close enough that he could brush a kiss to your cheek before murmuring in your ear. “I’d love to see your gorgeous body decorated all pretty for me, for your husband.”

“Bucky,” you chided softly, but the rest of your protests died on your tongue when your husband took your mouth in a searing kiss. He lay you down beneath him on the couch, covering you with his body as he kissed you breathless. 

You couldn’t have stopped yourself from opening for him even if you’d wanted to, but you certainly wanted to—you wanted Bucky to take you and have his way with you under the light of the Christmas tree you’d decorated together. So you kissed him harder, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, until your lungs protested.

“OK,” you said, breaking away to gasp for air while Bucky kissed down your neck. “We can certainly circle back to trying that on Christmas day,” you said, moaning softly as Bucky’s hands groped your squeezable hips, his hips pushing between your soft thighs and rocking into you. “But I want to get you some actual presents, Bucky.”

The whine that had seeped into your tone finally dragged Bucky’s attention away from kissing your neck and he pushed himself up so he could look at you. Your lower lip was pushed out in a pout and your eyes were wide and pleading, and you knew you had him when he squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.

“Alright, baby,” Bucky conceded on a long sigh before opening his eyes. His expression softened as he took in the glee on your face, then ducked down to drop a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’ll give you a list.”

“Thank you, husband,” you murmured against Bucky’s mouth, pulling him back down until his weight was half-crushing your body into the couch, which was exactly how you liked it. “For always giving me what I want, even when I just want you for my own.” 

“You’re very welcome, wife,” Bucky rumbled, capturing your lips for a too-brief kiss. “I’m glad you talked me into getting snowed in today.” 

Laughter bubbled up in your chest and you had to break away from Bucky’s mouth as you cackled loudly. Bucky dropped his head, his chuckle muffled in your heaving chest as he laughed right along with you. 

For the rest of the evening, you snuggled on the couch with your husband, kissing him and talking about your wishlists and making plans for how you’d spend Christmas together. Because more than anything else, what mattered was that you would be together for Christmas—that year and for the rest of your lives.

december daze challenge masterlist