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

[austinbutlerslovers]

Laced in Love

Label Mature 18+

Summary It’s Valentines Day and though you feel insecure Austin spoils you beyond compare.

💝 Romantic Smut💝 Austin in love with you • Austin romantic • Austin sweet • Austin adoring •praising• encouraging •body worship •insecure reader • heavy set reader• curvy reader • body shy reader • sweet talk • pillow talk •morning sex• oral on fem• date night•dirty talk •lap sitting• girl on top• body praising•switching positions• mating press•squirting •multiple orgasms •creampies •aftercare

🔗 Masterlist

✨ Inspo via lovely DMs 💕

Laced in Love

The first thing you feel when you wake up is his warmth.

The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bed with Austin’s body pressed close, his arm draped over your waist, his breath slow and steady against the back of your neck.

He always holds you like this in the mornings, like he can’t stand to let you go.

You sigh, stretching slightly, and his grip tightens.

“Mm-m,” he murmurs sleepily his lips brushing against your neck. “Not yet, baby.” His voice is rough, heavy with sleep and something deeper.

You smile. “Austin, it’s morning.”

His arm flexes around you, pulling you closer, burying his face against your hair.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, his voice still drowsy but laced with intent. “That means more cuddling.”he confirms his tone sending a surge of warmth coursing through your belly.

You smile softly, turning to face him and his hair is a perfect mess, sandy blonde strands falling over his forehead, his blue eyes filled with love as he gazes at you—like you’re always the first thing he wants to see every morning.

He grins, tilting his head slightly. “How do you wake up looking like that?” He asks.

You snort. “Like what?”

His fingers brush along your hair as he leans in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Like the best part of my morning.”

“Austin..” you grin, eyes fluttering shut as his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, pressing soft kisses against your shoulder.

“I gotta feed you,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice slipping lower. “Then spoil you.” His fingers skim your arm before slipping under your pajama strap, easing it down over your shoulder. “Then treat you to something that’s gonna make me lose my mind.”

“Austin—” you giggle, heat blooming across your cheeks.

He grins against your skin, his lips grazing, teasing. “I have a plan for today.”

You smile, trying to keep your thoughts steady despite the way he’s touching you. “I bet you do.”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“I do,” he murmurs, his voice dark and sweet like honey. “Step one is keeping you in this bed as long as I can.”

He kisses your neck—slow, deep, his fingers slipping lower, completely unhurried—his lips trailing down your body, savoring every inch.

The silk of your cami does little to dull the heat of his mouth as he kisses lower, his hand gliding over your throat, tracing the delicate lines of your collarbone before sliding down over the swell of your breast. His fingers drag over the fabric, squeezing gently before sliding lower, curving around your waist.

His hands follow the path of his mouth, worshiping each dip, each curve, his breath heating through the delicate fabric.

He pauses at the edge of your panties, his nose brushing against your hip, his mouth lingering just above where you need him most.

His hands tighten, splaying over your thighs, spreading you open just enough, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through you.

Then, his fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down inch by inch, his lips pressing slow, intimate kisses along your hips, your thighs, the sensitive skin just below your navel.

He teases you, his kisses light, intentional, until your hips tilt seeking more.

Your thighs tense with anticipation as his face settles between them, the first press of his mouth against you warm and soft, the slow stroke of his tongue making your whole body go taut.

He presses his mouth in deeper, tongue rolling against you in slow, torturous, strokes.

A sharp gasp falls from your lips, your hips instinctively to his mouth.

Your fingers trail through his hair clutching his blond locks making him groans, his grip tightening on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

His tongue presses deeper, flicking, teasing, relentless, until you’re gasping his name, your back arching off the bed.

Austin hums, enjoying it just as much as you are, like he could stay between your legs forever, tasting you, teasing you, feeling you come apart for him.

A rush of heat crashes over you, pleasure spiraling, unstoppable, uncontrollable as your body clenches tight, your thighs pressed against his head holding him in place as your orgasm overtakes you.

Austin intensifies his efforts—his mouth working you through it, his tongue and lips drawing out every last wave, making sure you feel every second of it until you’re trembling beneath him, gasping for breath..

Only when he’s sure you’re satisfied does he finally ease up, his lips slowing, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, lingering, worshiping.

His breath is hot against your skin as his hands stroke down your hips.

He presses one last kiss to your thigh, his mouth parting slightly, like he’s reluctant to pull away.

“So perfect baby,” he whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire.

His fingers glide over your slick heat, circling, stroking, making you squirm beneath him, soft little whimpers falling from your lips.

He watches you, his eyes dark, completely transfixed by the way your body reacts—the way you tremble, the way your breath hitches as he drags his fingers through your wetness, spreading it, feeling just how ready you are for him.

“You feel so soft, so warm—” His breath stutters as he strokes deeper, his touch slow, savoring.

His other hand roams up your thigh, squeezing, gripping the plush curves he adores, his touch reverent, worshiping every inch.

“The way you feel on my fingers—” he exhales shakily, voice heavy with lust, “The way you feel on me….baby I could do this forever.”

His fingers keep stroking, teasing, dragging you higher, his own breaths turning erratic as he watches your body react to him.

“I just want to be inside you,” he breathes, his words tumbling out unchecked. “Feel you wrapped around me while I grip these thighs holding tight as you take me—” he rasps, his voice rough with need.

You begin whimpering, desperate for more, and he finally slips his fingers from you.

“You’ll feel so good when I’m inside you baby,” he promises, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He settles on top of you, his weight pressing you down, his hips fitting perfectly between your thighs.

His mouth finds your neck again, hot and seeking, lips parting against your skin, sucking softly, teasing.

His cock presses against your entrance, sliding against your slick heat, feeling just how ready you are for him.

“You’re so wet for me…” he whispers, his voice ragged, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady like he’s barely restraining himself.

Then—slowly he pushes his cock inside, stretching you open, filling you up, inch by inch, a low groan spilling from his throat as he sinks into you.

He’s thick and hard, the size overwhelming as your head falls back, a moan breaking free as you take him in, the pleasure intense and all-consuming.

“Baby—” he chokes out, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, “You feel… you feel so good.”he praises, your walls gripping his cock tight as he settles deep.

You’re lost to him, panting, moaning as you clutch his arms, holding him close.

His hips move slowly at first, savoring every inch, his cock drawing out every ounce of pleasure before pulling all the way back—only to thrust back in, deep, filling you completely.

A deep moan falls from your lips, your body reacting to him, your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Austin—” you whimper, your voice breaking, your nails pressing into his back as the pleasure courses through you, hot and all-consuming.

“Feels so good,” you moan, your head tipping back, your body melting into his, lost in the way he thrusts inside you.

Austin groans, his lips pressing against your neck, his breath ragged, his grip tightening like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Yeah, baby?” he mutters, his voice thick, his hips snapping just a little harder, a little deeper, and all you can do is moan, letting him pull you under.

He sets a steady rhythm, each thrust hitting harder, deeper as his pace increases. His cock drags in and out, his hips grinding between yours, pulling sounds from you that make him lose himself more.

Austin groans, his breath ragged, his fingers digging into soft your flesh as he holds you steady, thrusting himself into you.

Your walls tighten, clenching around his cock with every stroke, every deep, powerful thrust.

The moans that spill from your lips make him thrust harder, faster, his body reacting to yours, his cock hitting a place within that makes you see stars.

His breath is hot against your shoulder as he works harder, faster feeling himself reach the edge.

His grip tightens, hips slapping between your thighs, dragging his cock along your sensitive walls, making your body shake beneath him.

“Austin!” You moan, the pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm overtakes you, your walls pulsing around his cock, the sensation rushing through your core.

Austin groans roughly, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath ragged against your skin. “It’s so good——it’s so good—I’m gonna come,” he pants, his voice raw as his release builds.

His fingers grip you with bruising intensity, his body tensing as a groan rips from his lips and he spills into you, his hips slowly grinding against you, his body shuddering as the pleasure overtakes him.

His breaths come in fast and heavy as his face buries against your neck feeling the last waves of pleasure roll through both.

As you lay there, panting, satisfied , completely dazed, Austin’s hands stroke down your sides.

You sigh heavily, still caught in the haze of him, your fingers lazily tracing the muscles of his back as your breathing steadies.

He lifts his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his voice soft.“I love you baby” he says full of emotion.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as his words settle in. “I love you too” you whisper, realizing this is how he started your day—and you love him for it even more.

Austin insists on making breakfast, which mostly means him cooking while sneaking glances at you every five seconds.

You sit at the kitchen counter, watching him move —shirtless, because of course he is—his broad shoulders flexing as he flips pancakes like he was born to do it.

“You’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you?” you tease, watching him plate the food.

Austin smirks, bringing over heart-shaped pancakes, stacked perfectly before stepping behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sit at the counter.

His lips brush against your ear, his voice low and lazy. “I love taking care of my girl.” He confirms.

Your stomach flutters, and you grin as you lean into him. He stays pressed against you, his arms still locked around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, watching as you take your first bite.

The heart shaped pancakes are fluffy, soft, syrupy, delicious.

“Mmm—Austin, it’s so good,” you praise, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

Austin exhales sharply, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Baby, you gotta stop making little noises like that when I already wanna drag you back to bed.”

Your face burns as you giggle. “Austin I’m eating pancakes!” you exclaim.

He groans, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I know—and you make it so sexy”

You grin, and the way he’s watching you—his eyes dark, full of something deep and knowing, like he’s never seen anything more mesmerizing— is enough to make your whole body warm.

“You really like watching me eat?” you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder.

Austin’s hand slides lower, fingers skimming your stomach, like he can’t help himself.

“I love watching you enjoy yourself,” he corrects, his voice rich with meaning. “And I love knowing I’m the one who gets to take care of you.”

Your smile softens, hearing the sincerity in his words and he kisses your shoulder again, content to hold you close as you finish your meal.

When you finally set your fork down, he doesn’t let you go.

His hands are firm as he helps you down and slowly presses you against the counter.

He holds you close, the warmth of his bare chest brushing against you, his scent—clean, masculine, and intoxicating—wrapping around you.

“I’m so in love with you.” He smiles, his blue eyes soft, filled with a tenderness that knocks the breath right out of your lungs, and then he kisses you—slow and deep, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer like he’s been waiting all morning to do it.

You melt into him, arms sliding up around his neck, letting him pull you deeper, letting yourself get lost in the way he holds you— the way he loves you.

You know he means it.

Every word. Every touch.

Every single piece of devotion that makes you feel so incredibly wanted.

The afternoon settles into a comfortable rhythm, Austin’s arm draped over your shoulders, his fingers idly tracing patterns along your arm, his touch featherlight yet constant.

A movie you both picked plays on the screen as you lay in the comfort of each other on the couch.

His warmth, his presence, the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours—it’s enough to lull you into a peaceful haze.

Then, suddenly, Austin shifts, checking the time on his phone. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before sitting up.

“I need to go pick up something,” he says, his blue eyes locking onto yours, holding something unreadable.

You blink up at him as he stands to stretch. “Where are you going?”

Austin smirks, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. “You’ll see.”

Before you can press him for more, he’s gone, leaving you wondering.

Not even a few moments later, he returns, and the second you see him, your breath catches.

Because in his hand is a beautiful bouquet full of lush, and impossibly red roses—vibrant and rich as if chosen with the utmost care.

You sit up surprised, a smile spreading across your face. “Austin…”

The scent reaches you first—the deep notes of rose and fresh greenery, the kind of fragrance that makes you want to close your eyes and breathe it in.

Austin just watches you, his expression softer now, more open as he extends them to you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day” he says as you take the bouquet from his hand, bringing the flowers closer, inhaling deeply.

“They’re so beautiful,” you praise, running a finger along a velvety petal.

Austin’s smiles. “Not as beautiful as you.”

You roll your eyes, grinning softly, but the warmth in your chest blooms even more.

Just when you think he’s done, he pulls a small, ribbon-wrapped confection box from behind his back in his other hand.

He smiles at you as he unties the ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal an assortment of chocolates, each one carefully placed in a delicate tray.

“Open for me,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

You part your lips slightly, and he picks up a chocolate, bringing it to your mouth, the scent of chocolate mixing with the floral fragrance still lingering in the air.

The moment you take a bite, the chocolate melts on your tongue, velvety smooth with the perfect balance of sweetness and a soft moan escapes before you can stop it.

Austin hums in response, his gaze locked on your lips as you savor the taste, his thumb brushing against your chin.

You smile, swallowing the last bite before tilting your head at him. “You really are trying to spoil me today, aren’t you?”

Austin smirks slow and teasing. “You say that like I don’t always spoil you.” He says his eyes locking on your lips.

“I deserve a taste,” he says, making you giggle as he presses soft kisses against your lips, lingering, savoring, as his hands keep you close his affection letting you know exactly how much you mean to him.

For dinner, Austin takes you to a restaurant by the ocean, and the ambiance is effortlessly romantic. The sea breeze drifts in through the open awnings as the setting sun casts everything in a warm glow.

The menu is decadent, and the sound of the waves in the distance makes everything feel intimate and effortless.

The table is set with wine glasses, the napkins folded perfectly, and when you raise a brow at Austin he just grins.

“You’re spoiling me,” you tease, but he just lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it like some old-school gentleman.

“I love watching you let me.” He confirms as his thumb circles your wrist, slow and steady.

Your stomach flutters and it’s not just his words—it’s the way he says them, the certainty in his voice, like spoiling you isn’t just something he does, it’s something he always wants to do.

When your dishes arrive, Austin’s gaze lingers on you between bites.

The way your lips part just slightly when you take your first taste, the way your eyes soften when something is really good, the way you let out the faintest hum of approval when the flavors hit just right.

It’s clear he’s enjoying his meal, but not nearly as much as he’s enjoying watching you.

At the end of the meal, when you take a bite of dessert, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

“Mmm… Austin, it’s so good.” You praise.

Austin groans under his breath.

“Baby.”

You open your eyes, catching the heat in his gaze. “What?”

He shakes his head, watching you like he’s about to drag you out of the restaurant and straight to the nearest private space.

“Hearing you enjoy yourself like that that does something to me.” He confesses.

You grin tilting your head feigning innocence.“What does it do to you Austin?” you tease.

He hums as he grins, his voice dropping to something low and intimate.

“It reminds me of how much I want to hear those sounds later,” he confirms, and the way his eyes darken, the way his gaze pins you in place as he smiles—you know exactly what he means.

After dinner, Austin laces his fingers through yours, his grip warm and firm as he leads you away from the restaurant.

Noticing the evening chill, he shrugs off his jacket without hesitation, draping it over your shoulders.

The air outside is cooler now, the salty breeze from the ocean brushing over you as you walk together, the sound of distant waves blending with the hum of the city at night.

You glance at him, noticing the way his thumb strokes slow circles over the back of your hand, how he keeps glancing at you like he’s thinking about something.

Finally, he stops in front of a boutique, its windows glowing softly under the streetlights.

Mannequins draped in delicate silk and lace stand in the display, the atmosphere inside exuding luxury and sensuality.

Austin squeezes your hand, his smirk teasing but his eyes filled with something deeper.

“This is my final surprise for you tonight.”

Your stomach flips as you glance at the store, then back at him.

“Austin—”

His fingers tighten around yours, his voice low as he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear.

“I want to see you in something that makes you feel sexy for me.” He says.

Your eyes flick away, cheeks warming with nervous anticipation and Austin guides you inside, his hand squeezing yours gently, like he already knows what you’re thinking.

The boutique is all soft lighting and sultry lingerie, racks lined with silk and lace in every shade of seduction.

You know your body well, every curve, every dip every soft line,but now, standing among the delicate mannequins draped in barely-there fabric, your certainty wavers.

Austin senses it immediately. His hand tightening around yours before he leans in, his voice low and steady.

“Don’t be nervous baby,” he soothes, his breath warm against your temple.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “That’s easy for you to say Austin everything looks good on you.”

“Everything looks good on you too,” He counters, his gaze slipping lower, appreciating every inch of you. “Especially when it’s on my floor.”

A soft giggle escapes you before you can stop it. “Austin.”you grin.

He smiles, clearly pleased with himself, then pulls you deeper into the store, past the sheer baby dolls and delicate teddies, right to a display of lace corsets and matching sets.

His blue eyes roam over the selection, as if he’s already imagining you wearing them.

“This one,” he says, pulling a deep wine-red corset from the rack.

“Baby, this would look—” He bites his lip, his free hand slipping down to squeeze your hip. “You have to try this set on.”

You swallow hard. “Austin I don’t know… It’s a lot.”

“I want to see it,” he says, voice dropping an octave.

You chew your lip, heart thudding. You want to believe him. You want to believe it will look good.

Sensing your hesitation, he steps closer, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. “If you don’t like it, we walk right out of here and go to Tiffany’s.” He smiles, his voice steady, reassuring, laced with something deeper.

“But if you like it…” he says, his fingers trailing down, grazing your stomach.

“Then I get to watch you realize how fucking gorgeous you are.” He says his eyes darkening, filled with certainty.

Your stomach flutters, your heart pounding in anticipation. He always does this—makes you feel wanted before you’ve even said yes.

“Fine,” you relent , grabbing the corset from his hands as you pair it with the set. “But if I come out looking ridiculous, you’re not allowed to laugh.”

Austins eyes darken as he grins. “Baby, the only thing I’m going to be doing is losing my mind when I see you in it.”

You smile sweetly, but as you close the door to the dressing room your nerves begin to rise.

The corset cinches you in ways that accentuate every single inch of softness as the lace panties cling to your hips.

You smooth your hands over your stomach, trying to decide if you feel sexy or just…exposed.

Then, before you can overthink it, Austin’s voice filters through the door.

“You gonna let me see?”

You gather up enough courage and slowly pull the door open.

Austin goes still.

His jaw tenses and then he exhales, long and slow.

“Fuck.”

You shift under his gaze. “Like good fuck or bad fuck?”

His hands are on you in seconds, sliding down your waist, gripping your hips, pressing into the flesh like he needs to feel every inch. “The kind that makes me forget how to breathe.” He says deeply.

You let out a laugh. “It’s a lot, right?”

“Not enough,” he rasps, eyes dragging over you. “Not even fucking close.”

He dips his head, lips grazing your shoulder. “Do you have any idea how fucking good you look? How crazy youre making me?” His fingers trail your hips, nails digging in slightly. “Baby, I want to take you home and ruin you in this.”

You grin as heat floods your skin. “Austin.” You chastise but there’s no meaning in it.

He grins against your neck. “Yeah?”

“I’m supposed to be deciding if I like it,” you gently remind him.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression softer now. “Do you like it?”he breaths.

You hesitate. Then, slowly, you turn to face the mirror.

You look at the way the corset lifts your breasts, the way the lace hugs your stomach, the way Austin’s hands look against your body—possessive, reverent, loving everything he’s touching.

You meet his gaze in the reflection.

“I think so.”

He grins, hands sliding lower. “Good. Because I was going to buy it anyway.”

Back at home, the energy between you is heavy with anticipation and Austin wastes no time as you step into the master bedroom.

He pulls his jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as he brings you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s deep, unrestrained, full of need.

His excitement is undeniable, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you closer, as if he’s been holding himself back all night.

You break the kiss, breathless, your fingers curling around the boutique bag.

“Go sit on the bed,” you say, your voice steady but laced with something deeper. “Wait for me.”

“Okay baby,“ he says eagerly, a low smirk tugging at his lips as he squeezes your hip.

He follows your command, pulling off his shirt, kicking off his pants, and settling onto the bed.

His back rests against the headboard, abs flexing legs slightly spread, his arms resting at his sides as he places his hand in the bed.

He looks utterly perfect—strong, effortless, completely at ease, his blue eyes burning with something unrestrained as they rake over you closing the door.

In the bathroom your nerves rise again as you open the box, your fingers tracing over the delicate lace of the corset.

You love your body, but right now, standing in front of the mirror, it feels different.

The lingerie clings to every curves as you cinch it tight, accentuating all the dips and softness of your body that make you hesitate.

The voice of doubt creeps in—is it too much? too little? Does it flatter you, or does it only make you more aware of the parts of yourself you sometimes try to hide?

You exhale, smoothing your hands over the lace. Austin wanted this. He loved seeing you in this.

You inhale a deep breath, taking one last look in the mirror before stepping out.

The corset feels different now, your nerves are still there, but there’s a slight bit of confidence lingering at the edges as you reach the bed.

And Austin?

Austin is looking at you like he’s starving.

“You really gonna make me sit here and behave when you look like that ?” he asks, his voice low, his thumbs teasing the edge of his boxers, desperately needing something to touch.

You smile, shifting on your feet. “That depends,” you say, turning slowly, giving him the full view.

“Do you like it?”

He groans, his head falling back against the headboard for a second before his hands lift, reaching for you.

“Baby, come here.”

You do.

And the second you’re close enough, he pulls you onto his lap, his hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips as his lips find your neck.

“You look so good,” he whispers between kisses. “You were worried this would be too much, and all I can think about is whether or not I should take it off you.”

You smile and his hands roam higher, fingers teasing over lace, his lips tracing a slow, burning path down your collarbone.

“Austin…”

He hums against your skin in bliss. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallow, nerves creeping back in. “I still feel… not so sure.” You exhale shakily the words trailing off.

Austin pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his smile soft, his hands firmly grasping your hips.

“That’s okay,” he whispers, his hands sliding down your thighs holding firm as his eyes lustfully wander you in lingerie.

“No matter what you feel—when I touch you, when I hold you, all I’m thinking about is how lucky I am that you’re mine.” He confesses his eyes filled with adoration as his gaze returns to yours.

Your heart stutters as his fingertips brush your jaw and he pulls you into a kiss—slow and deep, stealing the breath from your lungs as he pours every ounce of his worship into it.

You melt into him, letting his lips kiss away every last doubt.

His hand lower to your waist, thumbs brushing over the boning of the corset, tracing the delicate lace that hugs your curves.

“You know what drives me insane?” He says his voice low, thick with desire as his palms smooth over your thighs.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as his lips graze your neck. “What?”

He presses a slow, lingering kiss just below your jaw. “How soft you feel in my hands.” He whispers placing another kiss, “How perfectly you fit against me.”he says his lips trailing down your neck.

You sigh, fingers clutching his shoulders, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he praises, his lips moving softer as his kisses explore the curve of your neck . “I could sit here all night, just touching you, worshipping you—”

His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer against him, pressing you down on the unbelievable hardness of his cock.

A whimper escapes before you can stop it and his grip tightens. “Say how much you want me.” He asks his voice low, reverent..

“I want you,” you say, your voice weak as you lose all rational thought. His hands slide up your thighs, his thumbs pressing into the plush softness, gripping like he needs to feel every inch of you.

“You like this?” he asks, rocking his hips up just enough to make you feel the hardness of his cock for you.

You nod, exhaling shakily.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice dark.

“Yes I like this,” you whisper, your own hips shifting without thinking, chasing the pleasure.

His focus is entirely on you, his hands encouraging you to move, to grind down against him.

“Fuck” he exhales softly, hearing the little moans slipping past your lips.

His hands are everywhere—roaming, kneading, coaxing more sounds from you, making sure you feel every inch of his hardness beneath you.

Before you know it he’s guiding you up, his thumb sliding into the band of his boxers pulling them down as his large cock springs free.

You stare at how deep pink the shaft is, how prominentlyerect it is in his lap

His fingers slide your panties aside brushing against your slick heat, feeling how ready you are for him.

“You so wet for me baby” he praises his voice tense with restraint.

Your breath catches as he strokes his cock, his eyes locked onto you dark and filled with hunger.

“Need to be inside you” he says voice barely above a whisper.

He pulls you down on him and a groan rumbles from his chest as the thick head of his cock nudges against your entrance.

Then, with one slow push, he sinks you down on his cock—stretching you open, filling you completely.

A sharp gasp tears from your lips, your body tensing for a brief moment before relaxing into the overwhelming sensation.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as pleasure rushes through you, rolling down your spine.

“Austin—” you whimper, your breath coming in short, uneven pants.

“I know baby” he breathes, his hands tightening on your waist, firm and possessive as his lips capture yours in a slow, deep kiss, swallowing every sound you make.

His tongue slides against yours, coaxing, matching the slow roll of your hips as you adjust to his size, feeling the way he fills you so perfectly.

A soft moan escapes you into his mouth as you move, your hips shifting instinctively, feeling him so deep in your core, every inch of him pressing you just right, the pleasure intensifying with every slow grind.

Austin groans against your mouth, his fingers flexing on your waist, his patience unraveling as his movements meet yours in perfect rhythm.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his forehead pressing to yours, “You feel so damn good.”

His words send a new wave of heat through you—your body completely lost in the way he touches you, the way he holds you— the way he makes you feel like the most wanted woman in the world.

His grip tightens, his lips brushing against your cheek as he begins to thrust into you holding you on his lap, his voice low, rough, almost incoherent.

“So fucking soft— your body was made for me” he whispers, his hands gripping your hips harder, guiding you, his voice breaking into ragged groans as he feels your walls start to flutter on his cock.

“Baby—you’re so close, aren’t you?” He pants, and you nod as soft moans fall from your lips .

“Your doing so good for me—I want to feel you come for me—wanna hear those sweet sounds—”he begs, his voice trailing off as he pulls you in rhythm with his thrusts.

His words push you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave, your body seizing, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as you come, pulsing, clenching his cock so tightly he chokes out a deep moan.

He catches your mouth in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss, swallowing every broken sound you make as you moan in pleasure.

His hands grip under your thighs, and before you can process the movement, he easily takes you from straddling his lap to pinning you on the bed under him, his strength effortless, as he settles between your legs.

His cock never leaves you, staying buried deep as he grips the backs of your thighs, spreading you wide.

You’re flushed, panting, still trembling from your orgasm as he keeps thrusting, slow and deep.

Your moans turn soft, breathy, sweet, and Austin groans at the sound, his hips rolling into you with steady, deliberate thrusts, dragging more of those perfect noises from your lips.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he rasps, one hand keeping your leg up digging into your soft flesh, as the other finds your clit with maddening precision.

Every flick of his fingers, every slow, teasing stroke sends another ripple of pleasure through you, making you clench on his cock, your body trembling beneath him.

Words escape you as your fingers clutch at his arms to ground yourself before sliding lower, grazing over his abs feeling them tense beneath your touch with every firm thrust.

“So—so good,” you barely manage, your words breaking apart as another wave of pleasure begins building deep inside you.

Austin grunts, his pace shifting, grinding harder against you in perfect rhythm, hitting every sensitive spot until you’re gasping his name, clutching at his back.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. “Come for me again.”

Your moans are unending, your breaths uneven as he watches you unravel beneath him, completely undone.

“Austin” You moan, his name tumbling from your lips as the pleasure overtakes you again, your body tightening, gripping him, pulling him deeper as he thrusts through it.

Austin shudders, his grip tightening on the back of your thigh, holding you open for him as his fingers work your clit faster, harder—until the pleasure peaks into something unbearable.

Your body arches, trembling violently as a blissful torture washes over you, the pleasure so intense it pulls a strangled cry from your lips.

A deep, broken moan rips from Austin’s throat as he watches you come—your warm liquid streaming over his cock, coating him, soaking his skin as you moan beneath him.

“Fuck—” he chokes out, his rhythm faltering, his grip tightening on both your thighs holding them apart as he begins to come.

A sharp groan escapes his lips, his body locking against yours, his hips snapping forward one last time, burying himself deep as he spills into you.

His hands clutch your thighs as he grinds against you, his breaths ragged as depraved sounds leave his throat feeling the pleasure crash through him.

Once the intensity subsides, his grip on your thighs loosens as he lays on top of you, his chest rising and falling against yours as he catches his breath.

He pulls you impossibly close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, holding you like he never wants to let go.

And for a long moment, you both stay together panting, trembling, completely lost in each other.

Then, finally, he lifts his head, his blue eyes heavy with satisfaction as a lazy smile stretches across his lips.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing a slow teasing circle over your corset.“I told you this was going to make me lose my mind.” He grins.

You smile softly, warmth flooding through you as he shifts, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then lower, his lips brushing over the delicate curve of your breast above the lace still clinging to your body.

“Seriously, baby,” he continues, his voice husky, “I need to see you in something like this again… soon.”

His blue eyes lock onto yours, the heat in them making your stomach flutter.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off, but the way he looks at you makes it impossible to ignore just how sexy you feel for him.

Austin just grins, his eyes full of adoration as he leans in, kissing you again—slow, deep, and filled with the love and happiness he feels for you.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, his voice soft but certain.

You smile, your fingers brushing through his hair as you gaze up at him.

“I love you too Austin,” you whisper full of warmth.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you smile, pressing a final kiss to his lips—slow and sweet, sealing the moment between you in love.

END 💝

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[writer-freak]

Valentines | Lads x gn reader

Characters: Xavier, Sylus, Rafayel, Caleb and Zayne

Warnings: gn reader, fluff lots of it, probably a bit ooc but I had fun writing it, english isn't my first language

A/n: A little sweet Valentines special for the boys. Just something fluffy and cute as that is very much needed after the new cards.

Xavier

You wake up feeling warm, almost too warm, like you're trapped under a heavy weighted blanket. Except this blanket is breathing against your neck, and its arms are wrapped securely around your waist.

The moment you shift, trying to get away from the heat, a strong arm tightens around you, pulling you even closer.

"Don't move," Xavier mumbles, his voice thick with sleep as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His lips press lazily against your skin, a soft kiss that sends warmth through your chest.

You sigh turning to face him, fingers burying in his messy hair. "Xav, we should at least get out of bed. It's Valentine's Day."

He groans, tightening his hold like a vice. "No. We’re spending the whole day right here." His voice is muffled against your skin, but you can hear the pout. "You can't leave. Ever."

You laugh, trying to wiggle free, but Xavier just hooks a leg over yours, fully caging you in.

"Xavier—"

"Shhh," he cuts you off, nuzzling deeper into you. His breath is warm against your collarbone, and when he speaks, his voice is slow and full of sleep. "Love is about appreciating each other. And I appreciate you best when you’re in my arms, doing absolutely nothing."

Eventually, after much negotiation (and several sleepy, stolen kisses), he begrudgingly lets you go, but only long enough for you to grab snacks. When you return, arms full of chocolates and popcorn, Xavier is already waiting with the blankets pulled back, making it very clear that your only acceptable place is right next to him.

The second you're within reach, he pulls you back into his arms, wrapping around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His fingers trace patterns along your arm, absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your shirt.

"You smell good" he murmurs, voice soft as he presses a slow kiss to your shoulder.

"You say that every day."

"Because it's true every day" he says, lips curling into a grin against your skin.

The two of you settle in, cuddling with each other as a movie plays in the background. But Xavier is barely paying attention. His focus is entirely on you, pressing featherlight kisses to your temple, to your cheek, to your jaw, as if he just can't help himself. His arms stay locked around you, warm and secure, fingertips tracing circles against your back.

At some point, you shift, trying to get more comfortable, but he just grumbles and tightens his hold again.

"Stop moving" he whines. "Just relax. I’m trying to absorb your warmth."

"You are my warmth." you tease, and his grip loosens for just a second before he flips the both of you over so he's entirely on top of you, resting his full weight against your body.

"Now I am," he murmurs, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips.

You laugh against his mouth, curling your arms around his shoulders. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're stuck with me," he says, completely content, as he tucks his face against your neck once more.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sylus

You wake up to a mountain of gifts. Like, actual mountains.

Your entire living room is filled with flowers, specifically red roses, white lilies, tulips, and some extravagant bouquet that probably costs as much as a small car. The scent is overwhelming, a mix of soft florals and something rich. And in the center of it all sits an oversized teddy bear, at least twice your size, with a heart stitched onto its belly that reads: You’re mine.

You blink. Then blink again.

“Sylus,” you say slowly, turning toward the doorway, where he stands, arms crossed, smug as ever, like a cat who got into the cream. “What. Is. This?”

He smirks, stepping closer. “Valentine’s Day, darling. And I intend to make sure you never forget it.”

You glance around, still processing the sheer absurdity of it all. “I was expecting, like… chocolates. Maybe dinner. Not—” You gesture vaguely at everything surrounding you.

“Oh, there’s chocolate too. And dinner. And a weekend trip. And—”

“Sylus.”

He chuckles, completely remorseless as he pulls you into his arms, his grip warm. “What?” He tilts your chin up, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, teasing kiss. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

You roll your eyes but melt into him anyway, your hands resting against his chest. Because, really, who are you to argue with this level of dedication?

After a few moments, you pull back, shaking your head with a small laugh. “You’re insane.”

“Rich,” he corrects, grinning. “Then insane.”

You nudge him playfully before sighing. “You know… I feel kinda bad. I didn’t really get you anything.”

Sylus blinks, his expression softening though you could still see his amusement, but so genuinely unconcerned that you almost feel silly for even bringing it up. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to get me anything.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already moving, reaching behind the couch and pulling out yet another extravagant gift box.

“However,” he continues, handing it to you with a knowing smirk, “if you really want to make me happy…”

You eye the box warily before slowly untying the ribbon. Inside, neatly folded, is a collection of ridiculously expensive clothing, pieces that he has clearly picked out for you, all in colors and styles that he knows you’d look good in. Some elegant, some casual, some dangerously close to being lingerie.

Your face heats up. “Sylus—”

He grins, looking completely pleased with himself. “Try them on for me, darling.”

You huff, closing the box. “So that’s your Valentine’s request?”

He leans in, lips ghosting over your ear. “Well, that—” His voice drops to a husky murmur. “—and maybe a little fashion show. Private, of course.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, swatting his arm. “You really are shameless.”

“And yet, you love me anyway,” he muses, kissing the corner of your mouth before pulling back with a lazy smirk. “Now, go on. Indulge me.”

Rafayel

From the moment you wake up, Rafayel has you trapped. His arm is slung over your waist, his grip ironclad, and the second you so much as shift, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

“Bathroom?”

“Denied.” He rolls on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath his weight. His smirk is slow, lazy, but the possessiveness in his eyes is unmistakable. “Today, you’re mine. No distractions. No escaping.”

You arch a brow. “Possessive much?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

After finally earning your freedom (and only because he allows it), you return from the bathroom to find him holding up a set of matching couple’s shirts.

His reads: I stole their heart. Yours says: I let them.

You burst out laughing. “Oh, we are definitely wearing these in public.”

He smirks. “Damn right we are.”

And sure enough, when you step out together, Rafayel wears the shirt like it’s a fashion statement, head held high. He walks close, so close that your arms brush with every step, his hand finding yours every few minutes just to intertwine your fingers. Anytime someone so much as glances at you, he casually pulls you closer, making sure the message is clear: you belong to him.

Dinner is at a restaurant that’s just fancy enough for the occasion but still relaxed enough for you both to enjoy yourselves. You’re halfway through teasing him about his choice of wine when the waiter, poor, oblivious soul, glances between the two of you and asks, “Special occasion?”

Rafayel doesn’t even blink. “Yeah.” He laces his fingers with yours on the table, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “We’re celebrating how ridiculously in love they are with me.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Excuse me—”

“It’s tragic, really,” he continues, eyes gleaming with mischief. “They’re completely obsessed.”

The waiter chuckles, obviously assuming it’s a joke, but you shoot Rafayel a look. “You wish I was that obsessed with you.”

He leans in, resting his chin on his hand, eyes burning into yours. “Aren’t you?”

And just like that, your whole cheeks feels warm. You roll your eyes to cover the effect he has on you, but he sees right through it. Smug, he reaches across the table, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your pulse point. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “I thought so.”

After dinner, Rafayel insists on keeping you close, whether it’s slinging an arm over your shoulder or tugging you into his side. By the time you make it home, he stretches, tossing his jacket aside and giving you a satisfied look.

“Admit it,” he says, stepping closer. “You loved wearing the couple’s shirts.”

You scoff. “I tolerated it.”

He hums, unconvinced. “You love being mine.”

You don’t answer, not with words, at least. Instead, you grab the front of his shirt, tugging him into a deep, lingering kiss. He smiles against your lips before backing you toward the couch, his grip firm around your waist.

“See?” he whispers, breath fanning over your skin. “Obsessed.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. And Rafayel? He looks far too pleased with himself.

Caleb

The kitchen is a disaster. Flour all over the countertops, chocolate smeared on Caleb’s cheek, and the two of you standing over a cake that looks… questionable at best.

“Okay, so maybe I eyeballed the measurements” Caleb admits, laughing as he rubs the back of his neck.

You snort, crossing your arms. “Eyeballed? Caleb, this cake is tilting.”

He grabs a spoon, scooping up a bit of frosting. “Taste test?”

You roll your eyes but lean forward, letting him feed you a bite. It’s… actually not bad.

“See?” He grins, licking some frosting off his own thumb. “We make a good team.”

You hum, stepping closer. “Messy, but yeah.”

A playful shimmer in his eyes before he suddenly swipes frosting onto your nose.

“Caleb!”

He laughs, but before he can dodge, you retaliate, smearing chocolate across his cheek.

It quickly turns into a full-blown food fight, ending with both of you breathless, sticky, and somehow still covered in flour.

Finally, when the cake is somewhat presentable, you exchange slices as gifts, messy, homemade, and perfect in its own personal way.

You take a bite, sighing contentedly, when Caleb suddenly tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’ve got something…” His voice is casual, but there’s something mischievous in the way he steps closer.

“Huh?” You barely have time to react before he leans in, his hand cupping your jaw as he licks a smudge of chocolate from the corner of your lips.

Your breath catches.

Caleb pulls back slightly, his lips hovering close to yours, his eyes dark with amusement. “You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs, voice softer now, more teasing.

You blink up at him, heart racing, before smirking. “Oh yeah? Want another taste?”

His grin turns almost boyish right before he kisses you, slow and sweet, the warmth of his lips making you forget all about the mess surrounding you.

When he finally pulls away, he chuckles, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “Best Valentine’s treat ever.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “You are such a cliché.”

“And you love it.”

You don’t argue. Because, well… he’s not wrong.

Zayne

The drive into the mountains is quiet, peaceful, just the low hum of the engine and the occasional flicker of headlights reflecting off the snow-covered trees. Zayne’s hands are steady on the wheel, his eyes focused on the roads ahead, but every so often, you catch him sneaking glances at you.

“You’re staring,” you tease, looking over at him.

His lips twitch slightly. “Just making sure you’re warm.”

You roll your eyes, tugging the blanket he packed for you closer. “I’m fine, Zayne. You’re the one driving through a blizzard.”

He chuckles under his breath. “I’ve handled worse.”

By the time you arrive at the secluded cabin, the sky is painted with soft pinks and deep purples, the last remnants of daylight disappearing behind the mountains. The place is perfect, cozy, intimate, a fire already crackling in the hearth.

Zayne didn't want to do a big flashy gesture. But he does always think ahead, making sure everything is set up so you don’t have to lift a finger. He guides you inside with a hand at the small of your back, quietly watching as you take it all in.

“You did all this for me?” you ask, glancing back at him.

He shrugs, but there’s something softer in his expression. “I figured we could use some time away.”

Later, over a candlelit dinner, he slides a small box across the table. It’s simple, unassuming, but the weight of it makes your heart race.

When you open it, you find a delicate pendant inside, a tiny silver snowflake, a symbol which you always say reminds you of him.

“I thought you’d like it,” he says, watching your reaction closely.

You trace the pendant with your fingertips, overwhelmed by how thoughtful it is. “Zayne, it’s perfect.”

He exhales, like he was holding onto something unspoken, then reaches over to clasp it around your neck himself. His fingers linger against your skin before he tilts your chin up, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. “Because I’m not taking you back home until I get at least a dozen more of those reactions.”

Divider by: @cafekitsune

[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.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[reocidal]

HONEYMOON PHASE — A. MIYA

cws; swearing, gn?reader but it gives fem to me even tho theres not descriptions of reader or gendered pet names, married life, tooth rotting fluff, yeah.

wc; 605

"'s it too late," atsumu's voice is muffled and his words slurred as he speaks, face buried in your shoulder.

"mm?" you respond sleepily, not really listening to him. strong tan arms are wrapped around your middle, and you absentmindedly curl your fingers into his untoned bleached hair. he purrs at the feeling, pulling you closer to him so he can press his mouth to your neck, grinning lazily. you make a slight noise of protest as you feel his teeth against your neck, and then he bites you, really bites you, to make you shut up.

"mmh, leave the jackals, y'know? fuck 'em, i could become a hermit or a monk or somethin'."

a drowsy, surprised giggle bubbles out of you, and his smile widens in response. he likes making you laugh.

"tsumu," you say, and he realises with glee that you still have your rough, lower-than-usual, sexy morning voice. "tsumu, monks can't get married, i think. and they have to be bald."

he groans, but you're not sure which one it's in response to. switching tactics, you half-heartedly try to push him off you.

"lemme stay here," he whines. "i love you, i wanna—"

"tsumu, no," you chide him, and he quiets down like a kicked puppy. raising his head, he pulls your left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the spot just above your wedding ring before he gets up with a sleepy yawn.

"five years into our marriage and you still don't let me sleep in," he says with a pout.

you ignore him, pausing mid-movement to admire his sculpted figure and the way his body moves as he transfers his wedding ring from his finger to the chain around his neck. when he notices you looking, a bright, boyish grin lights up his face. "can't risk losing it," he tells you, still smiling. you can't help but mirror his expression with your own giddy, lovestruck smile.

you're fixing up breakfast in the kitchen when he comes in, although he's still not dressed to leave yet. you turn to him, smiling when he nuzzles his face into yours. "baby, can i drive you t'work?"

you shake your head, hands coming up to cup his face. "you're already running late, love."

he rolls his eyes in response, angling his head to kiss your palm. "baby, best friend, love of my fuckin' life. is it such a crime to want to spend more time with you?"

"we have all the time in the world, tsumu," you say. "eat quick and go."

"not leaving the house without you," he says sulkily. "they can practice without their favourite setter for a bit."

"favourite? that's debatable," you tease, sitting down next to him with your own breakfast. atsumu kisses your knuckles again with a sly grin, ignoring your dig at him. "but i'm your favourite setter."

"you're my favourite everything," you say, and then you laugh as the red spreads across his cheeks and his nose and the tips of his ears. your breakfasts remain untouched as he leans in to kiss all over your face in a bid to distract you.

"are you flirting with me, y/n l/n?" he asks.

"maybe," you reply, still laughing.

he shuts you up with a kiss. "what if we skip work today?"

"and do what, exactly?"

"laze around, y'know. i just want to stay with you, spend some time together."

"hmm." you pretend to think, but your mind is already made up. "i dunno..."

he kisses your palm, and then your wrist. "please?"

you've never been able to resist those stupid puppy eyes, anyways.

I HATE THIS ITS SO HAPPY. kmsing. drop a like, rb and or comment if u liked this 🤔🤔 husband atsumu u could fix me

[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.”

[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."