#but always there. always feel like i have a little more control over the big things when i knit s few rows

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[trippinsorrows]

without you + four

authors note: damn. it's been a minute. wanted to at least update this story for ya'll before christmas. i'll try my best to not make the next update take as long.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two + three

words: 5k

“Ooooh, this some nice white people shit.”

“Alexis!”

Leave it to this girl to always say some out of pocket shit at the wrong time. You offer an apologetic gaze to the workers who cast her an almost strange look at her outburst before elbowing your best friend. “Bitch, would you shut the fuck up.”

She sucks her teeth, offering an excuse versus an explanation. “What I say?” She gestures around the backyard that’s just about fully decorated. “You know black people. We usually got that one nice centerpiece of them big ass balloons and a Sam’s or Costco sheet cake for baby showers. That’s about it.” Rolling your eyes, she just has to add on. “It’s like when we have a funeral, and they done put Grandma Rose in them ghetto ass clouds talking about some sunrise to sunset.”

At that, you have to laugh. “Okay, you not wrong there.”

“I’m never wrong. Duh.”

“Whatever.” You take in once more just the opulent display that Alexis and Kaylah have been working on over the past few weeks. Initially, they wanted to find a venue to rent, but considering this baby shower will only include close friends and family, a venue seemed like too  much. Not to mention that Joe has been adamant about trying to keep this pregnancy as private as possible. Not necessarily from a place of wanting to hide it. No, if that was the case, he wouldn’t have shared some of the maternity pictures you took not even two weeks ago to his Instagram.

Or even some faceless photos of Callie. 

But, that’s something he can control. A sharing he has autonomy over and full say in. Paparazzi crashing your baby shower is not, thus the two of you deciding that the shower should just take place at your home.

And given the massive size of not only the actual house but your backyard, it’s a great decision. 

“It’s all looking so nice.” Kaylah’s voice enters the conversation as she walks over, clipboard in hand and a smile on her face. “How you doing, mama bear?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer honestly, “feeling big and pregnant.”

“Well….”

“Shut up, Lex,” you mutter, rubbing your belly. “These babies have definitely been kicking my ass with this back and breast pain.”

Granted, being five months pregnant with triplets, it’s an expected sort of discomfort. It’s helped immensely to have a fiancé that’s home and attentive and always willing to do whatever he needs or rather, whatever you need. He’s taken over Callie duties on the evenings where you just feel tired. He cooks most nights, partially because he knows your feet hurt and are swollen usually. But also, that little traitorous little girl of yours has made it clear she prefers daddy’s food over mommy’s food. He’s even gone as far as calling your mom and asking for tips on how to do Callie’s hair, as your ever growing belly has made that a little bit more difficult.

Put simply, he continues to be the perfect man. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner in life. 

Kaylah moves closer, hand on your stomach. She, along with other close family and friends, never need to ask. It’s just the strangers who you don’t know that need to stay six feet away at all times. “I can’t believe we’re only four months away from meeting them.”

Alexis shakes her head. “Earth, Wind, and Fire truly have no idea what kind of big ass, loving, chaotic family they’re about to be born into.”

Blowing out a breath, you scold her, “girl, how many times I gotta tell you to stop calling them that?”

“Would you prefer Thing 1, 2, and 3?” No answer is all the answer she needs. “That’s what I thought.” And, of course, she has to just sneak on in there another attempt. “If you would just tell me the sexes—”

“Ain’t happening.” You shut that shit down real fast. “Joe and I already made it clear. We’re not revealing that until the shower.” A special thing kept between yourself, your fiancé, and the child you already share, as Callie was present for your last checkup appointment where you were able to find out the sexes. 

“Bitch, the shower is literally tomorrow.”

“And you, along with everyone else, will find out tomorrow then.” Alexis is visibly, playfully annoyed, as Kaylah only laughs. 

“I understand. We’re just excited. That’s all.”

And, you get it. The farther along you get in your pregnancy, the more excitement you feel at getting to meet your babies. All the shopping, the setting up of the nurseries (you and Joe decided on two rooms), even the deciding of the names. Even more, it’s been so special to have a partner in all of this. You might not have gotten that with Callie, but you’re damn sure getting it now, and it feels good.

—------

“I don’t know if I should take her to Disney by myself.”

Joe’s seemingly random statement takes you by surprise. Turning to him with a frown, you ask, “what?”

He sighs, also angling his body to you while his focus remains on your belly. “You’re so far along in your pregnancy. Anything could happen.”

“But, it won’t,” you stress, reaching up to palm his cheek. “Joe, I’ll be fine. My mom will be here with me. Both Kaylah and Alexis are less than 15 minutes away. I won’t be alone.” Because that seems to be what he’s thinking. “I want you guys to go. She’s really looking forward to it, and not just because the kid lives and breathes Disney.” Largely thanks to yourself and your mom. “Plus, that’s what she wants for her birthday.”

“Or a puppy.”

“I swear to God, if you or your mini me bring up that damn puppy one more time.”

He chuckles and moves to kiss your temple. “Just don’t want to not be here if you need me…”

“I’ll always need you in one way or another, Joe.” The God’s honest truth. “But, our daughter needs you more, and I want her to get in as much one-one-time with you before the babies arrive and she suddenly has to share you with three siblings.”

He eyes you, recognizing the unspoken concern in your statement. “You still think she’s going to get jealous?”

“I know she is,” you answer, matter-of-factly. “She’s a little kid. A mama and daddy’s girl. It’s natural. We’ll just have to make sure we reassure and look out for any signs.” Though you know not everything can be caught, and kids are sometimes good at hiding what they don’t want their parents to see. Granted, Callie has always been pretty open with you, so you hope that doesn’t change. 

As the two of you move back to folding clothes, you find yourself changing the subject, “also, not related, but before my baby brain kicks in, I was thinking, what if I applied for a job at her school?”

It’s something you thought about when you and Joe toured the private school that Ellie attends, a nice, expensive but safe option considering sending Callie to public school in the fall doesn't seem like the best or smartest move.

Working at your daughter’s school is also just something that would make you feel a little better. A new school. A new educational milestone. You wanna support her and be there for her as much as you can.

However, the less than thrilled look on Joe’s face definitely takes you by surprise. 

“You’re gonna work?”

It’s such a simple but silly question that makes you scoff quietly, “of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs, grabbing another item to fold. A part of you is wondering if you’re even going to have room for the gifts you’ll receive at the baby shower tomorrow. You two have already gotten so many things, clothes especially. “Maybe because we’re about to have three newborns.” 

Rolling your eyes, you calmly counter, “No shit. I’m not thinking of going back right away. Maybe next fall. They’ll be one. Callie will be starting first grade, so it would be nice to be working at the place where she, and they, eventually, will be at.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you’re inclined to prompt a follow up when he finally breaks his silence. “I don’t know how that’s supposed to work.”

Frowning, you ask, “what do you mean?”

Joe sighs, an edge in his voice. “You seriously want to go back to work when we’ll have three one year-olds?” And before you can respond, he continues. “Who’s going to stay with them, Y/N? You’ll be working. I’ll be on the road—”

“It’s not like we’ll be working 24/7, Joe. And we’ve got a huge support system here. Your family. Kaylah. Alexis. It’s not like we’re alo—”

“You don't need to be working.”

Silence.

It’s a good minute before you speak again. “Excuse me?”

He blows out a breath, running a hand through his hair that’s down and hanging. “I want you to stay home with the kids full time—”

“Joe.” Cutting him off isn’t the best thing, but your emotion is starting to get the best of you. “You know me. You know damn well that I’m not the stay at home wife type. I’ve worked consistently since I was sixteen years-old, and I’m not about to stop just because you want me to.”

You love what you do. Teaching might be a stressful career, but it’s always been more rewarding than anything. And truth be told, you can’t imagine a life for yourself where you’re not doing it in some capacity.

Joe’s voice is even, his expression stern. “It’s not about me, Y/N. It’s about what’s best for the kids.”

“And if what was truly best for them is for me to be here full time, then I would do that, but it’s not necessary—”

“And that’s where I disagree with you,” he pushes back, angled completely toward you, arms crossed. He shrugs. “I think it is.”

Partially taken back by his stance on this, it still doesn’t prevent you from standing your ground. “Well then, I guess we’re not on the same page here then.”

“Not at all.”

It’s a strange thing, being on such opposite ends of the spectrum. Joe has always matched you so well, and unfortunately, that can include the level of stubbornness. He is never one to back down, but neither are you. 

So where does that leave you two?

“Mommy.”

Callie’s quiet voice breaks the intense impasse. Clearing your throat, you turn to her and force a small smile. “What’s up, sis?”

She moves her hands behind her back, teetering up and down on the heels of her feet. “Will you color with me?”

An easy answer if it will get you out of this room that’s suddenly filled with an uncomfortable amount of tension. 

“Callie, mommy and I need a few min—”

“Of course, I’ll color with you, baby.” Again, you fully recognize that cutting him off is rude and not the best way to handle this. A petty way, certainly. But, he also knows that when you get pissed off, it’s best to just give you some space.

Even if it’s not the best thing overall.

Not even bothering to look back at him, you walk over and take Callie’s hand, escorting you both out the room with another word.

Left alone with his thoughts, still irked at the conversation as a whole, Joe quickly and easily realizes telling you what he wanted you to do wasn’t the right approach.

He knows he has good reasons for his preferred plan regarding the whole work thing, but he also knows you, or should know you well enough, to know that trying to tell you what to do has never and will never end well.

It’s just he definitely wasn’t expecting your approach and outlook on this job thing, even if it makes sense for your character and what he knows about you. There was just this part of him that was thinking you’d maybe take a couple years off before returning to teaching. Wait until the kids are a little older. That makes most sense to him, and he’s sure if he maybe responded better and was cleared on his reasoning, you’d have been a bit more receptive.

Maybe not have walked out.

Joe’s phone dinging in his pocket prompts him to pull it out.

Megan: Hey there! Just wanted to follow up and let you know the housing and travel arrangements are all finalized.

Megan: Though I’m curious, you requested a house instead of an apartment? 

Megan: That’s a lot of room for just one man. 😉

Joe does find the added emoji a little strange, maybe unprofessional by some standards, but it’s the least of his worries right now.

Joe: Thank you for the update. My fiancée and daughter will be coming to visit when I have to stay for a few days for filming. Need the room for them.

And, it’s not set to happen very often, his management working with the film execs for a schedule that’s pretty flexible and allows him to be back home the same day for most of the filming. It’s just those few instances where he has to stay overnight, a couple days even, that he and you decided would be the times where you and Callie would stay with him.

Megan: Oh.

For some reason, Megan's response rubs him the wrong way, which is strange because up until this point, he’s had no issues with the young woman. She’s been professional, helpful, and informative. 

Megan: I think it’s so cool how family oriented you are. So freaking sweet.

Joe truly has no idea how to respond to that, because it’s not inherently wrong. If anything, it’s just a compliment, but there’s something about it…

Megan: Anyways, won’t keep ya! Hope you have a great rest of your evening, babe! ❤️

It’s that message, however, that crosses the line, prompting him to reply and remind her of his boundaries.

And her place.

Joe: As you said, I’m very family oriented, so I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that. The emoji is also inappropriate and makes me uncomfortable.

Someone never uncomfortable with setting a boundary, he feels nothing when he sees the typing bubble appear and reappear several times before her response slides in.

Megan: I am SO SO sorry. I’m so used to working with women, so my dialogue is sometimes women coded. Again, my apologies. Have a great evening, Joe.

It’s a response that he appreciates and doesn’t feel the need to respond to. He said what he needed to stay. She apologized and made it right. It’s all water under the bridge.

Joe goes to lock his phone and put it away when a thought crosses his mind. 

You have his passcode, are free to go through his phone, not something that you’ve ever done but something he doesn’t care about regardless. However, if you were to go through it for some reason, seeing this exchange could most definitely make you feel some type of way. 

And, it’s not that he feels guilty, Joe knows he handled it appropriately and accurately. But, he doesn’t want you getting upset, doesn’t need you experiencing any kind of unnecessary stress.

Something he’s already inadvertently contributed to by not handing your argument a few minutes ago correctly. 

None of that is good for you, and especially not for the babies, and when it comes to this pregnancy, he's not taking any risks.

Especially not with you as far along as you are.

Joe ultimately decides to delete the last three texts, letting the conversation stop at the “family oriented” comment from Megan.

Again, he doesn’t need a situation that’s not even a real situation being an issue.

It’s just better this way.

—------

You’re touching up your makeup, about to apply another coat of mascara to add the finishing touches to the complete look for the baby shower when you take a moment to appreciate your appearance. The white dress is beautiful against your melanin, and your mom did the damn thing with your hair. Ultimately deciding to wear your hair natural, mama opted to put it up in a beautiful, fancy updo that perfectly frames and highlights your beat face. 

The final product is something stunning and perfect, the ideal look you wanted and were aiming for on this big, special day. 

A knock on the bathroom door prompts you to lift your gaze to the mirror where you’re met with the lingering stare of your handsome fiancé.

Taking in his outfit, a white, short sleeved button up shirt, khaki shorts, topped off with white and gold Nike Freeks, a small smile falls on your face. It’s the perfect look for him. So Joe.

He walks in and closes the door behind him, coming to stand behind you. Your eyes shut as he holds you, hand on your bump, head in the crook of your neck.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments with a kiss pressed against your moisturized skin. 

“Thank you, baby,” you murmur, reaching up and caressing the back of his head. “I’m sorry….”

“Naw, I’m sorry,” he interrupts in an equal voice, carefully turning you around as looks down with an apologetic countenance. “It wasn’t right for me to try to tell you what to do.”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t exactly trying to be receptive.” Sleeping on it helped you arrive at that realization that with all of the glaring, embarrassing clarity. “I think I’m so used to doing things my way that I forgot it isn’t just about me and what I want, it’s about us and what works for my family.”

“I don’t want to take away from your autonomy, Y/N.”

“I know that, Leati.” Hand moving to palm his face, you remind, “but these babies mean we’re all going to have to adjust one way or another. I might have to take some time off from working full time.”

Because as much as you love what you do, Joe was right in that your kids might need you to be home more. Full time, even. And while it would definitely feel a little off going into a school year and not having a classroom to call yours, taking care of your children and making sure they’re straight would more than fill that void.

“And, I’m going to see about making my part time schedule permanent,” he shares, moving his hand to your hip, giving a gentle squeeze when you open your mouth to protest. “It’s what I want, babe. I told you before, I don’t want to miss anything else.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead, suggesting, “maybe you could do something part time?”

“Maybe.” You shrug, reassuring, “regardless, we’ll figure it out and do what’s best not for you or for me but for our family.”

Because that’s what most important. Doing what’s best not for one but for all of you.

“We will,” he agrees, brushing his lips against yours, “I don’t ever want to go to bed not on good terms again, you understand me?”

Your thighs shouldn’t clench together the way they do at his commanding tone. It’s a serious thing that you agree with, but it’s the combination of his hard body against yours, his cologne invading your senses, and his minty breath against your face that has you pushing back….something.

“Yes, daddy.” A cheeky, double entendre that has his eyes narrowing. 

There's something so innocent yet downright filthy as he promises in a darkened voice, “you know Imma fuck the shit out of you when all is said and done today, right?”

Fuck.

More fluttering, even if it’s something you already know. Because it’s been three days, and that’s far too long to go without your favorite pastime. 

Hand moving over his crotch, you palm his dick through his pants. “Good, cause mama needs her fill.” Licking your lips, you add, “if we had time, I’d suck your dick right now.”

Because five months pregnant or not, so long as you can find a way to have this man inside of you, that’s exactly what you gon’ do. You both love sex too much to go too long without it. And, you both know the window in which you can realistically be sexually active during this pregnancy is waning, so you’ve gotta make the most of the time you do have.

Joe’s glare is light and teasing. “You such a nasty lil’ thing, you know that?”

Smiling and moving your arms around his neck, you cheekily remind him, “but that’s part of why you love me, ain’t it? Because I match your freak. Because mama loves when daddy puts her in her place. Ties, whips and bondage included….”

“Fuck, Y/N, you tryna make me hard?” A rhetorical but also serious question as he drops his hand to your backside, taking a handful of your supple ass in his big hands. “Want daddy to fuck his pussy with all them people down there and outside waiting for u—”

Several hard knocks on the door followed by a familiar voice. “Mommy! Daddy!” A smile breaks on your face as he closes his eyes, clearly trying to settle himself. “Grandma says it’s time!”

Laughing quietly, you call out, “okay, baby. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

And, of course, your forever inquisitive child has to ask, “what are you guys doing?”

Joe chuckles and slaps your ass before moving to open the door, a grinning Callie smiling even harder as she looks up at her favorite person. “Daddy!”

Reaching for him, Joe doesn’t hesitate to lean over and pick her up. Your smile grows at the sight of Callie dressed in her adorable white and gold dress, your mom also styling her curls into two big pom poms. 

She looks so much like Joe in this moment.

Callie gasps and compliments, “mommy! You look so pretty!”

“Thank you, Callie Bear.” You move over and kiss her cheek, deciding your current look is good enough. 

It’s time to celebrate your growing family.

—------

The Baby Shower is something out of a dream. 

Beautifully decorated, whites, blues, and pinks spread across your backyard, the aesthetic is very Pinterest aligned and everything you could have imagined for a day meant to celebrate the three lives you’ve created. 

Guests including several members of Joe’s family like his mom and sisters, Jon and Josh and their families. Alexis, too, of course. Jadah was invited but unable to make it due to work obligations. Regardless, it’s a wonderful outcome, being surrounded by all the people you love the most here to be with you during this great time in your lives. 

It’s a lot of laughter, a ton of great food, a tremendous amount of gifts, and an abundance of love that's felt from the moment you, Joe, and Callie walk out to the sound of Baby by Ashanti playing. Continues as there’s a damn near mass chorus that’s formed when When I See You by Fantasia comes on.

And the classic dances such as the Wobble and Electric Slide to Candy by Cameo that you most definitely get your big and pregnant ass to partake in.

But, one of your favorite parts has to be the photo station, several photos taken of yourself and Joe, various shots of his hands placed protectively over your stomach. Callie joins you for a couple photos as well, though it’s not missed upon you when she makes a face after one of Joe’s sisters jokingly makes a comment to her about “not being the only kiddo in the house anymore.”

It’s something you’ll certainly circle back around to at the end of the party, and it’s a time that’s nearing as the three of you start to kick off the moment everyone has been waiting for.

Joe’s deep voice travels across the spacious yard as he keeps an arm around you, Callie holds onto his shirt and stands on the other side of him. “We just want to thank all of you for taking time out to be here with us today.” 

“You already know we weren’t about to miss this,” Trinity shouts.

Jon laughs and adds, “hell no. Can’t remember the last time we had a set of triplets join the family.”

“That’s cause it don’t happen a lot in general,” Alexis chimes, sipping on her Henny. “But Big Di—”

“Like Joe said,” you cut her off, already knowing where that was going. “We’re so happy and blessed to have you all in our lives, and it means the world to us that our children, the babies and Callie, have so many people who love them just as much as we do.” 

Because knowing these amazing, wonderful people love your kids, even the ones that haven’t even arrived yet, as much as you and Joe do, truly is the best thing ever.

“But, we all know what ya’ll really wanna know,” Joe chuckles. “You wanna know the genders.” 

A round of agreement prompts laughter with someone shouting out “hell yeah!” and Josh saying something about “winning the bet.” 

As one of the workers brings over the three sets of balloons and pins, you and Joe make sure Callie has the right one before you take over. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

“Girl, would you hurry up? The new season of Baddies drops tonight!”

“Alexis, shut the hell up,” you laugh, shaking your head before turning to Joe. With a head nod, volume increased, you start with an excited tone, “the first baby is…..” And a small second of intentional delay before you pop the balloon, revealing blue confetti. 

More rounds of applause and cheers as Joe proudly announces, “a boy.”

“I knew it!”

“The Tribal Chief got a tribal heir!”

“Whew, sis, start them kegel exercises now!”

When the celebration dies down, Joe and Callie focus on you for your turn. You lift up the balloon as he kicks off this time, “the second baby is….” Another intentional delay followed by a pop, revealing more blue confetti.

Eyes watering, you share loudly and proudly, “another boy!”

The pure excitement on everyone's face, including your mom who has silent tears streaming down her face, has you blotting at your eyes. This moment couldn’t be anymore perfect.

Joe moves to pick up Callie, kissing her cheek, asking, “you ready, Callie Bear?” She nods with excitement, you and Joe speaking in synchronization as you stand close to him with your hand on his stomach, “and the third baby is…..” Callie counts to three, closes her eyes, and pops the balloon.

And as pink confetti blends with the blue, she shouts with all the happiness, “a baby girl!”

The crowd of family and friends is the loudest during the last and final reaction, deepening your happiness, mimicking that of which was felt when Dr. Young revealed the sexes to you at your last appointment.

Two boys and one girl is literally perfect. 

Your little family truly is truly going to be complete.

“And,” you cut through the cheers, one glance at your fiancé and daughter before you continue. “We have another surprise for ya’ll.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a fourth!”

Rolling your eyes at Jon, you cut right to it, “we’ve decided to share the names we’ve picked out.”

Gasps and excitement go around, Joe once again being the one to start off. “The firstborn boy will be named Iosefa Anoa’i.” 

Iosefa.

The Samoan variation of the name Joseph.

Gaze on Joe, it fills your heart with so much love to see and hear the pride in his voice and on his face. Having one of your sons named after him is the least you can do for this man. 

It’s what he deserves.

Clearing your throat, you provide the second name. “The second baby boy will be named Isaiah Anoa’i.” A strong, Biblical name. A name given in honor of your mom who has always loved said name. A moving gesture she clearly recognizes given the way she places both hands over her heart, mouthing ‘thank you.’

You mouth, 'I love you, too' back as both yourself and Joe redirect your focus to Callie for her big moment.

She giggles when Joe tickles her stomach before yelling, “and my baby sister will be named Moana Anoa’i!”

Deciding on names was such an intimate, thoughtful, moving process, and while they may not be as alike or even common as most triplet names, they mean something to you, Joe, and even Callie, who both yourself and your husband decided to let name her sister. 

Callie is your firstborn, special to both of you in ways that you can’t describe, so giving her that only felt right.

And as you re-enter the group of friends and family who have gathered here for this special occasion, you can’t help but imagine what that’s going to be like when it happens again. On a different day. For a different reason. A year or so away, when you stand before them and God and take the man who completes you as your better half.

A beautiful day indeed, even if it’s more for show and aesthetic anyway. 

Because unbeknownst to most of the guests, outside of Callie, your mom, and Joe’s mom, you have an appointment at the courthouse tomorrow morning at 10am sharp.

Because after tomorrow, not only will you and Joe Anoa’i share children.

You’ll share last names.

Because tomorrow is your wedding day. 

You’ll officially be Mrs. Y/N Anoa’i.

[missrosiesworld]

Heartstrings and Wagging Tails

Adorable headcanons for Seth Lowell's crush moments 😍 I decided to write my crush headcanons more narratively, so you guys can feel more immersed in the characters' emotions and experiences, making every scenario relatable and heartfelt. I'll keep writing headcanons this way if you guys like it, and I'll revise my previous ones to match it. 😊

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

1. Awkward yet Adorable: Seth becomes a bundle of nerves around his crush. His normally calm demeanor turns into shy, flustered gestures. His tail wags uncontrollably whenever they’re near, and his ears often twitch at the sound of their voice. He stumbles over his words and laughs nervously, but his sincerity shines through.

“Oh, uh, hi!” Seth stammered, his words coming out in a rushed jumble. “I didn’t—didn’t see you there. Not that I was looking for you or anything! I mean—uh—how’s it going?” He gave a nervous laugh, his hand darting to the back of his neck as his ears twitched furiously.

His crush raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of their lips. “It’s going fine, Seth,” they said with a soft chuckle. “You okay? You seem... jittery.”

Seth’s ears flattened slightly, and his tail slowed, though it still swayed nervously behind him. “Jittery? Me? No way,” he said, his voice a touch higher than usual. His hand remained on the back of his neck, rubbing at it awkwardly as if the motion would ground him. “I’m totally... fine.”

“If you say so, Seth,” they replied with an amused smile, leaving Seth to fumble for anything else to say as butterflies in his stomach flew.

2. Small Acts of Kindness: Seth expresses his feelings through actions rather than words. He’ll bring them their favorite drink or snack from the cafe, offer to carry their things, or go out of his way to help with tasks, no matter how small. His crush may not even realize the effort behind these gestures, but Seth is secretly proud every time he makes their day a little easier.

Seth walked into the office break room, his tail swishing nervously behind him as he clutched a freshly brewed cup of coffee. The aroma of rich, roasted beans wafted from the cup, mingling with the scent of his nervous energy. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to pick the perfect blend, remembering how his crush always talked about their favorite flavor with a small smile that he couldn’t forget.

He spotted them sitting at their desk, their brow furrowed in concentration as they typed away, completely unaware of his presence. Taking a steadying breath, Seth approached, his ears twitching slightly. “Hey,” he began, his voice a little hesitant as he stopped just a few feet from them. His fingers tightened slightly around the cup as his crush looked up at him, their expression softening into a warm smile.

“I noticed you were out of coffee earlier,” Seth continued, holding out the cup toward them, his tail wagging slightly despite his best efforts to control it. “So, I grabbed this for you on my break.”

Their eyes widened slightly in surprise as they reached out to take the cup, their fingers brushing his for just a moment. “Oh, wow, thank you!” they said, the warmth in their voice making Seth’s ears twitch again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Seth felt his cheeks warm as he smiled shyly, his gaze darting briefly to the side before returning to theirs. “It’s no big deal,” he replied, his voice soft but sincere. “I just thought… you’d like it.”

They looked at him for a moment, their smile growing as they brought the cup closer. “You’re really thoughtful, Seth,” they said, their tone filled with gratitude. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Hearing their words, Seth’s heart swelled with pride, and his tail wagged just a little faster. He gave a small, nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m glad you like it,” he murmured, his smile lingering long after returning to his desk, secretly thrilled that his small act of kindness had made their day a little better.

3. Stealing Glances: Seth can’t help but sneak glances at his crush when they’re not looking. He admires the way they move, their smile, and how they speak. If caught staring, he’ll quickly look away, his cheeks turning bright red as he pretends to focus on something else.

Seth couldn’t help himself. Every time his crush was nearby, his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, drifting toward them like magnets. He admired how they moved, how effortlessly they seemed to brighten the room, and how their smile seemed to light up everything around them.

Caught up in the sound of their voice as they spoke to a coworker, Seth rested his chin in his hand, his gaze softening without him even realizing it. He wasn’t just looking—he was completely captivated.

That’s when they turned suddenly, catching him mid-stare. Their lips curved into a teasing grin, and they raised an eyebrow. “You know, Seth,” they said playfully, their voice laced with amusement, “if you keep staring, I might start charging you.”

Seth jolted upright, his ears flattening against his head as panic set in. “I-I wasn’t staring!” he blurted out, his tail twitching behind him as he waved his hands defensively. “I mean, I wasn’t staring in a weird way! I—um—” His words faltered, his cheeks burning a bright red as he scrambled to recover.

They burst into laughter, their tone warm and kind rather than mocking. “Relax, Seth,” they said between chuckles. “I’m just messing with you.”

Hearing their reassurance, Seth let out a shaky laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh… right,” he mumbled, his voice sheepish. “I knew that.” But his flushed cheeks and twitching tail betrayed him entirely.

4. Overthinking Everything: Seth constantly worries about saying or doing the wrong thing. He rehearses conversations in his head but usually forgets everything the moment his crush speaks to him.

Seth stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his tail twitching nervously as he stared at his reflection. His ears flicked slightly as he practiced his lines for the umpteenth time, determined to get it right. “Okay, Seth,” he muttered, pointing at himself in the mirror for emphasis. “It’s simple. Just tell them you like their outfit. That’s all. Easy, right?” He straightened his posture and tried again, his tone overly rehearsed. “‘Hey, you look great today!’ See? Simple. You’ve got this.”

Taking a deep breath, he smoothed his tail and made his way outside, his tail swishing behind him with anticipation and nervous energy. As he walked his usual route, his ears perked up, catching the familiar sound of their voice. His crush was heading toward him, their smile bright and inviting as they waved. Seth’s heart skipped a beat, and all the confidence he’d tried to muster suddenly evaporated.

“Morning, Seth! How are you?” they greeted, their voice warm and cheerful as they stopped in front of him.

Seth froze, his tail wagging anxiously as his rehearsed lines scattered from his mind like leaves in the wind. “Uh, your shoes!” he blurted out, his voice higher-pitched than he intended. His ears flattened in panic as he realized what he’d just said. “I mean, your shoes look great today! Wait, no—your outfit!” His hands waved frantically as he tried to recover, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “I mean, everything looks great—uh—on you—oh no…”

His crush blinked for a moment before letting out a soft, amused laugh, their smile kind and genuine. “Thanks, Seth,” they said, their voice warm enough to ease some of his embarrassment. “You’re sweet.”

Seth stood there, his tail now still as he stared at them, his ears twitching slightly. “I... uh, yeah. Anytime,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. As they continued on their way, he buried his face in his hands, groaning softly to himself. “Smooth, Seth. Real smooth.”

5. Protective Streak: While Seth is shy around his crush, he’s fiercely protective if they’re in danger or even slightly uncomfortable. His usual nerves disappear as he steps up, ensuring they’re safe and happy.

Seth’s ears twitched as he noticed the subtle shift in his crush’s demeanor. Their posture stiffened slightly, their steps faltering as a stranger stepped a little too close, their tone sharp and invasive. Seth’s usual nervousness vanished in an instant, replaced by a firm resolve. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, placing himself squarely between his crush and the potential threat.

“Hey,” Seth said, his voice steady, a surprising firmness underlying his usual soft-spoken tone. His tail, usually wagging or swaying nervously, now stood still as his striking eyes—a mesmerizing gradient from purple to blue—fixed firmly on the stranger. “Is there a problem here?” His ears tilted forward, his protective instincts fully engaged. “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to them.”

The stranger hesitated, clearly caught off guard by Seth’s sudden confidence. They scoffed, crossing their arms in a show of bravado. “What’s it to you, huh? I was just talking to them.”

Seth’s gaze didn’t waver, his gradient eyes glinting with calm determination and an unspoken warning. “Yeah? Well, they don’t seem interested in talking to you. So, maybe you should move along.” His tone remained calm, but an edge to his words made it clear he wasn’t going to back down.

The stranger grumbled something under their breath before stepping back, muttering, “Whatever, man. Not worth the trouble.” They turned and walked away, leaving Seth standing firm.

As the tension dissolved, Seth’s tail resumed its usual swaying, and the adrenaline coursing through him began to fade. He turned back to his crush, his ears lowering slightly as his protective demeanor softened into something gentler. His gradient eyes, now filled with warmth, locked onto theirs. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice returning to its usual nervous warmth.

His crush nodded, their expression softening into one of pure gratitude. “Thank you, Seth,” they said earnestly, their voice carrying a warmth that sent a new wave of butterflies through him. “I really appreciate it.”

Seth’s cheeks turned pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his earlier confidence giving way to his typical bashfulness. “It’s nothing, really. I just... couldn’t stand the thought of you being uncomfortable.”

Their smile widened, and they reached out, touching his arm lightly. “It wasn’t nothing, Seth. It meant a lot. Thank you.”

Seth’s tail wagged a little faster, and he ducked his head, a small, shy smile creeping onto his face. His gradient eyes, now soft and glowing, flickered up to meet theirs. “Anytime,” he murmured. “I’ll always look out for you.”

6. Subtle Compliments: Seth tries to sneak compliments into conversations, his voice softer than usual and his eyes full of admiration. He’s always genuine, even if his delivery is awkward.

The soft hum of conversation filled the room as Seth sat across from his crush, his tail twitching nervously under the table. He’d been silently working up the courage to say something, anything, to let them know just how much they meant to him. His ears twitched as he finally caught their gaze, his heart skipping a beat.

"You, uh, you really know how to brighten a room, you know?" he stammered, his voice softer than usual, the words tumbling out before he could overthink them. His hands fidgeted slightly on the table, and he quickly clasped them together to keep them still. "It’s... kind of amazing."

His crush blinked, their expression melting into a warm smile. "Thanks, Seth," they replied, their voice light and genuine. "That means a lot."

The sincerity in their tone made Seth’s ears flatten slightly, his face growing warm as a blush spread across his cheeks. He tried to look away, but their smile kept pulling his gaze back. "I mean it," he said, fumbling slightly with his words but pushing through. "You’re... you’re really something special."

Their smile grew even wider, and they leaned slightly forward, their eyes sparkling with amusement and appreciation. "You’re pretty special yourself, Seth," they said softly. 

Seth’s tail swished behind him, his heart thundering in his chest at their words. He ducked his head slightly, a shy grin spreading across his face as he whispered, "Thanks... I guess we’re both lucky then."

7. Dreaming of Confession: Seth often finds himself daydreaming about the perfect way to confess his feelings, picturing scenarios where everything goes smoothly. However, in reality, his confession is likely to be shy, heartfelt, and full of stammers—but completely genuine.

Seth had spent countless nights rehearsing this moment in his head, imagining every detail. He pictured himself calm, collected, standing confidently as he delivered the words that had been burning inside him for so long. In his daydreams, his crush would smile warmly, their eyes lighting up as they accepted his feelings with grace and maybe even excitement. It was perfect—every time he ran through it in his mind.

But now that the moment had come, Seth felt anything but confident. His palms were clammy, and his tail swayed nervously behind him, betraying his attempts to stay composed. He took a shaky breath, standing just close enough to his crush to feel the faint warmth of their presence. His ears twitched as he finally mustered the courage to speak.

“I—I just wanted to say that I think…” He faltered, his voice catching as his nerves threatened to consume him. He glanced down at the ground, taking another deep breath before meeting their eyes again. “I think you’re amazing. And, uh, I really like spending time with you. Like, a lot.”

His crush tilted their head slightly, their expression soft and attentive, encouraging him to continue.

“So, um, maybe we could… go out sometime?” The words tumbled out in a rush, and Seth immediately felt his cheeks flush a deep red. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his ears flattening slightly as he braced himself for their response.

To his astonishment, his crush’s lips curled into a warm smile, their eyes shimmering with kindness. “I’d like that, Seth,” they said, their voice steady and sincere.

Seth’s heart nearly stopped. “Y-you would?” he stammered, his tail wagging furiously now. “Really?”

His crush laughed softly, their smile growing wider. “Yes, really,” they replied, their voice warm and full of sincerity. “I’ve been hoping you’d ask me.”

Seth blinked, feeling a rush of warmth spread through him at their words. He fumbled for something else to say, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of disbelief and joy. “I mean it,” he managed, his voice quieter now but no less genuine. “You’re… you’re really something special.”

His crush’s gaze softened even further, and they reached out to gently touch his arm. “And so are you,” they replied warmly. 

In that moment, Seth felt like he was floating, the weight of his nerves finally lifting. This was even better than any of his daydreams. It was real.

8. Clumsy Around Them: Seth, usually competent and steady, becomes noticeably clumsy when his crush is around. He’ll trip over his words—or even his feet—whenever they catch him off guard. His ears flatten in embarrassment, but it only makes him more endearing.

Seth walked into the cozy cafe, his ears already twitching as he spotted his crush seated near the corner. They were casually sipping their drink, completely at ease, and the sight of their warm smile when they noticed him sent a jolt through his chest. He lifted a hand in a little wave, trying to act cool, but his tail wagged uncontrollably behind him, betraying his excitement.

“Hey, Seth!” his crush greeted cheerfully. “Over here.”

Seth smiled nervously and started toward the table, weaving between chairs and patrons with his usual focus. But as he approached, his shoe caught the edge of a chair leg, sending him stumbling forward. His hands flailed instinctively as he tried to steady himself, and for a horrifying moment, he realized he was about to knock over their coffee table.

With a last-ditch effort, Seth caught himself on the edge of the table, managing to stop the inevitable disaster. He stood frozen for a second, his ears flattened, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I—I’m fine!” he blurted, straightening up and waving his hands as if to dismiss the near-miss. “Just, uh... testing my reflexes. Totally meant to do that.”

His crush burst into laughter, the sound light and warm. “Careful, Seth! You almost took the whole table with you,” they teased, their eyes twinkling with amusement.

Seth’s ears turned an even deeper shade of red as he rubbed the back of his neck, his tail curling slightly behind him in mortification. “I—I wasn’t gonna! I had it under control the whole time,” he stammered, though his sheepish grin said otherwise.

His crush leaned back in their chair, still smiling fondly. “Right… sure you did,” they said, their tone playful but kind. They reached out and patted the table as if to reassure it. “Well, at least you saved the coffee. That’s the important part.”

Seth let out a small laugh, finally relaxing a little. “Yeah, no spilled coffee here,” he said, trying to match their lighthearted tone. But as he sat down across from them, his mind was already racing, determined not to let his clumsiness get the better of him again—at least not too soon.

9. Quiet Admiration: When his crush talks about their passions, Seth listens intently, his tail stilling as he absorbs every word. His eyes light up at their enthusiasm, and he quietly commits every detail to memory, just so he can bring it up later to surprise them.

Seth sat across from his crush at a small cafe, his elbows resting on the table and his tail unusually still, a rarity when he was this close to them. They were animatedly talking about something they loved, their voice lighting up with excitement as they spoke. Seth couldn’t take his eyes off them, his ears twitching slightly as he absorbed every word.

"I’ve always wanted to visit that little bakery downtown," they said, their eyes shining with enthusiasm. "They have the best croissants, apparently. I’ve been dying to try them!"

Seth’s ears perked up at the mention of the bakery, his mind already picturing the quaint little shop. He nodded earnestly, leaning forward slightly, the intensity of his focus making his tail still further. "Really?" he asked, his voice steady but soft, trying to match their energy without betraying how nervous he felt. "That sounds great. We could... I mean, if you want, I could go with you sometime? You know, to check it out together."

Their grin widened, and the way their eyes sparkled made Seth’s heart skip a beat. "That sounds like fun. Let’s do it," they said, their voice brimming with excitement.

Seth felt warmth bloom in his chest, his tail giving a hesitant wag as a shy smile spread across his face. "Yeah? Okay, great," he said, his voice a little more confident now. "Just let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free."

As they continued chatting, Seth silently vowed to look up the bakery’s best offerings and plan the perfect outing to make it a memorable experience for them both.

10. Overly Concerned for Their Well-Being: Seth can’t help but fuss over his crush, worrying about even the smallest things. Did they eat? Are they tired? Did they bring an umbrella? His concern is always genuine, and he’s quick to offer help or comfort, even for minor inconveniences.

The rain was coming down steadily, a cold drizzle that clung to everything it touched and cast a silvery sheen across the pavement. Seth’s wipers moved rhythmically across his patrol car’s windshield, their steady beat the only sound besides the rain tapping against the glass. The streets were nearly deserted, the air carrying the distinct chill of damp weather that seeped into the bones. 

As he turned a corner, his ears twitched, catching sight of a figure up ahead. His breath hitched as he recognized them—his crush, walking briskly down the sidewalk. Their head was bowed against the rain, their arms wrapped tightly around themselves in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. Droplets clung to their hair, and their shoulders hunched as they tried to avoid the relentless downpour.

Seth’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. They looked utterly miserable, their soaked clothes clinging to their frame and their steps hurried but unsure on the slippery pavement. Without a second thought, he pulled his car to the curb, the tires splashing through a shallow puddle. Grabbing the umbrella from the passenger seat, he leapt out, the drizzle immediately beginning to soak into his uniform, though he barely noticed.

“Hey!” he called out, his voice carrying over the rain as he jogged toward them. The umbrella in his hand shielded him from the worst of the downpour, but his concern wasn’t for himself. 

His crush turned at the sound of his voice, their expression shifting from surprise to relief as they recognized him. “Seth?” they asked, their voice soft but filled with a hint of disbelief.

“What are you doing walking out here in this weather?” he asked, his tone laced with worry as he stepped closer, angling the umbrella to cover them both. Droplets rolled off the fabric, pattering onto the ground. “You’re soaked!” 

They shrugged sheepishly, their damp clothes clinging to them as they shivered. “I was just trying to get home,” they explained, their voice a little shaky. “I didn’t think it would rain this much.”

Seth frowned, his tail flicking sharply behind him in agitation. The sight of them shivering under the relentless rain stirred something protective in him. “Come on,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but insistent. “Let me get you out of this rain. My car’s right here.”

Without waiting for an answer, he gently guided them toward his patrol car, one hand holding the umbrella steady while the other lightly rested on their back. The warmth of his touch, even through the chill of their wet clothes, was enough to coax them into following.

When they reached the passenger side, Seth opened the door for them, his movements quick but careful. “Here, sit down. I’ll turn up the heat.” He waited until they were settled inside before closing the door gently. Water dripped from his uniform as he jogged around to the driver’s side, shaking droplets from his hair before climbing in.

As soon as he was seated, he cranked up the heater, filling the car with a comforting warmth. The windows fogged slightly as the temperature shifted. He reached into the backseat, rummaging through the items he kept there until his hand landed on a towel. Pulling it free, he turned back to them, his expression earnest.

“Here,” he said, holding the towel out. “Let me help.”

Before they could protest, Seth leaned over slightly and began patting their hair dry with gentle, careful motions. His touch was warm and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure they were comfortable. 

“Seth, you don’t have to—” they started, their voice soft, but he interrupted before they could finish.

“I want to,” he said, his ears flicking nervously as he continued. His voice was quiet but insistent, the sincerity in his tone undeniable. “You’re cold and soaked. Just let me help, okay?”

They fell silent, their cheeks warming as they smiled at him, gratitude deeper than words shining in their eyes. “Thank you,” they said quietly, their voice filled with genuine emotion.

Seth’s cheeks flushed faintly at their response, but he didn’t stop, his tail swishing gently behind him. “It’s no big deal,” he murmured shyly, his voice soft as his hands worked to dry their hair. “I just... didn’t want you catching a cold or anything.”

His crush chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, and their smile grew as they watched him. For a moment, the cold rain outside was forgotten, replaced by the comforting warmth of the car, the gentle hum of the heater, and Seth’s tender care.

[sweetdispatch]

Vicious - M. Rempe

Songs masterlist

song: Vicious - Tate McRae

pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader

summary: Since high school, Matt and his girlfriend had been together until he decided to choose his career over her

warning: swear words

words: 1.0k

note: based on request! ps. requests are open again

---

Watching you beg on your knees

Month after you and Matt broke up, he started calling you. He wanted to apologise and explain to you how big of a mistake he made and how much you mean to him. You never answered any of his calls. He started writing to you. Texts, DMs, everywhere he could. He wanted to have you back in his life. You never responded. Only read the messages and laughed at his desperation. 

You were sure that if he did it right after break up, you would accept him back in your life but now? Now, you are free. You were fulfilling yourself and not putting him in the first place. As much as you missed him, you knew you deserved better than him. Especially after how he treated you. It was a tough break up for you but you learned that you don’t need a man to make you happy. 

Didn’t know what you had

Gotta live with that for the rest of your life

Matt always took you for granted. He barely noticed what you were doing to make his life easier. He never saw that you were cleaning the whole apartment, preparing his meals and taking care of him and his hockey gear. For him it was normal to have everything handed to him on a plate. He realised how much you were doing for him, when he lost you and had to do it by himself.

Now, Matt had to take care of everything. He hardly had time to clean the apartment, his cooking skills were limited so the meals weren’t as tasteful as yours and when he was feeling sick or he was hurt, there was no one to cuddle him and take care of him. He learned that he needed you more in his life than he thought. He missed you and your presence and realised that it was wrong to not appreciate you enough.

Last night, I cried a little

Now I, I’m fine

The day Matt decided to pick his career over you, you felt like your world was falling apart. He was a huge part of your teens and helped you to be the person you are now. You had many conversations that you’re gonna make it work no matter what. That his hockey career won’t ruin your relationship. You never gave him a reason to pick between you and hockey. His decision was unclear for you. 

You were crying for a couple of days. Everything was reminding you of Matt. Every little thing in your apartment had a meaning and you felt like you’re suffocating in this place. You left to spend the days at your friend’s place but this didn’t help. You were still crying like crazy over him. 

Now, you feel like a brand new person. You didn’t cry anymore. You moved on and focused on yourself. You believed that if this happened, it happened for a reason. Matt was your past and nothing could change it. You returned to your apartment and decided to create new memories with your friends to forget about his presence there. You healed after the breakup.

Understand it’s out of your hands

When Matt told you that he’s leaving for New York to play hockey, you never thought that this would lead to your break up. You always believed that the two of you will be in a long distance relationship. At least this is what you promised to each other. You were ready for this but apparently, he wasn’t. 

At first, you didn’t know why Matt did it. With time, you got into the sense that it was out of his control, that he didn’t know what he’s doing. You believed that he didn’t know how to combine a relationship with hockey over a long distance. Nevertheless, he made his decision and there was no way you'll ever bring him back into your life. He chose hockey over you.

Glad you have your regrets

Hope you feel like that ‘til the day you die

First summer after the breakup, Matt felt terrible. He missed you like crazy. He wanted to have you back again next to him. He started having regrets about the breakup. He realised that he messed up and wanted to fix it. He arrived at the door of your apartment and begged you to forgive him and give him another chance. 

You laughed at his attempt. You moved on from him for good. No matter how much you loved him, you didn’t want to be hurt again by him. Matt broke your trust and there was no way he would ever fix it. You didn’t even want him to try. You felt great being single and having to care about him. 

You openly told him that you can forgive him but not forget. You didn’t want to be friends with him, in fact you don’t want to have anything to do with him. He can have all the regrets. You wished him good luck in the future but deep down, you hoped that he’ll remember you forever and how he fucked up. 

Last kiss, leave your lips blood red

Before Matt left your apartment defeated, you brought him into a hug. No matter how much you hated him for what he did to your relationship, you still had feelings for him. He was your first love and wanted to remember the good moments with him. He hugged you tightly, trying to memorise your body and smell before he left you.

You stepped back from the hug and grabbed his cheeks. You kissed him for the last time. This kiss was full of emotions and none of you wanted to break it. After a couple of seconds, which felt like forever, you pulled out of him. Matt looked at you for the final time and left you forever.

[amourtoken]

Rempe’s in big boy trouble but I’m double jointed, especially in my hips, and the way my lil 4’11 ass wants to ride the fuck outta that man until he’s braindead and thoroughly comforted

Ugh… need!

I NEED IT BADDDD

How can he focus on being upset about the outcome of his suspension when he's got his pretty little gf bouncing on his dick like a bunny?? Can't let him sit and overthink himself into an early grave now can you?

Usually he's the one in charge but I think he'd definitely let you take the reins this time. His arms stretched out on the back of the couch while his head falls back (the image in my mind has me SICK)

He really doesn't have control over it but he's silently grateful for how blank his mind goes while you're riding him. He can't focus on anything except how tight you are and how pretty your moans sound while you use him to get off. The view is nice too when he actually has his eyes open, you're wearing nothing but one of his jerseys that's held up between your teeth giving him a great view of your tits bouncing.

The closer he gets the mouthier he gets but his brain is so fuzzy it's just mindless chatter about how good you feel. He needed this so bad, his moans are so broken and pitchy it makes your knees weak but you're dead set on getting him off so you keep up the pace sliding up and down on his cock while praising him heavily for being so good for you, to you, all of it. You lean down and sink your teeth into his throat while his heads leaned back just to leave pretty bite barks and hickeys all over the sensitive skin. At least while he's on this suspension he doesn't have to worry about any appearances during games where he'd have to hide them, so he doesn't stop you.

His arms wrap tight around your waist when he cums, holding you close and burying his face in your chest which barely muffles the sounds of his whines and pleas as you keep riding him. Having his cum drip down your thighs is nice but you're not happy till he's nothing more than a drooly teary eyed mess, and it really won't take long to get there like this. Rake your fingers through his hair and hold him close with your arms around his neck, grind your hips against his and drag a few more orgasms he swears he can't handle but always does out of him. He deserves to turn his brain off and feel good for once.

[maxdibert]

Hi, me again👋

How are you?❤

I was wondering what you thought about the relationship between Severus and Voldemort. The way Severus should not even be in the DEs, let alone in the inner circle sitting on Voldemort's right because of his blood and social status. Grayback is also part of them, but they treat him like filth for his blood and werewolf condition. All the while, Severus is Voldy's N1. advisor.

Also, the way he keeps bending his own rules and principles to accommodate Severus, have him fit in and even keep him above the purebloods. Voldemort, who does not do favours, agrees not to murder Lily, a muggle-born witch, a memeber of the OotP and Harry's mother, because Severus asked him not to. How that plea becomes the Dark Lord's doom later.

The way Narcissa asks for Severus' help instead of Bella's or Lucius' when they are both purebloods in the inner circle, swimming in money. She knows, if there's anyone that can "handle" Voldemort and save Draco it's Severus.

And lastly, how Voldemort does not want to kill Severus, how he says he regrets it. That does not happen with any other of his victims.

And I don't mean this relationship as romantic either, just as two people, one the master and the other- the servant.

That's all,

Have a nice day❤

Hellooo <3

I really don’t think it’s such a big deal. Voldemort is a natural manipulator and knows how to exploit people’s fears, weaknesses, and needs to his advantage. It’s clear that he probably heard about Severus’s abilities—most likely from his long-time associate, Lucius Malfoy—and became interested in having a talented recruit among his followers. I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw Severus’s lack of resources and his disdain for Muggles (due to his association with his father) as an opportunity to manipulate and radicalize him, enabling Voldemort to exploit his talents as he pleased.

We often view villains as irrational, but through Tom Riddle’s memories, we know that Voldemort wasn’t just a crazed supremacist. He was always intelligent and cunning, using his charm to seduce and manipulate people for his own benefit. The fact that Severus was a half-blood was irrelevant—if anything, his status made him easier to manipulate. Voldemort valued talent, and Severus had plenty of it, so it seems perfectly logical that Voldemort prioritized his abilities over his blood status.

Severus turned out to be a very useful member—why not do him a favor? I’ve always thought that Voldemort viewed the matter of Lily as a youthful, lust-driven whim. Something like, “Fine, let him keep his little Mudblood toy if it means he keeps doing such a good job.” People often overthink this, but to me, giving him a “small gift” to keep him “happy” and working better is a common strategy used by those in power to control their subordinates. Voldemort’s mistake was failing to realize the depth of Severus’s feelings or to investigate why Lily, specifically, mattered so much to him. If he had done so, instead of assuming it was just a passing fancy, the story might have turned out differently.

On another note, I don’t think Narcissa went to Severus because she saw him as a role model. She approached him because Lucius had fallen from grace, making him an unsuitable option, and because she knew that:

Bellatrix would never go against the Dark Lord’s orders, let alone stop Draco’s “initiation,” which she saw as an honor, and

Severus was Draco’s professor, and since Draco’s mission was to kill Dumbledore, the only person who could realistically monitor Draco 24/7 and step in if necessary was Severus.

I also think Voldemort appreciated Severus as a highly capable and talented individual. I believe he liked him more than some of his other followers because, unlike a spoiled pureblood brat, Severus had risen from humble beginnings and earned his place through ambition and skill—qualities Voldemort valued because he had done the same. Beyond that—and it’s not a minor point, considering most of his followers, except perhaps Bellatrix and maybe Barty, meant little to him—I don’t think there was much more to their relationship. Voldemort valued Severus in the same way a hunter values one of their best weapons: an incredibly effective, rare, and valuable tool that is almost impossible to replace. He appreciated Severus because he was useful, but that’s about it. At least, that’s how I see it.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 4

Summary: after spending some days apart, you and Negan finally find a way to sort out your differences, and it involves a whooooooooole lot of balls

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, friendly competitive games, sexual innuendos

Word Count: 7.3k (I'm sorry, idk how tf this is getting so long)

Michonne likes her job. It’s cushy, which isn’t what most people would assume. But being principal of Alexandria High is something she fought for and something she earned. In many ways, it’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Not only that, but she gets to be closer to her kids. For the first time, Michonne can embrace the role of the classic mom—carpooling with her children, loudly saying “I love you” and reminding them not to forget their lunch as they all walk into the same building.

Carl doesn’t mind it much. At this point, he sees it more as an inside joke between himself and his stepmom.

Judith, on the other hand, still squirms every time she gets out of the car with Principle Grimes, her eyes darting around to see if anyone is taking notice. 

Michonne doesn’t take offense though, she knows it’s because Judith is still adjusting to “big school”, eager to make a good impression during her first year.

She had to deal with a blunder last week between Gregory, Rosita and Sasha. Once again, it was up to her to clean up Gregory’s incompetence while he played victim. 

If Michonne had her way, firing him would have been her first decree as principal. And he wouldn’t have been the last to be fired either. Michonne can think of a few she would’ve picked off straight away if it wasn’t for unfair dismissal laws. 

Saying goodbye to both of her kids, she makes her way down the corridor, pretending not to hear the students going wild in some of the classrooms as they let out their energy before classes start. They’re more hyper than usual for a Monday but since this is the last week of classes, she understands the excitement.

Strolling into her office, she comes face to face with another ‘if only I could fire them without lawful reasoning’ candidate.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, no way Ricky Dicky got you this weird ass piñata for Christmas,” Negan giggles when she walks in, holding up a gift she got for her birthday.

“Carl, actually,” she corrects him, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop the statue “and it’s a unicorn he and Judith painted, not a piñata”.

With raised eyebrows, Negan gently places it back down on the desk. “Well, shit, ain’t they… creative” he treads carefully, not wanting to piss her off.

“Is there a reason you’re lurking in my office?” Michonne gets straight to business, making her away around the desk and to her chair. 

Negan sits opposite her, making himself comfortable “Well, it’s about the Christmas party”.

Michonne debates hiding her smirk but she can’t help it. Negan’s a man that always chooses to be cocky, so why shouldn’t she when she knows something he doesn’t?

Reading her smirk, Negan can’t help but scoff at himself. He’d been expecting a reaction like this. 

“Yeah, I know it sounds stupid,” he mutters.

Michonne twirls a finger in the air, gesturing to her grin. “Oh, this?” she says, her smirk widening “It’s not because you think this whole thing is stupid. It’s because I know exactly what you’re about to say”.

Negan shifts in his seat, caught between feeling a little embarrassed and strangely intrigued. He crosses one leg over the other.

“Is that so?” he says, his tone casual but curious.

“I had a certain English teacher in here on Friday,” Michonne keeps her information vague “she may have mentioned the staff Christmas party as well”.

“Did she mention how she can’t keep her damn mouth shut? Or that she’s the control freak?” he interjects “actually, no I want to hear what she’s said about me and how she’s spinning this whole thing”.

Michonne huffs “Funnily enough I could say the same thing to describe you”.

He rolls his eyes, trying not to mumble anything under his breath in case she hears.

“Actually, she explained everything, from the text message to you deserting her. In fact I think she told me too much, usually when you bunk off your job, you don’t tell your boss” Michonne says, her tone level.

Negan nods knowingly “She has a tendency to keep running her mouth, even when she shouldn’t”.

“And she also asked if the staff party could be held somewhere other than the sports hall, since she tells me it’s essentially your hall,” Michonne continues  “Which is odd, because I’ve never seen your name above the door”.

“It is my hall,” he snaps, his chest puffing out “everyone knows it is. My office is right next door —which has my name on the door— and out of all the coaches, I’ve been here the longest. So, yeah, my hall”.

Michonne just watches him, silently grateful she doesn’t have to deal with Negan more often. “Well, the party will still be held there, and when it comes to the two of you constantly clashing, I’ll say to you the exact same thing I told her”.

Michonne pauses, making sure Negan is actually paying attention.

“Whether you help plan the party while she doesn’t, or she plans it while you don’t, or both of you just plan the damn thing,” she says, speaking slowly, hoping it’ll sink in “I. Don’t. Care.”

Negan clamps his mouth shut, holding back a curse. “That’s your big advice?” he questions, incredulity in his voice. “Seriously?”

He’s met with a flat look “Negan, it’s a Christmas party. Let’s not overcomplicate things ”.

Leaning back in her chair, she glances over the paperwork she should be working on “I’m not going to force you two to work together. If you’re not that interested in helping, then don’t and let another coach help when it comes to setting things up in the hall. Simple as that.

Michonne picks up a pen and begins writing on one of the pages in front of her, giving him the sign that they’re done here.

This is easier than Negan expected. Where’s the whole “you need to work together for the sake of Christmas party magic” speech? The guilt trip about teamwork and holiday cheer?

He expected more pushback, more of Michonne’s insistence that they both need to cooperate and sing kumbaya. 

But instead, it’s just… simple. She doesn’t care.

And, sure, they both irritated the hell out of each other, but now that they’re not being forced into the same space, he finds himself missing it a little. He had started getting into a rhythm—annoying her, sparring with her and slowly picking up on her banter. 

It had become a game of sorts, and he’d almost gotten good at it.

But then again, he did walk away from her. And she never came crawling back with an apology, so maybe this is for the best. Neither of them had the patience to stick it out.

After a few seconds, when Negan doesn’t move, Michonne stills her movements. “I can hear you breathing,” she comments, keeping her head down and reading through the sheets on her desk.

“So?”.

“So, I’m busy? Go get ready for class— oh, actually, while I have you here,” Michonne looks over at him and Negan can see the shift from bored principal to fiery mama bear. 

He stands, getting ready to leave. 

Pointing her pen at him, she keeps her voice calm and steady “You make fun of Carl’s eye again and I’m giving the Coach Smith that actually does his job, your office”.

Negan knows better than to test her, or to even let a word alip about how Coach Mark Smith is off tanning in Jamaica, something he definitely doesn’t consider “doing his job”. 

Straightening up, he gives a quick nod and mutters a simple, “Yes, Ma’am,” before hightailing it out the door.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

What’re you on now? Plan C? Or D?

Plan A went out the window with your pettiness, when you decided to plan the Christmas party just to spite Negan.

Plan B, trying to work with Negan, crumbled and left you stranded at Target. You owe Carol big time for driving out and collecting you. Although you hope the amount of cookies you baked with her afterwards means that you’re both even.

Plan C… well, that hasn’t technically failed, nor has it gotten you off the hook, thanks to Michonne being indifferent either way. 

And now that's brought you on to plan D, which so far has been giving constant reassurance to a fully grown man.

“I don’t think I should be doing this,” Joey’s bottom lip wobbles and for a moment, you genuinely believe you’re about to see a tear roll down his stubbled cheek.

“Joey, you’re just helping me measure” you reply, holding onto the other end of the measuring tape as the wary man makes his way down to the other end of the hall. 

You came to work today with a plan. After avoiding Negan for the remainder of last week and having the weekend to get your shit together, you’ve decided that you’re going to continue planning this party. 

The major difference now?

You’re doing it from your own free will, not letting accidental texts or pettiness be the driving force… although in saying that, you also didn’t want to deal with Gregory’s passive aggressiveness.

So after a quick stop at Negan’s office before he arrived, you side-stepped into the sports hall next, and found your new helper, Joey.

“Yeah but…” he hesitates to even say his name “Negan doesn’t know you’re here, and if he finds out I’ve let you in here…”.

In a sense, you feel bad for Joey. It’s his first year at Alexandria High too but he’s already been indoctrinated into the Negan cult, which consists of Negan, Joey and whoever Negan’s trying to swoon for the week.

“Classes start in twenty minutes, he isn’t even here yet,” you attempt to comfort him for the fourth time this morning “besides, you’re just helping me get measurements, this isn’t the end of the world”.

“Yeah, but I don’t want Negan to think I’m betraying him by doing this, or that I’m choosing your side over his,” Joey babbles and you try not to take offense “I asked him last Friday how the planning was going for the party and he— jeez, if you saw the look on his face when I mentioned you!”.

Gulping, you shift slightly and try to change topics “Are you at the end of the hall?”.

“Oh!” Joey stoops down and presses the end of the tape to the wall “Ok, ready!”.

You write down the measurements in your notebook before calling Joey back. 

Unfortunately, he continues to ramble. “I mean, it was like his whole face changed when I mentioned your name! I was just asking about it cause I was wondering if he got into your pants yet but damn, you must’ve turned him down bad!”. 

You wonder if this is how irritating you sound when you ramble.

As Negan walks down the hallway to his office, he lets out a long breath. No more Christmas party for him. It’s someone else’s problem, whether or not that be his favourite love-to-hate and hate-to-love English teacher. 

He tunes out the chatter coming from the sports hall, not in the mood to deal with teens who’ve sneaked in before class for a quick game of basketball.

He enters his office and takes a moment to drop his bag onto the chair, releasing a long sigh. Like shit he would ever leave Michonne give Mark his office. At this point, Negan’s sure he has squatters rights. 

He removes his winter coat and casually tosses it over the old coat rack. Despite the cluttered state of his desk, it's organized in a way only he seems to understand. Negan knows exactly where everything is but something’s… off.

Something’s different.

His gaze shifts to the small pumpkin statue from Target, its green stalk hidden beneath a tiny Christmas hat. Negan frowns, frustration creeping in. Dammit. 

This guilt-tripping crap shouldn’t work on him. And it won’t. You can buy him the pumpkin but it doesn’t change how you have a bad habit of blurting out the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

Still, he can’t remember the last time someone bought him an actual present. His colleagues never get him anything, unless you count glares. His students skedaddle out of his class the second they have the chance, his only gift there being the peace and quiet they leave behind. 

It must’ve been Lucille who last got him a gift, years ago. His leather jacket to be exact. He rarely wears it to work, not wanting some kid’s dirty paws to taint it. 

That’s just for him. 

After he walked out on you at Target, you’ve both kept your distance, neither one willing to make the first move. But now, it's a new week, with the staff party only a few days away. 

And here sits a little pumpkin on his desk, it's Christmas hat perched jauntily on top. With a low hum, Negan flicks the hat of the pumpkin as he heads out of his office, his sixth sense tingling. 

Letting the other end of your measuring tape zip back into place, Joey strolls the width of the hall back to you.

“So, you not a fan of the lanky type?” he asks, shrugging with as much nonchalance as he can muster “Since you rejected Negan and all”.

It's a real talent suppressing your cringe that fast. You force a tight-lipped smile, trying to set the record straight. 

“I never rejected— I mean, I would have if he—look, Joey, I don’t judge people or decide whether I’m attracted to them based on their—"

“Prefer them with some meat on their bones?" he cuts in, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when you can't come up with a satisfactory answer.

You’re about to let out a defeated sigh but then you wonder if you can use this to your advantage. 

"You know what really gets me going?" you ask, the words alone making Joey’s face go bright red. "A guy who isn’t afraid of what others think, who’ll help people without worrying if it pisses off... oh, let’s say a meaner, older man”.

Before Joey can even respond, a suspiciously cheerful voice cuts in from the doorway.

"There ain't no way I've just walked in on some dirty talk," Negan grins, leaning against the frame with that trademark smirk of his "And to make it even better, you're describing me, sweetheart! Damn, I didn’t realise I turned you on so much”.

Your jaw clenches but you try to keep things cordial. “Negan,” you give a small nod in greeting “I was just leaving”.

He glances over at the numbers written on your open notebook. “Oh, very busy, I see,” he remarks, before deciding that’s enough small talk “how about we have a chat?”.

“About what?” Joey asks, still standing there.

You glance at Joey, but it’s Negan’s pointed look that makes him realize he’s intruding. 

“I’ve got a class in here in about…” Negan checks his watch “ten minutes. How about you head to the storage room, grab whatever balls are in there, and line them up for me? I’ll let the kids blow off some of that pent up Monday morning energy with a game of dodgeball”.

Before Joey can protest, Negan tosses him the keys. Joey fumbles, barely catching them as he hurries off.

“You got it, si— bos— I mean, Negan!” he takes off down to the dusty storage room on the far side of the gym.

“Jesus Christ,” Negan lets out a low chuckle “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to call me Daddy yet”.

A disgusted scoff leaves your throat and you grip your notebook a little tighter, ready to leave. And yet you want to stay, just to hear what Negan has to say.

Negan crosses his arm, eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance as Joey unlocks the storage room and disappears inside. You stay in your spot a few paces away from Negan, feeling the weight of the silence pressing on you, unspoken words hanging in the air.

After a long pause, he speaks in a much more serious tone “You know, you’re really good at pushing buttons”. 

Putting a hand up to stop him, you quickly clarify “The pumpkin is just a peace offering. I’m not expecting us to get along but I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats for the rest of the school year either”.

Joey hurries out of the with some basketballs and places them in a line along the centre of the hall before going to get more. 

“I get it, I’m not your favorite person—hell, I’m not anyone’s favorite person,” Negan continues once Joey’s gone “but at Target… damn, you don’t have to go there. Not like that”.

Sighing, you avoid eye contact. The words still feel fresh on your tongue but you know you have to face them. 

“I didn’t mean to go there,” you reply “I just… I imploded and I don’t want to excuse it by saying you pushed me to it… I could’ve been more careful with what I said”.

Your stomach drops when you hear him laugh bitterly. There’s no real humor behind it and your defenses go up in an instant. The warning lights are starting to light up in your head. 

“You’ve got a hell of a way of showing that,” he pauses, biting back something sharper “It’s… it’s not that simple for me and I get it, I’m an asshole. But to bring her up when I take it too far? Or piss you off just a little too much?”.

Some footsteps echo behind you as Joey drops more balls down in the middle of the room, heading back into the storage room and not noticing a battered handball roll over to join your conversation with Negan.

You watch as it rolls closer.

Shifting from foot to foot, Negan folds his arms. “I mean, shit, I know I shouldn’t have driven off without you but what do you expect me to do after you said that?” he asks.

A flicker of that well known frustration bubble before you sigh. “Maybe I expected you to—I don’t know—talk to me instead of running away every time things get tough? I don’t say these things to be a jackass to you, Negan, I say it because… well, yeah I’m pissed off but also because no one else has the balls to say it to you”.

The handball nudges your shoe.

“No pun intended” you add, a thought springing into your head.

You can see your walls going up, and the same with Negan. It’s a toxic cycle of annoying each other and then escalating it whenever you try to hear the other person out. You can tell he’s getting annoyed again just by rehashing it.

Time for Plan E… which you may or may not have just made up now impulsively. 

Getting restless, Negan switches to putting his hands on his hips “I do talk, damn it, but you just—”.

WHAM!

Before Negan can finish, a handball comes flying from your direction, slamming right into his chest with a loud thud. He stumbles back, eyes wide in surprise.

Negan doesn’t have to feign any shock. Not when that’s just happened. But he’s not angry about it. If anything, the random ball attack has made him break his serious streak. 

“Goddamn, woman! What the hell was that for?!” he looks at you, bewildered.

You let your notebook fall to the floor and take a few steps back, edging towards the centre of the hall. 

“Ever since you deserted me, you’ve been dodging me so I figured you’d be good at dodging that too” you shrug.

Placing a hand dramatically over his chest, Negan glares at you, though the playful anger in his eyes betrays any real frustration. “Really? A damn handball?” he tuts “The one time I’m tryin’ to be serious, and this is what I get?”.

You stop when you feel a soccer ball nudge the back of your shoe, letting you know you’ve successfully made it to the halfway mark of the hall.

“You piss me off,” you state the obvious “I piss you off. We piss each other off so fucking much and I am sick of it! Talking it out is just making us both angry again and that’ll lead to one of us saying something stupid – again”.

To show you mean business, you pick up the soccer ball. Joey, confused as ever, just continues with the job Negan gave him. 

“We both fucked up, I get that and I am sorry, Negan,” you say solemnly before huffing “but fuck! You just annoy me so much! And ’cause of that, I think we should just get this out of our systems… so, you game?”.

The hint of a smile creeps up on his face, playful offence melting into amusement.

“Y’know when two people need to get something out of their system, this ain’t the kinda balls that’re involved, sweetheart,” with a grunt he bends over and picks up the handball. 

You don’t move, fingers strumming against the soccer ball. Joey inadvertently fills up your supply of ammo by bringing out a few more balls out. 

“Are you seriously gonna make me play dodgeball to work this out?” Negan calls your bluff, narrowing his eyes at you as he rolls his shoulders.

“Unless you’re too scared”.

Damn you. Negan smirks, knowing full well you know he’s not about to turn this down. His eyes gleam with mischief  “Scared? Hell no, I just—”. 

Hoping you wouldn’t be expecting a ball hurled at you mid-sentence, Negan throws the handball, narrowly missing your head. It smacks off the ground and you gulp, releasing he’s not about to take it easy on you.

“…I just needed to warm up. Let’s do this,” Negan swings his arms to the side, stretching “Joey! Throw a few down this direction”.

As if signaling the start of a war, three balls roll past you and come to a stop at Negan’s feet, their new commander in chief. The second he bends down to grab one, you seize your chance. 

Without hesitation, you send the soccer ball hurtling through the air.

What follows is pure chaos— dodgeball in its most frantic form. Balls fly in every direction, slamming into walls, ricocheting off bleachers, and nearly knocking over everything in sight.

You dive to the side, narrowly dodging one of Negan’s throws, which sails through the air and wallops against the wall.

Neither of you is holding back now. Negan cackles, the sound of his laughter filling the hall as he effortlessly dodges another ball. 

Joey, meanwhile, has wisely retreated to the safety of the storage room, peeking out from behind the door.

He cowers, half-hidden, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut and trap him in there, caught between wanting to stay out of the chaos and not wanting to be accidentally locked inside.

Negan laughs in between throws, his enthusiasm spurring you on. “Goddamn! This is one cruel and usual punishment, doll” he pants, a wide smile gracing his face.

It’s odd to see him so happy. Not smirking or smiling just to get under your skin. He’s like a dog that’s finally been let out to run wild, truly in his element.

Trying a new tactic, you throw a ball low to the ground, hoping to get his legs but Negan effortlessly leaps over it. 

“Well, if you didn’t cut our argument short then you wouldn’t be getting a face full of balls” you throw another, aiming for his head. He dodges it, bouncing his own ball off the ground as he readies his aim.

Negan grins before tossing the ball straight at your chest. You barely catch it, smiling back at him triumphantly.

“I get it, alright? I was being an ass leaving you stranded… and for trying to wind you up so much beforehand,” Negan shockingly gives a genuine apology “But you can’t just throw stuff at me and call it a ‘game’!”

Bouncing on your heels, you think carefully of your next move. Sure, you’re a little out of breath but this is the most fun you’ve had all month.

“I can if it makes you listen,” you quip back before issuing another apology of your own “look… I didn’t mean for what I said to be so harsh, okay? I was just mad. I don’t want to be that person, but sometimes you’re so damn stubborn… it gets under my skin”.

Negan slows his movements, watching you carefully for a second. The playful energy fades just enough to let sincerity peek through.

“I’m sorry, you’re sorry, can we go back to planning this awful party now?” he asks, surprising even himself by still wanting to help with this damned thing.

Throwing the last ball at him, you manage to catch Negan off guard and hit him square in the shoulder. “One condition, you actually put in some effort” you reveal your single demand.

“No promises but I’ll try. Alright?”.

With a half-hearted laugh, you step away from the ball and approach your opponent.

“Alright” you stick out your hand. Negan looks down at your hand, back up at you and finally, he shakes it.

There’s a moment of quiet, both of you catching your breath as the ridiculousness of the game breaks the tension between you. “I gotta say,” you pant slightly “you’ve got one hell of a throw”.

He laughs, nudging one of the balls to roll back toward the center of the room. “What can I say, I’m good with my hand” that familiar smirk is back, but surprisingly, it doesn’t irk you as much as it did before.

Still, you can’t resist sending a playful glare in his direction. Just to keep him on his toes.

Joey hesitantly steps out from the storage room, glancing around nervously. You watch as he clings to the door, ready to duck and dive at the slightest threat.

“Is it over? Who won?” he asks, his voice cautious.

Negan looks over at him, a grin still on his face. “The school did,” he calls out “considering it’s still got us two fucks planning this party”.

You glance back at Negan, finding his eyes still locked on you, studying you with an intensity that makes something stir in your chest. 

His voice lowers, smooth and almost too casual, as he asks, “If I call you later, will you pick up? To talk about the Christmas party, of course.”

You let a slow smile spread across your face, leaning into the moment. “I might reject your call, just out of instinct,” you tease, feeling the playful tension in the air.

Joey, clearly happy the dodgeball war has finally ended, at least for now, yells over with a grin, “You should definitely pick up!”.

You raise an eyebrow at the advice but there’s a warmth in your smile. “Like you said,” you nudge Negan lightly, the hint of something more lingering in your voice “no promises, but I’ll try”.

And with that, the mood between you both lightens, the game being an unexpected but fitting resolution to all the unspoken things between you.

From the doorway, Negan’s class of teens wait, unsure whether this is something that should be interrupted. 

A mixture of horror and amusement is plastered across their faces. “You owe me ten bucks,” Ron leans over to Carl and whispers “I told you they’re definitely banging”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line keeps you entertained after school. You had a few last minute presents to pick up and get ready for shipping, hoping an influx in gifts back to your parents will ease the blow of you not being home this Christmas. 

It’s a topic you try not to think about, let alone mention it to any friends you have here. And by ‘friends’ you do mean work colleagues , considering you haven’t exactly done a lot of socializing since you moved here. 

Reading the steady flow of messages helped ease the guilt of not travelling home though. And, you were actually given a reason to interact and send in some of your own messages! 

Most of it was you letting the others know more details about the party; what time to be there, dress code, are plus ones allowed.

Bustling up to the door of your apartment, you quickly send a text saying the party will start at 6 as you make your way inside. 

You don’t even have time to shut the door behind you when your phone pings with a private message.

Negan: isn’t 6 too early?

You: I thought it was a little late actually 

Negan: sounds like you’ve been to many parties

Negan: lol

Asshole. Ever since group chat started buzzing with life, Negan has been sharing his running commentary with you.

He still hasn’t sent a text into the group chat but seems to have no problem reading what’s being said and sending his thoughts to you in private messages. 

Kicking off your shoes and turning on the lights to your place, you decide to leave him wait for a response. Right now, your main priority is getting a well nourished dinner… which means microwaved popcorn and watching whatever Christmas movie you can find on Netflix. 

Poking the time into the microwave, you wander from room to room; going into the bedroom and quickly changing into some pyjamas, going to the bathroom to snag a few wipes for your make-up, before heading back to the kitchen, just in time to stop the microwave. 

You: wow I didn’t realize you were aching for another round of balls being thrown at you 

With your Christmas lights on, snacks at the ready and big glass of soda, you settle in for the night when… ping!

Negan: for that, you’re not getting your Christmas present until after the break

You debate throwing your phone onto the other side of the couch and simply ignoring him but he is unfortunately entertaining.

You: your the literal grinch, I know you didn’t get me anything 

It may have taken a while but you can finally feel yourself relaxing when it comes to Negan. Maybe all you both needed was the game of dodgeball to get past all that previous turbulence. 

You’re understanding his sense of humor, how he’ll flirt just for the hell of it and how he’s all bark and no bite. If you don’t fall for his charms and throw yourself at him after his first few attempts, Negan just flirts for fun.

Holding your phone in one hand, you use your remote to navigate through the tv channels with the other, stopping when you get to the Netflix app. With a ping, your attention is back to your other hand.

Negan: are you asking me to roleplay? ;)

First off, ew. Secondly, what the fuck, why does he have to make it weird? Well, maybe that’s the winky face’s fault but either way, you sneer at the message. You keep your response short, sweet and to the point.

You: perv

He responds immediately.

Negan: That’s not a no. I’ll even bring my santa hat

You: you’re right it’s not a no, it’s an absolutely NOT

You: and a Santa hat isn’t grinchy enough 

Getting flooded with notifications, your attention is briefly brought back to the teachers group chat.

Glancing at the top of your screen, you catch fragments of the ongoing conversation. Eugene and Aaron seem to be deep in a back-and-forth, trying to settle what the true definition of "casual attire" really is.

Negan: yes it is, he wore one in the movie

Negan’s private message grabs your attention and you try to ignore what’s happening in the group chat, for now.

You: still not grinchy enough 

You stare at your phone for a few moments but there’s no reply. Oh well. Directing your attention back to the tv, you open Netflix and begin browsing for some stereotypical Christmas romance. 

Across town, Negan picks up his controller again, his eyes locked onto his tv screen as a new team deathmatch begins.

His fingers work swiftly, selecting his loadout with practiced ease. Negan’s character moves forward, entering a tornado of bullets and death. 

He takes down two players in quick succession but before he can reload, some idiot with a rocket launcher blows him to pieces in a fiery explosion. Frustration bubbles up as he watches his character's remains scatter across the screen.

“Fuckin’ ass” Negan mumbles, checking his phone as he respawns. 

Normally, Negan would have his headset on, letting the pent-up frustration of the day spill out as he argues with whatever tween is shrieking down their mic. But tonight he’s opted to go for a quiet evening. 

Instead of unleashing his usual barrage of insults, he mutters them to himself under his breath.

As he fumbles to quickly type a message back to you, a smirk creeps across his face. He knows your reaction will be priceless. The way your eyes narrow and that subtle flush creeps up your cheeks whenever his teasing or flirting goes just a little too far.

You glance down at the message, and for a brief moment, your heart stops. You quickly look away, eyes darting to the search bar on your TV, trying to focus on anything else to steady your racing thoughts.

But after a deep breath, you force your gaze back to the screen, almost afraid to read it again. 

The words are unchanged, still sitting there, but your mind can't seem to process them. It's the same message, and yet, you find yourself unable to believe it.

Negan: What if I bring my green fursuit? Is that good enough?

Weird message, sure, but that’s not the shocking part. Swiping open the message, it doesn’t bring you to your private conversation with Negan.

No, instead you’re taken to Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line, where Negan’s message is there as clear as day. 

Oh my god.

You can’t control your reaction, immediately going out of the group chat and to your contact info on Negan. Without a second thought, you hit call.

It rings once, twice and on the third ring, he answers. It’s like you have no autonomy anymore, simply letting your body work without any consultation with your brain. 

Negan is in the midst of trying to figure out of to delete a messages when your call comes through. When he answers, your name alongside his note of (good ass, weird at flirting) which he will have to change later to (good ass, great throw) lights up as you laugh down the phone to him.

“Oh my fucking god!” you basically squeal “how the fuck did you do that? Oh my g-”.

You can’t finish your sentence before your own laughter cuts you off again.

He stays uncharacteristically quiet but that doesn’t hinder you. With your other hand, you have to drop the tv remote to clutch your stomach, a pain beginning to linger from the laughter. 

“Now that, that has made my Christmas” you try to quieten your laughter and on the other end, you finally hear a chuckle.

“I mean, a green fursuit? Where the fuck did you come up with that?” you have to wipe a tear away.

“That’s the shit Jim Carrey had to wear,” his voice seems a little tight but he’s still chuckling “fuck’s sake, that’s it, I’m switching schools”.

Your laughter simmers down to a giggle “Quick, just delete the message before anyone else sees it!”.

“But how the fuck do I do that?” he blusters, a strange mix of self-assertiveness and panic coating his voice. 

You know you should stop laughing by now but everytime you can feel yourself gain some control over your laughter, you think of the situation at hand and lose it again.

“Just… just hold down on the message and… and wait until the different tabs pop up a-and then… you just have to tap delete” you struggle to get the words out, holding your nose in one hand to stop yourself from snorting.

Now that’s something you know Negan would pick up on, immediately directing all attention to that instead of his hilarious blunder.

“Fine, I’ll try that” he says gruffly before hanging up. You continue to laugh the second he’s gone, flopping onto your side and burying your head into the couch cushions. 

You drop your phone beside you, but only so you can stuff some popcorn into your mouth. Going for the phone again, you swiftly go back to the group chat to find the message has disappeared, and in its place a simple yet ambiguous message from the service provider.

*This user has deleted their message*

Before you can even tap out of the group, the phone starts to ring in your hand. You doesn’t waste any time answering, especially now that your giggles have subsided. 

“It’s gone,” you tell Negan, trying your best to sound serious “now all it says is that you deleted a message”.

“But does it say the fuckin’ message?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I literally just said it doesn’t,” you reiterate “do you listen at all?”.

Negan huffs loudly, muttering something under his breath. “And what was that?” you ask pointedly, wondering why you even answered the phone again. 

His huff turns into something of a chuckle “My ears must be fuckin’ deceiving me cause it just sounded like you used your teacher voice on me”.

“And what if I did?” you challenge.

He chuckles again, before letting out a teasing scoff “How the hell am I the one getting scolded? Shouldn’t you be tryin’ to comfort me for that shit? I mean, I’m fuckin’ traumatised over here”.

“You’re not the only one traumatised, did it say who saw the message?” You pop some more popcorn into your mouth.

“How the fuck would I know that?” Negan asks, leaving the lobby he’s in and going back to the game’s home screen.

“Damn, your age is really showing now,” you mumble but make sure to say it loud enough for him to hear “you swipe the message and it shows you who’s read it and who hasn’t yet… but you can’t do it now since you deleted it”. 

You may or may not have gone up an octave when you said that last part just to tease him.

“Well, that’s dumb. What’s the point in knowing how to do that when I can’t do it now?”.

“Because I thought you’d have the initiative to check before you deleted it,” you goad “jeez, how old are you? You really know fuck all about technology”. 

Negan retorts an equally goading reply, causing you both to quickly fall into their routine of bickering back and forth. “How old am I? I think that only matters if you have a thing for older men” he quips back.

“Only for older men in green fursuits” you tease.

“That can be arranged”.

Staring at the search bar, your perfect romantic Christmas movie so close yet so far away, your attention drifts away from the TV as you prop your feet up comfortably.

The next half hour slips by effortlessly. The conversation flows easily, a mix of casual banter and more personal exchanges, the kind of talk that somehow feels natural between you two. Time seems to slow as you get lost in the rhythm of the conversation, the world outside fading away for just a little while.

Negan raises an eyebrow, balancing his phone between his shoulder and neck.

“And should I even bring up the staff party?” he asks with a grin. Another round of gunshots echo in the background but this time, you don’t question it. Negan’s already had to fill you in on his unconventional form of therapy; video games.

“Ugh,” you sigh “I think the decorations are mostly done. I grabbed a few more things while I was out earlier… but honestly, the worst part is going to be setting it all up on the day. Other than that…”.

You think of the list in your notebook. “We still have food and drink to figure out” you recall “we gotta sort out music too but I was hoping we could just use the speakers in the sports hall? Just plug in a phone and turn on someone’s Christmas playlist“.

You hold your breath, bracing for the inevitable disagreement. You can already imagine the gruffness in his voice, the hard veto against it as Negan huffs and puffs “My speakers in my hall?! Never! I ain’t letting their dirty hands anywhere near my sound system!”.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Negan replies, to your surprise.

“Really?” You pause, wondering if this qualifies as a Christmas miracle.

“Uh-huh,” he continues, another round of gunfire crackling through the phone. “The other Coach Smith owns the speakers, so we get full reign of them. Besides, it’s the least he can do while he’s off spending the holidays in Jamaica”.

That makes more sense. 

“So that just leaves food and drink” you smile, feeling a little more hopeful about the party.

Negan lets out a long sigh as the match ends. Getting up, he holds his phone properly as he wanders to the kitchen for a beer.

“Buying the booze will be fine,” he dismisses “we just gotta go clear the shelves of a liquor store, pick up a bit of everything”.

You nod along. “Yeah, the booze will be the easier of the two… but the food, on the other hand…” You trail off, sucking in air through your teeth.

“Can’t we get the home ec teachers to do it?” he suggests casually “Carol’s fine. She’ll be a hardass about it, but she’ll probably do it”.

“I think I’ve run out of favors with Carol,” you admit “she was the one who picked me up from Target after you pulled that whole disappearing act”.

Negan pulls a face despite you not being able to see. “So just cold finger food snacks, then?” he suggests.

“Yeah, that works,” you agree reluctantly, then suddenly remember “Actually! Speaking of food… did you hear about Gregory eating a student’s pancakes?”.

Negan lets out an amused chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “Jesus Christ, you really are a gossip” he shakes his head, the action more affectionate than he’d like to admit.

You laugh “Oh, shush, you love it”.

By the time you’ve filled Negan in on the school gossip and finally hang up, you’ve finished your popcorn, something Negan quickly caught onto, feigning offense that you were snacking during the call. 

After exchanging a dozen “goodbyes”, you finally hang up, letting out a long breath. 

You glance at the search bar on your TV, offering it a sympathetic look before you turn the screen off, resigning yourself to the fact that it’s time for bed.

Negan finishes his beer, the empty bottle clinking against the counter as his gaming system automatically switches to standby mode. He stretches, then heads towards his bedroom. 

As he pushes open his bedroom door, he chuckles to himself, imagining how chaotic things would’ve been if you were actually here with him and not just a voice down the phone— discussing party plans, laughing over gossip, probably snacking in the middle of it all. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and for a brief second, there’s something deeper in his eyes. But it’s something he doesn’t let himself dwell on. 

The thought of you here, next to him, fills him with a longing he can’t shake and yet he yearns to bury deep deep down. He sighs softly, the quiet of the room settling around him as he pushes the thought away and drifts off to sleep.

[mahojelly92]

Jschlatt Imagines

(buff gf edition)

Woke up feral for Schlatt (once again) and thought about him with a buff gf. I'm trying to get swole in the new year so this is some great motivation for me too, haha. Enjoy!

18+ for explicit content. MDNI!

Schlatt met you through mutual friends at a bar. He thought you were cute but didn't think he had a chance cuz you were intimidating (even though he's fucking 6’3”. This dude has like a whole foot on you. But I mean, your back muscles? C'mon. He was sold.)

It took some convincing from Ted and Tucker to get him to man up. They teased and encouraged him to go up to you.

“Dude, just fucking talk to her. What's the worst that could happen?” Ted asked, patting his back. “I know, man. But, look at her. What a doll.” He stares at you, whistling to himself. “Take the shot, man, you got this.” Tucker chimed in. They both scurried away as they saw you lock eyes with Schlatt, pushing through the crowd and walking towards you.

You went up to him while getting a drink and flirted with him heavily, making it obvious that you had the hots for him. You practically begged for his number, eventually convincing him to go on a date with you.

Y'all start hanging out after the first date and become close friends. You bond over YouTube and gaming. He loved that you were so nerdy despite being built like a fucking truck

When you start officially dating, he's super protective over you even though he knows you can hold your own.

He just loves staring at your body any chance he gets. You're his Greek goddess and you know it, too.

You go to the gym while he streams or edits his videos

He loves taking showers with you and running his hands all over your curves, massaging your sore and aching muscles from a hard workout.

You encourage him to get into shape, walking with him after meals or even doing yoga together. Plus, that makes for some great YouTube content. You laugh as he fumbles around on the mat, the camera capturing every funny moment.

Despite your physical prowess, Schlatt loves to dominate you in bed and call you his “strong little slut”

But he'll never say no to you taking control in the bedroom. He loves nothing more than to surrender to your pretty little ass and do whatever you want with him

When you're riding his cock, he can't help but run his hands over your abs or squeeze your strong thighs, praising you for working so hard on yourself

He does get worn out easily since your stamina is through the roof. He just lies there exhausted from getting you off so many times. He lets you play with him, unable to move but still so incredibly horny for you

He loves seeing you indulge in other hobbies and explore your interests. Not everything has to be about fitness, and Schlatt takes full advantage of that. He loves buying you clothes and expensive materials for your hobbies. His favorite thing in the world is seeing your face light up when you receive his gifts.

You've always liked traveling, so Schlatt takes you with him on his trips to Japan and London. He loves booking expensive hotel rooms in foreign countries and surprising you with spontaneous road trips on weekends.

When you're home, Jambo and Soup tend to play with you more than Schlatt. He acts like that bothers him and makes a big deal about it, but you know he loves it.

That's all I have for now! I might add more later if I feel inspired.

[itsa-not-me]

@nightunite you’ve cursed me with this. I gotta get this out of my system stat.

I’m just…I’m sorry

CW; threesome, anal play, rimming, oral, anal sex, vaginal sex, cum eating, more loss of my sanity

Johnny’s always one to come up with funny plot ideas for his videos for the holidays. He’s seen all the serious ones or the ones where it’s maybe some throw away line about step siblings or being short on cash for the pizza guy, growing up. And he likes the serious and the cliche shoots, he likes sex, but the silly shoots? Oh those are great.

He personally thinks he’s outdone himself this year. He’s gotten Simon to agree to wear these honestly hideous green fuzzy boxers, and for himself he helped costumes make a headband with puppy dog ears and a single antler attached between them. (Theres even a tail that Johnny wears, Simon only agreed to the boxers because Johnny let Simon finger his ass until he was crying to loosen him up for the tail plug)

And then that left you, the present in the middle. You’re new to the company, just signed on a couple months ago and you like how nice everyone’s been, and how transparent they are about health statuses, the use of birth control, boundaries.

You’re excited for the shoot. Even laughed when you saw the truly ridiculous or sparse costumes your costars have on (Johnnys only wearing the headband and tails). It’s not like you’re much better, you got a single ribbon wrapped around your neck, tied up in a pretty bow in the back, and not much else. Simon does help you put on nipple covers, since the boys are strapping you down to a collapsible cube doggy style, and he says that he knows from experience that the hard top can chafe the nipples.

Everyone goes over the stoplight system, what your personal safeword is, and what to do if you can’t speak for whatever reason and you need it to stop (there’s a loud buzzer button placed in your hand to squeeze if its too much). Once you’re set and everyone is good to go it’s show time.

As soon as the director shouts action, you can feel Johnny diving into your ass, mouth and tongue working to prepare you for the plug you’d agreed to. You’re not left alone long enough to sink into the feeling without distraction. Simon’s coming up to you, cock already out through the front fold of the awful green boxers and hard. He slides his fingers into your hair to hold it firm at the base, the way you had showed him you liked it earlier, and you can’t help but moan at the pleasant ache.

Simon’s ordering you to stick your tongue out, tapping the head of his cock against it when you do. It gives you the barest taste of his pre, really it’s just a tease, and you look up at him with pleading eyes, only he’s looking at Johnny behind you. They must have some silent conversation because Simon is rocking the head of his cock along your tongue, something that keeps you both a little on edge as you hear and feel Johnny spit on your asshole.

Before you can whine to have a little more, Simon’s pushing into your mouth just as it feels like Johnny is pushing a finger in. Your moan is cut off as you choke on Simon, throat squeezing around the head of his cock, while your ass squeezes around Johnnys fingers.

Even if it’s something you’ve discussed already, Simon still pulls back enough to check in, asking if everything is green only for you to nod eagerly, sighing as you tell them both you can take more. So they give you more.

Simon takes his time to enjoy fucking your throat, pushing deep enough that your nose is buried in the fake fur and your drool is matting it. Johnny on the other hand, seems to want to see how fast he can pull you apart. He’s making sure that you’re prepped properly, doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s making it a mess of spit and lube, fucking your ass with three of his big fingers only to pull them out and see how you gap just a little.

He can also see how your cunt is getting wet, pretty folds seemingly begging for attention. He wants to spit on your pussy, see if it clenches the same as your ass did, but he knows he has to wait for it, doesn’t want to risk cross contamination. Instead when he has three fingers hooked into your ass with one hand, he takes his cock in the other and starts to rub the head of it through your folds, letting it catch at your weeping hole, but ultimately going to focus on your clit.

And you must feel good because the way you’re moaning and swallowing around Simon’s cock has him moaning, grip tight in your hair as he starts to fuck your face. You just take it all so beautifully. At one point he pauses to just push as deep into your throat as possible, counting to five slowly so you don’t panic before pulling out to let you take a breath. He does that over and over again until he finds himself on the edge and he has to pull out entirely, telling Johnny to put the plug in.

He holds your gaze, wiping away stray tears and ignoring the way his cock bobs in front of you like it’s begging for attention again. He enjoys the way your eyes flutter as the anal plug gets pushed it. It makes you look cute along with your flushed face. Once it’s in Simon gives Johnny a nod to go and wash his hands and mouth. He keeps a hand on you as he moves around to your backside and oh don’t you look like a pretty gift for them.

The plug’s base is decorated with fake mistletoe, so it looks like it’s hanging above your cunt, and boy does it look like she’s begging for a kiss. He can see your clit is already plump and shiny from Johnny coating it with his precum. And you’re soaked, so much that you’re dripping down your thighs.

The man can’t ignore a holiday tradition can he?

The way he kisses your pussy is nasty, tongue starting at your clit and dragging all the way to shove into your hole once, then twice. He knows it feels good, even if he couldn’t hear the way you’re moaning he’d be able to feel how you clamp down on his tongue.

But he really isn’t suppose to be in the holiday cheer is he?

So he pulls back to your disappointed moans, mouth already coated in your slick. He tries to hush you, says that you’ll be getting your presents soon enough, but you still beg him to fill you, to fuck you. Simon tsks you, but he says he’ll be generous at least. You think it means he’ll give you his fingers, or maybe his mouth again. Instead you feel as Simon pushes a toy into you, the low vibrations already making your toes curl. Where Johnny found a candy cane themed vibrator Simon will never know, but he’s enjoying the insight of it all. Because it’s such a cute look, ass full of mistletoe and cunt full of a thick faux peppermint stick.

So Simon goes about torturing you with the vibrator as you both wait for Johnny. Sometimes he’ll fuck you fast and hard but with the vibrations on low, other times it’s slow and gentle, but the vibrations are clicked to max.

That’s what Johnny walks back into, Simon slowly circling the vibrator in you while it’s set to max, making you cry and beg to cum. Simon just gives Johnny a smirk when he comes back to lick your slick that’s still on Simon’s face.

You don’t expect Johnny to be the one asking if you’ve been a good girl this year coming into your line of sight as he walks around to your head. He almost coos at how teary and pleading you are when you tell him you have. He pets your hair, moving it out of the way before telling you that maybe you should do a little more to prove you’re on the nice list. And that’s how you’re sucking and swallowing Johnnys cock like your orgasm depends on it.

You must be doing good because suddenly Simon is fucking you with the vibrator, fast, hard, and with the vibrations set to the highest setting. Johnny doesn’t even pull out of your throat entirely when you cum screaming, just pulling back enough so you can get some air.

But it’s not like you’re giving any reprieve though because what feels like seconds into your orgasm Simon is forcing his cock into your pussy and fucking you through it and into the next one.

And you’re held like that, Johnny fucking your throat while Simon does his best to ensure you’re not walking straight for the next 24 hours. It’s absolute bliss even if you feel like you can’t tell up from down. After a while Johnny pulls out, letting everyone hear Simon fuck the voice out of you. You have no idea what he’s doing, but suddenly the front of the cube is being lowered, arms stretched out and tied up above your head so you’re in a wicked but not uncomfortable curve downward.

Simon enjoys the view even more once Johnny has you all set up, arms tied in the same pretty ribbon around your neck. He lets himself enjoy the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock and squeezing like it’s begging for every last drop. He asks if you’re ready for your gift and you practically please for him to give it to you. How could he deny you?

He waits until Johnny is back at his side before fucking into you with short hard thrusts before a deep grind as he cums deep inside your pussy. You moan at the warm feeling filling your tummy, but the boys moan at the view of Simon pulling out of you, cum spilling every time your poor used hole clenches.

Simon doesn’t even have to tell Johnny to do anything before he’s diving into your pussy, already licking up the cum that’s dripped down onto your clit, before going straight to the source. The attention makes you whine but you don’t tap out, because it feels so good to be at their mercy and to let Johnny feats on your pussy like it’s his last meal. And Johnny is savoring it. He is. The taste of you and Simon mixing on his tongue is divine. But he’s also so excited for what comes next his cock is dropping on the floor.

Johnny isn’t inconsiderate though, he makes sure you get a few good orgasms as he eats you out, making your pussy clean with his spit. Then he’s onto his prize. He’s at least gentle as he starts to lightly push and pull on the plug, gently fucking your ass with it as he asks if you’re still green. He doesn’t hear the answer, but don’t worry, Simon’s there. He’s pressed up tight to Johnny, pumping his cock with a lubed hand as you slur you’re green, that you’re still good.

With a dark chuckle Simon is grabbing the plug with Johnny, the two of them starting to pull the plug further out of you after pushing it in. It’s a delicious kind of torture until it comes out with a pop, leaving your ass to gap a little, and really it’s an invitation for both men to spit on you.

You’re not left empty for long, the plug being replaced with Johnny’s cock. He’s so gentle with it to, slowly giving you more and more of his cock with every thrust. The lube that Simon pours directly onto the two of you is a little cool but that’s because Simon’s a little mean and he likes the little gasp you give.

Soon Johnny’s fucking you in long smooth strokes and it feels heavenly. You’re warm and when you squeeze down on him it sends a zing of pleasure up his spine.

And then Simon starts pulling at his own plug and he knows it’s going to feel better. He moans when the plug gets pulled out, giving you a hard thrust that makes you whimper a little before he’s murmuring apologies.

That all goes out the window when Simon starts to thrust hard into him the way he likes it though. He almost pulls himself out of you with how desperate he pushes back to get Simon as deep into his guts as possible. It’s only the other man’s grip on his hips that keep him from doing so. Simon uses Johnny as a toy to fuck you with for a few moments, pushing the man into you before pulling him back onto his own cock. He only chuckles when Johnny whines for more, telling the man he’s gotta do the work then.

So Johnny puts in the work. He’s practically going cross eyed from how good it feels to fuck into someone and to be fucked into. You can’t even talk because the feeling of both men fucking you is sending you to a new state of being. You don’t even realize you’re cumming from the feeling, it’s all just one big pleasure ride.

Johnny can tell though, and again it’s Simon that’s forcing his hips as deep into you as possible to make sure Johnny’s cum isn’t escaping you…yet. In fact it’s Johnny’s turn to lose his mind as Simon keeps him buried in you, fucking him until Johnny is hard and thrusting into you, only to be forced to cum into you again. It’s a cycle that gets repeated until Johnny’s drooling and you’re now also dripping onto the floor.

Finally Simon’s deemed you full of enough cum, and it’s knowing that you’re both a fucked out mess that sends Simon over the edge, fucking his cum as deep into Johnny as he can. After a few seconds he starts to shuffle both him and Johnny back, for him to finally slip out of you. And for the cum to start dripping without Johnny’s cock to plug you full.

Sliding his fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, he forces the man face first back into your ass, telling him to clean up the mess he’s made. Johnny’s happy to comply, and it’s only once he’s into it does Simon pull out of him, letting the camera get the view of his own cum starting to drop out of Johnny.

Edit;

This is the second version cause tumblr ate the first when i tried to post it.

[pepprs]

i guess im starting a tradition of double ventposting lol but the last thing i’llsay (maybe) is like… all of that has a caveat which is that my emotional object permanence has been absolutely OBLITERATED by 3 yrs of covid hell and it is really doing a number on me. clearly

[your-fave-is-bi]

Knitting update: oh she big. She lorge.

Third ball of yarn is on her now and im talking abt my knitting project like its a ship or some kind of big automotive vessel. She’s a real beauty this one. Yknow.

Anyway. Third ball is on. Still have a ways to go before she’ll be a full scarf but! I can wrap her around my neck comfortably now and the ends can like. Touch. Which is wild to me. I did that. I made that.

[shoveitevil]

thank you hunty schafer

[arolesbianism]

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[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

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[chosok-amo]

‘ SSSHH, BEWARE OF THE FOOTSTEPS！

feat. gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, shiu

𖧷 sum. “ssshh, keep quiet,” they moan in your ear, breath burning your skin despite the cool air of the night. sēx outside can be very tricky, but. . . getting caught or not, it’s up to you: whether you can’t keep your moán to yourself or. . . not.

warning. outdoors/public space, exhibitionism, dōuble-penetration ( sukuna ), petnames, overstim, praises, name-calling, choke(s), under influence ( gojo, all consent ), dirty talk, spank(s).

＃ GOJO SATORU

your giggles grow louder rhythm along the way you bounce on gojo’s thick cock, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. the alcohol has loosened your inhibitions, allowing you to be more carefree and playful in your lovemaking. “baby...” you whimper, grinding down on him harder as you ride his lap. your wet cunt clings tightly to his shaft, the heat, and tightness driving him wild.

“you’re such a naughty girl, always begging for more of my cock,” gojo teases, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. his blue eyes sparkle with mischief and arousal, drowsy from alcohol. “i think ’m going to have to punish you for being such a bad girl. you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

gojo grins at you, crocked, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, his massive cock stretching your cunt to its limits. “yeah, looks like i’ve got a little slut on my hands,” he says, his voice low and husky with desire. “a filthy girl who can’t control herself around me.”

he lifts your skirt higher, exposing more of your ass as he slaps it hard, the sound echoing through the quiet yard. “this is what happens when you’re a bad girl, sweetheart. you get punished.” gojo thrusts up into you again, his length hitting deep inside your womb. “and right now, i’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

you laugh before a sharp cry escapes your lips the second gojo’s palm— big and cold— connects with your ass, the stinging sensation mingling with the intense pleasure from his relentless pounding. your cunt clenches around his thick cock, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

“you are so silly,” you cringed between your giggles, bracing yourself against his chest as you continue to ride him wildly. the combination of the cool evening air, the warmth of his body beneath you, and the intoxicating liquor coursing through your veins has you lost in a haze of lust and euphoria.

“sshh, we should be quiet,” you whisper, again, giggling, your voice breathless and desperate between the laugh. nails dig into his shoulders as you grind down onto him, seeking that perfect angle to make you come undone. gojo chuckles darkly at your whispered plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. “shh, yeah, keep quiet, baby,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear. “we don’t want anyone hearing how loud and dirty this little slut is getting fucked out here.”

his words send a tingling, flames of stars from your shoulder straight to your cunt, and you bite your lip to stifle another giggle. gojo’s cock is so deep inside you, stroking that sensitive spot within your core with every powerful thrust. you can feel his balls slapping against your cunt, adding to the overwhelming sensations crashing through your body.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” gojo groans, his face contorting in pleasure. “i can feel your cunt squeezing me like a vice. you love my big dick, don’t you?” your legs tremble as gojo’s thick cock stretches and fills you completely, the pleasure bordering on pain as he hits that sweet spot deep within your core over and over. you throw your head back, your long hair cascading down your back as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“your mom and dad might see us,” you declare between the giggle instead of answering, warm breath fanning your boyfriend’s face the minute you lean closer. the mix of the rough grass beneath you, the cool night air, and gojo’s searing heat enveloping— a dangerous mix of cocktails of lust and pleasure that sends you spiraling out of your mind.

gojo smirks up at you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with lust and mischief. “let ’em watch,” he says, his voice low and husky. “they already know i’m a perverted bastard. nothing new there. they know better than to disturb me when i’m fucking their daughter-in-law.” he grips your hips harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he drives upward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping pussy. “fuuuck, you feel amazing,” gojo groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure. “i could cum inside you right now, fill this naughty girl up with my seed.”

his words send a jolt of excitement through you, and you begin to move faster, riding him with reckless abandon. the thought of gojo marking you, claiming you as his, pushes you closer to the edge. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the yard, punctuated by your high-pitched moans, giggle and gasps.

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue plundering yours as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. gojo breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, baby? i can feel your pussy twitching around my cock.”

# GETO SUGURU

gasps sharply as geto’s thick cock plunges deep inside you, your body jolting against the cold metal railing. you bite your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan at the intense sensation of being taken so roughly out here in the open air. “sh-shh...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “fuck— sugu’ be quiet,” just a second, you glare at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

fingers curling around the rusty, dirty balcony fence tighter, your knuckles turning white as he pounds into you relentlessly. the force of each thrust makes my breasts bounce and rub against the rough fabric of his shirt that you wear. you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft stretching you wide, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“oh god— baby,” breathe out, your words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. “hah! look who’s talking tough now,” geto chuckles lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust. he is not even bothering to keep his voice down as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his mission is only one : make the stupid neighbors stop flirting with you.

“you’re the one making all those cute little noises,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “i bet they can hear you moaning all the way down the hall. ’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he growls, “and i’m going to keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

geto reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of the shirt. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, meannn, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your cunt. the action earn a choked whimper escapes your throat at the cruel twist of your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. geto’s pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. the balcony’s fence creaks ominously under the force of your coupling, but he shows no signs of slowing down. “come on doll, scream for me,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless out here.”

your pussy clenches tightly around geto’s thick cock, milking him as he continues to ravage you with wild abandon. “ah-ahh! s-suguuuu’!” you cry out, unable to contain yourself any longer. the rough treatment of your sensitive nub, combined with the relentless pounding of his shaft, pushes you precariously close to the edge.

geto’s mocking words only fuel the fire within you, igniting a dark, primal desire that demands release. as he grips your hip harder, pulling you back onto him with bruising force, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensations. “hhn! oh f-fuck, s-shouldd- quiet,” you wail, your voice rising to a desperate keen, whispering like a mantra to yourself.

geto grins wickedly, pleased by your desperate attempts to stifle your cries. however, he clearly has no intention of letting up anytime soon. “that’s right, let it out,” he encourages, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “moan for me, doll. show everyone how much you love getting fucked raw by your boyfriend out in the open.”

he punctuates his words with another vicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. the obscene squelch of skin meeting skin echoes loudly across the balcony, mingling with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the railing beneath you. geto leans in close, his lips hovering mere inches from your ear as he whispers, “come on, i know you can be louder than that,” his breath burning, spit all the pleasure with his dirty talk. “show me how much you love getting fucked in public. let everyone know who’s making you cum so hard.”

you can tell geto was loving seeing you struggle to hold back your moans. he continued to push deeper and faster into your wet heat, stretching your walls around his thickness with every powerful stroke. his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he used your body for his own pleasure— and his punching-jealosy bag. you could feel the veins in his cock pulsing against your inner walls, throbbing with need.

a strangled sob tears from your throat as geto’s words wash over you, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through your last vestiges of restraint. the shameless, public nature of your tryst, coupled with the unrelenting assault on your senses, finally shatters the fragile barrier holding back your climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you shriek, your voice a raw, guttural cry that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the building. your body convulses violently, back arching as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. your pussy clamps down around geto’s pistoning cock like a vice, rhythmically milking him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. the sheer intensity of your release leaves you gasping and twitching, utterly spent.

# TOJI FUSHIGURO

breathless moans escape your lips as toji pounds into you relentlessly, the bamboo walls creaking with each powerful thrust. the sound of waves crashing outside mingles with your ragged panting, creating an erotic symphony.

“mm— baby. .” you gasp, your hands bracing against the rough bamboo as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock each time while you, uncontrollably desperate to keep your mouth shut from spreading the moan and sin to everyone around— there are children around for fuck sake. the cool ocean breeze wafts through the open ceiling of the structure, sending shivers down your spine even as your body burns with desire. your clit throbs in time with toji’s sleepless strokes.

“shhh... i gotchu, ma,” toji whispers huskily in your ear, feeling your body tremble beneath him. he tightens his grip on your hips, fucking you harder, faster, driven by lust and the thrill of getting caught. the thought of someone discovering them sends a dark thrill through him. leaning over your shoulder, he nips at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks making a sharp cry tears from your throat as toji bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. his free hand snakes around to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you closer to the land of climax and pleasure just for a second. “gonna fill this tight pussy up, ma,” he growls, his voice low and rough with arousal.

the pain only heightens your pleasure, making your inner walls clench greedily around his pistoning cock. the bamboo structure creaks ominously under your frenzied coupling, but toji doesn’t care. all that matters is claiming you right here, right now, consequences be damned. you whimper, your head thrown back against his chest as he assaults your sensitive flesh with his fingers and mouth. the knowledge that you are so close to being discovered only fuels the fire raging within you.

your hips buck wildly, meeting each of toji’s powerful thrusts as he drives into you with primal intensity. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the small, tiny, wee space, mingling with your ragged breathing and toji’s guttural grunts. toji’s arms snake around your slippery skin for the nth time, to press firmly against your belly, encouraging you to arch into him, to meet his thrusts head-on— bend your stomach deeper into the bulge of his thick cock that peeks at your abandonment.

“fuck yeah— come on ma, i know you can do it,” toji snarls, pounding into you with reckless abandon. he can feel your body starting to tighten around him, and it spurs him on. he wants to push you over the edge, make you scream his name for all to hear. fingers dancing lower, he roughly pinches your clit, rubbing it between his fingers in harsh, rapid circles. at the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “gonna cum so deep inside you, mark you as mine. everyone will know who you belong to.”

# RYOMEN SUKUNA

whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being filled so completely by sukuna’s enormous cocks. tears continue to stream down your cheeks— struggle to even do as much as catch your breath, each thrust sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through you.

# NANAMI KENTO

panting heavily, i manage a weak, “my lord. .” your voice is barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and sukuna’s lewd grunts of satisfaction. his twice or three times bigger mouth on his stomach lick the small of your back— it smirks, your cunt can feel it.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your feeble attempt to address him properly, his four arms gripping you tighter as he pounds into you relentlessly. the tongue on his stomach licks up your spine, leaving a trail of saliva that tingles on your sensitive skin. his upper pair of hands reach around to grasp your breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he fucks you harder. the third hand slides down to rub your clit, making sure to hit that sweet spot with every stroke.

“foolish mortal,” he sneers, his voice low and menacing. “you should be grateful i deign to use you for my pleasure. your pitiful cries only spur me on.” one of his hands slides around to fondle your breast roughly, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers. his other hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, forcing your body to respond despite your mind’s protests.

cries out sharply as sukuna tweaks your nipple, the sudden jolt of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure from his cocks and touch. “ah! m-my lord, please...” your hips buck involuntarily, meeting his thrusts as his skilled hands work to push you closer to the edge. “this is— too much, i-i can’t...”

trembling, you clench around the thick cocks stretching your inner walls, desperate for some respite but knowing it won’t come anytime soon. “just- just give me a moment, i need...” your eyes hooded, half-heartedly open and find the open garden surrounded you, few of his servants passed by— yet, despite them didn’t have enough the courage to look directly, the voice of skin roughly kiss, your desperate-slutty moan, and sukuna’s rough grumble was obvious.

sobbing quietly, you try to gather your fragmented thoughts, dreading what further degradation or humiliation sukuna might inflict upon you once he’s finished using your body for his twisted amusement. sukuna laughs cruelly at your pleas, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “a moment? how quaint. you think you have control over this?”

instead, he speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of his cocks pistoning in and out of you growing louder. the tongue on his stomach slithers up to your ear, licking the shell before whispering, “i think you need to learn your place, silly mortal. and if begging for mercy is what it takes...”

his fourth arm moves to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “perhaps a little choking will help you focus on the present. now, beg properly. beg me to let you cum, to grant you this fleeting pleasure.”

the hand on your clit intensifies its ministrations, rubbing circles that send sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. with that, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his cocks deep inside you with brutal force. the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the garden, mingling with your choked sobs and the occasional gasp from passing servants who can’t help but steal glances at the depraved scene.

the servant who dared to glance your way quickly looks away, not wanting to meet sukuna’s wrathful gaze. they all know better than to disturb their master when he’s indulging in such carnal pleasures. sukuna tightens his grip around your throat slightly, his smirk growing wider as he watches the effect it has on you. he leans in close, his hot breath washing over your ear as he whispers, “look at them, pet. can you see how they’re staring? envious of the privilege i’m granting you, of the pleasure you get to experience at my hands.”

his fingers dig into your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges. “they wish they could be in your position right now, don’t they? wishing they could feel my cocks inside them, wishing they could hear their own desperate moans echoing through the garden.”

your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen as sukuna tightens his grip around your throat. panic sets in as you claw at his wrist, desperate for air. he chuckles darkly, amused by your struggles. just as you're about to pass out, sukuna releases his hold, allowing you to gulp in a ragged breath. he watches with perverse fascination as you tremble and wheeze, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of his relentless pounding.

sukuna’s hand on your clit becomes a blur of motion, rubbing and pinching in a relentless rhythm designed to drive you to the brink of insanity.

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he rocks into you slowly. his voice is low and husky, filled with desire even as he tries to keep things discreet. with his other hand, he gently cup your cheek, tilting your face up towards him, thumb brushing across your lips as he tries to silence your pleasured moans. “shh, my love... i know it feels amazing, but we need to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing here.”

his brown eyes filled with adoration and lust, blend like a mix of cocktails under the dim blue and purple bar lights. “i want to hear you, but not like this. let me take care of you when we get home, okay? right now, just relax for me...” he punctuates his words with a deep, slow thrust, making you gasp despite yourself. his deep voice is a soothing whisper against your ear as he rocks his hips. one after another while keeping his hard length buried within your cunt. “just focus on how good i make you feel, okay? let me take care of everything.”

your body shudders at the intensity of his words, his touch igniting sparks that race through your veins. you nod frantically, unable to form coherent responses over the crescendo of pleasure building inside you. instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling into his warmth as you cling to him desperately.

your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure against your sensitive clit. you can’t help the whimpers that escape, muffled against his skin, as he continues to stroke that perfect spot deep within you. each deliberate thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you whole and drowning you all the way.

desperate to stifle the sounds of your desperation, you press your mouth to his throat, sucking gently on the pulse point there. the subtle pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. the sound of music and everyone push painfully far away to the back of your head, and everything becomes grey with how much the sounds of nanami’s breathing kissing your ear. all warm, soft and just him. “baby..”

he inhales sharply as you suck on his throat, the sudden rush of sensation sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. his grip on you tightens reflexively, fingers digging into your hip bones as he struggles to maintain control. the urge to claim you harder, faster, more forcefully is almost overwhelming, but he resists, determined to please you rather than succumb to base instinct.

with a herculean effort, he steadies his movements, focusing on long, slow strokes designed to stretch and fill you without jarring you against the seat or drawing unwanted attention. he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your ear as he fights to hold back his own climax. “my love... the love of my life,” he breathes, the endearment barely audible over the thumping bass.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through every fiber of your being, you can only whimper and tremble in nanami’s arms. the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of his body enveloping yours, the sweet ache of his fingers digging into your flesh— it all blends together into an exquisite symphony of pleasure.

it was painfully slow, but when he was sensing your impending release, nanami’s hands begin to roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest on your thighs. he spreads them wider, angling his hips to hit that magical spot inside you with precision. the added pressure sends you spiraling toward the edge, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his thick length.

nanami’s eyes darken with lust as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, your body tensing and trembling in his grasp. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing the desperate little noises you make. his tongue dances with yours, matching the rhythm of the loud music, alsooo, mirroring the rhythm of his hips as he continues to stroke into you, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

# SHIU KONG

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking marks into your tender skin. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice heavy with desire. “i could look at you forever.” his hands slide higher, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. he thumbs your nipples, coaxing them to hardness as he teases and plucks at the sensitive buds.

breathless, eyes wide with excitement and guilt as you look around at your secluded spot amidst the bamboo forest. gasp as another wave of pleasure crashes over you from your thick cock stretching your velvet walls. eyes flustered closed while your fingers curled up, wrapping the fabric of his suit around.

“fuck, it feels so good...“ you start moving faster on top of him, riding him harder as the thrill of getting caught only heightens your arousal. you lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as you continue to bounce on his lap, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. “we’re being so naughty out here in the open... what if someone walks by and catches us in the act?” you asked, tone nonchalant so the heartbeat once you pull away.

a low groan escapes shiu’s throat, feels your tight heat gripping his cock tighter with each hard ride. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to fuck yourself on him even deeper— panting heavily, he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“let ’em,” he rasps, his voice husky with desire. “i want everyone to see how badly i’m fucking you right now.” shiu’s fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you down to slam your cunt onto his shaft again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet woods, mixing with your high-pitched moans and his deep growls.

“you’re so goddamn sexy like this,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “riding my dick in public, not giving a damn who sees...” your body trembles as shiu’s words, intensifying the burning need within you. you throw your head back, lost in the ecstasy of being taken so roughly, so publicly. each harsh thrust makes you cry out, your voice carrying through the stillness of the bamboo grove.

“sooo dirty,” you tease between giggling, grinding your clit against him as you impale yourself on his thick cock. your hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples as you continue to ride shiu with wild abandon. leaning down, you capture his lips once more, kissing him deeply as you move, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

shiu meets your fervent kisses with equal passion, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devours you whole. his large hands roam your curves, squeezing and kneading your supple flesh as he drinks in every moan and whimper that spills from your lips. few seconds and he breaking the kiss to trails his mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “mmm, such a naughty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with approval. “wants to get caught, huh? wants everyone to know you’re mine.”

shiu’s fingers find their way beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming up your stomach to pinch and roll your hardened nipples. he watches intently as you writhe above him, your breasts bouncing with each frenzied movement. one hand leaves your hip to palm your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath to tease the hardened bud directly. you let out a sharp gasp as shiu’s skilled fingers play with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“mmm, feel that, doll?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “your tits are so sensitive, i bet they’d be perfect for my mouth.” the sensation of his warm breath on your skin and his filthy words make you ache for more. “please!” you beg, arching your back to push your chest further into his touch.

with a wicked grin, shiu pulls your shirt up and off, revealing your heaving breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze. he wastes no time, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

you moan loudly, head thrown back in bliss as he lavishes attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers. shiu releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and swollen. he gazes up at you with dark, lustful eyes, his own chest heaving with exertion.

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire. “make some noise for me. let everyone know how much you love having my cock buried deep inside you.” he punctuates his words with a particularly forceful thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. shiu grins, pleased with himself.

leaning forward, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you’re squirming and mewling above him. his free hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower to rub at your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?”

[tonycries]

Kiss Me More!

Synopsis. There’s always something that makes him lose control - and you love pushing those buttons.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rough séx, unprotected, bodyworshíp, stuff with pantíes, bréeding, slight exhíbitionism (Sukuna’s), Nanami and Geto are a bit mean, overstím, finger suckíng, dacryphília (Geto’s), pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.1k

A/N. Bro my laptop crashed thrice trynna write this um.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “Raw?!”

Great, Toji thinks, he’s finally lost it.

Because sooner have the words left your swollen lips, all the blood goes rushing to his achingly hard cock - so swollen and already leaking hot precum all over your trembling thighs. Some dark, primal part of himself being poked so dangerously awake.

“Are ya sure, doll?” he breathes, and the words come out ragged - pained even. Like some part of himself wanted you to save no, was begging you to say no - for his own sanity. Because just the thought of your pretty lil’ cunt wrapped around his cock makes him feel lightheaded. “We don’t-”

“I wan’ to,” you give him a determined little nod. Spreading your legs further and oh Toji lets out a hoarse grunt at the heavenly sight. Hanging on your every word as you continue, “What’s the worst that can happen?”

That was hours ago - oh, how foolish you were. 

You never thought that those would be the words that make your poor boyfriend snap. That it would only take him just barely grazing his angry, weeping tip between your puffy folds. Up and down up and down up and- down went every rational thought. 

Too depraved. Too lost in the feeling of finally having you and your soft pussy and you-

“C-can’t believe you’ve been ngh- fuckin’ holdin’ out on m-me.” He was in heaven, making you cum over and over and-

And you were clawing limply at the drenched sheets, the headrest, Toji’s shoulders - just anything and everything for some semblance of sanity. 

“T-Toji-” you sob, “S’too much. I- ngh- can’t anymore-”

“Fuck! Been hah- holdin’ out on me.” he groans, like a mantra. Brows furrowing as he squeezes his swollen cock harder into your plushy walls. And if it was any other time then Toji might’ve almost been embarrassed at the way his sentence cracks ever-so-slightly at the end. Choking out, “One more- gimme j-jus’ one more.”

“But-” Big, fat tears roll down your burning cheeks as large fingers dip down to toy your sensitive clit between them - no rhythm or rhyme, just to get you off. “You said the p-previous one would ngh- b-be the last.”

Ah, you were so cute blabbering out little pleas. And the only response you get is a devilish smirk, Toji’s darkened, hooded eyes boring into yours as he hums, “Did I? I don’t remember.”

He did remember. Very well, in fact as he pushed you to your nth orgasm tonight. And it took everything in him to hold off his high as he fucked you through yours, whispering out hollow promises about it being the “last time” and just “one more”. 

“S’okay-” Toji nips playfully at your wobbling lips. Salty with the taste of your overstimulated tears. “One more- you can mmpf- cum f’me once more, right?” 

And Toji’s barely-there sense of rationality in him knows he should slow down. Ease up his bruising grp on your hips. Have at least some shred of concern as he fucks your quivering cunt rougher, like his personal sex toy more than anything. 

Yet, no, right now he couldn’t even think straight. Too focused on how your moans were so sweet. Lips so pretty screaming out his name. Snug cunt too fucking heavenly when you cum all over his cock, squeezing him like your slutty lil’ pussy was trying to milk the fucking soul out of him. So hard and addicted that Toji was hooked. 

You mewl a delirious little, “H-hooked?” Batting your hazy eyes up at the monster above you, who seemed well and fully intent on making you cum until you couldn’t anymore. “Y-you’re hooked?”

Whoops, did he say that out loud? Seems you weren’t the only one that was completely and utterly wrecked here. 

“Shhh,” Toji drops his head once more to kiss away your adorable pout - the one that only makes his balls squeeze so painfully. “Just focus on how ngh- fuckin’ food ya feel, pretty.” Fingers erratic on your throbbing clit, just soaked in your sweet juices. Moving deftly to spell out a messy T-O-J-I. Over and over and- “After all, this hah- pussy now belongs to me now, right?”

And it’s all you can do to give a delirious little nod, words slurring together as you hiss a low, “Y-yours- S’all for- ngh- you-” Hips bucking wildly underneath his strong figure. “Close- m’gonna cum, Toji-”

The only response you get is a guttural groan of what sounded like your name - followed shortly by a string of profanities as Toji speeds up his abuse on your cunt. One hand reaching out to grip onto the headboard, so hard that if you were in any better state of mind the two of you would have registered the sharp snap! 

The other almost-feverish on your poor clit - like it hurt to not have you cumming all over his cock now. Spelling his name over and over and-

“Oh I’ll let ya cum-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy now. Sounding like his sanity was dancing away every time his hips slapped bruisingly against yours. “Gonna make you c-cum so ha- hard you’ll forget everything else-”

You’re letting out strangled little gasps in response, hips torn between running away and fucking down for more more more-

“Fuck- hope you’re on the pill, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Painted white

“Whoops.”

Nanami well and fully thinks that it’s your fault he feels less of a man than some monster right now. He acts like it, too, holding back a sultry little smile as he fucks you deeper and deeper into the mattress. 

Close - too close. 

Close enough that he’s immediately pulling out of your snug cunt. So fucking difficult with the way you’re sucking him up so good - but oh was it worth it watching the way your swollen lips drop into a soft oh! Glassy eyes snapping down to catch the way he fucks his fist once, twice. Before spilling all over your swollen folds, painting you such an obscene white over and over and-

“Now now,” you can only keen in response as your husband hums lowly. Fist sliding languidly up and down his angry, red cock. “Guess we hafta hah- do it all over again, my love.” 

Yeah, definitely worth it with the way he had you all breathless and needy, your slutty lil’ pussy just begging to go over the edge - only to tease you at the very last second. God, it’s been like this for so long now. 

“So mean,” you give Nanami a little pout - one that has his still-painfully hard cock twitching so sensitively in his hand. Big, fat tears welling up in your eyes as you continue, “You’re being so ngh- mean, Ken.”

Oh, damn that little nickname - the exact same one you’d scream when you’re close. Damn the way you cock your head just right, batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently up at him.

Damn the way he snakes his hand down to the sinful little pool of cum spreading all over your lower stomach. Letting it trickle onto his fingertips - immediately shoving them between your lips to shut up those pretty lil’ moans. 

“Mean?” he manages to chuckle. Tips of his fingers pressing right at the back of your tongue. Slapping his swollen cock on your stomach, “Is this what you ah- wanted? Are ya happy now, my love?” 

The sight of you all teary and gagging around his fingers was almost as addictive as the sight of you covered in his cum. Almost. 

He sweeps his eyes all over where you were splayed out so prettily for him. Your glossy lips, the streaks of cum on your stomach, your chin, everywhere and anywhere - except where you wanted the most. 

It had started with an accident, really, when he’d pulled out a bit too early tonight. And fuck if Nanami didn’t think that sight of you all dripping and covereed with him was like the gates of heaven spread wide open all for him. A new, dangerous addiction. 

Which is why he’s pushing his fingers deeper, whispering out a ragged little, “Shit, you’re so messy.” Purposefully dragging his thumb across your lower lip to smear the mess everywhere. Your lips, your chin, inside. “So filthy.” He can’t even think about bringing himself to be disgusted. Dipping down the valleys of your chest, down, down down, to where his achingly hard tip was just kissing your quivering entrance now, “So perfect.” 

And without warning, Nanami’s splitting you apart on his massive cock once more. Jaw falling slack ever-so-slightly at the way you’re taking him up so readily - inch by fucking inch like it hurt to be apart.

“F-fuck,” you moan, the words broken as he starts moving inside - back to picking up that unforgiving pace from earlier, like he never stopped. “Hngh- s’too good- too full, Kento-”

“Awww, what happened to ‘Ken’?” Nanami cuts you off uncharacteristically. Hips slowing down to lazy, mindless little movements that have you gasping in protests. “Was gonna cum on your pretty face this time hah- s-seems you don’t want it, hm?”  

And ah, let it be known that Nanami Kento would burn down the world for his wife. 

But what fun it was to tease you - to have your mouth dropping in disbelief, eyes widening in your delirious state. Babbling out a broken, “No no no, Ken- hngh- wan’ you to cum inside.” Back arching off the bed, grappling pathetically for more more more- “To paint me white inside- Please?”

Oh, did you know how to push his buttons just right. Because how could Nanami deny you begging so prettily like that?

Because the sentence is barely out of your mouth before neat nails are digging into your hips as Nanami pulls your hips closer, milking his cock on your snug cunt - so hard he knew it would leave marks. His heavy balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, nails dragging down his bulging biceps as you moan his name. 

Whispering, breath hot against your ear, “You’re right.” Voice so strained and dark that you almost don’t recognize it as your husbands. “So, so right.”

Nanami’s index finger coming down to draw an invisible line right where he could feel his cock making a mess of you inside. 

“Ah! Ken, W-what-”

“You’re so right.” he’s breathing against your mouth, like a little prayer. Tasting the sweet candy of your lips and himself and you- “The next spot-” Pressing his finger down right on that spot, hard. Like he wanted to feel himself more than anything. “Will be here.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Pretty when you cry

“S-Sugu, are you okay?” you’re looking over your shoulder to ask. 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing - except for Geto’s heavy breathing, and the lewd little squelches from down below, his swollen cock just barely sinking into your heavenly cunt. And you know it doesn’t bode well.

You’d be almost worried if it wasn’t for the way his eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown and just locked on that single, stray tear rolling down your cheek. Such a dark little glint in his gaze that had you wondering whether you should be concerned for him or yourself. 

Yet you manage to choke out a little, “Suguru?”

Ah that snaps him out of his little reverie, suddenly too-aware of your plushy walls sucking the soul out of his hot, angry head. 

With work, it’s been a while since Geto got to fuck your snug cunt - and you needed to breathe, maybe spread your legs more. Relax, because it was so fucking tight and Geto wasn’t even halfway. The stretch way too sinful. Too much. Your lips wobbling at how massive his cock was, and oh- was that another tear going down your pretty face?

You don’t even get to confirm because several things happen at once - immediately, he’s pushing his aching dick in one, harsh thrust. Head dipping down to pool the tears streaming on his hot tongue, groaning at the taste.

“O-oh.” you manage to grit out, feeling like Geto was pushing into your fucking lungs. “S’too big. Sugu, ah!”

“Shhhh, gorgeous.” he’s dragging his lips down your neck, fingers dancing down your body to roll your ravaged clit between them. “S’alrigh- ngh-” And you didn’t know whether he was reassuring himself more than you. “You got it. Y-you’ll take it- you always do, right?”

And he was right - but you’d forgotten how unforgiving Geto’s cock was. How unforgiving he was as he pries away your fingers gripping onto the headrest - trying pathetically to pull away from the pressure down below. 

Hah, he thinks, intertwining them so mockingly with his own, as if he’d let such a pretty lil’ thing like you escape. 

Romantic - the way this was supposed to be. 

Yet, now, Geto was fucking you like anything but. 

“You’re not trying to- fuck- run away,” he’s purring in your ear, rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit once. Twice. As if trying to will the answer out of you, “Right?” Not even waiting for your answer before reeling his hips back, all the way till his fat tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance. “After we hngh- haven’t done this in so-” Slamming his hips down. Harsh. “-long?”

And shit- he was acting like it, too. So depraved and filthy the way he was drinking up your cute lil’ moans, tasting your tears on his lips while he couldn’t decide between bruising your poor cervix and hitting that one spot. “T-too fuckin’ long, gorgeous.”

The only answer he gets is your sweet, simpering whine of “Sugu- Sugu Sugu- oh my god.” Back bowing off the bed because it’s gotten so much. “C-can feel you so deep inside.”

Really, how could Geto even think about stopping himself from kissing down your arched back? Looping two strong arms around your waist to pull you impossibly deeper down his cock. 

“Ah! Oh my god- Suguru!” you keen as he falls back on his knees with you in tow, your back against his muscled front. Spreading your legs to fuck up so mindlessly into you. Jagged, long thrusts, bouncing you like a toy on his aching cock. Rough. “So much- so- ngh-”

Ah, your pretty little cries are just music to his ears. Fuck, he forgot how pretty you looked when you were all breathless and crying on his cock.

“Such a cute lil’ actress.” he coos, voice going up each time his heavy balls smack your ass. Fingers drawing such tight little circles on your throbbing clit. “Love these hah- pretty tears.”

“S-So mean, Sugu-” you’re choking as his thrusts get purposeful - calculated. Hitting that one magical spot he’ll never forget no matter what. Over and over and over while all you can do is cry out teary moans of his name.

Thigh quivering at the sheer stimulation, “Yeah- yeah, jus’ like that.” And oh Geto wishes he could taste down there, too. But instead settles for doing that later - getting those sweet, overstimulated tears out of you. “My gorgeous girl, cryin’ on my cock. Ngh- gonna cum f’me?” Pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your forehead - the complete opposite of his hips. “Gonna c-cry while you’re mm- cumming all over my cock?”

And as if he really really wanted to see it - Geto’s only getting sloppier. 

So embarrassing with the way he was whispering out sweet little degradations in your ear, guiding you closer and closer. 

So embarrassing with the way he eagerly watched all your minute reactions.

So embarrassing with how you cum exactly the way he wanted you to - teary and breathless. A quick scream of Geto’s name before you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. 

Cunt clamping down so deliciously on his cock. So dizzying that you barely even register the hot tongue lapping at the fresh wave of tears.

“Ah, as perfect as I hah- imagined.” Geto grits out, sounding every bit absolutely wrecked. “Now I jus’ n-need to know if you’ll cry as much when m’filling you up.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Just the tip.”

“Hngh- f-fuck, baby.” he whines into your open mouth, strong hands pulling your trembling hips impossibly closer to his. “J-jus’ a bit deeper- only a bit deeper, I promise.”

Ah, if only you weren’t split apart so deliriously on Choso’s cock you might’ve been able to actually form a coherent sentence to- what? Snap at him? Beg him for more?

You don’t even know at this point, because it’s been like this for so long now, and Choso promised it would be just his weeping tip. He promised it would be quick and he just “wanted to feel his girl’s pretty pussy.” Over and over again as he pushed your legs all the way until they were pressed against your tits, heels pressing into the mattress as he slides his massive cock even deeper-

“Cho!” you yelp, feeling the thump! thump! thump! of those prominent veins down the side rub against all the right spots. “You said-”

“I know I know, m’sorry.” he gasps. Brows scrunching as he nevertheless bullies his cock deeper inside your gummy walls. Choso’s cock too big, the stretch too sinful. Dropping his head to kiss your bruised lips, “M’sorry, jus’ a bit more. Jus’ a bit- hah- a bit deeper-”

And oh, he shouldn’t have done that. 

Shouldn’t have let himself that last bit of freedom, because he sinks only a bit more into your heavenly cunt - so dripping wet and milking the soul out of him - that Choso can’t help but think he wants more. 

“Baby…” Choso purrs hotly against your ear, hips thrusting in slow, shallow little grinds - and you already know too well what he’s about to beg for.

“Cho.” you groan, warningly. “You said j-jus’ the ngh- tip.”

“Awww.” he groans. So fucking pretty with his long hair undone, some strands sticking to his flushed skin. Eyes hazy and miles away as he looks at you through those long, dark lashes. “Jus’ a bit ngh- more? Promise I’ll pull out.” As if to support his case, one hand gently tilts your head up to press chaste pecks at the corner of your lips. The other starting to toy with your ravaged clit, “Please?”

And how could you say no to that? 

Especially not when Choso digs his knees deeper into the sheets, rock-hard cock dragging so agonizingly against your walls as he reels his hips back, back, back-

Splitting you apart all in one, harsh thrust. 

It’s all you can do to whine out a pathetic, “O-oh fuck- fuck! S’too deep.” The stretch too sinful, his cock too massive. Tears springing to your eyes as he immediately starts fucking you in quick, ragged movements - not even easing you into it like he usually would. 

“M’sorry, baby.” Choso sounds so fucking wrecked, voice as rough as his hips now. “M’sorry m’sorry. Promise I won’t cum inside. Jus’ a bit more- some- some more-”

And for all the remaining sanity you had left, you didn’t know how promises of “just the tip” turned into empty wishes that neither of you had the patience - nor the sanity - to fulfill right now. 

“Please.” you arch your hips off the bed - and nothing more has to be said, because Choso reads that lust-drunk little plea in your eyes. “Ch-Cho-”

“A bit more.” he lets out a humorless little laugh. Reaching above to lace his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down, down, down impossibly deeper onto his painfully hard cock in a pathetic little cadence to match his. “Jus’ a bit- more.”

It was driving him insane. 

And for all his apologies, Choso isn’t one bit shy when rocking his hips harder into yours. So bruising with the way he leaves marks on your waist, your tits, probably even your poor cervix. Whispering out mindless little promises of pulling out and nonsense about going “jus’ a bit deeper”.

“F-fuck, wan’ you to cum, baby.” The bed is creaking in protest as Choso picks up the pace so sloppily. Hips stuttering and uneven with how fucking good it felt - but hitting the right spots every time. His hands snaking down to roll your sensitive clit between his fingers again. “Cum f’me. Please?”

And it seems that Choso had a penchant for getting what he wanted. 

Because no sooner do the words leave his rosy lips, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes. Blood roaring in your ears, mixing with Choso’s broken little praises as he fucks you through peak after peak of your high. 

Over and over and-

“Sorry-” your eyes snap open at that familiar little phrase falling from his lips. One that you knew didn’t bode well for you or your poor cunt. “Sorry sorry sorry-” Thrusting, once. Harsh. Twitching so wildly inside you that just one more squeeze and he’d be- “C-can I ngh- cum inside, baby?” 

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - A lil’ show

It only takes that first, broken little moan escaping your swollen lips and you already know you won’t make it out intact - nor will Sukuna’s sanity, apparently. 

Because no sooner has that sinful noise left you, Sukuna’s eyes glaze over, jaw dropping so uncharacteristically into a soft oh! Aching dick twitching wildly inside you, hips stuttering against yours as he breathes out, “What was that?”

He doesn’t have the patience to wait for your response - instead, squeezing his swollen cock deeper, fucking all the air - and the words - out of you. 

Which, unfortunately for you, wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for. 

“Aww, c’mon.” the words are groaned into the crook of your neck, sending jolts of electricity all the way down to your dripping cunt. “Give me more ngh- of those-” Large hands tightening on your hips, shifting you around on where you were sat so prettily on Sukuna’s lap. “-pretty moans, brat.”

So that’s what he wanted.

And this was supposed to be something slow. Something lazy, and languid to get the king of curses off before that droning meeting today with his underlings - to take the edge off so that he probably won’t end up killing them all off.

Something it was not supposed to be was Sukuna spreading your legs so shamefully, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock. Trying to find the angle that’s just right to rip those cute lil’ moans out of you.

“C’monnnn.” he gives short, sloppy little thrusts up into your heavenly cunt. “Where is-”

Then suddenly you’re wrapping your arms tighter around Sukuna’s neck, “Ngh! Oh fuck-” Teeth digging into his muscled shoulder, hard - hard enough that it might’ve drawn blood if this wasn’t the king of curses himself. 

“Found it.” And it’s all that’s said before he’s reaching down to spread your puffy folds further, eyes flicking between your wobbling lips and the way your tight pussy was sucking him up so good. Watching the way his massive cock was disappearing in and out in and out in and- “What? Not gonna hah- scream my name anymore?”

“B-because, Kuna-” you gasp, face burning at the way your thighs tremble with the effort to pathetically to meet his unforgiving pace. “They- they’re close.”

Humming in amusement, “Who?”

“Them!” you’re keening - and both of you know you’re talking about those footsteps outside, the thought of Sukuna’s meeting weighing much more on your mind than his. So you’re limply grazing your lips against his, trying to muffle those whimpers falling from your lips. “They’re g-gonna ngh- hear?”

“So?”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - Sukuna’s response or the way he’s increasing his pace relentlessly. Trying to pull those sweet sweet moans from you, no care or concern for the ever-closing footsteps outside. 

“I don’t care.” he groans, back arching off the sticky seat of his throne to fuck up into your sloppy hole deeper. “You’re ngh- above them, y’know.” Bouncing you like such a slut on his cock, “So what if they h-hear?”

And God you don’t know who’s more fucked-out right now - Sukuna, who was speaking mindless little nonsense into your ear, or you. Whiney and a mess, tugging on his soft locks - a warning.

One that the man himself blatantly ignores, instead having one hand reach down to roll your throbbing clit between his fingers. 

“Hngh- fuck!”

The moan escapes you before you can bite down on Sukuna’s neck, right above his racing pulse to muffle it. 

“Heh,” shivers run down your spine as Sukuna’s chest rumbles with a laugh. Pulling your lolling head away to crash his lips against yours. Panting into your open mouth, “Sneaky. But they’re only getting closer and-” Rocking his hips harder. Bruising. “-m’only getting more impatient.”

And then he’s fucking up into you with reckless abandon. Smirk spreading at that little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he hits that one spot. 

You’re sure that if whatever unfortunate soul was outside couldn’t hear your delirious moans then they could definitely hear the lewd slap of skin on skin. Fast, so unforgivingly loud. His fingers just a blur on your clit. Just taunting those little moans out of you.

You’re gasping at the sheer stimulation, “Y-you’re so-”

“So what?” Sukuna spits into your mouth, “Don’t start ngh- sentences ya can’t finish, brat. Though-” His sharp eyes flicker towards the door, much more aware than whatever hazy mess was left of your senses. “I don’ think you’ll be able f-finish any of them soon enough.”

Barely even giving you the chance to register his words, you’re tilting your head in confusion up at him and-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Oh, shit. 

“Come in.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Blue blue blue!

It’s times like this - your blue lingerie almost in tatters, Gojo pushing you into such a tight mating press, filling up your poor pussy over and over - that you wonder when bones will start breaking.

Well, not that your boyfriend would mind either - he wouldn’t mind having to use a bit of reverse cursed technique on what was supposed to be a lazy little cockwarming session. Instead, too focused on how your cunt was sucking him up so good. His cum inside you so warm, the stretch so sinful, your lingerie too blue-

“Heh, what? C-can’t ngh- speak, sweetheart?” Gojo lets out a humorless little laugh. Fingers deftly hooking under your bra strap to give a sharp little snap! “You’re the one that a-asked for this, after ngh- all.”

“B-But, Toru-” you gasp, and it only has Gojo ramming his cock into you deeper. Awe-struck at how you were already so bloated with his cum, but still taking him so well. “Wasn’t on p-purpose-”

“This wasn’t on purpose?” And you know what he’s talking about - that barely-there fabric - the exact shade of his eyes. Only one glance at it had Gojo feeling like something snapped - possibly his restraint, maybe his sanity. Definitely you by the end of this. “This?” 

And you can’t even act coy - you don’t get the chance to. 

Because Gojo’s immediately got his hands everywhere. On your swollen breasts, your hips, the hem of your panties that he just barely had the patience to slide aside before stuffing you full. 

“Y-yes?” you ask, deliciously. Cunt clenching so sinfully around his throbbing cock in- fear? Anticipation? As he looked down so starved at you. 

“F-fuck. Ya shouldn’t have done this.” Gojo’s dragging his lips down your neck, soft. The exact opposite of how bruising his hips were of yours. “Oh, ya shouldn’t have done this-” Lewd curiosity getting the best of him as he dips his hand lower, pressing down just slightly on your lower stomach. “Because now,” Those blue eyes widening at the way his cum gushes down your legs, down his legs. “-m’not gonna let you go until I fuckin’ ruin these.”

And if you were in any better state of mind you could’ve almost laughed - because Gojo was acting like the soaked, flimsy fabric hanging around your body wasn’t already far, far past any salvation. 

No, he was fucking you like he was going to ruin them all over again. Tightening your legs thrown over his shoulders, folding you in half like some ragdoll as he bends down, down, down-

RIP!

You’re gasping at the sharp tear of fabric, one that you barely hear over the fucking obscene squelches from below. “T-Toru-” you squeal, ankles locking in warning. “These ngh- w-were expensive.”

“So?” And for all the world, Gojo has the audacity to sound so genuinely confused. Whispering a soft oh! as he angles his head just right to catch that sinful little tear in your panties. “Whoopsies.”

But, really, what your unregretful boyfriend was actually focusing on was how fucking illegal it should be for you to look this heavenly - legs shaky and limp, his seed forming a lewd little pool. Marked like you were fucking thrown to wolves, but, no, it was actually Gojo Satoru and he couldn’t fucking get enough-

“Five.”

The word comes out abruptly, strangled like Gojo himself was as bewildered as you as he suddenly blurts it out. 

And at your - fucking adorable - look of confusion, he’s kissing away the pout at your lips, murmuring hoarsely, “M’gonna buy you five more of these.”

That’s all that’s said before he’s only rocking his hips harder, feeling more of a fucking monster than he did when he was on the battle field. Wondering whether he’d have to buy a new fucking bed too with the way it was creaking under the pure power. 

And, well, it made some tiny, sadistic little part of Gojo delight to see the effect it had on you. Sweet moans of his name leaving your lips each time he draws rapid circles on your pretty clit. Hips fucking back down to meet his, so sloppy and needy - exactly the way he wanted you. 

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re bucking wildly underneath him, “M’close- so fucking close.”

He knew - of course he did. If the way your gummy walls were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him was anything to go by. Clit pulsing in a maddening little thump! thump! thump! that set Gojo’s animalistic rhythm. 

“Cum f’me.” he pants against your open mouth. Fingers hurrying on your clit because he wanted - needed - this so badly. “Cum f’me cum f’me, wan’ feel you squeezing my cock, sweetheart.” Needed to see if your tight pussy could take one more - to see if she’d overflow onto your poor panties again. “Cum f’me.”

“Ngh- fuck- Toru!”

And then you are - you feel it before you realize it. 

Just that white-hot electricity flowing through your veins, and your nails digging into Gojo’s milky skin. Leaving such angry red marks as you chase your high over and over and-

And Gojo wasn’t any better. Just barely having the sense to pull out as his balls squeezed so painfully and he’s painting your quivering pussy white. Thick rope after rope that the smug bastard purposefully smears all over your panties. 

So fucking filthy.

“Ten.” he’s groaning, and you already know what he means. “M’gonna have to buy you ten more after this.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.