#he is disgustingly adorable

[slutforpringles]

Daniel Ricciardo for Hugo x RB | via

[moliathh]

[dramatorgiasticsstuff]

I'm back in my South Park brain rot so I decided to draw my babyboy

[evilfloralfoolery]

Aftermath

Just the cuddly morning aftermath of Grimm's terrible cold/flu after his little exotic dancer mission lol.

Gods, Indigo can't stand himself. Grimm is also a bastard.

________________________

Morning is a dreary affair, a weak sliver of grayed daylight peeking from between the heavy curtains.  Even without rising, Indigo can hear the rain/sleet combination pelting the windows, the whistle of the wind a sonorous continuum in counterpoint with the weather. 

Autumn has begun its descent into winter and Indigo has no complaints.  Much like his mother’s side of the family, he not only enjoys the cold, but thrives in it. 

Grimm, of course, is another story.

Beside him, Grimm stirs and Indigo feigns a peaceful state of slumber. 

For a moment. 

Arms slide around his body, inviting him into an embrace, which is well received. Indigo curls against his chest, one hand upon the warmth of Grimm's naked skin peeking from the V in his nightshirt.

“Mornin’.” Grimm's voice is thick with sleep and congestion, dark and rumbling, like living thunder.

“Good morning,” Indigo says in return. He reaches to run his fingers through the tousled mess of Grimm’s hair.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like ass.”  Grimm muffles a cough into one hand and clears his throat.  “But I’ve had worse.” 

While that may be true, Indigo finds himself impossibly undone by his partner’s admission of vulnerability, small as it may be.  Especially in conjunction with his more than apparent symptoms.  

“I shall make you some tea shortly,” Indigo says. 

“Mmmn, I don’t want tea yet.”  Grimm runs a hand down Indigo’s back and back up again, rubbing the space between his shoulder blades in an absent, complacent manner.  “I want you to keep pettin’ me.” 

Indigo chuckles. “I suppose I can manage that.” 

He shifts higher onto his pillow so that their positions are exchanged and it is now Grimm with his head resting upon Indigo’s chest. Gentle fingers sift through the fine silk of his locks, pausing to unravel the occasional snarl.

Grimm purrs like a contented panther.

For a moment. 

While he is well aware of Grimm’s notorious morning “issues,” it is still, nonetheless, a pulse-speeding event when Grimm’s breath hastens into a sudden, almost gasping hitch. 

“Huuh–huuuuhhiiih!  HhkgUSSCCHHu! –GKSSSCHHssh!”  

“Mmn, sorry,”  Grimm sniffles thickly and Indigo lets out a breath he didn't realize he held within himself so tightly.

“Bless you,” Indigo says. He tucks a handkerchief between Grimm’s fingers.  “And you are most certainly not sorry.”

Grimm chuckles.  “Damn right, I’m not.”

Long moments pass and Indigo has just begun to drift off once more when the slight catch of Grimm's breath alerts him to inevitable. The man is obviously trying to suppress things, including his overly sensitive buildup beforehand.

Indigo's breathing slows, but he does not move, instead presenting the façade of sleep.

Grimm shifts and Indigo cracks his eyelids to the slightest sliver of openness. The other man presses a hand beneath his nose with a flinch of shoulders, barely suppressing a desperate “--Nh’GGKT-shhuh!”  

Gods, he is a positively horrific stifler at times, barely managing to suppress anything at all. 

Which makes Indigo's toes curl in his socks. 

Honestly.

“Bless you,” Indigo says, unable to keep that obnoxious emphasis from the sentiment.

“Thanks,” Grimm says with something between a sigh and sniffle. 

He rolls into his side to face Indigo and even in the dimly lit room, that saucy smile is evident. “Damn, that fucks you up, huh.” 

Indigo rolls his eyes. “Haven't you tired of provoking me?” 

Grimm's smile widens. “Not enough to stop making you wanna fuck me.” 

 And Grimm being Grimm, he must obviously prove this point beyond a reasonable doubt. Fingers cinch into his pajama top as Grimm struggles with a drastically desperate breath.  “--nhhHGGXT-shhuh!” 

Indigo smirks. “Gods, Grimm. Either silence yourself or sneeze properly.”

“Smartasshhhuh! UhhhgSSCHHu! –RIISSSSHHiiiuh! Goddahhhuh-huuuh!”  

Indigo tenses, the fingers upon Grimm's arm curling into themselves in anticipation.

Grimm’s expression wavers into an urgent breakdown . . . and he pinches Indigo's thigh. “Sike.” 

“Oh, you great bastard!” Indigo slaps his shoulder as Grimm finds merciless amusement in his frustration.

“Goddamn, Indy, you're too fucking easy!” Grimm laughs with a deep, rough sound.  “And look at you. Slapping my sick ass around. You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

Indigo feigns complete and total indignation, but not before reaching around to properly deliver a well-placed open handed smack to Grimm's actual backside. “There. I have now officially slapped your sick ass.” 

Grimm would have certainly guffawed, had it not been for the threat of a fit of coughing. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow, expression flattening to something deadpan and serious. “I'm calling the police.” 

“You are the police!” 

“Retired.” Grimm’s smile curves into something nefarious. “Now, smack my ass like I'm your bitch.” 

Indigo cannot help himself. Even his attempt at muffling a laugh into a palm results in complete and total failure.

“Honestly.” He brushes aside a lock of Grimm's sleep-tousled hair. “I will do no such thing.” Fingers tighten in those silken locks and he gives it a sharp, jerking tug that snaps Grimm's head to one side. “But I will do this.” 

“Mmmn, yeah. I bet you will.” Grimm's lips part with sinful decadence, beckoning a kiss from his partner. 

He slides his free palm over Grimm’s cheek and rests it there.  The man is too stunning for words with his ever-darkening stubble and features that appear as if they were carved by the masterful hands of the gods.  

“I love you, Grimm,” he says, voice a low whisper of sound.

Grimm’s mischievous gaze softens and he turns his face into Indigo's hand, kissing his palm with a brief press of lips before pulling him closer. 

The way Grimm begins a kiss is nearly always a sensual affair, a gentle sort of tease, the promise of something deeper and thorough implicated by his touch.

“I love you, too, Indy.” 

Within the confines of his chest, Indigo's heart trips over its own beat. 

“Kiss me,” Grimm murmurs against his mouth.

And so he does. Indigo feels as if his soul is suffused in flames. No one should have the audacity to kiss this well.

Grimm’s fingers splay across his back, drawing him closer still and Indigo cannot suppress the soft moan that escapes him.

“You had best stop before you create something you are unable to finish.” Indigo's words are breathless and heady with desire.

Grimm pins him to the mattress with his superior weight, hair curtaining his face. “Who says I'm not gonna finish?”

[hollowslantern]

idgaf about baby billy I would stomp him into a yellow stain on the pavement

[whatifwereallcarrots]

And what if I scream?

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

guys i have bad news

i in fact still have not magically teleported to my boyfriend

[moeblob]

Mason Rogers and Erin Bailey my beloveds.......

They work together and I don't even remember what they did but they always argued and so Erin loved to just call him a dick and he gave up after a while. And his coworkers are like "wow you and Erin get along pretty well huh" and he's just "she yells at me" "you yell back??? she just always seems to be migrate to you lol".

So Mason starts paying more attention to it and while she does insult and yell at him he notices she does in fact seem to seek him out. INTERESTING. And he says nothing about it and then he nearly dies and she's telling him he can't die and leave her and she'll be lonely so he tries to make light of it and say "hey, come on, I'm a dick, remember? letting you down is what I do".

Then he survives and she's relieved and then she apologizes for being rude and he accepts partial blame for being rude back and then they date. And it's very awkward to everyone else involved.

But she's always asking about his arm in weird ways like "hey Rogers who'd you piss off in the mafia?" or "I'm tempted to ask for a hand but you only have one somehow" and he looks very unimpressed every time but really he's glad to have someone not dancing around the topic. (he really was just born with one arm though and got his first prosthetic in his late teens.)

[aheckinmess]

Coffee Cures [Shinsou] (Fluff)

(One-Shot 14/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Shinsou x OC, Hitoshi Shinsou, Shinso, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Shinsou-centric, OC Runs Into Her Best Friend, OC Writes Stories, Coffee Date Because Shinsou is a Cutie, Shinsou is a Little Shit, He Likes to Tease OC, Honestly They Are Disgustingly Adorable, Aizawa is Mentioned, Obviously, Also There's a Cat, Overall Cuteness

Word Count: 1,542 words

Summary: After a long time writing, Shinsou invites Ichijiku with him to the coffee shop to rest and relax. On the way home, they meet an unexpected friend on the street!

Ichijiku (Tigress)

“Hello? Earth to Ichijiku?” Shinsou tugs me out of my manic writing frenzy with his dulcet tones. 

I blink and he’s blurry. One more blink and he comes into focus. Damn. Was I really that out of touch with reality? I turn back to my computer where ten new pages of content look back at me from my word processor.

“How long have I been brain dead?” I grunt, stretching over my chair and popping my back.

“Almost two hours. How the hell did you manage ten pages?” He gapes, looking at the screen as I scroll.

“The characters wouldn’t stop yelling at me.” I whine.

I tilt my head back and he looks down at me with that sleepy smile. When he kisses me, all of the tension in my muscles melts away. Everything feels serene and pleasant.

“You look like you could use a break from all their rambling. Want to come to the coffee shop with me?” His fingers graze my cheek.

“As if that’s a question.”

. . . . .

Winds whistle through buildings and serenade my ears with another story. You’d think stories would stop floating around in my head after two hours of writing, but alas, no such luck.

Not that I mind.

“Do you think it’ll snow today?” Shinsou hums.

“I sure hope so.” I smile. “You know winter is my favorite season.” 

“It’s starting to become my favorite too.” 

“You just like seeing me in sweaters.”

“It’s not just that.” Shinsou huffs, hiding his smile in his scarf. “I also like that it’s cold enough that I can cuddle you everywhere I go.”

“If you’re trying to earn brownie points and make me buy your coffee…it’s working.” I laugh taking his hand and swinging it as a tinkling bell announces our presence in the shop.

“I’m trying to earn brownie points because you’re my girlfriend and I like seeing you smile.” He chuckles.

We step in and he kisses my cheek, making my eyes sparkle up at him. Coming from a family that neglected my need for physical touch makes these little micro-affections that much more meaningful.

“Hi, how can I help you?” A familiar voice asks as the barista turns around. Her eyes brighten. “Ichan!”

“Hana-chan! Hey!” I beam. “How have you been? I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I’ve been great! I landed this job as a way to make a little extra cash. They pay my bills on the Support Team but you know I like to keep myself busy.” She laughs, making someone’s drink and then calling out the order. “How have you been, Shinsou?”

“Ichan still keeps me around, so life couldn’t be better.” He says casually, leaning his head on mine as he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“You two are disgustingly adorable.” Hanayuki smiles, stepping behind the register. “What can I get you cuties?”

“A peppermint hot chocolate, please.” I say.

“And a hot coffee with cream and two sugars.”

Once our orders are put in and served, we thank her and head to a quiet space in the corner by the window. I take a sip of my hot chocolate and promptly singe the entire surface area of my tongue.

“A-Ah…” I splutter, swallowing and feeling every hot drop of liquid as it slides down my throat like scalding magma. “I have made a mistake!”

Shinsou’s lips twitch as he fights a smile, taking a sip of his hot coffee like it’s nothing and then setting it down as he raises a challenging eyebrow. Cheeky jerk.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, Mister!” I squeak, swallowing a few times as the heat from my drink slowly dissipates. “Now I’m sad and demand cuddles!” I pout.

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle the heat.” He taunts.

“I mean, there’s a reason winter is my favorite season.” I crinkle my nose at him and stick out my tongue.

“Aw, want me to kiss it and make it better?” He puckers up.

“Gah!” I smack his arm playfully and then hide my face in my hands as I flush.

“Hey, don’t hide that cute blush from me.” Shinsou purrs, combing his fingers through the ends of my hair as he whispers in my ear. “If you hide, I’ll be forced to tickle you.” His hand skirts at my side.

“Don’t you dare!” I squirm, already feeling the tingling sensation even though he barely touches me. “You know how ticklish I…snow!”

All antics disappear as we gaze out the large window. Even though it’s outside, the falling flakes have a way of quieting the daily buzz of background noise. My shoulders slump and a smile settles on my face. Shinsou’s arm comes around my waist and pulls me close. For a while, we just watch and sip at our drinks - of course, I wait until mine will no longer scald my tongue. 

When we’re both finished with our drinks and a thin white blanket covers the street, Shinsou grunts and shuffles to the end of the table.

“Ready, Sunshine?”

“Ready.”

We toss our trash and head out the door when I hear a faint cry. No, a sort of whine? At first, I ignore it, scanning the area as I thread my arm through Shinsou’s as we move along.

Meow! 

“Do you hear that?” I gasp, turning and looking around for a little bundle of fur.

“Hm? Hear what?” Shinsou asks, but his eyes light up when the sound gets louder. “A cat?”

“A kitten! We have to find it.”

I scour a set of nearby bushes, but there’s nothing of note. Shinsou looks around the dumpsters near the coffee shop.

“Psst, over here, Sunshine!” He calls out, crouching down near the dumpster. “Hey there, buddy. Come on out. We won’t hurt you.”

I’m slow and methodic in my movements as I end up crouched at the other side of the dumpster. A tuxedo kitten pinballs between Shinsou and I, peeking out at one before crawling to peek out at the other. 

Trying to coax the little kitten out, I imitate the sound of a chirping mom cat, extending my hand low to the ground. Shinsou continues using his soothing voice to our advantage as well.

I don’t know how long we both crouch out by the dumpster trying to coax the kitten over when a familiar, droning voice interrupts us.

“What are you two troublemakers up to?”

“Oh, hey, Mr. Aizawa. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Shinsou responds, his attention quickly distracted by the sight of his old mentor. “There’s a kitten behind the dumpster. We were just convincing it to come out.”

“Mm. You might do that easier with a little cat food.”

The sound of rustling grocery bags tickle my ears as I edge closer and closer towards the little tuxedo. Eventually, I plant my bottom in the freezing snow and patiently hold out my hand.

A moment later Shinsou hands me a tin of wet cat food. I sit the open can beside me, watching the tuxedo venture closer at the promise of food. All three of us barely move a muscle as he creeps over to us, eyes wide as he debates whether or not to trust us.

Finally, he’s there. The sound of moist munching breaks the quiet of the falling snow and I slowly reach out to pet him. He snaps his head to me and I pause, but he lets me touch him when he turns back to the food.

“There you go, cutie. You must be freezing cold. We’ll find you someplace warm to stay, lil buddy.” I coo, feeling warm as he starts relaxing around me with every stroke of his fur.

When he finishes off the can, I scoop him up into my arms before he can run away, and squirm until I get my feet under me to stand.

“Look at ‘im, Hitoshiii.” I step closer to him and let him get in a few head pats before turning to Aizawa. “Would you like to pet him, Mr. Aizawa?”

Our expressionless teacher seems less than thrilled with the little animal, but if we learned anything from our time at UA, we know he’s got a soft spot. For his students and cats alike. So I’m not surprised when he scratches the little guy behind his ear and he starts purring.

“Aww, he likes you.” I giggle.

“I’ve already got four, I don’t need another.” Aizawa drones.

My eyes immediately find Shinsou and I put on my biggest pair of kitten eyes, holding the little tuxedo beside my face to soften him even more.

“No.”

“Pleeeasseee, Hitoshi-kun?” I plead. “At least let’s take him for now while it’s cold?”

“What will Fauna have to say on the matter?”

“You and I both know he’s small enough that she’ll treat him like her own.” 

I don’t miss Aizawa hiding a smirk in his scarf as Shinsou sighs, pretending like he doesn’t want the kitten just as much as I do.

“...fine.”

“Yes!” 

In the following weeks when I’ve got a cold and a sinus infection, I still don’t regret it. Especially when I find the little tuxedo - Kakure - napping with Shinsou, cuddled up on his chest.

Want More Shinsou? Try: Wash Away the Storm

[midnightfangz]

There's something about silly cafe AUs that soothes my soul so much

[lighteyed]

desk tour but it’s just my steve collection

[slutforpringles]

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Sunday | Montreal | Sam Bloxham

[raspberrii-soda]

I made this the other day while stressing over my birthday cake

Vanellope probably is a very messy baker, though her pastries taste really good, even if the flavor mixes sound questionable

[giantsreach]

stares at solomon j. solomon's st. george for five hours

[kuunibal]

she should break up with her boyfriend fr fr

Honestly true, and I do not even say that because I am jealous. It is part of his job to take care of and support her, and yet she still comes to me when she is dealing with problems and mental health stuff. I should not be her go-to emotional support, and it's a problem if you feel uncomfortable asking your own boyfriend for help. I should not be doing his fucking job. She deserves better.

[tonycries]

Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

Lights, Camera, Drama: Gojo Satoru and Leading Lady’s Off-Screen Feud to SINK Box Office Darling?

“They’ll Kill Each Other!” Insider Source Spills All on the Royal Rivalry Between Hollywood’s Hottest Bachelor and Bachelorette.

Enemies of The Century or Publicity Stunt? Recent Cast Outings Sets Fans Speculating!

---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius. 

Well, usually. 

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.” 

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie. 

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star. 

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him. 

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft. 

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions. 

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene. 

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth. 

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.” 

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course. 

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this. 

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”. 

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance. 

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks. 

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.” 

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!” 

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you. 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh uh.” 

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it. 

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen. 

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?” 

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?” 

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again. 

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-” 

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.” 

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips. 

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair. 

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off. 

“You probably broke-” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone. 

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs. 

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right? 

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip! 

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips. 

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed. 

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue. 

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs. 

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds. 

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more. 

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt. 

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal.  Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue. 

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping. 

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face. 

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him. 

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him. 

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same. 

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly. 

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit. 

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him. 

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt. 

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt. 

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come. 

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right. 

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls. 

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth. 

So he lets his hips do the talking instead. 

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over- 

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier. 

Close - too close. 

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.” 

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling. 

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close. 

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth. 

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips. 

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice. 

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum. 

What? 

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least. 

---

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A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.