#he's not. he's not the straight man. he needs to be as much of a goofball and as much of an embarrassment as wade.

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

MASTERLIST

Part One -Part Two (coming soon) - Part Three

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- Going to have smut at the end (three parts!) lots of sexual tension, light angst but mostly fluffy, friends to lovers AND marriage of convenience trope lol. Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink, gonna be a miniseries, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad.

Preview- click above for the chapters!

“You love me, right?”

You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.

“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”

Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.

Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.

“How much you love me, hmm?”

“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.

“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.

“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”

“I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”

“Your car is old enough to drink.”

“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”

“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”

“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”

“I love that movie!”

“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.

Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.

You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.

Not you and Satoru though.

For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.

“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.

“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”

“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”

“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.

“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”

“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”

“If I want to, what exactly?”

“Marry me?”

“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.

“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”

“Satoru…”

“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.

“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”

“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”

You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”

Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”

You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”

“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”

“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.

“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”

“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.

“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”

“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”

“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”

“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.

You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”

“Alright.”

“What!?”

He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”

“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”

“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.

“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.

“Satoru, you're insufferable.”

He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips.

First part here

permatags: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @loafteaw @aldebrana @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 gojo: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen suggestion from the lovely @bunheadusa

[whateveriwant]

Annoying Things the 141 Do

Price

Never cleans the sink well after he shaves. Every time you go in the bathroom after he’s trimmed his beard, it’s like walking into a crime scene of a hamster massacre

Always manages to load the dishwasher wrong (because, yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to do it, John)

Asks you to wait for him to get home so you can watch your shows together, but then as soon as you start the first episode, he falls asleep beside you

Smokes his cigars inside sometimes. I don’t care that you sprayed air freshener afterwards, sir. Now the whole house smells like spring meadow and shit!

Is incapable of closing the door behind himself?? At least, that appears to be the case since he’s always leaving your door wide open even though you ask him to shut it when he goes

Doesn’t like throwing things out because he’ll “find a use for it one day”. Even if that day ever does come, I think he has a better chance of finding Atlantis than finding that scrap piece of wood he saved four years ago

Ghost

Turns the TV on and then just… walks away??? And if you try to change it to something else, he grumbles “I was watchin’ tha’” when he comes back

Drinks milk/juice/etc. straight out of the carton. Mr Simon “Patient Zero” Riley might not see the problem with this, but I think the rest of us would agree that is diabolical behavior

Leaves his wet towel on the floor after he showers even though the towel rack is right? there?

Hates asking for help even when he has no clue what he’s doing. Like, sure, I get wanting to fix things yourself. However, I’d rather spend $100 on a simple repair than $1000 on a full replacement after he breaks the thing even more

Puts his phone calls on speaker whenever possible. While this can have its merits sometimes (you get firsthand news of Gaz’s engagement!), most of the time it feels like a nuisance (do you really need to hear Soap talk about his hemorrhoids?)

MANSPREADERRRR! This man cannot sit like a civilized being to save his life. He claims he sits like that because his balls need to breathe, and to that I say good luck trying to breathe after I karate chop you in the throat :))))

Soap

Cuts his toenails in bed, which wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if he didn’t accidentally leave one or two rogue clippings that stab you in the side later when you’re trying to get comfortable

Forgets to put the toilet seat down when he gets up in the middle of the night to pee – that or he pisses all over the seat in the dark. Either way, prepare to have wet cheeks the next time you sit on the toilet

Whenever he doesn’t feel like doing the laundry, he just buys a new set of whatever’s dirty (that’s how he ended up with 100 pairs of socks and 200 pairs of underwear)

Talks nonstop through every show/movie you try to watch. Good luck getting more than five minutes of uninterrupted runtime next to this yapper

Apparently, doesn’t understand what “one bite” means? Whenever he asks you for a bite of your food, he always ends up taking five or six

Also, apparently doesn’t know how to chew with his mouth closed? Like, I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal, Johnny, but can you enjoy it without speckling it all over the table and my face?

Gaz

Two words: bathroom hog. I hope you don’t like taking hot showers or having more than a 6x6 inch square of counter space for your stuff, because after Kyle’s done with his 30-step beauty routine, there’s little of either left

Never knows what he wants to eat for dinner, and no matter what you suggest, he never thinks it sounds good

Has the gall to chastise you for your screen time even though he’s just as bad as you, if not worse (because you being on your phone before bed is so much worse than him playing video games for nine hours straight, right?)

Rests his feet on the couch/bed/coffee table while wearing shoes. It doesn’t matter if they’re brand new or beaten up; take your damn shoes off the furniture, sir!

Never writes down the shopping list because he’ll “remember everything”. (Newsflash: he does not remember everything, which means cue taking a second trip to the store)

Watches one documentary and thinks he’s an expert on the subject. You can have studied a thing for years, can present him with a bunch of rock solid facts and reputable sources, and he’ll hit you with a “Well, actually ☝️🤓” and then proceed to give the most nonsensical take ever

[ditzydoe444]

How about perv Jason who can't resist fucking reader while she tries to bake, even though the kitchen blinds are open.

Also, can I please be known as 💝anon if it's available?

MDNI 18+

a/n: added as 💝 anon !!

“you just look too damn good in that little apron sweetheart,” jason grunted as he rutted deep inside you. you were baking cupcakes in the kitchen, humming along to the radio before jason decides to bend you over the counter and to fuck you senselessly.

there was just something so domestic about watching you bake in the kitchen, in your own little world, and of course jason’s mind goes straight to the filthiest thoughts.

“n-nnngh!” you moaned as you gripped the edge of the counter, turning your knuckles white.

“need to reward my girl for makin’ all of those sweet cookies for me.” he groaned as your walls clenched around his cock.

“jay, the windows are open,” you whined as you saw how anyone walking past the street could see exactly what you two were doing.

you should be worried, but something inside you felt excited about getting caught. the neighbourhood sweetheart getting fucked by her next door neighbour that is much older than her.

“good,” he grunted as his nails dug into your hips, “let them know how much you love my cock.”

“plus, i don’t think you really care that much from the way you are dripping all over me.”

you were so god damn wet it was so easy for jason to slide his huge cock into your tight cunt, your arousal dripping onto the surface.

“don’t tell me i tainted ya sweet thing.”

his thrusts were so hard and deep, you couldn’t even think about a single thing. you shook your head mindlessly, so fucked out that you didn’t even understand what he said.

“n-no jacey, ‘m still the same girl,” you whined as a harsh slap landed on your ass.

“good, don’t want to let the neighbours know how much of a whore you are do we?”

no, you didn’t. you were the epitome of the neighbourhood sweetheart, baking for the neighbours and offering to help you. you had no right to have the older man next door fuck into you like a rabbit in heat.

but you could never resist him, not even when the windows are wide open exposing the act you two were doing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Rush Hour

Hey hey! This weekend (Jan 25-26) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters and prompts and I’m spinning the wheel!

Character: Bucky Barnes

Prompt: a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 

Warnings: this drabble includes deceit and dark elements, along with social anxiety. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

You’re lost. You didn’t even want to come in the first place. The mall is a circus of lights and noise and strangers. 

You spin in the sea of shoppers that fill the food court. The smell of food competes in your nose; the strong undercurrent of cinnamon at war with the soy sauce radiating from the noodle kiosk. You clasp onto the sides of your cable knit sweater and stumble as you’re nearly run over by a mother and her stroller. 

You excuse yourself as you step out of her way and receive only a sneer in return. You’re trying to stay out of the way but everywhere you turn, there’s a person or a table or a garbage can overflowing with wrappers. 

You back yourself against one of the tall chair along the curved table across from the popular chain coffee booth. You flick your thumb against the loop on your dyed jeans and try to catch your breath. There’s a map just on the other side of the dining area. 

You peer around as you try to plot a path through. Just do it. You set your arms straight and march forward between the tables. You sweep around as a man with a tray steps ahead of you and continue down the other side. You make a stunted zigzag across the food court toward the beacon of the touch screen map. 

You stop short as a group of middle-aged women butt in and tap it first. The squabble over where to go first as the search bar waits for input. You bounce on your feet impatiently. You take out your phone to text Melody. She’s likely at Sephora, you just need to figure out where that is. 

You key in your message, ‘where are you?’ 

You just asked her to wait while you used the bathroom. That’s it. She couldn’t even do that. She’s too obsessed with taking pictures in all the wall mirrors and trying on everything, even things you can’t afford. 

You wouldn’t be there if your cousin wasn’t getting married. If she didn’t insist on a colour-code. It’s too much. Too fussy. Why can’t you just wear the same old blue dress you always do. It’s not ugly. Simple. Does the trick. 

She doesn’t answer. Not right away. You lower your phone and look up. The women continue to titter before the screen, zooming out on the mask and gasping as they try to figure out where to go. Another argument ensues. 

You’re once more nudged by a passing a shopper. They snarl at you to watch out and you shrink down as you look at your phone again. You can look up the map on the mall website. You’re not very good with maps. The touchscreen will at least tell you where you are. Can they just go find the department store and move? 

You finally find a PDF of the map and spread your fingers to expand. You don’t know where any of these stores are. You check the date in the corner. This is from before the renovations. Ugh. 

You flip back to the conversation with your sister and send a single question mark. Get off your damn Snap and answer. Please. Your nose tingles as your panic swells. You just want to get out of here. You’re going to cry if people don’t stop! 

“Excuse me,” the low timbre makes you flinch and you back away from the man who stands next to you.  

You make yourself as small as you can. “I’m in your way, I’m sorry.” 

“Hm? No, I... I was passing by and you... you look lost. Not to be nosy.” You make yourself look at him, not wanting to be rude. He’s a stranger but he seems helpful. And his eyes are so blue. 

You frown. Is it that obvious that you’re entirely clueless. You shrug, then nod, the drop your chin in defeat. “A little,” you confess. 

“It’s a zoo in here,” he says. “What’re you looking for?” 

“Um,” you hesitate and wet your lips. You peer around. “I don’t know. My sister... hasn’t answered.” 

“Ah, you know, the lump I walked in with went and disappeared too. Said he was grabbing a pretzel but I can’t find him either,” he sniffs and grips his hips in displeasure. “Hate these places.” 

“Me too,” you murmur as you glance down at his leather gloves. It’s not that cold out but you don’t mention it. 

“Marnie, no. Not that way,” one of the older women squalls and taps the screen furiously. 

“Ahem,” the man beside you clears his throat, “she’s waiting for her turn. She’s been waiting.” 

“Excuse you. We have every right to use this map,” a woman faces him with bluster. “So wait your turn.” 

“It’s up that corridor and to the left,” he points. 

“Aren’t you rude?” Another squawks. 

“I’m helping,” he utters dully. “Hey, uh,” he turns to you, “how about we go find another map? Think they might’ve broke this one anyway.” 

“We did not--” 

“Have a good day, ladies,” he gestures you away. You eagerly accept the escape. You don’t like confrontation. 

“There’s one down at the popcorn place,” he says. “I just passed it before Sam ran off.” 

“Sam? It that... a friend?” You wonder. 

“Sure, you can call him that. You said you’re here with your sister?” He guides you away from the lunchtime rush. 

“Yeah. I gotta... get a dress for a wedding. Something pink.” 

“Pink, ah. You’re favourite colour?” 

“Not really.” 

“Ah, right. Big wedding? Doesn’t sound like it’s yours.” 

“No, my cousin,” you explain. 

“Right,” he nods. 

“You probably don’t care.” 

“What makes you think I don’t?” He asks. 

“Well... you don’t know me.” 

“I guess not,” he stops at the map and faces you, “I’m Bucky.” 

“Oh, uh...” you introduce yourself. 

You look at him dumbly, unsure how to proceed. He coughs behind his gloved fist and his brows flick. “So, did your sister answer yet?” 

“Oh, yeah, well...” you check your phone. “I don’t wanna waste any more of your time so I’ll just use this map and figure it out.” 

“Not wasting my time,” he assures. “But if you’re trying to get me to go away, noted.” 

“No, I... no, I’m not. I just...” your phone vibrates and you cringe. You check the screen. “She’s at Therese’s?” 

You turn and tap the screen, typing on the large keyboard. You tap the magnifying glass and the map generates. You hover your finger over the marker that shows where you are then along the highlighted route. 

“That’s all the way on the other side,” he says. 

“Yeah...” you drone. 

“I don’t mind showing you. I came from that way.” 

“No, oh, no. I can’t.” 

“I might run into my buddy,” he shrugs. “You know, lotta people stare when I’m wandering on my own... so you’d be doing me a favour.” 

“I guess... I owe you.” 

His lips curve, just a little, and his cheeks dimple under his dark beard. “Down here then loop around. Won’t have to go back through the food court.” 

You follow him. Your own sense of direction would have you circling for hours. He takes you past the game shop and the organic food place you’ve never been too. You turn down the next corridor, it’s mostly empty. 

“So,” he begins, “you get a plus one to the wedding?” 

“Um, no, I don’t think--” 

As you pass by one of the hallways marked for employees only, he elbows you and you stagger sideways. You’re thrown off balance and hit the wall. He’s so fast you have no time to react. He grips the back of your neck and covers your mouth as he drags you down the hall. 

Your soles bounce off the floor as you flail your arms helplessly. What is he doing? He pinches your nape until your eyes water. 

He shoves you against a door and twists the handle. The metal cracks in his grip and the lock gives to his brute force. He hauls you inside and flips you around against the inside of the door. 

“Doll,” he growls through the dark. “You’re gonna wanna be real quiet for me.” 

He keeps his hand on your mouth, the leather sticking to your lips, and he shifts around. You can’t see much in the tight closet. He closes something around your wrist and you squeak. He hushes you and presses his palm flush to your nose. 

“Hands behind your back for me,” he growls. 

You wriggle and he pushes your head into the door until it throbs. 

“Now.” 

You obey. He reaches behind you and another loop closes around your other wrist. Like a magnet, your hands are wrenched together and lock into place. How did he do that? 

He’s silent as he peels his hand back only to quickly smother you with the other. You feel something cool spread over your lips and insert between your teeth, locking your jaw in place. You quake and kick out. 

He grabs your shoulders and puts them straight. He hisses, “one more time and that’s it.” 

You snivel and stop. He bends and another weight secures your ankles. Ensnared, he leaves you against the wall and backs away. Your tears overflow as you blink into the dim. 

The rustle of fabric and the scuff of his boots undercut the tension. He comes back to you and moves you. He angles you around blindly and lifts you. He forces you into something. You don’t know what it is, only that you’re stuffed down into it, bent up into the confined. Something falls over you, light but enough to bury you further in darkness. 

He wheels you around and the motion makes you dizzy. He opens the door and pushes you out into the light. You peer up at him between the crumpled paper and cans, frightened and restrained, from within the rolling garbage bin.  

His hair is pulled back into a low pony beneath a grey ballcap that matches his janitor’s shirt. He keeps his eyes ahead of him as he pushes you, casually turning out into the mall corridor. He doesn’t flinch as other shoppers pass by, unable to see you beneath the rubbish. 

“Now, doll, don’t you be thinking of trying anything...” he mutters as he keeps his eyes ahead of him. “Those cuffs can only get tighter.” 

[seitmai]

Ahh many thoughts

“Non-existent,” he had replied with a sad shake of his head. “Same.”

Mood lol

You don’t know that Bob Floyd doesn’t require much to fall in love with you.  That the paltry moments between physical encounters is plenty for love to flourish for him.  That the handful of soft touches, the smiles, the little laughs…they are enough.  The way you pat his cheek after you brush a chaste kiss there once you’re dressed and about to leave his place.  The time you slid his glasses on his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

🥹🥹🥹

(A therapist once posited that you’re this way because of your own childhood:  the only child of two career Army parents.  Your chaotic formative years—bouncing around the world, unable to set roots, sometimes even shifted from one parent to another due to conflicting deployments—left you with a wound, your therapist suggested.  Disliking having a mirror held up to yourself, you just ghosted said therapist and never dug into that part of your internal makeup again).

Hahah the last sentence cracked me up 😂

You canvass the Hard Deck for a month.  Take in all the fly boys and consider the fly girls too. 

One has to make an informed decision 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually.  Quiet, reserved.  Hardly ever drinks but gets in on the sing-alongs.  Plays pool when someone needs an opponent.  Is often the designated driver, and you smile when you see his bemused frustration when he steers a fellow Dagger, drunk and stumbling, out the door and safely home.  He’s so stable and pulled-together.  You bet he’s never cheated on a girl or stolen her car.  Not your type at all.

This would exactly be the guy I go for hahah

He’s good-looking though, in a quiet way.  Ditch the shitty Navy-issued glasses, muss up his hair a little, and he’d be downright handsome. 

Facts

The third encounter is…wonderful.  It’s like Bob was homing in on you, treating you like one of his weapon systems.  Calibrating you.  Figuring out what you like and doing more of that, seeing what you don’t respond to and never doing it again.  Which makes it sound cold, how he figures you out, but Bob is so damned warm.  Warm and sweet and considerate, and he grins at you and laughs with you, and it’d be so easy to fall for him—

Not the calibrating 🤭

He’s usually so secure in himself, but he has a small crisis of confidence.  He wonders what he lacks—what makes him a good hook-up but not a good boyfriend?  If he could just show you…if he could take you out on a proper date.  Buy you flowers, buy you dinner, take you for a moonlit stroll along the beach.  If he could cook for you, show you that he’s not that useless breed of man who can’t or won’t do homey tasks.  If he could take care of you when you’re sick, be a sounding board when you rage…

He is desperate to be a fixture in her life 🥺

It never occurred to Bob before, but he adds it to his list of sexual acts:  have you sit on his face and smother him with your pussy.

It's on his to do list 🤭

Bob generally lets you set the tone of your arrangement, but sometimes he has a moment of dominance that makes a wave of desire wash through you so strongly that your knees actually go weak.

🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Of course it was easy to catch feelings for him.  He’s perfect, and right now he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

I mean how can one not?

He laughs, and he shifts his weight onto one arm so the other is free to reach down and grasp your waist.  “If you kill me like that, I want how I died mentioned in my obituary, okay?”

Deal 🤝🏻

She smiles, snorts out a light laugh.  “Yeah, the two of you are a real fucking vibe, Bob.” Phoenix nods.  “Dislocated nose.  Slight concussion.  Embarrassed.  Convinced she murdered you, until I set her straight.”

Haha I can't

“She knocked you out,” Hangman cuts in.  “And broke your nose.” “You weren’t moving and there was blood everywhere,” Rooster adds. “She also gave you grade two whiplash,” Phoenix continues.  “And it looks like you’ll be sporting a pair of gnarly black eyes by morning.”

And he is gonna wear them like a badge of honor knowing gave it to him 🤭🫡

“She has all these rules.  To keep it clean.  To keep feelings out, you know?”  He lifts his hand again, drops it again—the best version of a shrug he can manage.  “I have to think that injuries requiring ambulances is an unwritten rule too.”

This is so funny if he wasn't so defeated

“You ever tell her you wanted to revisit the rules, then?” “No.” Her smile widens.  “You’re so fucking dumb, dude.”

Someone had to say it 🤷🏻‍♀️

“There’s a pool about you and Baby on Board.”  He sips his own coffee, smiles at you.  “I want to know if I’m out money or if I have a payday coming.” “You bet on us?” He holds up a hand.  “Whoa.  All the Daggers bet on you.  It wasn’t just me.”

😂😂😂

“It doesn’t matter either way,” you finally answer.  “I nearly killed the guy.  Is there a pool on that?” Hangman laughs, and he settles in the chair near your bed.  “You didn’t nearly kill him.  You only lightly injured him.  Then Bradley lightly injured you.  It’s hilarious.”

This just such a silly situation but those two are so in love they see it in such a different way because they both think they destroyed everything 😂🥲

“If anything, Bob’s gonna have some light duty, but he can do some systems work on the ground.”  The smile reappears on his face, and he slyly adds, “and his cred just skyrocketed.”  A beat.  “The quietest Dagger just got his face rearranged by pussy.  He’ll never have to buy his own drink again as long as he lives.”

He's not wrong 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

He looks awful.  He looks…well, he looks like he pulled the full weight of an adult woman onto his face, pussy-first. 

🤭🤭🤭

But his smile…God, when he sees you, it’s just like Jake said:  his poor, mangled face lights up, and his smile is so wide it looks like it might hurt.  It hits you again, as it often does, how different he is from your usual type of man.  That he loves to see you, is happy when he sees you, even injured.  That he doesn’t need you around to fix his life, but he wants you around to just…be with you.  Bob is no one that needs fixing; he just wants you there with him.

🥹🥹🥹

“You could make a claim against my insurance, I guess—” “Just a date,” he interrupts.  “I just want one date with you.”

He's so cute 🥰

“Hmm.”  He releases your hand but pats the space on his bed beside him.  “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making you miserable, honey.”

🥰🥹🥰🥹

“I’d like that.”  He shifts a little in the bed, then adds, “maybe around the six-month mark, you could meet my family.” “Would they make me miserable?” you tease. “Oh, they’d make your life a living hell,” he teases back.  “My dad would give you this whole disgusting speech about how he always wanted another daughter, my mom would drop hints about my grandma’s engagement ring being set aside for me—”

Awwww so happy for them 🥰

Would love to read about their miserable time with Bob's family if you ever feel up for it 🤗

First Time for Everything

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

CW:  Angst (friends-with-benefits; idiots in love; talk of bad past relationships; injuries); smut (vague references to sex; oral sex gone awry); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5591

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way. Likely grammar bugaboos, tense switches, etc.

Bob Floyd would have never thought he’d end up in a friends-with-benefits situation, but there’s a first time for everything.

You’re the one who drives the entire enterprise.  A civilian who works at Top Gun, you’re no stranger to the stress of dealing with a multi-billion-dollar fleet of planes.  You serve as a liaison between the Navy and the bevy of contractors who build and maintain the planes, and if Bob has to juggle a million complicated systems mid-flight, you have to juggle a million tricky relationships and contracts on the ground.

You put the question to him, late one night at the Hard Deck.  Harvard and Yale had been leading a spirited conversation about dry spells, long distant relationships, juggling hook-ups.  You and Bob sat there, listening but adding little.  But after the other Daggers started to peel away one by one, you had turned to Bob and started asking about his love life.

“Non-existent,” he had replied with a sad shake of his head.

“Same.”

There was a beat of silence—you sipped at your drink; Bob cracked another peanut.

“Any prospects?” you asked.

Another shake of his head.

“Yeah, same here,” you replied.

Then there was another long stretch of silence, but this time you fixed Bob with a curious look.  It lasted long enough for him to notice, for him to squirm in his seat—

“So, I have an idea, and you’re totally free to say ‘no,’” you started, and the rest was history.

-----

That was months ago.  Bob has gotten to know you much better since then.

Much, much better.

He knows what you feel like.  He knows what you taste like.  He knows the place on your neck that makes you keen when he puts his mouth to it.  He knows exactly where to press the tips of his fingers when they are inside you, where to find the spot that makes your pussy pulse with arousal, that makes your breathing stutter and your eyes roll back, that makes you moan out his name—

He knows how it sounds when you moan his name, and he knows how that affects him in turn, and he knows that he doesn’t know nearly enough about you.

He doesn’t know what you eat for breakfast or how you take your coffee or if you even drink coffee at all.  He doesn’t know much about your family, little about your childhood, only a bit about your wants and likes and dislikes.

Because of the rules you laid out that night at the Hard Deck.

Hooking up, friends-with-benefits, you had explained, requires clear lines be drawn.  Otherwise, it gets messy.  Feelings develop.  Misunderstandings happen.  People get hurt, sometimes badly.

Your rules keep those lines clearly drawn.  No spending the night.  No dates beyond sex—no lunch dates or movie nights, no days at the beach together.  You call each other and make plans to fuck, and then you part, and that keeps it neat.  Clean.

There’s no way you can know it, because you don’t really know Bob either, but there’s no rule on earth you could put in place that would keep him from falling for you anyway.  You work with numbers and contracts all day, so you believe in the power of words, in rules. 

You don’t know that Bob Floyd doesn’t require much to fall in love with you.  That the paltry moments between physical encounters is plenty for love to flourish for him.  That the handful of soft touches, the smiles, the little laughs…they are enough.  The way you pat his cheek after you brush a chaste kiss there once you’re dressed and about to leave his place.  The time you slid his glasses on his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

Which is why your rules turn out to be so important after all:  because here he is, hopelessly, painfully in love while you only see him a safe place to release your sexual frustrations.  He cannot imagine how much worse it would hurt if those lines didn’t exist.

*****

You have a chronic issue with men.

You pick the worst possible boyfriends.  From high school until now, you seem to only attract cheaters, losers, and general assholes.  Numerous boyfriends cheated on you.  One stole your car.  One stole your prescription sleeping pills and got arrested trying to sell them. 

It’s not that you’re attracted to assholes, really.  The whole bad-boy schtick bores you.  It’s more that you like to fix things; you like to turn chaos into order.  That trait serves you well at work, untangling all the intricate contracts and orders and rules between the Navy and their contractors. 

That trait serves you less well in love, because people often can’t be fixed, at least not without wanting to be fixed.  And anyway, the guys you date need deep fucking therapy, not a girlfriend with a fetish for setting order to the universe.

(A therapist once posited that you’re this way because of your own childhood:  the only child of two career Army parents.  Your chaotic formative years—bouncing around the world, unable to set roots, sometimes even shifted from one parent to another due to conflicting deployments—left you with a wound, your therapist suggested.  Disliking having a mirror held up to yourself, you just ghosted said therapist and never dug into that part of your internal makeup again).

But the therapist did make you aware of your bad patterns with men, so you swear off relationships, which is easy enough. 

You still have needs, though.

You canvass the Hard Deck for a month.  Take in all the fly boys and consider the fly girls too.  Profile them, watched how they acted when they think no one is watching.  Watch them sober, watch them drunk.  Watch to see which ones are handsy in an unwelcome way, and which ones remain respectful.

It’s Bob Floyd who catches your eye.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually.  Quiet, reserved.  Hardly ever drinks but gets in on the sing-alongs.  Plays pool when someone needs an opponent.  Is often the designated driver, and you smile when you see his bemused frustration when he steers a fellow Dagger, drunk and stumbling, out the door and safely home.  He’s so stable and pulled-together.  You bet he’s never cheated on a girl or stolen her car.  Not your type at all.

He’s good-looking though, in a quiet way.  Ditch the shitty Navy-issued glasses, muss up his hair a little, and he’d be downright handsome. 

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually, but you aren’t looking for a boyfriend or a future husband.  You just need a zero risk, reliable guy to get off with.  It seems like a long shot because Bob is so quiet, but when you put the idea to him, he blinks…then asks you to clarify.

Then he agrees.

-----

That was months ago.

The arrangement works.  It’s exactly what you were looking for.  Bob Floyd is exactly what you thought he was:  reliable, steady.  He’s no broken man-child; he’s quiet but that belies a secure sort of masculinity that you’ve never really experienced before.  He knows who he is and what he wants, and he isn’t swayed by anything.  He’s solid.

He’s also surprising, in some ways.

To be crude about it, in looking for a friend-with-benefits, you needed only two things in a man:  a clean bill of health and a hard dick.  Bob is able to provide both (he hands you his test results from his latest physical, neatly folded in an envelope the first night you meet up).

He is also able to provide more than that.  The first night is a little awkward, but only because you are near-strangers.

The second encounter is better.

The third encounter is…wonderful.  It’s like Bob was homing in on you, treating you like one of his weapon systems.  Calibrating you.  Figuring out what you like and doing more of that, seeing what you don’t respond to and never doing it again.  Which makes it sound cold, how he figures you out, but Bob is so damned warm.  Warm and sweet and considerate, and he grins at you and laughs with you, and it’d be so easy to fall for him—

It's been months, but for fucks sake, you’re falling for him.  It’s embarrassing, because you gave him this tough-girl speech about rules and lines and not catching feelings, and he had nodded seriously and said he understood…and now here you are, the idiot who is catching feelings, who is realizing that maybe your type of man was wrong all along, that maybe who you needed was a reliable, steady man with warmth and blue eyes that swim a bit behind the lens of his thick glasses.

*****

It’s been months, and Bob always worries that this arrangement will end. 

One of your rules had been that the arrangement stops the moment one of you find someone else, and Bob always worries that someone else will catch your eye.  That you’ll find some man—you are surrounded by handsome, capable men every day, for heaven’s sake—that you find an appealing prospect.  Someone you want to sleep with and be with.

Someone better than him.

He’s usually so secure in himself, but he has a small crisis of confidence.  He wonders what he lacks—what makes him a good hook-up but not a good boyfriend?  If he could just show you…if he could take you out on a proper date.  Buy you flowers, buy you dinner, take you for a moonlit stroll along the beach.  If he could cook for you, show you that he’s not that useless breed of man who can’t or won’t do homey tasks.  If he could take care of you when you’re sick, be a sounding board when you rage…

Bob decides to do what he can, which is to just be the best lover he can be.  To be the most considerate, most adventuresome, most giving man you’ve ever taken to bed.  It’s all he can do anyway, so he might as well give it his best.

-----

Bob usually lets you lead.  He lets you set the schedule, and for every five times you call to hook-up, he calls once. 

The arrangement, such as it is, does work for him.  For all the angst of his unrequited love for you, the hooking up does relax him.  It helps him burn off extra energy, which helps him focus at work.

It also helps him explore things he has never tried before.

With you, Bob has played around with role play:  tame scenarios where he gets to pretend that he’s a different person than he is.  He has tried a variety of positions that have tested him in both strength and flexibility.  If there’s a list of sexual acts, Bob feels like he’s steadily working through it with you.

There’s still one, though…

It’s Fritz who starts the conversation at the Hard Deck.  You’re not there, but the guys all are, and the conversation drifts towards the usual locker room talk.  Fritz kicks it off by talking about his latest girl.  The guys egg him on for details.  Bob grins around the rim of his glass, says little, but then Fritz says, “man, when she sits on my face and smothers me in that pussy, I could die happy.”

It never occurred to Bob before, but he adds it to his list of sexual acts:  have you sit on his face and smother him with your pussy.

The idea takes hold so fiercely that Bob has to shift in his seat, suddenly warm at the thought of you sitting on him, his mouth on you.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, and he’s sending you a text before he even has a beat to rethink it.

Want to meet up tonight?

You reply within a minute.

Sure.  Mine or yours?

Bob pauses and considers.  He catches Rooster’s eye and tilts his head at him, gesturing to his roommate for a sidebar.  Rooster comes over and stands beside Bob.

“What’s up?” Rooster asks.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

Rooster grins at the question.  It’s not exactly a secret that you and Bob are hooking up, though you don’t publicize it either.  Bob doesn’t know that his fellow Daggers have a betting pool about how the situation with you will resolve.  He’s caught the sly grins between them sometimes and wondered at what they mean.

“You asking if the apartment will be empty?” Rooster asks.  “Hell, Baby on Board.  Keep it to your room.  I don’t care what happens in the privacy of your own room.”

Bob can’t help the blush that heats his face.  He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but sometime the two of you get lost in the moment, and more than once, Rooster has sidled up to Bob the day after and clapped him on the back, congratulated him on his prowess—

Rooster catches the man’s discomfort and elbows him in the side.  “I was planning on finding myself some companionship for the night,” he finally says.  “The place is all yours.”

Bob thanks him, then texts you. 

My place?

Another beat before your answer comes.  When?

Now.

*****

Bob generally lets you set the tone of your arrangement, but sometimes he has a moment of dominance that makes a wave of desire wash through you so strongly that your knees actually go weak.

Like his text.  No softening his final message, just a simple, single word that holds a universe of promise.

Now.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur.  You only take a minute to brush your teeth and slip into nicer lingerie, but then you get in your car and head over to his place.

He must have been waiting at the window, watching for you.  You aren’t even halfway up the steps to his porch when the door swings open, and there he is. 

Of course it was easy to catch feelings for him.  He’s perfect, and right now he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

-----

“Explain it…again,” you manage to get out between kisses.  “How does…it work?”

Bob raises himself, props himself on his forearms on either side of your head.  His hair is mussed (perfect), and his glasses are on the bedside stand, so his blue eyes peer down at you. 

“You sit on my face,” he replies simply.

You huff out a breath.  “Sure, but….like, how?  I weigh a lot—”

He shakes his head.  “Not a problem for me, honey.”

“But I could hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could kill you.” 

He laughs, and he shifts his weight onto one arm so the other is free to reach down and grasp your waist.  “If you kill me like that, I want how I died mentioned in my obituary, okay?”

“Not funny!”  You poke him in the side, and he laughs again.

“Seriously, Bob.  I don’t want to hurt you,” you continue.

“You won’t.  I promise.  It’ll be fine.  But I want to do this.”  His smile fades, and he fixes you with a darker look that sends a bolt of lust right through your core.  “Please.”

-----

The two of you, once you got over your initial awkwardness, usually move so well together.  Perfectly coordinated, in sync. 

This…is not that.

For the first time, the two of you aren’t working together.  Bob can’t know it, but it’s not just a physical misalignment—there are hidden feelings at play.  As you tentatively hover over where he lays on the bed, you feel suddenly exposed, like Bob might be able to see the feelings you’ve caught for him.  It’s so intimate, you think, being so bared to him.  You hold yourself back, shy, and Bob doesn’t understand the sudden reticence in you.  He chalks it up to fear of hurting him.

And you can’t know it, but Bob absolutely loves how intimate it is, being so exposed to him.  There are hidden feelings on his side too—how hard it hits him, that he’s never done this with another woman before, and how he cannot imagine doing it with another one after you.  He’s ravenous for you, wants to possess you in every way he can, but when he tries to tug you closer to him, you chalk it up to general horniness and nothing more.

It is all misunderstanding, in the end.  You hold yourself back, hover over his face.  He grips your hips, tries to pull you to him.  The two of you struggle against the other, not understanding what is really driving the other—

“Come on,” he growls.  “Give it to me, honey.”

“Bob, I don’t—”

“I can take it.”

“But I—”

It happens in a split second.  Bob tugs you down against him in the exact moment you try to get a better balance over him, and the force of his pulling you down is added to the full weight of you shifting, with a bit of gravity, and you hit Bob so hard.

There’s a sickening crack, like a chicken bone snapping.  You look down at him, startled, and see his blue eyes widen in pain—shock—

You scramble off of him, call his name, but he doesn’t move, and then you see it.

Blood.  There’s so much blood, all over his face, and you yell his name now, but he still doesn’t move—

You’ve killed him.  You’ve murdered him, and you scream.  You reach for your phone and fumble it, and your body just acts.  You back away, your mind scrambling, and you think I need to stop the bleeding, so you think to go to the bathroom for a towel, but when you pivot quick on your heel and turn towards the closed door, it is already swinging inward, right at your face, hard, and there’s an explosion of pain behind your eyes.

Then everything goes dark, and you don’t wake until you’re in the ambulance.

*****

Bob wakes up to the paramedics sliding him onto the backboard, his head immobilized between two foam blocks.  Rooster hovers at the perimeter, a worried look on his face.

“What—” Bob manages to croak out, but the room grows dim again, and he fades in and out until the hospital.

-----

He comes to and stays awake in a quiet hospital room.  There’s the steady beep of a monitor somewhere behind and above him.  When he tries to turn his head, though, he finds himself held in place by a brace.

“You’re awake finally.”  The voice is familiar, and a moment later, Phoenix’s face swims into his peripherals. 

“You scared us, Baby on Board.”  Rooster, to the left of him.

“Who knew you had it in you?”  The voice at the foot of the bed, the hint of smarm.  Bob feels a hand on his ankle, jostling him lightly.  “You dirty fucking freak.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”  Phoenix glares at the cocky pilot, then turns back to Bob, her gaze softening.  “How are you feeling?”

He considers his answer.  He feels…rough. 

He also notices that his Dagger teammates are there, but you are not.  Which makes him feel worse.

Phoenix seems to read his thoughts.  Something in his expression must give him away, because she leans in closer and sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s still downstairs,” she says, low near his ear.  “You got a room, but she’s still in the E.R.  They haven’t released her yet.”

“E.R.?”

She smiles, snorts out a light laugh.  “Yeah, the two of you are a real fucking vibe, Bob.”

Rooster steps closer to the bed and grins down at him.  “You’re lucky I struck out at the Hard Deck.  I come home, barely get my shoes off, when I hear a scream.  I go running back to your room just in time to knock your girl out.  She ran headfirst into the door when I opened it.”  He claps his hands together.  “Down like a bag of rocks.”

Bob’s heart rate picks up, and the monitor registers it.  Phoenix glances at the machine and snorts again.

“She’s fine,” she assures him.  “I’ve been bouncing between you and her.  It’s just slammed down there, so she’s been waiting for the doctor to release her.”

“She’s okay then?”

Phoenix nods.  “Dislocated nose.  Slight concussion.  Embarrassed.  Convinced she murdered you, until I set her straight.”

Bob smiles despite himself.  “She thought I was dead?”

“She knocked you out,” Hangman cuts in.  “And broke your nose.”

“You weren’t moving and there was blood everywhere,” Rooster adds.

“She also gave you grade two whiplash,” Phoenix continues.  “And it looks like you’ll be sporting a pair of gnarly black eyes by morning.”

“Wow.”  Bob breathes out a reedy whistle.  “And you’re sure she’s okay?”

Phoenix nods again.

Rooster and Hangman offer to go grab some coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving Bob and his partner alone.  Phoenix drags a chair over and settles closer to him, and Bob feels his mood sour little by little.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix finally asks. 

He lifts his hand, drops it back onto the bed.  “I guess it’s ruined now.”

“What is?”

“Our…arrangement.  Mine and hers.”

She tilts her head.  “How so?”

“She has all these rules.  To keep it clean.  To keep feelings out, you know?”  He lifts his hand again, drops it again—the best version of a shrug he can manage.  “I have to think that injuries requiring ambulances is an unwritten rule too.”

Phoenix stares at him, but a smile starts to creep across her face.  She shakes her head then, grips his shoulder again.

“Do you love her, Bobby?”  The question is asked softly, kindly.

Bob forgets the brace for a second and tries to nod.  “Yeah.”

“You ever tell her?”

“Against the rules.”

“You ever tell her you wanted to revisit the rules, then?”

“No.”

Her smile widens.  “You’re so fucking dumb, dude.”

*****

Hangman’s the one who stops to check in on you.  He has a paper cup of coffee in each hand, and he holds both up to you.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked.  One is black, one is cream and sugar.”

“Cream and sugar, please.”

He walks over to your bed and hands it to you, then studies you.  You know you must look like hell—your eyes red from the hysterical crying of thinking yourself a murderer.  Your nose—not broken, only dislocated—swollen and tender.  And the general misery of how badly everything has turned out.

“You like the little nerd, huh?”

You take a sip of the coffee and thank him for it. 

You don’t answer his question.

Hangman sighs, leans against the wall.  “It’s just that, if you do, I’d like to know.  I have a lot riding on it.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a pool about you and Baby on Board.”  He sips his own coffee, smiles at you.  “I want to know if I’m out money or if I have a payday coming.”

“You bet on us?”

He holds up a hand.  “Whoa.  All the Daggers bet on you.  It wasn’t just me.”

You shake your head.  “I don’t understand.”

“Some of us bet that you’d end up together.  Others bet that you wouldn’t.  Not that hard to understand.”

You try to take a steadying breath through your nose, which is an effort with how swollen it is.  You look away from him and fix your eyes on the open doorway of your room.  You watch the nurses and doctors scurry back and forth, the gurneys of hurt and sick people. 

“It doesn’t matter either way,” you finally answer.  “I nearly killed the guy.  Is there a pool on that?”

Hangman laughs, and he settles in the chair near your bed.  “You didn’t nearly kill him.  You only lightly injured him.  Then Bradley lightly injured you.  It’s hilarious.”

You can only wince at his word choice.  It’s not funny at all.  Miramar is a gossipy hive of rumor, and Bob’s injuries will put him out of commission for at least a while—

“Is this gonna hurt his career at Top Gun?” you ask Hangman.  You glance over at him and catch the way his expression softens at the angst in your voice.  “Did I just fuck up his life completely?”

He reaches out and grasps your hand for a moment, gives you a friendly squeeze before he releases you.  “Shit happens.  The Navy knows that.”

“Still…”

“If anything, Bob’s gonna have some light duty, but he can do some systems work on the ground.”  The smile reappears on his face, and he slyly adds, “and his cred just skyrocketed.”  A beat.  “The quietest Dagger just got his face rearranged by pussy.  He’ll never have to buy his own drink again as long as he lives.”

“Jesus,” you groan, and you cover your face with your hands while Hangman laughs, but a second later the doctor enters your room and tells you that you are being released.

Hangman doesn’t take the hint and leave.  He watches you sign off on your discharge papers, sips his coffee.  He hands you your shoes, and he helpfully holds out your coat so you can slide into it.

“That little nerd loves you, you know,” he says suddenly.  “It’s obvious as hell, which is why I laid a big bet on it.”

“He does?”  The surprise in your voice makes him chuckle, then shake his head.

“Probably hard to see it from where you’re sitting, but he does.  His dumb face lights up the minute he sees you, and when you aren’t around, he’s like a lost puppy.  So if you feel even an inkling of the same for him, just go upstairs and put him out of his misery, okay?”

It feels like grace you don’t deserve.  You hurt Bob, even if you hadn’t meant to, and for Hangman to offer this sliver of hope you don’t think you deserve—

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.  Hangman doesn’t remark on them; he only stands by the doorway and waits for you.

“You’re a regular Cupid, Jake,” you offer.

“Nah.”  He finishes off his coffee, crumples the cup, and tosses it in the nearby trash can.  “I just want that fucking pool money.”

-----

The tears that threatened downstairs…they break free the moment you finally see him.

He looks awful.  He looks…well, he looks like he pulled the full weight of an adult woman onto his face, pussy-first.  His nose is swollen in a splint, he’s in a neck brace, and both eyes are so bruised that they can barely open beyond slits.

But his smile…

God, when he sees you, it’s just like Jake said:  his poor, mangled face lights up, and his smile is so wide it looks like it might hurt.  It hits you again, as it often does, how different he is from your usual type of man.  That he loves to see you, is happy when he sees you, even injured.  That he doesn’t need you around to fix his life, but he wants you around to just…be with you.  Bob is no one that needs fixing; he just wants you there with him.

Phoenix and Rooster have the good sense to leave, ushering Hangman along with them.  Bob, when he sees the tears coursing down your face, frowns and holds a hand out to you.

“I’m okay.  I’m okay.  It’s fine,” he repeats.  You make your way over to him and take his hand, and maybe it is okay.  He holds you tight, his big, warm palm enfolding yours—

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You shake your head.  You’re not okay at all.  You don’t know if Jake was lying, but you can’t lie to Bob anymore just as you can’t lie to yourself.

“I broke one of the rules,” you admit.  You watch him, wary.  You have the sense of how he might react, but you can’t know for sure.  You just have to push through and say it.  Put it out there.

“I broke a rule too,” he replies.  He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah?”  It comes out shaky, unsure.

“Yeah.”

“Which rule?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss to the back of it.  He��s so damned soft, and you blink against the fresh tears that threaten to spill over your face.

“It’s your own fault,” he grumbles, but he smiles when he says it.  “If you didn’t want me falling for you, you shouldn’t have been so easy to fall for.”

You laugh, a nervous sound that nudges up against the wall of tears you’re struggling to hold back.  “Even though I almost killed you?”

“I mean, you didn’t almost kill me, but you definitely owe me for all this.”  He gestures with his free hand at his face. 

“You could make a claim against my insurance, I guess—”

“Just a date,” he interrupts.  “I just want one date with you.”

“That’s it?”  The sick feeling in your stomach starts to recede, and it’s replaced by the fluttery feeling of promise, of something new and wonderful starting. 

“Just once chance to show you how good it could be.”  His expression is dead serious, and he squeezes your hand again.  “Me and you.  For real this time.”

“I, uh…”  You clear your throat and glance at his bright blue gaze, then look away.  You fix your eyes on where your hands are joined together.  Your hand fits perfectly in his.

“I’ve only ever dated assholes,” you admit.  Another glance at him to see how he takes in your words.  “Guys who don’t have their shit together.  It’s why I wanted the whole…arrangement with you.  I’ve never been with a man who didn’t need, like, intensive therapy.  Or the occasional law enforcement intervention.”

“First time for everything,” Bob replies mildly.

“What if…what if I don’t know how to be in a relationship unless…unless…”  You trail off, not sure how to say it without it sounding completely terrible…but then, the reality of your dating life has been completely terrible anyway.

“You afraid you don’t know how to be in a relationship unless you’re miserable?” he asks gently. 

“Maybe?”

“Hmm.”  He releases your hand but pats the space on his bed beside him.  “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making you miserable, honey.”

You perch awkwardly on the sliver of bed available to you, but Bob reaches up and gets a hand on your shoulder, tugs you gently down towards him.  It’s careful maneuvering—a stark difference to what got you here—but you eventually get comfortable beside him, your cheek against his shoulder, your temple against the hard molded plastic of his brace.  His hand finds yours again, and he threads his fingers through yours.

“What if we started with that one date you owe me?” he offers.  “And then maybe a second date.  I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you see how it feels to not be miserable.”

One date, maybe a second.

“I think I can handle that,” you reply.

“Then a third date, then another.”

You smile.  “Okay.”

“Maybe around, say, the fifth date, you can spend the night.  Let me make you pancakes in the morning.  Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Okay.”

“Then after maybe a month, you could keep some stuff at my place.  Shampoo, extra clothes.  So you’re comfortable.”

“I could take you to my favorite taco place,” you offer.  “Over in Imperial County.”

“I’d like that.”  He shifts a little in the bed, then adds, “maybe around the six-month mark, you could meet my family.”

“Would they make me miserable?” you tease.

“Oh, they’d make your life a living hell,” he teases back.  “My dad would give you this whole disgusting speech about how he always wanted another daughter, my mom would drop hints about my grandma’s engagement ring being set aside for me—”

“They sound horrible,” you laugh. 

“The worst.”  He chuckles, and a long moment of silence stretches between you, but it’s comfortable.  His warm hand in yours, the quiet beeping of the machines monitoring him, the steady sound of his breathing…the slightly whistling quality of your own breathing through your swollen nose. 

“You know, I’ve never taken a girl home to meet my family before,” he says, and his voice is serious.  “Never even considered it before.”

You lift your head a bit to look at him, and you see the thoughtful quality of his expression.  You settle back against him.

“And you’re considering it with the girl who broke your neck, broke your nose, and shamed you in front of the United States Navy?”

He chuckles again.  “You didn’t break my neck and I’m not in trouble with the Navy,” he says.  “And yes, I’ve considered it.  First time for everything.”

He doesn’t add anything else, and the drama of the evening starts to hit you.  You feel your eyes getting heavy, start to doze off in the hospital bed with him.  His verb tense choice, though—he has considered it, past tense, not is considering it, present tense—makes you wonder how long Bob might have been breaking that rule…

Bob doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks it:  he never took a girl home to his family because he vowed to only ever do it once—with the girl he plans to marry. 

[okaysonny]

Hello love the way how you write fics it just scratches my brain so good, can i request jake x reader where reader finds out about all the bad things he did (him joining illegal gambling stuff and Scamming people 💀) ANGST if you could thank you so much

shackles ╏ jake kim

𓇼 summary: jake reminisces his relationship. #sadtimes

𓇼 details: angst, f! reader, a lot of build up.

𓇼 wc: 2k

𓇼 A/N: anon YOUR REQUEST scratched my brain so good...i love dissecting this man!

with you, he didn't feel restricted to just being jake kim, no. 1 or jake kim, son of gapryong kim. he felt like he could just be himself, with no labels. you made him the happiest man on the planet, and for some reason, you were happy with him too.

and the profoundness of it all is that meeting you happened by complete chance.

his card had declined at a vending machine.

jake looked left and right, hoping no one saw, until he heard laughter coming from behind him.

"times are tough, huh? let me get that for you" you said, giving him a small smile.

he blinked in surprise. "oh...thanks, but you don't have to"

"too late!" you beamed, stepping beside him to face the vending machine. "i made up my mind! what did you want?"

jake didn't like you. he just liked the fanta you bought him. that's what he told himself anyway.

but friendly conversation turned into an exchange of numbers, and an exchange of numbers turned into hanging out. hang out's turned into something more romantic, until you suddenly asked: "can i be your girlfriend?"

jake really should've declined. he'd have to come clean and admit he's essentially a gangster. he wouldn't have time to spend time with you.

...and you deserve so much better. he shouldn't let the bleakness, the danger of his role dull your light.

jake had all the time in the world to start a relationship with someone. it's not like it had to be with you.

still, he found himself not wanting to say no. he didn't know how much he wanted to hear those words until you asked. so...jake wasn't really thinking straight when he shakily whispered: "i'd really like that"

jake remembers when he told you what he actually does. he remembers how you laughed in his face, how you stopped when you saw he wasn't laughing with you.

"you're the leader of a gang?" you squeaked after a few minutes of explanations. "oh my god...does that mean you've killed people?"

"what?! no!" he waved his hands frantically. "we're just trying to protect the street from other gangs. big deal is more of like...a crew"

he sighed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "look, i understand if you want to end things...it's not the most honourable occupation"

you eyed him suspiciously. "so you don't do like...illegal stuff?"

he gulped slightly. "no"

...well not anymore. so it's not a complete lie.

you narrowed your eyes, not looking convinced. "...so big deal is 100% clean?"

...jake really should've just told the truth, but the lie escaped before he had time to think. "yep. i swear"

you looked at him for a few moments before holding out your pinkie finger. "promise?"

jake linked his pinkie with yours, crossing his fingers behind his back. "i promise"

𖠋♡𖠋

jake remembers how you gave him his first kiss. how you smiled against his lips, even as his hands slightly trembled. it felt like fireworks. everything else melted away — his humour, his walls — just the flutter of something new. something he never thought he needed until now.

he still remembers the first time he brought you to the street, how everyone at big deal greeted you with 90 degree bows, how you waved your hands and told them it wasn't necessary.

or jerry's instant barrage of questions and how you sat through every one, how he gave jake his nod of approval afterwards.

or how the girls handed you a bag, giving you winks as jake stared in confusion. he remembers how beautiful you looked in the dress they gifted you, how you left him speechless.

or how he held you a bit longer than usual the night before rescuing sinu.

𖠋♡𖠋

"sinu! you won't believe it! boss jake got himself a girl!"

"what?!" sinu shrieked in excitement. "jake, you little rascal! i'm gone for a few years and you find yourself a lover?" sinu aggressively rubbed elbows with his.

jake smiled sheepishly, his cheeks flushed pink in a rare sight. "you'll really like her"

sinu smiled gently. "i already do. it's hard to find understanding people like that"

jerry doesn’t miss how jake's smile turned plastered as he nodded.

𖠋♡𖠋

"boss?"

"yeah jerry?"

jerry set his spoon down, thinking of the best way to phrase this. "...you know i'll support whatever you choose, but i think she deserves to know everything"

"...i know" he said quietly.

and jake was going to tell you. eventually.

𖠋♡𖠋

it happened a few days after sinu's return. jake remembers how you asked to meet with him, how your gaze was fixed on the sea even as he came to stand beside you.

"hey...are you okay?" he asked, immediately sensing something off.

"did you run an illegal gambling ring?"

and that's when it hit him — like a punch to the gut he wasn’t ready for. jake felt like he couldn't breathe. he stood frozen beside you, heart hammering in his ears.

you weren’t screaming, you weren’t crying, you were just…asking.

"...where did you hear that?" he said, his voice wobbling slightly.

you exhaled shakily. "this short guy with glasses came to visit me yesterday. he said you ran a gambling ring and went to prison for it"

eugene? revenge for breaking the alliance? eugene really went out of his way to do that? but in hindsight, it was the perfect way to crush him before crushing big deal.

jake remembers how dull your eyes were that day. there were no tears, no emotions, no sniffling. until he realised you did all your crying the night before.

you continued, your voice cracking. "and i said...i said he was a liar, that you'd never do that, but then he showed me pictures of you in prison"

"he said that you took advantage of innocent people...the elderly, teenagers, people trying to send their kids to college"

the memories he wanted to block came back to him all at once.

— Give me back my money, you fuckers! That money was for my daughter's university tuition! I swear to god, I'll blow this whole place up. I mean it!

— Go ahead. Do it. You don't even have the balls. So why did you bother bringing that heavy gas tank? Get him out of here.

"...he said that you profited off of prison fights, that people placed bets and you collected the money for yourself"

jake remembers how pathetic he felt just standing there and listening. there was nothing he could say.

"you promised...and we've been together for months" you said, choking on your words. "i don't care that you lied to me, but you swore that big deal was different. why did you do it?"

"...i had no choice" he whispered. "i tried everything. i needed the money to get sinu back...i had no other options"

you turned to look at him. despite the resignation in your voice, your eyes were starting to water. "that's...not the only thing he said. he said that big deal were okay to let innocent people be taken as hostages...that you just stood there and let it happen"

his blood ran cold. the summit meeting.

"at least tell me the hostage thing isn't true" you croaked. "teenage girls, a middle aged woman...even a baby...tell me he's wrong about that"

jake still couldn't bring himself to look at you. "no, it's true...it's all true"

in spite of your resolve, he heard sniffling. "why?"

"i know it's despicable. it's terrible, but...i had to protect my people. i'd...i'd do it to protect you" he mumbled.

"...protect me from what?"

...workers? rival gangs? enemies of his father? but if he hadn't brought you into his life, you'd never have to worry about that.

in that moment, jake realised he only needed to protect you from himself.

the silence lingered as you sniffled some more. jake glanced at you, the tears now streaming down your face. he reached a hand out, but quickly brought it back to his side, knowing better.

realising you weren't getting an answer, you continued. "...whatever. i don't even care anymore" you muttered.

"i understand why you did those things, but...i can't pretend to be okay with it. i would never want you to protect me if this is what it takes"

he nodded slowly, knowing what was going to happen.

"so i think it's best if we end this" you said shakily.

jake finally turned to look at you, flashing that plastered smile he hates having to use. "i understand...i'm sorry for wasting your time"

you looked at jake for a while, probably expecting more of a fight from him. but the truth is, he couldn't say all the things he wanted.

i'm so sorry. i'm so ashamed of everything. i'll be better for you. i'll never do those things again. i need you. please don't leave.

it wouldn't be true. if he had to do those things again, he would. in a weird way, jake is thankful that eugene pulled the trigger, because he's not sure he wanted to escape the lie of being a good person.

finally, you nod. "...i'm sorry i was dumb enough to believe you"

and as you began walking away, jake finally let out the tears he was holding.

just as he got sinu back, he's loosing something else. but this time, he knows you're not returning.

𖠋♡𖠋

jake should've told you from the beginning. but either way, he always knew it would turn out like this. he was being selfish, living in a fantasy where he could have you and big deal. or maybe he believed the sweetness of your relationship could erase his actions somehow, that he was never jake kim, head of the numbers racket.

he still remembers lineman asking where you went, how jake's sad smile told him everything, how he never brought the topic back up again.

jake never stops thinking about you. you're like a thorn on his side he never wants to take out. he wonders if you've ever thought of him since then, he hopes you have at least once.

sometimes he wonders what it would be like to show up at your door with flowers, saying those three words he was thinking about professing. i love you. i would do anything for you. please give me a second chance. you're everything to me.

but he can't. he can't have both.

jake still looks at your pictures together when he's alone. he still reads through your old messages. he can never bring himself to delete the remnants of you.

jake still wonders what it would be like to experience you completely. how every touch, every unveiling would be so new to him. his cheeks would've been dusted pink, clumsy in his attempts to make you feel cherished. he imagines kissing every inch of you, each kiss feeling like the discovery of something precious. he would've wondered how he got so lucky to see you like this — so beautiful, so entirely his.

jake still remembers your laugh, the one that made his chest ache in a good way, how it felt like he was the only person who could make you laugh like that. he still remembers the way your hand would hover over his, waiting for him to hold it first, and how when he did, you’d give him that little smile, like the world was okay just because you two were together.

jake just remembers everything about you.

"uh...jake?"

he snaps back to the present, glancing at daniel who's sitting on a bench near him.

"are you okay?" daniel asks in confusion. "you've been staring at that vending machine for a while...you must be pretty indecisive. in that case, i recommend the diet coke"

...

times are tough, huh? let me get that for you.

he laughs softly, shaking his head. "sorry. i was just lost in my thoughts"

today, jake thinks he misses you a bit more.

divider: @cafekitsune

[rorasjournal]

Comfort in shadows | Azriel

lil short azriel fluff to start off my journey on tumblr hehe

pairing: azriel x reader

synopsis: y/n is stressed out about her responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can soothe her anxiety

word count: 819

warnings: none really, maybe some light man handling

~

The balls of my knuckles turn white as my grip on the terrace rails tighten while I stare out at the night swept view of velaris laid out in the distance, anxiety plaguing my mind. I've been trying to distract myself from all the thoughts gushing around for the past hour, but nothing has been working.

There's just too much going on right now, too much that I feel the need to deal with all on my own, and I'm fucking tired.

Whispering shadows cling to my skin, dancing along my body before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a familiar chest.

"It's cold out here," Azriel mutters, tucking his face into the crook of my neck and pressing a soft kiss there. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against his shoulder.

"I know."

"So why are you out here?"

When I don't reply, Azriel spins me around, sandwiching me between the rail and his body and forcing our gazes to meet. "What is it?"

I don't want to talk about any of it, especially not to Azriel. He's always so calm and collected, dealing with his responsibilities with so much grace and without complaint. I don't know how to be like that. "Nothing."

He lowers his face to mine, our noses brushing together and pulling the air from my lungs as he whispers, "I thought we were done with the lies."

"I'm not lying," I insist, ultimately webbing myself up in more deception regardless of the fact that Azriel clearly sees straight through me. He doesn't even need to use his shadows to figure me out.

A breath passes through his nose before he scoops me up, dangling me over his shoulder and walking inside while I yell out in detest.

"Put me down, asshole!"

"Gladly," he says, flipping me so my back hits the mattress of our bed. He's on top of me in a flash, his mouth attached to my neck as he sucks on my sensitive skin. My breathe hitches in my throat, a hand instinctively reaching to his head and threading my fingers through his dark hair. "What's going on?" he asks again, mumbling the words against my neck as he continues his work.

So that's what he's doing. Azriel is turning my mind to mush so he can get an admission out of me. Slick bastard.

Smart bastard though.

"I just—" I'm not sure if I'm struggling to get the words out because I don't want to say it out loud, or because his tongue is running up the base of my neck. "I'm stressed out, I don't know. Rhys wants me dealing with the Autumn Court and Beron is just such an asshole, I don't know how to handle all of this at once."

Pulling away, Azriel looks at me with furrowed brows. "Why was that so difficult for you to tell me?"

I turn my cheek against the mattress to avert my gaze, but Azriel grips my jaw, forcing me back.

What is with him and male-handling me today?

"Can you not see how it would be embarrassing admitting that I'm overwhelmed to the spymaster, the shadow singer who always keeps his head level, who always knows what's going on and how to deal with it?"

With a sigh, Azriel sits up, grabbing one of my hands to urge me up as well.

"I think you of all people should know that I've lost my cool a few number of times.”

“Yeah, a few," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "That's a few hundred less than me."

The corner of his mouth ticks up. "Y/n."

"Azriel."

That just makes his smile grow. "You know it's okay to ask for help, right?" he whispers, tenderly tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear as I lean away. "Especially from me."

"But that's my point, I shouldn't need to ask for help. I should be able to deal with this on my own like everyone else does."

"There's not one person in this court that hasn't needed assistance from the others at one point or another, and I'm pretty damn sure you should know that considering it's usually you that's doing the assisting." He chuckles. "You don't even realise you're doing it, do you."

I sigh, leaning over and resting my forehead on his chest as he drapes an arm across my shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"You're the strongest person I know, that's not going to change just because Beron is pulling your strings."

"I wish you didn't always sound so wise, it makes it hard for me to not listen to your advice."

His chest rumbles as he laughs quietly. He completely scoops me up into his arms, dragging me onto his lap as he whispers, "I will always be that reassuring voice in your ear."

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- making out, masturbation (toru hehe), teasing and some very kinky ass thoughts, but mostly TENSION. Eventually - Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink. Gonna be a miniseries, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. WC this Part- 7.5k

Songs for this part - Lose Contol // My Boo // Friends

This was supposed to be a oneshot but it's going WAY too long, so I'm separating it into three parts! (Also ty for 5k hehe) Comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Part one

“You love me, right?”

You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.

“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”

 Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.

Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.

“How much you love me, hmm?”

“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.

“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.

“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”

“Satoru, I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”

“Your car is old enough to drink.”

“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”

“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”

“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”

“I love that movie!”

“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.

Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.

You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.

Not you and Satoru though.

For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.

“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.

“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”

“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”

“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.

“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”

“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”

“If I want to, what exactly?”

“Marry me?”

“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.

“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”

“Satoru…”

“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.

“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”

“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”

You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”

Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”

You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”

“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”

“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.

“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”

“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.

“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”

“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”

“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”

“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.

You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”

“Alright.”

“What!?”

He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”

“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”

“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.

“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.

“Satoru, you're insufferable.”

He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips. “Aww you’re still such a brat, since middle school.”

“You’re the brat here.”

“Meanie.” You both stick your tongues out, and when he’s walking you over to your shitty car, he wraps you in a big hug in his strong arms, making you melt against him. “Mwah, mwah, mwah you’re the best friend ever.”

“Oh, stop.” He’s smacking kisses on your head as you inhale his cologne, sighing as you contemplate just what the fuck you’re doing. “When do we do this?” You ask, pulling back a bit and looking up at him.

“I can have things going in a couple weeks, something super simple, like I said we’ll just live our lives, just be friends, it’ll be fine. Like a really long sleepover, hmm?” He teases, grinning now, putting back on his shades.

You figure, what’s it hurt? Your apartment is shitty, your car is old, Gojo is your best friend, and you’re down to help him avoid a miserable marriage for as long as he can. You nod then, smiling. “A long sleepover.”

One week of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend

Satoru Gojo thought he would control himself decently living with you, considering how many times you’ve slept over, how many movies you both have crashed out on the couch together. He’s seen you in bathing suits over the years, he’s caught glimpses of your pretty body of course, he knows how beautiful you are and he’s always maintained himself.

Satoru treasures you far too much to fuck it up in any way, despite the amount of times he’s almost lost it. Aside from Suguru, you have been the most important person in his life, and perhaps you’re closer now. But he can’t help but compare other girls to you over the years, and he usually makes quick work of the small relationships that he has with them.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated? Living with you walking around in your fucking panties and a crop top.

You nearly took him out the first morning you were here, when he went to brush his teeth, he has a huge house but of course you went to the main bathroom that divides his room and the room he set for you, it’s the bathroom you used when you stayed over. So he should have maybe anticipated it, but nothing prepared him for you bent over the sink, washing your face.

Your ass looked far too tempting in those damn boyshorts, half of each cheek tempting him to smack it, grab it, fucking lift you by it and slide into you. He was shocked when he was hard from the sight of it, he’s not inexperienced or not used to women, and he’s used to you, but something about the sight made him fucking feral, and he had to literally run to one of his guest bathrooms.

He now was almost used to you walking around in almost nothing, but this morning you’re in some little white tank top and he sees the outlines of the curve of your pretty tits, sees your nipples perked up, begging for his mouth. You’re wiping your eyes, yawning, using his Keurig to make coffee, smiling at him as if this is in any way normal or okay.

He gulps as you turn your attention to him, hair in a messy bun, his eyes struggle not to just stare at your body, he has to shut his mouth because it’s just slightly ajar. Satoru, a man who sees women naked frequently, fuck he has business meetings at strip clubs, nudity is nothing. But he can’t take it, take how your breasts are calling for him, how your thighs shift.

“Good morning, Toru! We have that event tonight, right?” You say sweetly, as his heart hammers in his chest, and then you feel his gaze on you, making your nipples tighten, more apparent as you look where he is now, biting your lip. “Shit, white isn’t the best color huh? How embarrassing… it’s kinda cold…”

“Yeah, cold.” He clears his throat, stepping closer, and your eyes drink him in, shirtless and built so perfect. You’ve seen him this way of course over the years, Satoru had no issue pulling his top off to work out, play a game of ball, but something about him in his soft sweats that show too much makes your brain run awry.

You should be immune to it, the god-like body Satoru Gojo has, how fucking perfect he is built, how pretty he is, but something makes your tummy heat up lately, especially when he comes closer, blue eyes lidded. “Um, I’ll make coffee?”

“Yes please.” He smiles sleepily, far too pretty, and you have to remind yourself, as you have all week, that you’re not with him, not truly.

It feels too easy, too comfy.

That was the point though.

“Got it.” You turn now, setting to put the pod in, tiptoeing to get his sugar, he chuckles deeply, reaching above you now, far too close to you, his bare chest pressing against your upper back. Your fingers grip the counters, feeling the cool granite of them, your breath catching.

“I’ll put them a little lower.” He teases, smirking as he sets them down, leaning a hip on the counter, and you smile, pretending to be calm, like your heart didn’t just beat out of your chest.

You’ve literally hugged this man every time you’ve seen him, you’ve even crashed next to him, why is he fucking with you so badly!? You suppose his presence in pieces was just easier to cope with than anything, but now your brain keeps having ridiculous images. Him having you up on that counter, your thighs spread, so intense you drop the spoon, it clatters to his tile floor.

“Shit, sorry.” You bend down, and your breath is right against him, over his thin sweats, and you look up at him, creating the worst images of his best friends he can ever imagine.

“It’s… fine.” He clears his throat, turning so you don’t see the clear evidence of what you’ve done.

“You okay, Toru? Tons of sugar, like usual?”

“Yeah.” His voice is gruff, as he glares at his cock, willing it to go down, you blink curiously at his back, wondering what’s wrong. You clear your throat again and hand him the cup, stepping next to him, he takes it, having put his cock up in the waistband of his boxers now, smiling nonchalantly. “Thanks sweets.”

“Of course! Can we go over a few things later today, before we go? I don’t wanna fuck anything up.”

“Of course we can. I also ordered you a dress and some jewelry, that cool?”

“Oh what? I have dresses, pretty ones!”

“I know, it’s really uppity bitches there though, you need something top notch.”

“Oh…” You trail off, a blush decorating your cheeks now, making you look even more tempting. “But you don’t know my size?’

Satoru brushes a tendril of hair that’s come out of your bun then, smirking just a bit. “Think I don’t know your size, sweetheart?”

“I… um…” Satoru has you flustered, dammit. “Oh?”

“Mhmm.” As if he hasn’t eyed your body a million times over. “It’ll be here later, I have to go to work for just a couple hours.” You nod then, for some odd reason wanting to kiss him, but you bite your lip instead.

“Sounds perfect, I have the day off!”

“Even better, go take a nice bath and relax before we deal with the snobby old fucks.” You giggle at him, you have always loved how he speaks of rich people, when he’s filthy rich, but Satoru? He’s very different.

He’s just…

Satoru.

Satoru’s heart doesn’t hammer in his chest, it almost falls out after he’s got his three piece pinstripe suit on, adjusting a skinny silk tie and peering at his silver Rolex, seeing what time it was, as you appear in front of him. The dress he picked out was a lacy black one, perfect for evening, but the way it hugs your every curve, the way your breasts are pressed up in that top?

You do a nervous spin, revealing your pretty back, the curve of your spine, the v neck so deep he sees hints of the dimples on your back. You turn back around, eyes glittering, enhanced with a little mascara and eyeliner, your lips the prettiest shade of red he can imagine. You look…

Beautiful.

Is that even the word?

How does he even explain it, when he’s speechless, when he feels his ears heat up at just how nervous he is to be in your presence then, eyeing a delicate gold necklace that hits just so in the hollow between your collar bones. You’re tilting your head to the side, hair falling softly in curls you’ve put it in, clutching your pretty little evening bag.

“How do I look, Toru? You look so handsome, but when don’t you.” You tease, and he tries not to look at the slit showing far too much of your pretty thigh, so tempting to slip a hand up it, find your surely pretty little pussy.

“You look…” He takes a breath, trying to act somewhat normal, smiling then. “You look… hot as fuck.”

You giggle then, rolling your eyes. “Oh whatever!”

“You look… amazing. Really.” He steps to you, giving into the temptation to brush the backs of his finger across the apple of your cheek, then across your jaw line, watching your breath catch, your red lips part, showing a hint of your little bottom row of teeth.

How would that pretty face look so fucked out?

God, it’s been a week, he needs to stop.

His hand falls, and you barely hold yourself together, breaths coming quicker and quicker. “You look beautiful, sweets. Gonna make quite the impression.” His husky admission makes you blush further, looking down and eyeing that little knot on his tie, as it’s like the entire room is holding its breath, everything so overwhelming, his nearness, his scent.

“Thank you, really for this dress. It’s so beautiful, and this.” You touch the pretty gold necklace, just making his eyes watch your pretty breasts rise and fall.

“Of course, it’s part of this, you know.” His little admission breaks you just a bit, for some insane reason, you felt like this was some date? You rein yourself in just a bit, smiling.

“Yes, but thank you. Shall we go, hubby?’

“We sure can, wifey.” You both laugh, the friendship of years prevailing finally, when you slip into the back of his limo with him, trying to ignore the feeling of his strong thigh pressing against yours, burning through the silky layer of the dress. “So remember the story?”

“Yeah, it’s easy to think of it happening, friends falling.” You then panic, as his blue eyes catch yours in the dark of the limo. “I mean-”

“No, of course it is. I’ll say that… I started falling in high school.” Because he did, god he did. After you all are about to be at the event, he notices it, your nerves, this just wasn’t your scene. “You look perfect, really.”

“Oh no…” He leans close, cupping your face, but it feels too good, your lips are too close.

“You do, gonna knock 'em dead, yeah?”

“We both will.” You smile tremulously, inhaling the night air greedily as you both walk up to the event, being ushered in. You’re clinging around his elbow as he casually goes about it, going into Mr. Gojo mode, you’ve seen him do it plenty over the years, still keeping his charm and sarcasm, but he’s just a force, the way he plays them all.

Knowing Gojo wants to take most of these people down is thrilling in its own way, you’ve always been enamored with how he fights for his principles, how real and raw he truly is with you about it. How humble when he’s come from everything, but still he knows that role he must play, and play it he does, his hand pressing on the small of your back as you two make small talk.

“I always thought of you two falling for each other.” Says your mom now, yes even your parents had to think it was true.

“I did too… so sudden though? Young love.” Gojo’s mom says, tossing back her silky long locks with a smile.

“What can I say? Your son is hard to resist, he’s so persistent. Like a cute little puppy.”

“A what!? Brat.” He’s glaring, but your parents and his mom are laughing, and you know it works, being real.

“Aren’t you two so in love?” Another person says later, as they observe Satoru placing a little peck on your temple, and he smiles with ease, not realizing the entire mess he’s making you.

“A beautiful couple. Gojo, you chose well.” One of his work friends says with a grin.

“We’re very lucky, both of us.” You say softly, stopping Gojo’s heart, when you peck a little kiss on his neck, tiptoeing in your heels, he turns then, your lips far too close, so close you taste the sweetness of his breath, and your eyes lock. “Aren’t we, Satoru?”

He blinks, realizing… you’re just helping him, and you’re nailing it. He tries to shove back the odd fluttering in his tummy, tilting your chin up. “We are lucky.”

The night ends up with plenty of dancing, plenty of schmoozing back and forth, and plenty of both of you being the perfect team. It was so easy, you both knew each other like no one else, the answers flow, the dancing flows, you’ve both danced in school before, you’ve partied together. You’ve been a plus one even as a friend.

Too natural, too perfect.

You soon need a breath, as you feel far too much as Satoru dances with a lovely girl, you recognize her, Gojo dated her and she’s a family friend. You assume she was a candidate for marriage as you recall her family ties, but seeing someone in his arms suddenly makes your heart break.

It’s only been a fucking week!? Can’t you keep it together!?

Later as you both get home, you’re taking off your shoes, wincing as the heels are off your feet, and Satoru looks at you curiously. “You okay, sweets? Kinda a long night of assholes, huh?”

“Oh it’s fine, Toru. Truly. Um… I recognized a couple girls there.”

“Yeah, they run in the same circles.” He takes off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves of that crisp white dress shirt, revealing the veins of his strong forearms, addling your mind further, how fucking attractive he is when he loosens that tie.

“Um, I know you said discrete, will you be… bringing them here?”

Satoru blinks at you, head tilting, soft white hair falling just so. “What? Bring who here?”

“Um, her, or any of the girls there really. If so I think I’ll probably… wanna know if you don’t mind? So I can make sure I’m in the room or whatever. A little notice?”

Satoru walks to you now, your head is tilted back when he hooks two fingers under your chin. “You think I am interested in them?”

“They’re beautiful. And we’re not together, so it’s fine! Just… a little notice would be cool?”

“And you, what if you bring someone over.” His jaw tenses, his words surprisingly sharp. “Will you tell me?”

You laugh softly. “That won’t even be a thing.”

“In a year?”

“It’s… never been a thing really.” You realize then, that you are almost spilling it, the fact that the entirety of your experience is one fuck in college, a two pump event that involved nothing really.

His brows draw together in disbelief. “Never? You don’t…”

“Listen, we’re best friends, but that’s private. Okay?” He nods, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, looking down.

“Shit I mean you date a bit though?”

“Yeah, I do. But… it’s… I need to get out of this dress.” You say then, suddenly rushing to your room, leaving Satoru’s mind whirling.

How do you think he wants anyone when you’re here killing him.

“Toru?” You lean your head out from the bathroom a few moments later.

“Yeah?”

“This is embarrassing, but the zipper is stuck, and it’s so expensive… I don’t wanna fuck the dress up.” You murmur, he smiles, feigning ease as he steps into the bathroom, peering at you in the golden gilded mirror.

“No worries, got ya. Huh it is a little stuck…” He gently tugs at the zipper, humming a big. “Um… hang on I need to pull it up a bit.”

“Sure. Be careful!”

“You’re worried about this when I could buy you ten more tomorrow.”

“Still!”

He smiles at your reflection, hand palming your bare back then, making you bite back a gasp, body shifting in desire at just the touch, your eyes shut so he can’t see them rolling back, but he sees those goosebumps everywhere. He unzips it then, revealing lacy panties that make him pause, letting the dress fall, you’re catching it at the front, gasping.

“I think I got it.” He says huskily, unable to stop his fingers from trailing up your delicate spine, blue eyes so bright in the mirror they wreck you, while you barely hold the material on. “Need any more help?”

“No! I mean… n-no.” Shit shit shit.

You’re soaked from a brush against your back!?

“Got ya.” He smiles just a bit, leaving you now, resting his back on the door, hand running across his face, curious how he’s throbbing with precum from seeing your fucking back.

Two weeks of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend

You arrive at his work, the coworkers all greeting you so friendly, as his assistant Miwa escorts you, giving you both soft smiles. “Your wife is here Mr. Gojo.”

Satoru looks up in surprise, you’re in your pretty work dress, looking all cute and professional, holding a bento box in one hand, a boba in the other. You’re smiling brightly, as his lips part in surprise. “I had an early day and I thought I should bring some lunch?”

“Oh… oh thank you… Miwa if you could?”

“Of course, I’ll give you some privacy.” You hear her giggle and you smile at Satoru, looking as he’s leaned back in his big leather seat, smiling softly back at you, eyeing your hands.

“I get lunch made for me, shit I am lucky with my fake bride.” You snort, rolling your eyes and walking up to him, setting them on the desk.

“It seemed wifey to do? But also I really do have a short day, figured you might be hungry?”

Fuck you’re sweet.

Fuck you’re pretty.

God, you’re looking at him like that, leaned over just a bit, his eyes darting over your body that tempts him every day more and more, but your sweetness ruins him, the thoughtful nature you’ve always had, but now so geared to him. Is it all for show, he can’t believe it is when you open the bento and show him sushi, onigiri and greens placed so prettily his mouth waters.

“You ordered this, yeah?”

“No silly, I’ve been practicing. You helping me have some time off work has literally given me so much time… I hope they’re yummy? Oh, I didn’t make the boba though.”

“Why didn’t you get anything?” He asks, frowning.

“Oh I’m good, I just was dropping it off. You’re probably busy, taking down the villains huh?” Satoru’s words catch in his throat, looking you up and down again, before looking back down at the food in front of him.

“Stay a bit, it’ll… look good you know, us having lunch together.” He murmurs, lying out of his fucking teeth, as if he didn’t want to eat you then and there.

Your thighs spread, panties to the side, lapping you up?

Yummier than this. Killing him to imagine.

“Oh, um… where do I sit, over here?” You go to scooch a chair over, and he stops you.

“Nah those are heavy, come on.” He pats his thigh, earning your eyes widening, pulse fluttering as he smirks. “You’ve sat on my lap at parties plenty.”

“Y-yeah… but it’s… I…”

“C’mon, have a couple bites please, I’ll feel bad if you did all this for me and didn’t eat.”

“Satoru, you have bought me a new wardrobe and a car, can’t I make some sushi?”

“Sit.”

You sigh, it’s true you’ve sat on his lap, but the past two weeks of constantly being wet around him are taking their toll. You smile brightly, sitting on one of his thighs, praying he can’t feel it, the heat from your pussy as you’re pressed on a muscled thigh, and he’s picking up sushi with chopsticks, popping one in his mouth and moaning, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck that’s yummy. You made it for real!?” You giggle, nodding and trying to be more comfortable, it’s your Toru, right?

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. That’s got eel sauce on it, this one is the spicy crab.”

“You like spicy crab, here.” He pops one to your lips, and something feels too intimate, on his lap like this. “Open.”

Open.

Open!?

The pictures of you hearing him that while on your knees makes your cunt dribble, you shift nervously, clearing your throat.

“Open, silly.”

You do as he says, as he pops the roll in your mouth, and you chew, feeling the flavor hit your tongue, he grins now, popping another into his mouth, and you wonder if it’s easy for him to be this way. He’s so natural at it, sipping his boba and humming happily, all while his thigh presses where you’ve been aching for him, forcing yourself not to touch your pussy to the thought of him.

You can’t do that, it’s fucked.

You try to get up, and he presses you down, big hand on your waist, far too close when he leans the thick straw to your lips. “Take a sip, it’s so good.”

“Oh… um sure. Thank you.” You take a sip, lips pressing where his had, and he can’t stop focusing on how good your lips look, wrapping as you suck, cheeks hollowing and making his cock twitch.

You both sit there then, staring at each other, breaths coming just a little too quick from you, as he sets the drink down, but you stay on his lap. “Y’know… the event tonight, we should probably actually kiss? There will be cameras all over.”

“Kiss!?” He laughs then, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I mean it’s kind of part of it. You’re comfy with it right, not gonna fall head over heels.”

“Psh.” You already have, long ago, it’s all fucking hitting. “You’re so cocky, Toru I swear.”

“I can’t help it, my lips are so talented, you know. Makes girls fall.” He brushes his silky hair back, winking at you then, and you swear you can hear your heart in your goddamn ears.

“I remember you were pretty good.”

“Yeah, you remember?”

“Yeah it… was my first kiss.” You mumble then, looking away, sipping his boba nervously, he blinks rapidly, blue eyes wide in shock.

“What now!?”

“No biggie, we were like seventeen…”

“But you… never told me?”

“It was embarrassing.” Satoru’s mind races to that night, as does yours, as you sit in his office, just the hum of the fan and soft music playing from his little device, staring at each other, both in a haze.

You and Satoru Gojo were thrown in a closet together, you’re sighing as you’re pressed against him, peeking at your phone in the dark to see the time. Being too close to Satoru wreaked havoc on your brains at times, though you have known him so long, you couldn’t lie and act like you didn’t think of things… kissing him, maybe dating him? But you know they’re silly thoughts.

“Don’t freak out, we’ll just let 'em think we made out.” He says now, and you turn your eyes up to him, adjusting in the dark, but even here you can see the glint of those bright baby blues.

“Y-yeah. You’ve kissed plenty, though.”

“You haven’t really?”

“Um, no.”

Satoru’s gently turning you to him now, tilting your chin up while his eyes adjust to see your pretty face, you’re thankful it’s so dark that he couldn’t see your blush. “We could practice, you know.”

“Satoru!”

“What? A little practice between friends? You know you wanna kiss me.” He taunts, teasing tone as he grins.

“No way!”

“Not at all? I’m hurt, sweets.”

“Oh whatever, it'd be weird, we’re too close. Do you kiss Suguru?”

“Oh yeah, have you seen him?”

You both laugh then, when he leans down just a bit. “Well, if you kissed Suguru, I feel left out now.”

“We can’t have that. Show me what you do know, I’ll advise.”

“Kissing expert, hmm?”

“Mhmm.” You lean up then, as he bends down, your arms wrapping around his neck, you pause as his hands press against your waist, making your heart race. “Ya scared?”

“No! Goofy ass.” He’s chuckling until you lean up, pulling him down for a kiss, and your lips meet for the first time.

Your first kiss.

He pauses, your lips connecting just do something. Satoru at seventeen had done plenty of make out sessions, but they were fun, something to do, exciting at times, but nothing prepared him for it. For your sweet lips on him, tingling them, his heart beating in his chest.

Satoru falters, and he never falters.

He doesn’t slip his tongue in, he doesn’t pull you close, he freezes, so in shock at how good it feels, how right it feels. You ease back, nervous then, clearing your throat, as he hasn’t moved his lips. “I’m sorry I’m not…”

Satoru yanks you against him then, pressing your body on his, kissing you over and over, so deeply, taking your breath away, you’ve never felt something like this, you’re trembling as you feel his tongue slip against the seam of your lips. “Open them up for me.”

This isn’t silly Satoru, goofy ass friend, his husky declaration destroys you, and he uses the gasp to slip his tongue inside, swirling with yours, igniting something between you that night that you will both avoid talking about for years. When he presses you against the closet door, sighing into your lips, and you’re being picked up in his arms, as your mouths move over each other.

You both pull back, gasping as the timer goes off.

What was that!?

“If I’d known it was your first kiss, maybe I wouldn’t have… gotten so excited.” He says with a little pink on his cheeks.

“No, you didn’t cross any lines, Toru. Don’t worry.”

He wants to laugh, because oh, he wanted to.

If he’d had more time he’s sure he’d have lost it, whatever control he has now he did not have as a seventeen year old. “Was it a good one at least?”

“The best a girl could have.” You say softly, smiling at him then, making his heart race when you both sit there, far too close, and he swears he can feel your heat against the hand that’s on your thigh.

“I know I’m pretty amazing hmm?” He teases, trying to hide the raging storm inside of him, you giggle, shaking your head and standing finally.

“You’re a conceited little shit.”

“Hey!?”

You’re both back at ease, as he stands now too, looming so tall over you, his presence making it hard to remember why you’re here. “I should go.”

“We should practice, though, yeah?”

“I mean… you think we’re that rusty?” You try to feign ease, he smiles then.

“Yeah, we gotta be. We’ll bump our heads together or some shit.”

“Okay… um…” You take a sip of his boba then, clearing your throat and smiling up at him. “Let’s practice.”

Satoru brushes his thumb across your chin, your ass pressed against his desk and you’re pinned between it and him, your hands sliding up his starch white dress shirt slowly, eyes lowering to his glossy lips. He presses a kiss against your lips, and you then know it, more than ever.

Nothing is like kissing Satoru.

Nothing is like his lips making contact with yours, as your eyes close, the feeling of him working his lips over you so gently, making you tremble, making you ache in ways you have tried to hide, to avoid. He pulls back, cupping your face and exhaling, his snowy lashes low over cerulean eyes, his lips parted just so, as you both stare at each other, speechless.

You don’t know if he’s as affected, and neither does he.

“How’s that?” He asks softly, and you lean up, your fingers enwrapping in his hair, as two of his hands bar you on either side.

“Maybe one or two more? To look natural.” You whisper, and you expect a smirk, or something cocky, conceited, but he slams his lips on yours now.

His tongue is swirling against yours in moments, as you both devour each other, hungry and needy, kissing each other desperate, messy now. A kiss like you’ve never had, as his hands press against your hips, then he lifts you on the desk, your thighs around his hips, making you cry out. The sound causes him to lose any semblance of control, he’s biting your lower lip, moaning into your mouth.

“Mmm!” Your hands pull his hair now, as his slip up your bare thighs, and then you feel it, the hardness under his slacks against your heat, your panties already sticky and damp, and you pull back with a gasp.

Your eyes shoot up to his when you break apart for just a moment, and Satoru’s breath is coming in little pants, his fingers scrunching your skirt up your hips, yanking you closer. You whimper now, head falling to the side, and he’s kissing down the side of your neck, your breasts pressing against his chest, dying for him inside you, as he’s ready to fuck you right on his desk.

“Satoru… what are-” You’re trying to whisper when his lips find the shell of your ear.

“I need-”

Knock knock knock.

You both pull back, his eyes dilated to the point they’re dark, his hands still on your bare skin, as his eyes dart down your body. “Yes?” He manages gruffly.

“Twenty minutes until your meeting Mr. Gojo.” You hear, and he curses softly, turning away, trying to calm his nerves, his racing heart, all while you’re hopping down, trying to pull yourself together.

You’re almost darting out of the door when he sees you. “Shit, please…”

“No, no. We um… were practicing?” You manage to whisper, as his hand is over yours on the knob. “I got carried away.”

He laughs, without humor. “You did?”

“I did. I’m sorry I don’t even do this.”

“Just how… inexperienced are you?” He asks softly.

“A lot.”

Because she can’t help but compare every man to Satoru Gojo.

“Well, you can’t tell, you’re an amazing kisser.” You blush furiously, looking down, biting your lower lip.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“You are, shit. My god.” He brushes your hair off the side of your neck, exhaling, breath tickling you, setting your body on fire.

“Thank you, so are you. We will be good to go tonight, you think?” You whisper, so nervous to say what you want to, and he pauses, clearing his throat, his hand falling off your shoulder now.

“We’ll kill it. Thank you again for lunch.”

“Of course.” You brightly smile, trying to remember.

It’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake.

As you’re repeating it in your head, Satoru is struggling to not lift your skirt up and fuck into you right on this door, he wouldn’t care if the entire office heard you scream his goddamn name. When you slip out the door he rests his head on it, the cool wood doing nothing to his overheated skin, hands clenching into his fists as he tries to calm himself.

What was that, what is that with you both?

He promised he would be respectful, he has to try to rein it all in, he has to make sure your friendship isn’t ruined because he can’t stop himself. Satoru tells himself that as he wills his cock to go down, but he can’t stop himself, soon he’s stroking it right in that seat, remembering feeling your pussy pressing against his length.

God he needs you, he shuts his eyes, imagining sinking inside you while he twists his hand up and down his length, desperate for any relief. He had some regulars he would call back in the day, but not only does it feel so wrong to do so, he doesn’t want anyone but you, he can’t even put a vision in his mind but you.

‘It’s fine, baby girl you can take me’ he murmurs softly, snowy lashes shut as he imagines fucking into you, stretching you god he bets you’re so tight, and he could feel that warmth, imagining you as he spits down on his pretty cock.

His pink tip is oozing precum while his head rests back in his office chair, he can still smell your scent, that shampoo you use, the body spray you have worn since high school, it’s you. He’d kiss every inch of your body, have you so ready you beg for him, fuck you so good tears pool in your pretty eyes, he can damn near feel is as his hand strokes faster and faster.

He lets out a soft groan, muttering a ‘that’s it, you’re so wet f’me, huh?’ to the very image of you on that desk, tasting your sweetness on his lips, while he pinches his tip, the precum and spit wetting his cock enough that the sound of him stroking fills his office. His breath quickens as he thinks of shoving your thighs up high, slamming into your cervix, ruining you.

As he cums white hot spurts all over his palm he cries out softly, the release feeling so good, he’s fought it, touching himself to you, but he can’t anymore. He quickly cleans up, panicking as he sees what he’s done, jerked off to one of his best friend’s in the world, someone who trusts him, and he’s not even holding himself together for shit now.

He exhaustedly leans his head against the desk as his alarm for the next meeting starts, struggling to remember this isn’t real, but his cock sure didn’t fucking realize that, and by the time he’s home and he sees you all dressed up for the next event? He almost has to go jerk off again.

You’re smiling all nervous in this beautiful glittering gown, and he’s once again speechless, trying to pull together his usual charm, but it falls flat. You look at him, concern clear on your features. “Everything okay Satoru?”

“Of course it is. Look at you.” He smiles, putting on the best show he can, as you wonder if you’ve over thought that kiss, he just seems so normal really.

Maybe he just got carried away, should you act normal too?But how can you, when just the brush of his hand on the small of your back shoots desire straight through your body. It’s only been two weeks, how could you hold out an entire year?

Sooo to have written this in a oneshot would have been INSANE but expect the next two parts very quicklyyy ;) Gojo is DOWN BAD my god- smut in the next hehe.

taglist #1: @plaggi @baepsays @victoria1676 @flwerie @luringfantasy @moncher-ire @allonyyourmom @kindablackenedsuperhero @evelynxxo @jkslaugh97 @sugurusfavemonkey @ninikrumbs @s4ikooo1 @bunheadusa @twinkling-moonlillie @chameleonsoul111 @nina-from-317 @naammiii @whippedbyikemen @alygator77 @uarmyhopeworldwide @1satoruu @theclassbookworm @jud3thedude @isleqt @mcromer2999-blog @silvarys @orikixx @jiejies-corner-store @assbutt-inlove-with-koreans @lordbugs @ari-sa @blue-musingss @minaa-06 @uhnosav @cvixmei @seeiin @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy @beachaddict48 @mizuzu @honeybunnnnie @honeybunnnnie @gojosukuna2268 @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen

[glasvera]

La Petite Mort Dorée

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: The follow up to Golden Morphine, in which you and Adam explore the rising sexual tension between you and experiment with the arousing effects of his healing on your body.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, dry humping, oral sex and fingering (female receiving), Adam is a virgin

A/N: I'm so normal about him, I swear. So normal that I've written close to 6k words for him alone in the past few days. Yeah. This is basically pure filthy smut, so please enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k

Unceremoniously, you sweep everything off of the table you’re sitting on. Adam doesn’t even get the chance to protest the fluttering papers and clattering baubles before he’s forced to brace his hands on either side of you, pulled down on top of you as your lips find his again.

Well, he supposes, that mess can always be cleaned up later.

Your shirt bunches up around your neck, pressing your bare chest to his. His lips and skin against yours feels like heaven and tastes like honey, sweet and decadent. Moaning into his mouth, you lock your ankles behind that sinfully slim waist of his and muss your fingers into his hair. You know you had tangled your hands into his hair earlier, yet it’s just as smooth and silky and perfect as the first time you touched it. You’re almost jealous.

Almost.

But it’s hard to focus on things like that when Adam finally finds himself again, balancing himself on one hand as the other comes to cup the underside of your breast. It’s all instinct, pure intuition, but he knows now that he quite enjoys the way your flesh gives beneath his hand as he gently squeezes it. And he certainly enjoys the gasp it pulls from you even while your lips meld and mash together.

It’s an accident the first time, but when his thumb just happens to swipe across the edge of your nipple, your head falls back with a soft thud. It’s like he’s constantly emanating that golden energy with every touch, so even the barest of brushes is like an electric shock through your system. Your nails dig into his scalp, drawing a husky groan from him. 

“Adam… oh…”

“Yes. More. Just like that,” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me. Show me how to please you.”

His face is inches away from your own. Your breaths intermingle as his hand continues to paw at your breast, desperately trying to recreate the sound you’d made moments before. Your kiss swollen lips draw up into a lazy smile as you take his hand. Squeezing, molding, you guide his movements, unable to contain your steady moans as he continues to pour that healing energy into you. He needs to do something with his lips, but he daren’t muffle the sounds coming from yours. Instead he busies himself by burying his head into the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he finds. You taste divine to him, and he eagerly laps at the salt from the lingering sweat on your flesh.

Your eyes roll back and your hips roll soon after. You want to take it slow, to let him explore, but it’s so difficult to be patient when you can feel just how hard he is already. A broken, muffled moan vibrates against your neck before he eagerly begins to rut against you.

“P… Pinch my nipple between your fingers. Gently.” Even in the lust-addled haze that falls over you both, you can tell he listens to your every word intently. Between his thumb and forefinger, he finds the peak of your breast and gently, experimentally, pinches just as you told him to. Just that, coupled with his healing, is enough to draw needy whimpers from your throat.

“You feel divine,” he whispers reverently against your neck. “And sound just as heavenly. Give me more. Please.”

His praise sends only further tingling straight to your core, and you can feel the wetness beginning to pool there. Never before had you even considered the possibility of someone making you orgasm without so much as grazing your clit, but this man might just be the one to find a way.

“You,” you gasp out, the words catching in your throat as your nails rake across his skin. “It's your healing. The energy. It…” you pause as his fingers tweak the bud between them, unable to stop the moan from humming low in your chest. “It amplifies it. Everything,” you manage to breathe out finally.

“I see,” he replies simply, his nose brushing against your ear. The feeling of his breath and the low, almost gravelly tone of his voice thick with arousal, leaves you panting and trembling beneath him. He pulls back just enough to see your face, and your lips are swollen and shiny with spittle. Your eyes stare into his, half-lidded and longing, and truly he does not think he's ever seen an image so beautiful. 

“Do you want more?” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours as he leans in close.

You're not even sure you can take much more. It was already overwhelming, like a million golden fireworks exploding throughout your body with every touch. To know that he could will it to be even stronger, that everything up until now had mostly been accidental or residual…

Despite any reservations you may have, you whimper softly and nod your head in affirmation.

He wastes no time, claiming your lips again while his hand travels up from your breast to possessively cradle your head and thread his fingers into your hair. It’s all the warning you have before he's pouring that delicious golden feeling straight into your head.

Gods, you were not ready for that.

Your mind nearly goes blank as you scream into his mouth. It almost startles him, but then he feels your thighs clamped tighter around his waist. He swallows your cries as the energy ebbs and flows from his fingertips, wanting to taste more of this bliss as he begins to caress your tongue with his own. Even there, conscious of it as he is now, those healing waves dance across your lips and into your mouth. All you can do is take it, take every ounce of that delicious energy as your nails claw into his back and your ankles lock behind him. He rolls his hips into you almost frantically, groaning into the kiss as he loses himself in you.

“So beautiful…” he breathes against your lips. “Such wonderful music. Can you give me even more?” he asks, his husky whispers laced with innocent curiosity.

A chortle rumbles in your chest, and Adam swears there’s almost a glow about you when he opens his eyes to look upon your face. You rub soothing circles with your fingertips along the raised lines you’ve scored into his back, taking the moment to recover from the ridiculous euphoria you just experienced.

All the same, you crave more.

“Lower,” you whisper hoarsely. “Touch me…” You pause, placing your hand over his and guiding it to the waistband of your pants. His golden fingers look so pretty trailing down your stomach.

“Please,” you beg, and Adam thinks perhaps that might be one of your prettiest sounds yet.

Yet still, he hesitates, even as his fingers toy with the elastic of your waistband. “I… do not know how,” he admits. A flicker of doubt flashes across your eyes, and he clearly sees it since he adds, “I want to. I only fear that I will do poorly.”

Your gaze softens, and you extract your legs from his waist. He stands back up and opens his mouth to protest, but quickly shuts it as you lift your hips to shimmy your pants down your hips and kick off your boots. Left only in your underwear, you beckon him back to you, and he follows your command readily. Cupping his jaw in your hand, you smile sweetly at him.

“You’ve been a quick study so far, Adam. Let me guide you.”

He nods, dumbfounded by the situation he’s found himself in even if every action both of you have taken would clearly lead up to it. Your hand finds his and you place it over the damp patch of your panties, and his brow furrows.

“It is… warm. Wet. Why?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

That pulls another giggle from your lips, and you begin moving his hand and yours in lazy circles, sighing as you do so.

“It’s for you, Adam… have you never heard of a girl getting wet before?”

“I-I, well, no-”

“It’s desire, Adam. Every touch, every kiss, every word. You’ve turned me on so much, Adam…” you murmur seductively. “And when I’m turned on, things get wet down here.”

A stuttered breath shakes out of his chest as he continues following your guided movements. Finally he remembers why he’s doing this in the first place, and a wave of healing light pours forth from his fingers straight to your dripping cunt. You keen loudly, bucking against his hand, as white hot flames lick their way from your core out to your extremities.

If you thought it was intense before, you had no idea. And there was no way you were going to last long at this rate.

“Fuck, Adam!”  you cry, covering your mouth with your free hand before biting down on your finger.

He feels how wet you are, how much wetter you get with every swipe of his fingers, and it leaves his throat feeling parched. If it meant you making these sounds, he could do this all day, he thinks. His cock is achingly hard in his pants now, and he finds himself palming it through the fabric and breathing heavily. Catching a glimpse of that only serves to heighten your arousal even further.

“M…More…” he practically groans out, his brows worrying together as those milky white eyes stare down transfixed with every circle of his fingers. He takes the initiative and slides his hands beneath your panties, his fingers meeting your soaked folds as he continues his earlier movements. The direct contact enhances the feeling tenfold, and even his inexperienced hand leaves you gasping and whimpering.

“Y-Yes, oh gods,” you babble, rocking your hips in just a way that his fingertips brush against your clit. “So good. Feels so good.”

So, when he retracts his hand from your underwear, you can’t help but whine at the loss. But then he’s bringing his fingers to his face, spreading his fingers apart and admiring the glistening, syrupy wetness that webs between them. And then they meet his lips, his tongue peeking out as he sucks and licks the digits clean, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter in your life-

-That is, until you swear those white gold eyes of his darken with newfound lust. Overtaken with his desire, he drops to his knees between your legs suddenly and tugs your panties to one side.

“Adam? What are you--oh fuck,” you moan out as his tongue paints a stripe up your labia. Your head falls back and your hand finds its place buried in his golden locks, urging him on.

He eats you out like a man starved, parched, desperate for every last bit of desire you can give him. It’s crazed, and his technique is obviously unrefined, but as soon as that golden bliss pours forth from his tongue, none of that matters. Energy flows through you, strikes through you like lightning, and your back arches as you buck your hips into his face. He doesn’t complain one bit, instead humming his approval into your sensitive flesh as his tongue and healing attack you in tandem. When his free hand squeezes into the plush of your thigh, you are bombarded by even more of that delicious feeling as it spreads through from his fingertips.

You sing for him breathlessly, your throat growing hoarse from the stream of wanton moans that echo endlessly in the room around you. His name spills from your lips followed by several curses, some of which he’s never heard you speak. That wave crests higher and higher, so high, and without meaning to you tug at those golden strands between your fingers. From the groan it elicits, he doesn’t seem to mind.

All he knows is that those beautiful sounds are growing higher and higher in pitch, more frantic with every sweep of his tongue, and he matches that pace with a fervor as he ruts into his own hand.

“A-Adam, so close, I’m so fucking close,” you breathe out desperately, even if you know he likely has no idea what that means.

But finally, finally, his tongue finds your clit, and you let out a particularly loud cry. Taking the hint, he focuses on that spot, swirling the tip around it before lapping at it greedily. The fire within you reaches a fever pitch and you absolutely explode, gushing onto his face as he drinks you up completely. It’s the most beautiful and erotic thing he’s ever witnessed, and he feels that pressure low in his belly come to a breaking point. A broken, gasping moan leaves his lips as he releases, stream after stream, cumming in his pants. His cheek falls against your thigh as he comes down from his own high, panting even as your taste lingers on his lips.

The healing energy that overwhelmed you up until now finally subsides, and a dazed smile spreads across your face. The hand that still rests on Adam’s head now pets him gently, carding your fingers delicately through his silky golden hair that you finally turned into a complete mess. He hums lazily in turn, taking a moment to catch his breath as his thumb brushes circles into your inner thigh.

“Did I do well…?” he finally asks, his voice laced with obvious fatigue.

You sit up to better look at him, tilting your head to the side as you admire the way he looks just as fucked-out as you. “I might need you to carry me back to bed. You’ve tongue-fucked my entire body into Jell-O.”

A mixture of concern and confusion pull his mouth into a frown as he looks a bit disappointed. “That… sounds terrible. I am so sorry,” he replies sheepishly.

That draws a hearty laugh from you as you shake your head. “No, Adam. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. The good ones can leave you feeling a little wobbly,” you explain before your lips settle into a wide grin. “Besides, you know, if you want…” you start, pursing your lips to one side as your gaze travels toward the ground. “...We could always practice more later. You know, if you want to learn more.”

His bright white eyes brighten impossibly further as he perks up like an excited puppy. All traces of shame that his face wore moments ago were gone in an instant. “Truly? Then, yes. Gladly.”

You sit up as best as you can before leaning over to capture his lips in a tender kiss, not caring about the lingering wetness staining his golden face. A dopey smile draws upon your lips as you press your forehead to his.

“I look forward to it, my Golden God.”

[rispwr]

“3 words, 8 letters. I mean it” - J.JK - Mini (M)

Pairings : j.jk x fem! Reader

Genre : situationship, smut, slight fluff.

Contents : chuckblair inspired, limo sx, gossip girl parties setting, unprotected sex (yk what to do babes), riding, praisekink, comparing, big c!jk, slight public sex, not proofread, lemme know what i missed!

Notes : don’t expect too much yall. I’m trying a new writing style. The one that’s not too detailed that i write about everything but the character😭 tell me what you think about this? Should i make more smut? Idk i think i’m bad at smut, i’m more better at fluff and romantic stuff but i just wanted to try this. Xoxo gossip girl💋💋 Ive been watching the show and i love itt!! I love chuck and blair and i think i will def write more inspired by them. I loved the “3 words, 8 letters” line. It’s my favourite tbh.

“I knew you had a type…” his voice trails behind me. I didn’t bother to move or to face him but to just stay still and silent, silently enjoying his touch, the way his touch felt like warmth to my cold like skin, the way the world stops, and everythingstops once he touches me.

“I missed you.”

After Jungkook suddenly left me in Paris without saying a word during our vacation together, I was shattered. One minute, everything felt perfect. the Eiffel Tower lighting up the night sky, his laughter filling my heart with happiness as we explored and the next, the right side of my bed was gone . Broken, sad, left, and helpless. I spent the four remaining days locked away in the hotel room we had booked together.

At the airport, sitting alone in business class, I tried to distract myself, to feel anything other than the suffocating pain that clung to me. That’s when a man approached me. At first, I didn’t want to look at him, but when I did, I felt a sharp ache in my chest. His sleeve tattoos, the undercut, the piercings. it all felt too familiar, too much like him.

When I learned he lived in the same city as me, I impulsively invited him to my upcoming party. I told myself it was a distraction, a way to move on. Maybe even a chance to prove to myself that I didn’t need Jungkook anymore.

I thought that was the end of us. I truly did.

Until now.

“You left me… alone in a country whose people I don’t even know,” my eyes keep shut, trying hard not to let a tear out.

“I’m sorry, honey… let me make it up to you?”

“I have Ian now, Jungkook,” I try to keep my tone straight.

“No, you won’t,” he chuckles deeply. “You’re only with him to replace the missing presence that you can’t live without.” His hands trail around my jawline. “And that is me”

“Three words, eight letters. I mean it,” his tone changes into a soft one, one that I only hear when he wakes up to me wrapped up in his arms, one when he starts talking about our future together, together.

“Three words, eight letters. Let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing his hand, intertwining with mine, his smile widening.

—-

The limo driver’s voice, distant and polite, asked, “Your place, Ms.?”

“Mhm,” I hummed, breathless already, my response barely audible as Jungkook’s lips crashed into mine. The kiss was firm yet full of emotion, like he’d been starving for days…… He starved for my taste

My breath hitched as Jungkook pulled me into his lap, his large hands gripping my waist. all I could manage was a soft hum, barely audible, as I reached blindly for the button to raise the divider.

The divider hummed as it rises, It being the only thing keeping the driver from seeing us do the deed in the back of the limo, leaving only us in the together in the backseat. His tongue parted my lips, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed over my thighs, hiking my dress higher until it was bunched around my hips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against my lips, his voice low and strained. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl”

I gasped as he tugged my panties aside, his fingers grazing the slick heat of my core. “You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his fingers teased me, gathering the wetness and spreading it over my entrance. “You’ve been missing me too huh?”

“Jungkook,” I whimpered, unable to answer him as my hips bucked against his hand.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his lips curving into a small, cocky smirk. His hands gripped my hips as he leaned back slightly, guiding me to straddle him completely. “Come here, baby. Let me feel you.”

I reached between us, freeing him from his pants. He was already hard, his cock thick and pulsing in my hand, and the deep groan that rumbled in his chest as I stroked him sent a wave of heat coursing through me.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, his hands tightening on my thighs. “You know I can’t wait.”

I positioned myself over him, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and slowly sank down, taking him inch by inch. The stretch was overwhelming, my body trembling as he filled me completely.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the seat as his hands gripped my waist. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. You feel so good.”

I braced my hands on his shoulders, rocking my hips slightly to adjust to the fullness. “Jungkook,” I gasped, my voice shaking. “You’re so deep.”

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands moving to guide me as I began to move. “Good girl. Take me just like that. You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent a shiver down my spine, and I picked up the pace, bouncing on his lap, riding him with a desperation that matched his own. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, mingling with our moans and the occasional broken gasp of my name from his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained as his hands gripped my hips tightly, helping me move faster. “You’re gonna make me lose it. You’re so fucking perfect. So good to me.”

“Jungkook,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure built low in my belly. “I-I’m close.”

“Me too,” he growled, his hips thrusting up to meet mine as his pace turned erratic. His dark eyes locked on mine, his voice soft but commanding. “Milk me, baby. Let me feel you. I’ll fill you up, yeah?”

“Yes,” I cried out, my voice desperate. “Fill me up, Jungkook. Please. I want it. I want all of you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his grip on me tightening as he slammed into me one last time, holding me down as his release hit. “That’s it, baby. Milk me. Fuck, you’re so good.”

The sensation of him filling me sent me over the edge, my body clenching around him as my orgasm crashed over me in waves. I cried out his name, my movements faltering as he held me close, his lips pressing against my neck as we both trembled through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our breaths mingling as we clung to each other. His hands stroked my back, his lips brushing softly against my shoulder as he whispered, “three words, eight letters. I mean it.”

“Three words, eight letters. I mean it more.” I murmured, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him, my heart racing as the limo drove us to my house.

[lesbianalanwake]

Severance S2E2:

--holy shit. I see why the season is 10 episodes instead of 9. two episodes to resolve the S1 finale and wind up to the pitch. there was so much legwork in this episode, and so much tension that I could barely sit still.

--I hope they paid Milchick a big overtime bonus in addition to his new salary!!! man did all that in 48 hours!!!

--Mark and Devon.... Mark being in denial about the possibility that Mark S could have been talking about Gemma, when we later see that it's been weighing on him heavily and he needed to talk to Cobel to confront it. it's such a small, small hope.... if he believes in the possibility that Gemma is alive, and it turns out that she is not, it would destroy him completely, and he's already come so close to destroying himself while grieving the first time. but Devon! Devon is so sharp! she knows her brother, and she glimpsed a younger, lighter version of her brother that she hasn't seen in a long time, and she clocked his tone and body language and everything about the situation correctly! and she can't live with the unanswered question of whether Gemma could be alive, because she misses her sister-in-law and misses who her brother used to be! she can't stop thinking about it while Mark is doing everything in his power to not think about it! aaaaah!

--Cobel bookending this episode by being as unhinged and mysterious as ever. we don't even know if she accepted the advisory council position! what is she up to! the final scene is so fucking good because I was like "I bet she's thinking about hitting Mark with her car," and then she screams like a bat out of hell and almost does just that LMAO. and she's still telling him to quit, even though Lumon is doing something significant with Gemma and "Cold Harbor," enough that they need Mark back to finish it, and Cobel knows what it is and wants something from it, and now Mark knows for sure that Gemma is alive because he needed to look Cobel in the eye and ask. I love their weird fucking dynamic. she's so fucking mad at Lumon, but maybe cares about Mark in her own unhinged way?? and his feelings were HURT that she lied to him because he went straight for the only thing that could maybe hurt her feelings a little bit in turn ("I ate your shitty fucking cookies").

--makes me hope that Cobel gets a "villain turned weird ally" arc, and that Milchick is right behind her, because he's already getting a taste of how thankless the severed floor manager position is, getting no guidance beyond "let Kier guide your heart" and having to defend the feat he managed to pull together in 48 hours.

--which brings me to: HELENA. HELENAAA. class traitor arc INCOMING. the "behind the scenes" bit reinforced this too: she is living in a gilded cage (the shot of her on the top floor with the windows acting as bars!) and seeing that her innie of all people gets affection and respect in a way that she never has, and she is enthralled. you can do it baby! I hope you kill your dad!

- I'm glad they clarified that the correct term for complex innie/outie romantic dynamics is "throuple" because Mark/Helly is finally compelling. by itself = eh. as part of Helena's development and possibly some kind of villainous fixation that can't possibly end well no matter how you slice it because Mark/Mark S is also going through a throuple thing with his dead wife who is actually alive, and don't think I've forgotten whatever thing that Helena and Milchick had going on in S1 (which is the only thing I was missing from this ep and hope they revisit) = now we're cooking with gas. not to mention Burt spying on Irving! throuples for days.

--tentatively believing that it really is Helena down there, and they sent her to play the part of Helly R to keep Mark complacent so that Cold Harbor gets finished, because Helly is too much of an unpredictable wild card but Helena is controllable (for now!). which would add another juicy flavor to Mark/Helly. they really did it, they really made the ship pop.

--it is so, so compelling how innies/outies are opposites. Helly is bold and rebellious, Helena is calm and subservient. Mark S is sweet and mild-mannered, Mark is cold and sarcastic. Dylan G is confident and driven, Dylan George is nervous and hesitant. Irving B is obedient and proper, Irving Bailiff is defiant and unconventional. and yet! bits of the other shine through, and we see it more and more, and they're slowly but surely on a collision course.

--the Good Doors interviewer says "you remind me of myself" and looks like Dylan, and I love this show because I can't tell if it's to continue the visual motif of doubling/reflections and show a "what could have been" path for Dylan, or if it's because there is truly something FUCKED going on across this whole town. or both.

--Lumon is in such a precarious position. they're a major global corporation, and they have politicians in their pocket, but there is also a lot of hostility and mistrust from the general public, enough to make a severed employee unhireable. (which further entraps their employees and keeps them dependent on Lumon.... Dylan. 😭) Lumon has to walk a fine line to continue, uh, whatever it is they're doing, without turning the public against them in a way that they couldn't recover from, hence the placating attempts at damage control. but all it would take would be a sufficiently strong spark to light that powder keg.

--because like, man.... I hope Helena and Cobel and Milchick all get their "fuck you Lumon" arcs. god. so many threads poised to unravel out of control and snap with the right push because the line that Lumon is walking is THIN. they do the most to try to control their severed employees, but they seem to take their non-severed employees for granted, and I'm wondering if that will be their undoing.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Sparkling and Enticing

Avoiding eye contact was my default mode. The mental strength needed to keep my eyes locked with another person, was immense. My parents had told me from an early age, that it was insolent to look people in the eye for more than three seconds. You should barely recognise the person’s eye colour.

Being a British male, this was not such a difficult thing to manage. My mates had had pretty much the same upbringing as me, and the girls were still too shy to stare for any amount of time.

In the army, we were commanded to keep our eyes to ourselves, to look straight ahead when a senior officer addressed us. Staring into an officer’s eyes unbidden, could lead to unpleasant punishments. 

After my injury, lying in my hospital bed, I suddenly longed for a pair of gentle eyes to reassure me of my worth as a human being. I knew that my life had changed completely, and I would never be a surgeon again. Alas, the nurses were too stressed to offer me any comfort. I have never felt so alone in my life.

Back in the grey capital of England, I thought more about my gun than my future. Nothing happened to me. The excitement I had experienced in Afghanistan, had been taken from me. London was no war zone. It was just a dull city.

Imagine my surprise when a sun started to shine on an ordinary January day. Not literally, mind you. No, it was a man. An extraordinary man. Sherlock Holmes.

He didn’t meet my eyes at all in the first minutes in the lab at Barts. But just before he left, his eyes bored into me like the blinding sun. The gaze was razor-sharp. It detected everything, and I found I didn’t want to hide anymore.

I thought his eyes were blue, but as his intense gaze locked with mine, while the yarders searched our flat for drugs, I glimpsed a green colour with speckles of gold as well. The expected panic, the urge to look away, never appeared. Instead, I felt an urge to drown myself in those pools of sea green and gold.

On our second dinner at Angelo’s, which was also our first date, the candle brought out the gold in his eyes. I could write poems about them. Perhaps someday I will.

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[asmutwriter]

Birthday Spice (Dean x f!reader)

DESCRIPTION: Its Dean's birthday so you decide to help him celebrate properly

A/N - Happy birthday Dean! Story has not been proof read yet

WORD COUNT: 1949

One Shots / 'You Saved Me'

WARNINGS: established relationship, porn with very little plot, sub Dean, dom reader, creampie, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, oral (m recieving), I will add more if I need too after I proof read it

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story is based after the events of my series 'You Saved Me' (a Supernatural fan fiction) which I'd recommend reading before or after reading this

Your eyes keep glancing towards the clock on the wall. You were in your pub downstairs. You had already put the sign up to say that you were closed however you had a few customers still in. Enjoying the last of their meals and drinks. You couldnt throw them out. Well... It was your pub so you techinacly could but it seems a little harsh.

Although Dean had stopped hunting full time he still enjoyed going and getting his hands dirty every now and then. Today was one of those days. He was on a hunt with Sam. He said he'd be back about 8 tonight. The clock currently showed 7:42 and you really wanted to make sure everything was ready for when he got back. About ten minutes pass. You assume the last customer got the hint as you not so subtly were staring at them. Giving you eight minutes to get ready. Not that you expected Dean to be early.

You wear your clean silm dressing gown. Eyes glued to the door. Waiting. Watching. Hearing the door downstairs click open. The distant voice of Dean probably saying goodbye to Sam. A few moments pass. The door to your mian home click open you see Dean enter. You stand up. Going to the end of the hallway. Arms keeping the silk material wrapped around you. Dean smiles as he meets your eyes.

"Hey Kat" he shuts the door behind him. Kicking his shoes off and taking off his denim jacket. HAnging it up. He turns to look back at you. He wasnt a fussy man but you staying silent was unusual. Normally youd be showering him with affection. Especially during days you hadnt seen him. Once his eyes go back to yours you take a small breath. Moving your hands you let the silk of your dressing down fall to the floor.

Revealing your red wrap around bra tied in the front with a bow. A matching red thong. Little red garter belts wrapped around your thighs. Keeping up your white net stockings. His eyes grow wide. Going straight to your chest. He coughs slightly. Bringing a hand to the front of his jeans as he tries adjusting himself.

"You- you umm... you look good. Is this- I dont recognise this?" You walk down the hallway space. Talking as you do.

"I heard that it was your birthday today. So I wanted to surprise you with a little gift". You get to him. Placing your hands on his chest before pushing them up. Over his shoulders. WRapping your arms around his neck. He only nods in repsonse. His hands instincitvly going to your hips. You go on your tiptoes. Brushing your lips over his as you keep contact with his eyes.

"Do you like your present?"

"Very much"

"Do you want to unwrap it?" you smile. Moving a hand from his neck. Gently taking one of his from your hip. Placing it to the bow resting kindly between your boobs.

"Fuck" he mutters. "Please". You smile. Feeling him pull the fabric. Letting your chest be free. Hes seen your boobs so many times. He can never get over how perfet they look. His eyes go down. Staring at them. "What- What about the girls?" He asks. Obviously not wanting to start something he'll have to finish early due to your daughters.

"Dont worry about them. They arent here tongiht". You bring a hand round to gently cup his cheek. "Im all yours". With that he crashes his lips to yours. Hands going to your hips as he lifts you up. WRapping your legs around his wast as he spares no time making his way t the bedroom. He oh so carefully places you to lie on the bed. He lips go from yours to your neck. Hands coming up and kneeding your bare breasts. His mouth trailing down. Taking one of your nipples between his soft lips.

You give a soft sigh. Hands going to his hair. Rutting your hips aganst him. You give into the feel of his mouth and rough hands for a few minutes. Feeling him suck and pull at your breasts. Tugging his hair you hear his mouth leave your nipple with a soft plop. Bringing his lips back to yours. Mouths exploring one another as he move over you. You wrap your legs around his waist. pulling him close to you. Pushing against him so he sits up. Your legs still around his body as he sits on the bed. You move your lips from his. An inch between you.

"Lie down". You quietly order him. He doesnt hesitate. Quickly lying don on the bed. You kneeling beside him. You run your hand up his chest. His eyes watching you with anticipation. You bring both your hands to the bottom of his shirt. Pulling it up and over his head. Tossing it onto the flor. Your hands cold against his warm skin. He flinches slightly. A soft grunt coming from his lips as you place your icy hands onto his stomach. Smiling down at him as he looks up at you. Arching your fingers to drag the blunts of your nails down his torso.

Getting to his jeans you are slow as you undo his belt. Even slower when you unbutton and pull down the zip of his jeans. Taking the tops of them and pulling them down the lenght of his legs. It takes a lot of strenght to not moan as you see his hard cock through his boxers. Biting your bottom lip. Hand going and wrapping around his length. Squeezing it.

"fuck" he mutters. His head titlign back before going back to watch you. "Please Kat". You smile. Leaning down as you gently kiss him. Hand rubbing him through the fabric. Smile growing as yo feel soft grunts escape into your mouth.

"Do you want my mouth?" you kiss his lips. Eyes still on his as you ask the questions. "Or my cunt?" His breath hitches. Eyes darting to your lips.

"Both? Please" a light smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. "It is my birthday after all". You give a small chuckle. Even when he was putty in your hands he still would wear that cocky grin. You kiss him again. Then his neck. Chest. Down his torso. Kissing the waistband of his boxers. Delicate hands going to the tops of them. Pulling them down his legs. Forgetting them on the floor with the rest of his clothes. His hard cock on full display.

You take it in your hand. Starting to fist his dick. He shudders out a breath. You move down the bed. Able to bend so you can easily tale him into your mouth. You sraddling one of his legs as you gently kiss his tip. Eyes glancing to his pretty face. His eyes fluttered shut as you slowly start to tease him. Kissing along the side of it. Soft. Gentle. Licking a stripe up it before gently planting a kiss to the tip. You wrap your lips around him. Lowering yourself down onto his length. going until you feel it hit the back of your throat. Your nose hitting his pelvis.

"Fucking helll" he moans. His hand going straight to your hair. Gripping it harshly. You humm around him. Starting to bob your head up and down onto him. With his help of his hand he sets a pace for you. His hips meeting your mouth in a steady thrust. Matching your speed. Ears filled with the sound of him making contact with your throat and his delicious moans. You can hep but start to grind your core against his leg. Only slightly. Enough to try and ease some of the friction that had appeared between your thighs.

You could feel him twitch under you. His lenght starting to twitch in your mouth. He lets out a moan. The hand firmly in your hair pulls you from him. A trail of spit connecting the two of you. His breathing is heavy. Eyes shut. You wipe at your lip with your thumb. Your slight movement making his drop your hair. You move to the end of the bed. Shimmying your underwear off. Climbing back onto him. Sitting a top his thighs.

His eyes flick open. Hands going to your hips as he meets your gaze. "You want to cum inside me?" He nods. Eagerly looking up at you. You smile. Leaning over him as you plant a gentle kiss to his lips. Moving back up. You go up onto your knees. Steadying yourself onto his stomach. His hands help keep you balanced as you line yourself up to his hard lenght. One of your hands wraps around it. Easily finding your hole with his tip. Slowly lowering yourself down onto his girth.

His eyes focused on where the two of you meet. His breathing hitches as you rest on him. SMiling at the feeling of him fully inside you. Like your body is meant for him. You start to move. Leaning forward onto his stomach as you start to slowly glide your body up and down onto his. A drawn out moan leaving your lips at the feeling. "Shit" he shakily says. Hands gripping at your thighs. Helping you bounce on his cock.

"Feels so good" you mumble. Tilting your head to the side. Shutting your eyes. Focusing on getting him off. This was his day after all. That didnt stop him from wanting to please. One of his hands moves. Going from your hip to your core. Thumb finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles onto it. "Fuck!" You make a couple more movements. Feeling your rythm start to falter. Pushing yourself through despite your legs wanting to give out under you. Your determination making you have harsher strokes. Making him get closer with each movement.

"Kat..." he moans. A silent question.

"I want to feel your cum insdie me". With those words he brings you harshly down onto him. Both hands refocusing on your hips to hold you in place. Feeling the familiar feeling of his load shooting inside of your walls. You let out a stuttered moan. A gleeful smile creeping over your face.

You open your eyes. Looking down at the beautiful man beneath you. The one you get to call 'yours'. Hsi green eyes finding yours. His smile cocky. Of course. You lean forward. Kissing his lips. Wiping that cute smile from his face. His arms wrap around your frame. Holding you close to him. Kissing your forehead before you rest you head down onto his chest. Hand coming and resting beside your face as you shut your eyes. His voice is soft in the quiet room after a few minutes

"We should move and get cleaned up". You shake your head.

"Comfy"

"If I stay inside of you I'll get hard again and we'll have to do that again". You tilt your head to look up at him. His mimicing yours downwards.

"Would that be a bad thing?" a smirk taunts your face.

"No but I need stamina. And I know theres a pie in the fridge with my name on it" You laugh. Moving so you can plant your lips to his.

"I love you Dean". He smiles. Kissing you again.

"I love you". Quickly kissing you one more time before he sits up. You wrap your limbs around him. His strong arm holding you close to him as he moves from the bed. Your naked bodies still connected as he makes his way to the kitchen. Opening the frideg and finding the second love of his life - pie.

TAGS: @sojuxxi

[cawslew]

pitching a random hc here, do you think that dazai and atsushi would get into the habit of giving each other gifts? i feel like dazai would give atsushi things because atsushi is too unused to just having more than the bare minimum and he would keep everything. then he feels he needs to return the favor and he thinks about things to give dazai that dazai keeps to fill his normally kind of empty (andpresumablylifeless) room. atsushi definitely keeps everything he's given (as his outfit is everything the ada prepared for him despite some items being redundant), but i feel like dazai doesn't try to keep anything. but he can't really reject the sincerity of atsushi's gift, so he has to keep it (and i think it's really funny that he would have to content with physical proof that people do care for him because he can't bring himself to throw it away)

OOOOH, I do love the idea! It would fit their personalities (definitely I'm not clinging to that one scene of Wan... It definitely isn't super important to me.)

Dazai would 100% be the type to start it, casually. Probably even without realizing fully how much it would mean to Atsushi (He knew it would be important to him but not on such a big scale). He might even give him practical things at first, like a nicer notebook, a scarf for winter, or, you know, small silly things, like a cat charm that he's trying to convince Atsushi will ward off bad luck.

But we know Atsushi didn’t get to have stuff in his childhood... It always resulted in punishments, so he definitely has to adjust to the concept of receiving gifts and people caring for him. So everything he would get from Dazai would feel important. He would treasure it all, even if he calls out Dazai for trying to trick him with the silly little charm, he would keep it in his pocket at all times. Or use the notebook until it’s full, even if it’s a cheap one.

But like you said, Atsushi would definitely feel obliged to reciprocate, and agonize over what to get for a man like Dazai 😭 So he would want to be thoughtful, and because of that, he would start to observe Dazai even more, focus on the things that the other would use or need. Of course, Dazai doesn’t keep much around, avoiding owning anything for too long or having too much, most likely avoiding any sentimentality whenever possible... So he is put in a bit of a predicament when Atsushi gives him something. It’s just impossible to reject it, since the other put so much thought and sincerity behind that gesture. Like, imagine Atsushi gifting him something simple, like a well-made pen with a note saying, “I noticed you’re always borrowing Kunikida’s.” Or even something impractical but heartfelt.

Dazai would try to justify why he shouldn’t keep that stuff ("I don’t need another pen, Atsushi, I can just use Kunikida’s"), but in the end, he will cave and keep it. Over time, he’d probably find himself unable to throw these things away, no matter how small or insignificant they might seem. At some point, he would need to confront the fact that Atsushi genuinely cares for him. It would be physical evidence of their connection, which is something Dazai is very unused to (knowing how his previous relationships with other people looked like). Maybe at first he tucks the gifts away in drawers or keeps them out of sight, but eventually, they start filling his space and straight up force him to keep them in sight.

It do be a little bit of a bittersweet and funny image to me. Just Atsushi loving everything and keeping it because it gives him comfort... Whilst Dazai is the opposite of that spectrum, reluctantly keeping little gifts because he can’t bring himself to reject the sincerity, but at the same time being scared of such emotions. Gold headcanon moment fr.

[straightouttherosebush]

Genshin Men in a Relationship III

CHARACTERS: Itto, Gorou, Kazuha, Albedo

CONTENT WARNING: AFAB/Female! Reader (though it's generally kind of gender neutral? this is just my intended audience ig,) other than that everything should be pretty fluffy! :D

ARATAKI ITTO

Love Language: Quality Time

He/Him, Bisexual (male lean)

Will always try to find opportunities to annoy spend time with you! He will "accidentally" run into you and play it off as a coincidence.

Also makes a habit of sneaking up on and scare his partner.

Will annoy the ever loving fuck out of you when you don't show him attention or will try to distract you when you're focused.

He either needs to be with someone super serious or someone who matches his freak on catastrophic levels. Bonus if either one is shorter than him.

Favorite ways to spend time with you are... him sitting around while watching you do things (and being bored and/or enamored with you the whole time,) beetle fights, hunting for said beetles, and committing petty crimes and running away.

With a short s/o, he would LOVE carrying them on his shoulders.

GENERAL GOROU

Love Language: Physical Touch

He/Him, Questioning (female lean, if not straight)

He is such a cutie patootie, but people speak down to him in a patronizing way or tease him pretty often. That said, having someone finally treat him like an equal is something he attaches himself.

He is a soldier (technically general, but hear me out,) and he needs someone who is a leader. Someone sure of themselves and someone that he can easily collaborate with.

Tall, dominant (bonus if muscular) people are his type.

His literal job is to develop strategic plans and give orders, so not only does the strategizing transfer into him planning outings and household happenings, but he also likes to sometimes not have to plan things. That said, he's a rather submissive partner.

At first, he's really scared to let you touch his ears/tail, but as soon as he's comfortable? Having his head pet is one of his favorite things ever.

He can also be really cuddly and would attempt to big spoon his partner with his short ass

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Love Language: Quality Time

He/Him, Pansexual (no real lean, if he vibes with someone he vibes with someone.)

It's giving... "let's sit under a tree and admire the swaying and floating of the leaves, while the brisk autumn air brushes against our faces and our worries float off into the horizon."

Would also love travelling with his partner, "going where the wind takes [you both]," so to speak.

He is everyone whose love language is "words of affirmations"'s dream man, because the poems he would both write and make up on the spot for you.

He is and always has been a hopeless romantic.

He especially cherishes quality time because he learned to value peoples' presences and be grateful for what time he does have. He wants to make the most of every second. Not in a rambunctious, over-the-top way like our Oni friend, but in a calm way with meaning in every action.

Has the potential to be a househusband. Idk just a thought.

ALBEDO

Love Language: Acts of Service

He/They/It, Asexual

Generally really receptive to being taken care of, even if he insists it isn't necessary.

Especially loves when his partner makes their way all the way out to Dragonspine to bring him supplies he needs or long-lasting foods/ingredients to use during his long stays.

He also appreciates his partner keeping things organized around his alchemical lab and any help they give in his research.

He will give back to you too by giving you little trinkets or harmless samples from his escapades in the mountains and elsewhere.

Rarely comes home, but feels unspeakable joy when he is able to. Seeing you, late at night, bundled up and asleep, makes him feel warm and fuzzy, in contrast to his usual environment. You do so much for everyone around you, you deserve rest.

Alright, everyone. Soooo here's the thing with this series. I started it years ago (literally finished the first part while waiting for work to start one day,) and I'm giving all of it a rewrite, new look, and hopefully completion! I hope you guys liked this because I know I enjoyed writing fluff for a change.

So long Windblumes, ROSEY ♡

♡MASTERLIST HERE♡

Ⓒ Written by Rosey, please do not copy/repost/translate.♡

[steven-g-rogers]

Despite not expecting Tony to move so quickly, Steve had clocked the blows before they happened.  He didn’t react though.  He wanted Tony to try and get this out.  Not just the physical, but all of it.  He let him spit his each word uninterrupted, even if his pain had been poisoned by an inaccurate lens.  He felt what he felt and he needed to be heard.

The hits to his chest and side were fine.  He’d taken harder and worse plenty of times.  The kick to the balls however, that had doubled him over and he stumbled back with a soft grunt, his hands going straight to his crotch.

He took a second for the pain to subside as he tried to think of the best way to formulate his response.  He didn’t want to invalidate Tony.  And Tony had said he didn’t want apologies. 

He raised his hands.  Tony had said he wanted to spar, so he’d give him that.  “You ready?” he asked.

When he was sure that Tony was ready to spar he began to throw some jabs at him, always making sure the genius was able to catch or deflect the blows.  “Tony.  I am going to say again, I wasn’t hiding it from you.  I admit, selfishly, I considered it.  Honestly, I do wonder if I did the right thing.  What good has knowing done you?  Your parents aren’t any more alive because you know they were killed over having an accident.  I’m in the process of completely erasing the organization that killed them.  All telling you has done is hurt you.  But - I told you.  I only found out a month before I told you about it.  It took time for me to process the information, to decide what the implications of that was, and to look for the right moment to tell you.  Are you seriously telling me, if our roles were reversed you would have told me immediately?  I - wouldn’t - believe - you.”  Each word of the last sentence was dotted with a series of harder blows that backed Tony up against the wall. 

Steve’s anger of the situation and Tony’s reaction to it was starting to get the better of the supersoldier.  He towered over the man, his face getting close to the mechanics as he continued to trade jabs.  “You said it yourself we could have been friends.  We weren’t though, were we?  We were two almost strangers who worked together while arguing constantly and then we went in different directions and on my own mission, I discovered a man - my best friend from childhood - hadn’t died - something I had been grieving and blaming myself for since 1942.  No. Instead it was much worse.  Because of me, that friend had been tortured for sixty years, had his mind wiped and was turned into a weapon for the same organization that we’d been fighting when he died.  And not only that, he’d been forced to kill a man, we were both good friends with.”

He stopped, breathing heavily, his eyes shining with unshed tears, his face so close to Tony’s that he could taste his breath.  “I’m sorry that I chose the moment when I realized we could actually be friends - to be …” What, Steve? More than that? “... close.  I’m sorry I had other things to process before I got to you. I’m sorry that I thought there might be a perfect moment to tell you.  I’m sorry that not every thought I had was about you and how you’d take it.  But I swear some of them were.  Some of them were about saving you the pain completely.  But either way - I did it.  I hurt you.  So now what?  How do I fix it?” 

"You want to know how I'm feeling?" Ha, wasn't that the question of the hour and Tony himself didn't even know how to answer that properly. Everything in his head was a muddled mess (more so than usual) and it rapidly switched from anger to sadness quicker than he could keep up with. "I feel like shit, Cap." Words were spat out like venom, poised to hurt and maim as part of him hoped to verbally wound the older Avenger for his transgressions.

"I feel betrayed by someone I was hoping was a friend," A forceful right-hook was sent in the direction of the blond's chest to punctuate his sentence. "-not just a teammate or a colleague but a person I could trust." Another quick jab with his other hand balled into a tight fist went for his side, followed up by a knee to the balls. A dirty trick but one that the Iron Man had no regrets doing as any pain he could cause wasn't going to even be anywhere close to how he himself felt because of Steve's mistrust of him but it still felt like a step towards making them even. "I would have helped you with your friend if you fucking trusted me, Rogers. But you assumed the worst and hid shit."