#i hope the kid gets his ass handed to him

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

Last Christmas, I Gave You My A**

❅ summary: Last year, Gojo Satoru had been a good boy. Well, he’d at least tried. And in return, you gave him the one thing he’d been wanting for a long time. Your ass. That Christmas night was unforgettable for both of you, and you’d promised him that if he could manage to be a good boy again this year, you’d gladly give him what he wanted once more. But could your boyfriend really pull it off? Would he follow to the rules and earn his “dream ass” this Christmas, or would he mess things up like always and end up on the naughty list?

❅ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

❅ word count: 5.1k

❅ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 naughty gojo is trying to be a good boy for reader, mature language, gojo is doing the "jingle bell rock dance," mean girls fan gojo, modern au, teasing, kissing, santa-elf roleplaying, a very slight bdsm (reader is the dom hehe), oral sex (only f receiving because gojo been a naughty boy this year!), anal fingering, using handcuffs, cowgirl, unprotected sex, anal sex, needy gojo (i love when men beg), pussydrunk gojo

❅ a little note: Welcome to my first story from my Christmas series! This is probably the funniest one among them. The idea of making Gojo dance was too tempting, and this is what came out of it. I hope there aren't any mistakes. Even though I've checked, sometimes I can't see them. Other than that, hope you enjoy it! If you’d like to check out the summaries of the other stories I’ll be writing, my Xmas Stories masterlist is here. Also, please comment if you you’ve been naughty or nice this year!

Entering December officially means it’s time to dive into Christmas preparations. You had a million tasks to handle, especially since you were dating a Christmas-obsessed boyfriend, making everything needlessly extra. Right now, you were planning this year’s Christmas.

Or rather, Gojo wasn’t even letting you speak.

“Alright, now that we’ve finalized the menu, let’s move on to this year’s tree decorating theme. Last year’s snow theme was fantastic, but we have to outdo ourselves every year,” your boyfriend said, scribbling ideas onto the notepad in front of him, completely lost in thought. You, on the other hand, were bored out of your mind, listening to him ramble. Suddenly, he looked up from the paper, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh, baby! I just had the most amazing idea!”

You chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Hmm, what’s on your mind?”

“I thought, why don’t we combine love and Christmas? We could do a red-themed tree! Oh, oh, oh! We could even paint the tree red! God, I’m such a genius,” Gojo declared as he started furiously jotting down his brilliant ideas.

“How exactly do you plan on painting the tree red, love?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s the easiest part. Just trust me. This year is going to be the best one yet,” he replied confidently.

When it came to Christmas, this man turned into a completely different person. Normally, Gojo couldn’t even be bothered to take notes, but during the holiday season, he meticulously planned every detail and somehow managed to assign you tasks in the most efficient way. If only every day could be Christmas.

“Well, now that we’ve somewhat handled the tree situation, it’s time for the most important task of all!” His gaze shifted to you, and a wide grin spread across his face.

Oh, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Toru, I already—”

“CHRISTMAS GIFTS!!!”

Oh, God… This man truly had no sense of subtlety when it came to gifts.

“You’re such a child, Toru.”

“Oh, come on, baby. Gifts are the best part of Christmas! And besides, you don’t have to be a kid to love presents.”

He wasn’t wrong at this one because you also got very happy when you received gifts.

Gojo’s smile grew even bigger as he looked at you with an excited twinkle in his eye. “So, what did you get me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Toru? If you had listened to me, I would’ve told you that I already got your gifts. You sent me your list a month ago.”

“Upsiee… Did I really?”

You rolled your eyes. This man had a way of driving you insane. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

“Come on, you know how long I’ve wanted the Super Mario Express Train LEGO set. Remember…”

“Oh, here we go again,” you muttered. He must have told you this story a thousand times by now. The even crazier part? You had been there to witness it firsthand.

That day, he stood in line for four hours just to get that train set. And because he was terrified of being alone, he dragged you along with him. When the doors finally opened, he grabbed your hand with one hand while shoving past children with the other. They had only stocked four of those sets, and according to Gojo’s calculations, there was only one left by the time he reached the shelf. Just as he grabbed the last box, a small child grabbed it at the same time.

You’d seen him lose his mind before, but that moment might have been the most terrifying. He shouted, “It’s mine you brat!” at the kid while you begged him not to fight with a child.

“And in the end, as you know, I let that little brat have it.” He crossed his arms, pouting. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you that day! Ever since then, every time I try to get the set, it’s always sold out. But luckily, my beautiful, perfect girlfriend must have found it for me, seeing as how she’s glaring at me to shut up right now.”

He was right again. His dramatics had made you desperate for him to stop talking.

“My bank account might’ve taken a little hit because of you,” you admitted. The list of gifts he’d sent you had definitely put a dent in your savings.

He waved dismissively. “I’m worth every penny, baby.”

He really was.

“You’re lucky that even tough you were naughty this year, I still got you those gifts.”

He got up from where he was sitting and came over to where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. “You know you like me being naughty.” He closed the distance, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Because if I were a good boy…” His lips trailed from your forehead to your cheek. “I wouldn’t fuck you in ways you couldn’t even dream of.” His lips moved to your neck, leaving you breathless.

“Toru…”

“Yes, baby?” he replied, his voice low.

Barely above a whisper, you managed, “Don’t tease me.”

Of course, he did the exact opposite, kissing and licking the softest spot on your neck. “What happens if I don’t? Do I get on the naughty list of the sexiest Santa in the world? If I know that Santa well, I think she’ll still give me whatever I want. Especially…” His large hands gripped your hips and gave them a soft squeeze. “The gift I want most.”

You obviously knew what he wanted most. Even on his gift list, he’d written, “MY DREAM ASS” surrounded by exclamation points and hearts. Could he make it any more obvious?

Last year, you’d tried anal for the first time. Honestly, in your three years together, you didn’t understand why you’d waited so long. Knowing how badly Gojo had wanted to fuck your ass, you’d given him the best Christmas gift of his life, even though he’d been a very naughty boy that year.

And my God, the two of you had the best sex of your lives.

You’d done it a few times since then, but Christmas was special to Gojo, and the sex you had on that day was always more passionate, especially when his big cock was stretching your tight asshole.

When you saw “your ass” at the top of his gift list this year, you’d laughed out loud. You knew he’d write it, but this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy for him to get it.

Because naughty kids couldn’t always win.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Toru.” You cupped your boyfriend’s face in your hands. “Rumor has it Santa won’t give you the gift you want most because you haven’t been a good boy.”

“Huh, nonsense! She always gives me what I want.”

You let go of his face and adopted a serious tone. “Careful, love. If you push your luck any further, not only will you miss out on your favorite gift, but you might not get anything else either!”

Finally realizing you were serious, Gojo’s eyes widened in shock. “W-What? Baby, please… You’re the most amazing, stunning, sexy Santa in the world with the softest, most perfect ass. You wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Try me.”

Dropping to his knees, he clasped your legs and pouted dramatically. “I can be good! Please, please! I’ll do anything you want. I don’t want to be a naughty boy anymore. I’ll do whatever Santa wants. All I want is the number one gift on my list.”

A victorious smirk spread across your face. Your plan was working perfectly. “Well, since you insist…” You pulled out a red piece of paper labeled “Gojo Satoru’s 4 Tasks for Being a Good Boy.” “You know I hadn’t given you my gift list yet.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared at the paper in your hand. “Yes, yes, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I don’t care how much it costs. Consider it done.”

You laughed at how clueless he was about what he was agreeing to. “I’m not sure these are exactly items to buy… but I’d say there’s plenty of work for you to do.” You handed the paper to Gojo, who eagerly unfolded it, only to have his jaw drop in disbelief.

“Baby, what is this?”

“Oh, I’m sure the title explains it, but if you can’t read—”

“Don’t worry, I can read just fine. But what the hell is this?”

The consequences of not being a good boy this year.

“Well, I thought about it, and as the most amazing, stunning, and sexy Santa in the world, I created a special fast-track good-boy program just for you. This way, even if you haven’t been good this year, you still have a chance to earn the gift you want most. Last year, you got it easy, but this year, you need to complete a few tasks to make your Santa happy.”

Still kneeling, Gojo stared at the list before slowly standing and looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“No. I just think you’ve gotten too used to getting everything your way.” Rising onto your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Remember this, Satoru: if you want to earn the most precious things, you have to be a good boy.”

When you pulled back, you caught sight of his flushed cheeks. No matter how dominant he usually was (especially in bed) your occasional moments of control never failed to fluster him. And you found it irresistibly cute.

“Sweetheart, did you really think a lot while preparing this list?” He glanced at the first item and read aloud: “Task 1: Apologize to the kid you fought with at the LEGO store.” His expression turned sour. “God, how am I supposed to find that kid? And there’s no way I’m apologizing to that little brat.”

“You’re lucky I ran into the kid and his mom when I was getting your LEGO set. Surprisingly, he remembered me and had a lot to say about you. After cursing you out, his mom insisted her son deserves a genuine apology.”

Gojo scoffed. “What a bitch.”

In a warning tone, you said, “Watch it, Satoru, or you won’t get what you want at all.”

Realizing his mistake, he looked at you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“Anyway, I took her number and promised you’d deliver a proper apology.”

“Fine. Give me your phone, and I’ll call her right—”

“Oh no. If you think a phone call will cut it, you’re dead wrong, Toru. I’ll send you her number, and you’ll arrange to meet them somewhere nice. Apologize to the kid properly—maybe buy him a LEGO set or treat them to a meal. It’s up to you. But by the end of the day, I want to hear from her that you’ve apologized appropriately.”

Gojo was not pleased. Apologizing was one of his least favorite things to do, and now he had to do it to the kid who took the LEGO set he wanted most.

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll apologize to that brat. But only… only for your ass.”

“That’s not the only task on the list, Toru.”

He rolled his eyes and read the second item: “Task 2: Take an unforgettable Christmas photo. Must include: 1. Gojo Satoru must be naked!!!! 2. Use a Polaroid camera. 3. Showcase a Christmas theme (Get creative ♡).” He smirked at you before continuing. “So, uh, what exactly is this photo going to be used for?”

This time, it was your turn to blush. “That’s… not important.”

Of course, you planned to use it for a little personal pleasure during lonely moments.

Gojo’s knowing laugh made your cheeks burn brighter, but he moved on to the next task: “Task 3: Perform the ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ dance from Mean Girls on Christmas Eve.”

“Lucky for you, I know how much you love Mean Girls. And I know you’ll blow that bitch Regina out of the water with your moves.”

“Damn right, baby. I’ll rock your world with my dace that night.” He gave you a quick kiss before reading the final task: “Task 4: Santa-elf roleplay. Costumes and props will be provided by Gojo Satoru’s amazing girlfriend.” Looking back at you with sparkling eyes, he said, “God, I’ve never wanted to be a good boy more in my life. I’m in. For the gift I want most, I’ll be the best boy Santa’s ever seen.”

“Alright, Gojo Satoru. Let the good-boy operation begin.”

“Hell yeah. Good boys are the best.”

Whether or not that was true would be revealed on Christmas.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Christmas Eve had arrived in the blink of an eye. You and your boyfriend had been preparing food together since morning. Over the years, it had become a tradition to celebrate Christmas Eve with dinner, followed by opening presents on Christmas morning and spending the rest of the day celebrating in bed.

That’s where the real Christmas magic happened.

Around 8 PM, after finishing dinner and before diving into your main Christmas fun, you thought some hot chocolate would be perfect. As you were preparing the drinks in the kitchen together, a warmth spread through you as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Your boyfriend’s familiar scent, mixed with his cologne, sent shivers down your spine.

“So, are you ready for my spectacular show?” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on your neck.

As you topped the mugs with marshmallows, you replied, “I think this might be the best Christmas night of my life.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you never forget it. Like I promised, I’m going to be a good boy.”

Gojo was really taking this seriously. He had already completed the first task successfully. Last week, after getting the number from you, he reached out to the mom of the kid he had fought with at the LEGO store and arranged to meet him to apologize. Somehow, by the end of that meeting, they had become buddies, and Gojo even brought the kid over to your house to show off his LEGO collection. You had no idea how that happened, but in the end, your boyfriend had gained a new friend.

“I have to admit, you really kept your word. And you even gained a new friend while trying to be a good boy.”

Gojo let go of your waist, took the mug you handed him, and began praising his new friend with excitement. “Baby, that kid is seriously cool. Okay, maybe not as cool as you, but I never thought I’d like him this much.”

Carrying your hot chocolates into the living room, you sat on the couch and took a small sip. Noticing Gojo’s gaze fixed on the gifts under the tree, you realized he was probably about to pounce on them if you didn’t stop him. “Toru, don’t even think about it! We always open gifts in the morning.”

Realizing his plan was foiled, Gojo gave you a pouty look. “But I want to open them. Especially the one I want the most.”

“Then finish your tasks, love.”

He took a deep breath before standing up and pulling something out of his pocket, trying to hide it from your view.

You knew what it was. Something you’d been dreaming of for a long time.

“Before I hand over this precious photo, I’d like to thank my best friend Suguru for helping me take it. He also helped wrap me in ribbon. Now, if you’re ready, on the count of three, I’ll show you the amazing photo you’ll be using for, well, your moments.”

“TORU!!!”

“1… 2… 3!” Excitedly, he flipped the polaroid photo toward you, leaving you speechless.

You knew you had a handsome boyfriend—Gojo was undeniably attractive. But this photo was on a whole new level.

He was wrapped in a large red ribbon, his hands and body elegantly tied. And yes, even his sizable cock had its own little red bow. On his face was that signature smirk, the one that screamed he knew exactly how sexy he was.

This might just be your favorite task yet.

“Judging by your reaction, I’d say you like it, baby.”

“I-I really do,” you stammered.

Gojo leaned in to press a long, wet kiss to your lips before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours. “Use it whenever you want. If you’d like, I can take a hundred more like this. I love being your gift.”

“Toru…”

“So, do I get my most desired gift after completing the last task?”

Overwhelmed by the moment, you closed your eyes before answering. “Yes. That was the plan, but did you forget your dance performance?”

Pulling back instantly, Gojo grinned. “Baby, get ready to watch the dance of your life. I’ve been secretly practicing every day while you were at work, and trust me, I’m better than that bitch Regina.”

His excitement made you smile. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

“Okay, okay, now go to our bedroom and stay there until I call you! Don’t come out until I say so!” He practically dragged you off the couch, pushing you into the bedroom before shutting the door and disappearing.

You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of performance he had planned. He was clearly taking this seriously. He really wanted your ass. Not that it would’ve mattered—you would’ve given it to him anyway. But making him work for it was just too entertaining.

Especially since you had some great plans for the final task.

About ten minutes later, you heard him call for you. Stepping out of the bedroom and into the living room, you noticed the lights were off, save for the glow of your Christmas tree (which, yes, he had actually painted red). Suddenly, music began playing, and Gojo appeared in the middle of the room.

As “Jingle Bell Rock” played, he started performing the exact dance from Mean Girls. From the girls’ outfits to the arm movements to the hip sways—everything was identical.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, and when Gojo caught sight of your joy, he smiled softly, clearly pleased to see you enjoying yourself.

Just like in the movie, the music suddenly cut out, only for Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything” to start playing. Abandoning all sexy moves, Gojo began doing ridiculous breakdance moves, leaving you doubled over with tears streaming down your face.

You were currently watching the world’s most absurd yet entertaining dance performance. Your boyfriend, dressed in a slutty Santa costume, was rolling around on the floor. Occasionally, his skirt would lift, revealing his boxers—an unexpected bonus to the show.

When the song ended, he struck a bizarre pose and froze. You burst into applause, running to him and jumping into his arms. Cupping his face, you pulled him into a feverish kiss.

You really loved this man. He was the only person who would do this for you. Not just to get the gift he wanted most, but if you looked him in the eyes and simply asked, he’d agree to anything. He could never say no to you.

As his arms wrapped around your waist, he pulled you even closer. Within seconds, you found yourself lying back on the couch as Gojo broke the kiss.

“Did you like it?” He rubbed his nose against yours, his warm breath grazing your lips.

“I loved it. It was incredible. That bitch Regina has so much to learn from you.”

“Damn right, yeah.” He pressed his lips back to yours, kissing you passionately, full of heat and excitement.

Lost in the moment, you let yourself be swept away, but then the thought of his next task broke through your haze. This time, you were the one to pull back from the kiss.

“T-Toru…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready for your final task?”

“The Santa-elf roleplay? Baby, I was born ready. I can’t wait to see your elf costume.”

Oh, it seemed he didn’t realize he’d be the elf.

“Toru, my love… I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to be the elf.”

“Excuse me?” He sat up abruptly, shocked.

“You heard me right.”

“But I’m already wearing the sexy Santa costume. I thought—”

You sat up from where you were lying, smirking mischievously at your boyfriend. “As the most beautiful, sexy Santa with the softest, ass in the world, if I’m going to give you the gift you want most, Satoru, I think I should be the one wearing this costume.”

You took his hand, nodding toward the hallway for him to follow.

His excited eyes locked on yours as you led him to your bedroom, and your heart pounded like it might burst out of your chest. You had never done something like this before. Normally, you loved letting him take control. But tonight, you were calling all the shots.

Once in the bedroom, you pulled out the elf costume you’d been hiding from him for weeks and handed it to him. “Go to the bathroom, change into this, and only come back when I call for you. The moment you walk into this room wearing that costume, you’ll be my little elf slave. So don’t even think about doing anything that might upset Santa. Got it?”

“Yes ma'am.” Gojo stared at you, mesmerized, before taking the elf costume and fake ears from your hands and heading to the bathroom. In the meantime, you took off your Christmas-themed pajamas and slipped into your sexy Santa costume. After putting on the hat, you lit a few new Christmas-themed candles to set the mood in the room.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you called out, “You can come in now.”

Within seconds, the door opened, and Gojo stepped into the room in the green elf costume, complete with the pointy ears. His eyes wandered from your chest, where the tight top accentuated your breasts, down to the skirt that barely covered your ass, and then to your legs.

You could already feel the heat of his gaze imagining all the ways he wanted to fuck you.

Standing next to the bed, you gestured for him to come closer. Like an obedient little elf, he followed your command and stood in front of you.

“I know how hard you’ve worked this year, my little elf. As you know, it’s Christmas Eve, and after midnight, we have gifts to deliver.” Your hands began tracing his chest. “But I also want to make sure my special elves get their rewards. As my best worker, it’s my duty to give you your gift.”

“I live to serve, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, what is the gift you want most, my little elf?”

Gojo swallowed hard. “I-I, uh…”

Your hands paused their movement and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. “You what? Answer me, or you won’t get what you want.”

“Your ass, ma’am,” he blurted out.

“My ass, huh? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

With an eager voice, he replied, “I was naughty this year, but I promise I’ll give your ass the best attention it’s ever had, ma’am.”

His answer made your already wet pussy throb even more. But before he could fuck your tight hole, you had something else in mind for his talented mouth.

“The best attention, huh? Can you give the same to my wet pussy?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.”

“Then get on your knees, my little elf.”

Without hesitation, your boyfriend dropped to his knees, looking up at you, waiting for his next command.

“Lift my skirt.”

His large hands found the hem of your skirt and slowly raised it, revealing your bare, glistening pussy. You knew he was internally battling to keep his composure.

“Do you want to taste it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice filled with longing.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently stroking it before giving your permission. “Then do it.”

Without wasting another second, Gojo buried his head between your legs and began licking you.

His tongue traced small circles around your clit, making your legs tremble with each pass. Your hands gripped his hair tighter, pulling him closer. You wanted more, needed his tongue to explore every inch of you.

“F-fuck… suck it!” Normally, you’d remember to say “please” because you knew how much he loved hearing it, but tonight, you were in control.

When Gojo’s lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue added pressure, you couldn’t help but let out a sharp cry. Each second he sucked, his tongue teasingly flicked against your most sensitive spot, pushing you closer to the edge.

“God… I didn’t know elves were this good with their tongues—AH, GOD, JUST LIKE THAT.”

When he slid his tongue into your pussy, your head fell back. Your hands tugged at his hair as his tongue moved in and out, making you crave his big cock even more.

“Stick your finger—your finger in my ass. Ugh… stretch it out before I let you fuck it. And don’t stop licking me.”

With a hot breath against your pussy, he replied, “As you wish, ma’am.”

His hand slid from your thigh to your ass, and he began circling your tight hole with his finger before slowly pushing it inside.

“Mhhhmph… fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations.

He didn’t let up. While his finger stretched your ass, his tongue continued working on your pussy, planting noisy kisses on your clit. When his tongue found your sweet spot again, he sucked hard, sending you spiraling toward your orgasm.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth… ugh, don’t stop—I’m so close!”

“Please, come in my mouth,” Gojo begged, his voice dripping with need.

A few more swipes of his tongue and a deep thrust of his finger pushed you over the edge. With a scream, you came hard into his mouth, your legs shaking as your climax overwhelmed you.

All you wanted now was to kiss him and feel his big cock inside you.

When he finally pulled his head back from between your legs, his face was glistening with your wetness. You pulled him up to you, crashing your lips against his. Satoru stayed still, letting you take the lead, not daring to do anything that might disrupt your control.

When you pulled back to speak, both your lips were slick from saliva and your juices. “Lie on the bed and put your hands above your head.”

He looked into your eyes and you saw the burning desire in his blue gaze. You knew how much he wanted this.

Without hesitation, he lay down on the bed, clasping his hands above his head. From the nightstand, you grabbed the Christmas-themed handcuffs you’d bought and secured his wrists to the headboard.

“Now you’re completely mine, my little elf slave.” You climbed on top of him, pulling down the green pants of his costume. “Remember, there’s no pleasure for you tonight. You were a bad boy this year, so the only thing you’re getting is my tight ass.”

Pulling his pants and boxers off, you grabbed his hard cock, running your fingers over the tip.

“F-fuck…” Gojo gasped, a string of curses leaving his lips.

In a sharp tone, you warned, “You don’t speak unless I give you permission.”

He nodded obediently, his lips sealed. Aligning your ass with his cock, you lifted your skirt and slowly lowered yourself onto him, letting out a loud moan as he stretched you open.

“I can’t even—God, I can’t even talk.” You paused for a moment to adjust before starting to move, rocking your hips up and down in small motions.

“You’ve been waiting for this all year, haven’t you? Now—ah, God, now take what you’ve been dreaming of.” you said, your voice breathy as your movements quickened.

“Y-yes, ma’am. You’re the best gift I could ever have,” Gojo groaned deeply.

“Yes, I’m the best gift—for you. Only I can give you this,” you panted, feeling the fullness of his cock inside you.

Every nerve in your body was alive, overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick cock stretching your ass. The sound of your ass slapping against him only spurred you to move faster. His balls hit against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Throwing your head back, you moved your hips even faster. “Are you close, my little elf?”

“Yes, ma’am… oh, so—so close,” he said, his voice strained, his eyes shut tight.

“Then be a good elf and—ah, God, come for me… come for me now!”

With a few final bounces, you felt his release fill you, the warmth spilling into you as you collapsed onto his chest.

Both of you were panting, your breaths uneven as you tried to come down from the high. After a few minutes of resting, you lifted your head to look at him, your mischievous but obedient boyfriend. “Merry Christmas, my love.” You kissed him softly, savoring the moment.

Gojo was still catching his breath. “To you too, baby. Luckily, Santa gave me the gift I wanted most. I think I might actually enjoy being a good boy.”

Your fingers gently stroked his cheeks as you chuckled. “You definitely deserved it. Santa would do anything for you.”

“And I’d do anything for her. Also, baby, I realized I get extra hard when you’re the one in control.”

“Oh, you liked it, huh?” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Yep. Let’s do this every year. But next year, I want to be Santa. This costume was so itchy.”

Your lips curled into a smile as you continued to leave small kisses on his cheek. “Deal.”

“In that case, untie me, and let’s put our pajamas back on and watch Mean Girls while drinking hot chocolate.” Mean Girls was probably your favorite movie as a couple. You watched it at least once a month.

While untying the cuffs, you said, “I don’t think the hot chocolate is hot anymore.”

Freed from the handcuffs, Gojo rubbed his wrists where the marks were. “Then I’ll just have something else that’s hot.”

“Like soup—HEY, TORU!” Before you could finish your sentence, you suddenly found yourself on your back as he climbed on top of you, grinning mischievously.

“Something better than soup.” As he lowered his head and made his way between your legs again, you realized you’d be staying in bed a little longer.

In that moment, you were reminded once again how much you loved him, whether he was good or naughty all year long.

But deep down, you’d always love him more when he was naughty.

gojo satoru art by @1004_shvn on X

santa hat divider by @strangergraphics

red line divider by @cxltbr1de

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, how would a dinner night with Queen Marika’s family go? What dishes does each demigod bring, what antics do they pull throughout the night, and who’s being forced to sit at the kid’s table?

*The room is silent save for the picking of food and the ticking of the clock. Marika sits at the head of the table, eye bloodshot and heavilly bagged as she waits, WAITS, for something to happen*

Radagon: ...So... Radahn... how's you latest campaign going?

Radahn: ...Where's Godfrey? I was told Godfrey would be here.

Radagon, putting his head in his hands: Son, I'm trying here.

Rykard: Sorry, dad, I don't think he can hear you over the sound of the fucking divorce papers.

Zoryas, a baby at the moment: Bleh! *clangs spoon against bowlk, wanting more pudding*

Rykard: One moment-

*Ranni takes the opportunity to scoop up baby Zoryas and cuddles her. Zoryas yawns and goes to sleep in Ranni's arms*

Tanith: How are you better at that than me, sister-in-law?

Ranni, look Radagon dead in the eye: MY mother showed me how. She's a good mother

Leonard, the horse, next to Radahn: Neigh!

Radahn: Good point, well made Leonard!

Miquella, at the kids table int he corner: Guys, can we please come to the main table? This plastic chair is hurting my ass.

Malenia, sitting with him in a chair that's comically too small: My legs are getting cramped.

Radahn: OBEY MY RESTRAINING ORDER YOU LITTLE CREEP!

Mohg, from his seat: MINE TOO!

Miquella: I SAID I WAS SORRY!

Messmer: THIS IS THE FAMILY YOU ABANDONED ME FOR, MOTHER?!'

Marika, her concentration finally breaking: I ABANDON A LOT OF FAMILY MEMBERS, MESSMER! YOU AREN'T SPECIAL

Godwyn, as the fight continues: One dinner. I'd like one dinner-

Melina: It's a fools hope, brother.

Morgott: ...Where is father, though?

Melina: I think he said something about catching the main course-

*the doors burst open. Godfrey, bare chested, carries two giant goats over either shoulder. Nepheli is beside him, also carrying a goat*

Godfrey: WE BRING THE MAIN COURSE!

Nepheli: FRESHLY SUPLEXED THIS MORNING!

Radahn: WOOOOOO!

Melina: There they are.

[acupofinkedblood]

Coil x reader [Training Went Wrong!]

Not: This is a draft because I’m feeling funny

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Everyone in the underground boxing ring has heard of the renowned Hellhound. To be able to clear out such Biografts and opponents without breaking too much of a sweat, it was almost common knowledge that this man is not to be taken lightly unless someone is certain that they can take him in a fight. The boxing ring is where he shines the brightest, roar of applauses and the victorious glory - they are all his to enjoy

You on the other hand, is the definition of a feeble wimp. If Coil was a wolf, then you are a chihuahua. Even though you can’t fight for shit, you still insist on attracting troubles at any give chance. Your fierce and vocal attitude is the perfect contrast to your fighting skill

And usually, Coil has to step in to drag you out of troubles or take things personally himself

It feels good to have your boyfriend back you up most of the time, but you don’t want your problems to be his problem. Gosh, it feels annoying when you are reminded that you have to rely on his strength to get your ass out of a tough situation. You don’t like it, that’s for sure

Even when Coil insists that it’s fine, you still figure a way to argue back. And then you come to the ultimate solution - to get your boyfriend, the infamous Hellhound, to teach you on how to defend yourself properly!

Coil is, as expected, unamused because he is more than aware how much of a shitty fighter you are. Hell, you probably trip on your step before you even launch a punch at him. And oh boy was he right

“Okay smartass,” he huffed, “Time’s up, and you haven’t been able to even punch me with all your strength. Are you learning to fight or to play catch?”

You bites back a sarcastic remark before catching your breath. Coil has a point, because on the SFOTH’s souls he can swear that a kid can fight better than you. He has seen some certain kids in Playground beating each other’s asses off, and the memory makes him baffled. But that’s just how he emphasizes your amateur skills

The differences in he and you is large. He has been trained within the ring, getting beaten up multiple times and beating the living shit out of his opponents on daily basis. Not to mention the Biografts that end up becoming scarps when they try to hunt him down. His current strength and physique is the fruit of how much he has been throwing himself in danger. And as for you, you look like someone who deal with paperwork most of the time

And look, as much as he finds it adorable when you wants to learn how to fight for yourself instead of having him deal with it, your limited strength really doesn’t help with the fact you are so inexperienced

“Hey, I got you to teach me how to learn, not poke fun of me, asshole”

“Well,” he shrugs, “I’m your asshole of a teacher, take it or leave it”

Coil can’t really take you serious, you just have to understand. He is really holding the urge to laugh the hell out of his throat when he sees your attempts of throwing a hit at him. He means it when calling you a chihuahua after all: All barks, no bites. But hey, he means that in an affectionate way

On the other hand, you are not having it

“Listen here you fuck—!”

Without a further warning, you pounce onto him with frustration — which is, again, another poor attempt of yours to get him — hoping that it will work somehow. It catches him off guard. Even when you’re already exhausted, that attitude of yours doesn’t seem to falter at all. Yet being someone with professional skills, Coil can easily flip you up and throw you onto his shoulder

It’s almost comical, how you keep squirming and wriggling out of his grasp like a fish that just gets out of the water. Your vivid vocabularies definitely make the situation even more amusing for Coil. Heck, he only needs one hand to keep you in place on his shoulder

“Alright alright, you glorified chihuahua of a princess,” Coil barks out a laugh, “That’s it for today. If we keep this up any longer, you might as well kiss the ground before you can fight like me”

A playful smack made its way to your ass, which causes you to yelp slightly. Knowing that your effort of struggling will lead to nowhere, you begrudgingly accept your fate as you stay there on Coil’s shoulder

”I’m going to bite your ass”

“You know damn well I enjoy that shit. Now c’mon, let’s get back”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: I was writing an essay while I wrote this and what the duck did I just write

[bagheerita]

#ooh this is a hot take#bc on one hand I do actually believe that tain loves him in his own fucked up way#which is why hes so hard on him. i mean he literally risked his career and reputaion to send him to bamarren#he really did want the best for him. but hes so fucked up himself that he really cant be a parent#i love his ‘night people’ speech bc thats really the only time hes ever honest or straight with garak#and that bit about the riding hound tells me he absolutely loved garak. he obviously loves mila very much#but on the other hand garak never felt loved or accepted or like his dad was proud of him. he was never a father to him.#and afterall its tains fault that garak turned out the way he did. sentimental and emotional and short sighted#obviously he had no choice but to have tolan raise him but he was more of a father to him than tain ever could be.#so of course he takes after him. like tain did this to himself and he did it to garak.#theres just so much pain and disapointment and blame between the two of them#they both made mistakes. they even both deserve some grace. the big differance is that garak was just a kid. this was done to him.#even if tain didnt mean to. even if he had the best of intentions. intentions arent worth much when compared to actions and outcomes#also… I bet your right about tain being this fuckin close to just being like yk what. idc. join a cult be a gardener idfc#but he loved him. which is why he never gave up on him until the disspointment was too great. and he was angry and hurt#the humiliation of exile is so much worse than execution. ts was personal#it was so cruel bc he loved him so much and was so hurt

@codenameregnar I wanted to thank you, because I've been thinking about your tags for months now.

My initial instinctive reaction to the idea that Tain actually loved Garak was fucking no way. I personally think Tain loves no one but himself, and therefore loves only the mirror that he thinks he can carve in Garak. But I swallowed my hasty words and forced myself to get to some Tain episodes in my rewatch first and reexamine the evidence.

To me, selflessness is a main component of love, placing someone else's needs ahead of your own, and I don't believe Tain has ever been selfless in his entire life and is therefore incapable of love. I personally don't think he even really loves Cardassia, except when it's a reflection of himself and his own ideals.

But the other main component of love, to my mind, is vulnerability. And Tain does allow himself to be vulnerable around Garak. So, yeah, in his own fucked up way, I guess Tain does love Garak. (For what it's worth, because love is neither a be-all-end-all or an obligation, despite what the writers of DS9 want to promote.)

I also really liked your point that the reason Tain never gives up on Garak being a part of the Order is that he does love him, and wants to keep giving him opportunities to prove that he can do better. He never wants Garak to die: even when Tain feels ultimately betrayed and hurt, Garak is exiled instead of killed because if he's alive he can always have another chance to learn to be better; and Tain gives Julian whatever he needs in "The Wire." If he says it's only because living is a punishment, well he is a noted liar and teacher of liars; and also the truth in the lie is that it is a punishment that part of him hopes Garak will learn from and return from, stronger. Even when he sends the assassin in "Improbable Cause" (I mean I think he's pretty well gone on being too up his own ass at that point but) I feel like it was really just another test: that he knew it wouldn't work unless Garak was already fallen too far from what he could have been. And I guess he was right, because Garak saw the assassin coming, but Tain didn't see Changeling-Lovok coming.

So I read A Stitch in Time and one result of that which I was certainly not expecting was that I feel so much sympathy for Enabran Tain. Garak's life is a tragedy, but Tain's is a fucking black comedy.

I mean, he's a terrible person and an absolute shitbag, but can you imagine? You have this kid. You go to all the trouble of arranging for him to be raised in a family situation where he won't be rejected from society for being your bastard. You get him into the nicest indoctrination school where he can hobnob with plenty of uppercrust kids. You get him a job in your Order and all the proper training. And he's actually, like, really good at it. But he has this fatal flaw of being completely incapable of not making stupid, short-sighted, emotional decisions.

A scene I imagine has to have happened just prior to Garak and Tain's confrontation at the end of part II:

Like goddamn. When Tain asked "what's your plan for getting rid of her husband?" and Garak's just like "plan what plan." Dude. I'M disappointed, I can only imagine the guy who's job it is to know and plan for everything isn't at least as disappointed.

I know he didn't actually, but do you think there was ever a time when Tain wanted to be like, You know what. Just go back to Tolan and become a gardener. Join that illegal hippie cult. It's fine.

[libertyreads]

😆 Yeah right.

[umilily]

gotta say, watching the so called career of this guy who went to school with me, decided to become an influencer and has been scamming people with his esoteric bullshit for years, crumble over fucking his “besties” ex, was not on my bingo for this year, but it’s the most entertaining shit i’ve witnessed in ages.

[hauntingblue]

I love how when zoro is left alone he just gets lost and drinks. Amazing. You are unwell

[unnounblr]

I think, since his sentence is called a "banishment" it's possible that Vassago and maybe even Asmodeus might not be allowed to contact Stolas? Also, Vassago seemed upset when Stolas claimed to be the mastermind that betrayed the Goetia and their laws.

...Personally. When I thought Stolas was going to get his title and status taken, I always assumed/hoped he'd move in with Millie and Moxxie. Because I think that would be an incredibly fun dynamic.

Like, on the one hand, he's similar to Moxxie, being autistic theater kids with shitty ex-boyfriends (sorry to compare Chaz and Blitzø, but not that sorry. Also in fairness, Stella is a worse ex than both of them) and even shittier dads. He's also similar to Millie, being a bit of a people pleaser, going with the flow, accepting his destiny, his role in life and society, until Blitzø showed him be could try to choose his own fate.

On the other hand, the way Stolas would logically be helpless without his privilege and has to adjust to working class life he knows nothing about. Like, he's a grown ass man, a father and I think older than they are, but I think there'd at least be a potential for some jokes, with the show's sense of humor, of the only hetero couple being like his new adoptive parents.

I've seen a fair bit of discussion so far on how the old power dynamic and imbalance between Blitzo and Stolas has been effectively flipped after the events of Mastermind. With Blitzo now being the popular, socially-well-regarded figure and Stolas now looked down on, along with Stolas now being the one to be reliant on Blitzo.

But the funny thing is, I think 'flipped' doesn't even fully cover this new dynamic between them. Because, quite ironically, Stolas is now actually even MORE reliant on Blitzo than Blitzo ever was on Stolas.

Like yeah, Blitzo very much relied on Stolas for his livelihood through much of the show up to now. Blitzo simply could not run his human-murder-business WITHOUT Stolas's grimoire and the transactional relationship that came with it. If Stolas were to ever dump Blitzo and permanently take back the book, then Blitzo would certainly lose his current business.

But only his current business.

As we saw in Ghostfuckers, Blitzo was actually running what seems to have been a decently successful assassin-gig in Hell for some time even before getting the Grimoire from Stolas and starting up I.M.P. proper.

Loosing I.M.P. would certainly be devastating to Blitzo and the others, but they would at least still have OPTIONS. They probably could go back to their old Hell-based assassination business. Sure, it probably would still be a major downgrade, but it would at least pay the bills.

As for Stolas on the other hand; right now Blitzo is quite literally ALL THAT HE'S GOT. Without Blitzo, Stolas has NOTHING. No home, no money, no livelihood, no friends*, no family, NOTHING.

In the past, Blitzo was extremely reliant on Stolas.

Now, Stolas is ENTIRELY reliant on Blitzo.

--

*Well, he probably still has at least one other friend, as we saw this episode, but Stolas likely doesn't know that yet.

[crucifixing]

Imagine living a life where you have to take so many fucking Xanax and clonazepam to actually fall asleep and escape the blind rage you feel when you imagine some twink guitarist getting stabbed too many times

[todayisafridaynight]

STILL HAVING SUCH A NORMAL ONE ABOUT THAT RGGJO BUT NO Y7JO GETTING REALLY GOOD AT HOUSEWORK I SEE THE VISION… I'm pickin' up what you're puttin' down…

Because I've always wondered how unprepared Jo would've been going into everything. On one hand, he did leave home really young, but since he was working and Ikumi wasn't, one could argue Ikumi would've been the one to handle the housework at least while they were together.

Inversely, I do kiiind of feel like Jo would've done at least Some Things when he could to ease the burden on Ikumi based on his attempt to comfort her at the station. I'm reading way too much into it but it's notable that, despite him definitely being a smoker and them hoping for a miscarriage, the ashtray in their apartment is spotless.

But we only really see his living situation when he's with Ikumi and don't get to see what--if anything--changes when he's on his own, when he has to do everything and not just Some Things. But with regard to food, if you're in survival mode like that, while it is more economical to make food at home, it would make sense that any quality of cooking would be passable. That's not going to fly with a kid who's lived in the lap of luxury his whole life.

So I've always had a lot of feelings about Jo Bettering Himself for Masato's sake (even when Masato isn't necessarily being reasonable) and his overblown neurosis at the prospect of falling short--the post you mentioned in your tags is Exactly It. But, you know, it's cheesy, but I firmly believe he could do whatever he set his mind to, if he can manage to learn Every Martial Art and become a glorified (and very competent) accountant after dropping out of high school.

Also uhhhhhhhh entire post reminded me of this (びら on Pixiv) that's it that's the ask

Ok I'm glad we both caught on to Jo's attempt to console Ikumi and the considerably-clean home. Evidently he was probably self-sufficient enough, but nothing extraordinary- just whatever passed as 'suitable' for them, so it's not as though he's going in totally clueless (but certainly not knowledgeable enough to match Masato's extremely-high standards. Bless Arakawa but he definitely spoiled him a little).

Even if it is a 'cheesy' sentiment, Jo very much has proven that so long as it's for Masato, he's willing to do anything and everything no matter how big (joining the yakuza) or small (probably like. learning how to make quiche)

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[strawberrymochin]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ☀︎

Rockstar!gojo x art student!femreader

synopsis- satoru gojo fell in love with you when he was 17. He tried everything to gain your attention—joining the student council, participating in every extracurriculars, performing well in academics yet nothing worked. That was until high school. In college, having been forced into a band, he needed to find a new artist for their posters which he requested shoko to take care of. What he didn't expect was shoko to bring you as a volunteer—

warnings- college!au, satoru being heads over heels for you, he’s so damn in LOVE save my boy, friends to lovers, misunderstanding, SEMI PUBLIC SMUT, fingering, oral fem receiving, PUSSY DRUNK GOJO, dirty talk, creampie, BALL OF FLUFF, ANGST, mentions of smoking and alcoholism, super cute ending

w.c- 8.2k (have faith)

a/n's note- i'd poured out my heart in this (especially the smut). i hope you all do like this. your comments and reblogs are highly appreciated as it helps motivating me for writing long ass fics. taglist is open you can ask me to join. love ya' all!!

When satoru met you for the first time, he was 11 years old. 

You were the daughter of his mother’s friend whom he heard of so many times. Though the accidental reunion in the mall while grocery shopping was the first time satoru ever had the opportunity to meet you face to face. 

It was a totally random encounter, coincidental even, you can say when your mother recognised satoru’s mom and both squealed like teenagers. They'd a lot to catch up with, thus having their kids entertain each other in the play section was convincing enough for them to chit chat in a cafe.

And this is how satoru ended up being stuffed, hand in hand with you, to go enjoy in the play section as his mother patted his back, asking him to be good to you. 

“Don't leave her hand, okay toru?! Make sure you both stay together.” His mom said before scooting herself with your mom. 

Satoru looked at you, his hand locked in yours as you made eye contact with him before shying away, looking in the other direction. He stood confused before pulling you to the gaming section, without any word. 

He scanned amongst the box of video games, before pulling out one which caught his eyes with his unoccupied hand. He gave a side look to you, reluctantly asking “you want to play this?” 

You gaze down at the video game he held in his hands, eyes sparkling a bit, if satoru wasn't seeing things, then raise your head to look at him again. “It has vibrant colours.” 

Satoru nodded, feeling a little giddy that you liked his preference. “It's called mario kart.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widened as he revealed the name. 

“Do you know how to play it?” You shake your head at his question. “Then I can teach you!” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, let's go and install it on the playstation.” 

By the time satoru’s mother returns with your mum, they find satoru giggling along with you, hands still locked with each other, as he points to various stacked video games. 

That day slowly came to an end and satoru didn't get to see you for the next two years till your giggles became a distant echo and your face a blur. 

By the time he was 14, he almost forgot you. 

Until that one day when he noticed you, sitting alone with your lunch staring at the sky at the campus of his high school. 

You were biting on your chopsticks with dreamy eyes as recognition drew in satoru's mind. 

Y/n— he thought. His brows frowned, thoughts slowly going in a muddle. How are you here? eating lunch in his high school campus unless— you're a student over here too! Satoru felt foolish, his lips slowly curving in a smile lifting one hand, abandoning the basketball in the other to greet you. 

However, before he can get his words voiced out to you, gaining your attention, a brown haired girl comes up to you dragging you along with her in a hurry. 

Satoru's hand froze in mid air, awkwardly stretching it above his head before bringing it down and turning towards his friends. He sprinted back to his group resuming the game, yet his mind stayed with you and your dreamy eyes. 

He wanted to say ‘hi’ and watch your eyes grow wide before nodding your head just like you did back then. He wanted to show you the basketball he was holding and maybe teach you how to play ball just like he did back then. 

“Oi satoru! Why are you missing the catch?!” one of his friends shouted, breaking him free of his daze. “sorry…taking a break!” He said, excusing himself, before going and plopping himself down on a nearby bench. 

He recognised the brown haired girl—Yura. She often came to him asking for little favours. Did she know you? A friend? You studied in the same school and yet he only saw you today. Where were you all this time? Satoru was the same age as you. So you were bound to be in the same class, maybe different sections but he knew students from the other sections too. How come he didn't notice you yet?

The recess was over soon and he ran back to his class. Before entering the class, he noticed you again, hurrying to the class next to him. 

Class 1-2.

Satoru felt silly as he read the classroom name in his mind. 

As the final semester rolled on and a new semester started, satoru found out class 1-2 changed to class 2-2 and this year he was in the same section as yours. 

He was excited to finally be able to talk to you without any awkwardness. After all, you were in the same classroom now— which means you will know him when he introduces himself on the first day of class. You will see him, introducing himself aloud and clear and recognition will draw on your face as you remember him. 

That's what he initially thought the night before the first class. Until satoru felt the urge to perfect his speech and kept on practicing it, holding the crumpled sheet in his clammy hands, past midnight. 

As a result he woke up late and by the time he hurried himself to school, the self introduction was half-over. He mumbled his apologies to his homeroom teacher, before hastily introducing himself and going to his assigned seat. 

With that his perfect speech plan of gaining your attention bombed miserably. He raised his head in the direction of your seat—first row second desk, way far than his— fourth row last desk. 

That's when he decided with the determination inclining in his heart to get your attention and make you remember that it's him. 

The plan was simple. He just have to wait till recess and watch his chances closely. Once you're free and alone he will go make a move saying ‘hello’! Maybe even ask for your number. 

Recess hour came by and his plan chose to bite the dust with girls and boys swarming around him to get his number and be friends with him. The group kept him occupied for the entirety of the recess and by the time he was done you were no where to be found in class. 

Similar things happened the next day and the next day and the next day, never ceasing to leave him alone. 

Satoru eventually came up with another plan— excelling in academics. The more he's good in academics, the more are the chances for you to come up to him wanting his help to understand a problem. And the plan worked exceptionally well with girls frequenting him with a doubt in their lesson— except for you. 

This time satoru came up with his active participation in extracurriculars and sports. The more he active he is the more is the chance of you joining the same activity or maybe seek his assistance for the upcoming sports day.

This plan too, was indeed prodigious and did attracted a lot of attention except yours. 

His last option was of joining the student council. As the spirited member of the top student council, you might come up to him with a problem you're facing or anything you want to change. 

So, without thinking much he did joined the student council, hoping to finally gain your attention. However the following week, concerns and requests for changes decreased promptly. The other council members sighed, few scrutinizing satoru. After all no one in the entire school would want their so very handsome, energetic and popular Satoru Gojo to have a heavy work load after school. 

“Since we don't have any work to do now, thanks to gojo-kun, I'd gladly like you all to only maintain the regular class desk arrangement.” the student council president announced before leaving the council room. 

Satoru sighed, this isn't what he thought. He just wanted your attention not the entire school’s. Everyone looked at him, when he walked, when he sat, when he ate, people always turned around to take a second look. Yet you never laid your eyes on him. Even being in the same class you never came up to him to chat. 

Back slouched, with his tie undone, he slammed the door open of his classroom to pick up his bag. 

You flinched. 

Hand covering your mouth, a dust wiper on the other, you looked at him as he froze. 

One entire year, was how satoru spent to gain your attention, to get you look at him, and when it finally happened the time seemed to halt. The sun rays pooled into the room with slow breezes messing up your bangs and satoru couldn't mutter a word but stare.

Conscious about him gaping, he tore his gaze away from you before shutting the door, this time gently. 

The council president asked them to take care of class desk arrangements. However, the desks in his classroom have always been arranged, even before he joined the student council.

“you…um arrange the desks everyday?” He said fixing his tie, slowly walking up to his desk, wiped clean by you. “Yes.” 

Satoru accompanies you cleaning and arranging for the rest of the time in complete silence. Soon you take your leave, and so does satoru but this was the time he was happy like really really happy. 

He didn't exchange any words of recognition with you, from the day at the mall. He didn't talk. Yet he was beaming radiant, for just being with you, momentarily alone, in peace. 

That day soon came to an end and another year passed by. Satoru did nothing but admire you from afar. This was the only way he felt the closest to you. He saw how you wiped and arranged the desks everyday; help people without even letting them notice; lend the only pencil you have without a word; and care for the garden whose garish flowers were disregarded by others. 

The more he saw, the more he knew you. And the more he felt his heart slipping away. 

You were kind, gentle and soft. You noticed people behind their masks. You regarded the smallest of the things with such care. And your delicate hands, often smeared with paint, held the responsibility of others without complaining. 

He often saw yura asking favours from you, shoving her cleaning duties to you, sending you to get her lunch from the 7-eleven nearby and never once you said 'no'. You were so so precious. 

He knew he’d to stop; the way you engrossed him, linger on his mind all day to the point that he was unable to think of anything but you was straight up creepy but his eyes never stopped searching for you.

Even in the midst of the crowds on a random road his eyes would unconsciously seek for you. 

And by the time he was 17, satoru was hopelessly, absurdly and miserably in love with you.

Another year passed by and he could do nothing but stare. And the fact that you often looked at him too made things even worse. 

He was so down bad for you that he couldn't keep on going like this anymore. He was so sure he'd confess to you on the day of graduating the high school, not caring about rejection. 

Satoru stayed up an entire night, perfecting his confession. But by the time the graduation ceremony ended and he went to look out for you, you were nowhere to be found. 

He asked yura about you, to which she replied that you went back home early and satoru had his heart broken at 18. 

He couldn't move on easily but giving you up was the only option left. Unwillingly, satoru made his devastating decision of giving you up. He never thought he would see you again until a few years later in college, shoko brought you right in front of him. 

“We need a new artist to cover up for this concert.” said geto suguru, stuffing his phone back in his pockets. “Why? What happened to ren?” 

“Got himself into an accident and fractured his right arm.” Geto plops himself back down on the couch beside satoru, before pulling on the fretboard of his bass. 

“Should visit him then.” 

“Forget it.” 

“Why?” frowned satoru, geto suguru—his best friend, the one he went to middle and high school with, was not the type to feign indifference. His behavior indeed had satoru confused. 

“Nanami informed he got drunk at the last concert before getting himself into the accident. Drunk driving it is.” 

“Did yaga find out about this?” 

“Fortunately, he didn't. Nanami covered the case before him finding out,” geto brought his hand, swiping back his string of bangs, “if it reaches yaga, he will ban us from using the campus stadium.”

“lucky I'd say…so what now?” The next concert is in 3 days and the band poster is still incomplete. 

Shortly after satoru joined his college, suguru started a band along with two other guys. The band was doing well but due to a disagreement they decided to split up. Suguru then suggested satoru join the band and the following year they gained another member named nanami kento. 

They used to hold performances at random pubs but as its popularity increased, the college decided to give them the campus stadium to hold their concerts. Something they did extra was hiring an artist to do their band poster— hand-drawn. It'd become a little tradition— a lucky charm says suguru, and now that their artist had broken his hand right at the eleventh hour before the concert they will have to— 

“Find a new one.” 

“nana—” geto shuts him before he could finish his sentence. “Nanami is trying his best, so am I. So, you try finding one too.”

“How am I supposed to?” 

“Well I'm sure if you go with a face like this to the art department, people would volunteer in a line.” 

“Same goes with you, why don't you go and ask. I'm sure if you could wear your shirt a little loose you can surely get your clingy ex find a good one." Gojo says in a mocking tone, grabbing his guitar and looping it around his back before leaving the club.

He was sure annoyed, but he will have to find one, geto wasn't in a mood to joke earlier either. Rather than going by himself, he decided to ask shoko get it done for him; he was sure she'd agree for a few packs of cigarettes. 

Walking on his way to the parking lot he texted shoko to meet at their regular cafe. 

“Sup!” 

Satoru smiled knowing shoko could never fail him, even if she didn't agree right away a little guilt trip will do. 

“All good?” 

“Yeah, what do you need?” 

“Just a little favour.” 

“And what that might be?” 

“Get an appropriate artist from the art department. Ren broke his arm and suguru's so down about going himself, ya’ know about his ex,” shoko started grabbing her cup of iced coffee to retreat when gojo slammed two packets of cigarettes on the table. “I've two more packs to offer.” 

Shoko returns to her seat, a big smile on her face. “Okay! Since I'm your empathetic, gracious and compassionate friend, I will try and see what I can get done.” 

“Yes please…” 

“I'm not doing it for cigarettes ya’ know.” 

“Mhmmm” satoru nods his face dramatically.

“Get the other two packets out.” 

“Sure.” 

Satoru knew four packets would get the job done as he parted away from shoko, driving his way back home. 

And the next day when shoko texted him that she got a volunteer and is bringing her to the club, he didn't expected it to be you.

Shoko looped a hand around your shoulders “so this is the club,” chewing a gum, “and this is satoru gojo.” 

“Hi…” you said looking at him, before taking a look at those instruments laying behind. 

It’s you. It's really you. He couldn't believe his eyes yet stood unblinking as if you were some mirage and will fade away once he closes his eyelids.

“Gojo?” Shoko waved a hand infront of his face and realizing he didn't respond to you, he bent his torso bowing to you. 

“Woah,” shoko’s face scrunched up, cringing at his behavior, “when did you start being all formal?” 

You giggled at her comment while satoru hushed her with a series of ‘shut ups’. 

“I'm—” 

“Y/n.” satoru whispered almost as if reminding himself the way your name sounded in his lips. “Y/n, i know.” 

You chuckle at his words, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You know her?” shoko tilted her head at him, not expecting you to be acquainted with him. 

“We went to the same high school.” You say when satoru does nothing but gape at you with dreamy eyes. 

His heart did a whole somersault at your sentence. You remembered him; you remembered his name; you remembered he was in the same high school as you. The fact that you regarded him made him so giddy that he was practically ready to throw his hands up in the air or kiss the floor on which you walk.

“Kay’ I'll leave you guys to talk then.” She smirked before raising a cocky eyebrow at satoru, excusing herself from the club. 

“So…you're the only one?” 

“Huh?”

“In the band— i mean…”

“Oh no” he dragged, “there are two more members along with the back musicians…” 

You humm, taking a proper look at the club. 

“You like it?” 

“It has vibrant colours.” 

Your words echoed in his ears, the same which you said to him at the mall. Oh how bad had he wanted to hear those.

“The jazzies,” you read the name of their band aloud, “why jazzies? You only play jazz?” 

“No…we play all sorts of music…it's just a name suguru chose for the band.” 

“you do originals?” 

“Both originals and covers. Anything suguru comes up with.” 

Your mouth forms a little ‘o’ as satoru explains to you. 

“geto seems to be doing all the stuff, what do you do?” 

“You know him?” satoru’s brows furrowed. “Whom?” you ask.

“geto…geto suguru.” 

“Ofc, he was in the same class as us.” 

“Oh.” 

Ofcourse. Both he and geto were in the same class as you. It was no big deal for you to remember both of them. However, accepting that he wasn't any special was bitter. 

Satoru’s eyes followed your figure as you went out to reach for his guitar, mindlessly drawing your finger on its printed patterns.

“You didn't answer my question…”

“I guess I found you for our band.” 

When none of you says anything, satoru breaks the ice, clearing his throat.

“You know how to play?” 

“Err…no.” 

“I can teach you.” 

He slided his index among the few string instruments before pulling out an acoustic one, bringing it to you. 

“Hold the fretboard with your left hand,” satoru pulled the strap over your shoulders, “and bring your right hand over the body, fingers near the sound hole— yep that's right,” he turned your back to him, gently holding the back of your palms. 

“Now, pluck the chords for me,” his chest was against your back as he guided you through the strings. 

“Like this?” you ask him.

“Yes, you're doing very well.” 

The guitar in your hands, played smoothly as satoru guided you through it. 

Just like when he taught you how to play mario kart. 

Satoru looks down at you smiling in excitement. Oh how cute you looked like that. He could admire you twenty-four seven, never wanting to tear his gaze away, for you're that ineffably eesome in his eyes. 

Time almost ceased when you looked up at him, eyes crinkling with a smile that soon died as red creeps up your cheeks. 

Satoru’s face was mere inches away from you, his eyes wavering down to your lips. 

“SATO—RU— oh,” geto bursted in along with nanami causing you both to flinch. 

He quickly leaves your hand. 

“Y/n??” Geto dragged out your name, looking at you with his eyebrows knitting and lips forming a silly smile. 

“Hi,” you pull the strap over your shoulders abandoning the instrument on the nearby couch. “I'm here to volunteer.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah…” 

“That's great! I can't believe satoru even managed to talk—” satoru smacked him mid sentence. 

Nanami, for some reason, found the ceilings very interesting today, totally ignoring his two seniors.

Geto explained to you about their little tradition of hand drawn posters and showed you the posters they used for the last concerts. You, then, asked them to send them a group picture of the three and their preferences for colours and themes. 

“For that I might need your number—” 

“I- i can send it to her…” Geto passed a suggestive smile at satoru, which he ignored and awkwardly forwarded his phone to you. 

“Yeah that sounds fine. Here's my number, save it and text me later.” 

“Kky!” 

You pull the sling of your tote bag up to your arm, giving them a little nod, before turning your back to leave. 

“Wait!—” satoru held your arms frantically pulling you back. He hurried to the back near the couch you plopped the guitar and shoved it to you. “T-take it.” 

“Ah— no I can't do that.”

“Take it. You can learn how to play and I- I can teach you.” he tried not to stutter yet failed miserably.��

“No i rea—”

“consider it as a gift— from me.” 

You frowned a bit but agreed anyway. 

“That's really sweet of you satoru! I will wait for your text! Bye!!” 

He waved back to you. 

“What was that?” Geto implies in the direction of the exit door through which you just left. 

“nothing.” 

Later, You sent the photo of the finished banner to satoru. It took you 42 hours to finish it. 

Satoru on the other hand was practicing really hard, totally different from his half hearted performances from the previous ones which wasn't unnoticed by the other members. 

He has to be the best. After all, this concert will be different from the previous ones. This time you will be there to see him, cheer for him, and notice him. 

You soon bring the banner rolled up to the club. “Woah! You really did a great job.” 

“This is much better than ren’s.” says nanami before going back to his drum set, giving you a thumbs up.

“Satoru?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“You liked it?” 

“I loved it. It has vibrant colours.” You giggled at his answer, shifting your direction to his gaze. His fingers seemed to flake off any dust on the surface of your work, handling it so gently. 

It wasn't his fault he felt so overwhelmed. All these years he'd yearned for one kind word from your lips yet he was left starving. 

And now you'd drawn him with such precision, that it was as if you were accustomed to drawing him for the hundredth time. 

His heart fluttered at the thought. 

“I will be there at your concert,” you say, turning your back to him. “All the best!” 

The campus stadium was full with a bunch of students and hippies, it was really hard for satoru to try locating you amongst the sea of crowds. 

The music rang loud, brisking fiery cheers from the crowd, full of vim and vigor. The spotlight shone on the three— geto with his vocals and string of bass; satoru with his acoustic guitar; and nanami with his drum set. 

The crowd roared in excitement as music coursed through their veins. 

Will you be cheering too? 

Satoru raised his head from the guitar, plucking chords effortlessly, to his audience. 

And as if it was fate that drew both of you together, his eyes found yours. You were there in the vip section, along with shoko and another girl. You were moving with beats, swaying your arms in rhythm to their music. 

His eyes locked in yours as you waved a hand at him. Oh how, how pretty you looked. Everything except you was a blur to him. 

The crowd goes even more wild, seeing satoru blush, not sensing it was you who caused it. 

The concert continued till past midnight as the vibrations thrumming around the air slowed and wrapped up with their ending song: “Where Our Blue Is.”

As the applause slowly start to dissipate, satoru pulled off his instrument, running to the edge of the stage, and hopped down the raised platform. 

The college girls shrieked baffled, some even reached out, grabbing on his wrists and clothes. He politely got out of their grip making his way to the vip section, geto and nanami following him. 

The still air felt electric as he approached you. 

“you liked the show?” 

“Ofc it was amazing!!” The girl beside you answers in your stead, whom he now recognised as yura.

“It was really good.” you say swallowing a laugh bubbling up your throat at his huffed out appearance. 

“Thanks to your banner, it even attracted more audience.” geto remarked, placing his arm around satoru’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” 

“You should thank me for bringing her in.” Shoko reclaims, looping her hand around your arm, “let's go steal some shots.” 

“Oh no i can't— i don't drink. And I need to hurry back home it's late.” 

“Kyaahh— you've let me down y/nniee. Only two packets of cigarettes can get my mood uplifte—” 

“I will bring it tomorrow.” You say shutting up her whines. 

“kk bye and text me when you get home the rest are joining me right ?”

“Count me out. I'll be driving her home tonight.” Satoru says sheepishly, ignoring the smirks and exchanged looks of his bandmates, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

“No but I was about to go home with her —” yura interrupts.

“Satoru’s fine. You're coming with us.” Shoko dragged her along with geto and nanami, which satoru was glad of. 

Finally he'd be alone with you.

He guided you to the parking lot from the back of the stage, before getting his car keys out. 

It's metallic jingle echoing softly as he presses the button on his key fob. The car responds with a soft beep unlocking as satoru opens the passenger door, holding it open for you. 

“Here,” he gestures with his other hand, “get in.” 

“Sure.” You say gulping thickly.

The thick smell of your cologne mingling with the leather scent of the car.

He closes the door before sprinting to the other side, getting himself in. “Don't— ” he stops you when you reach out for your seat belt. “Allow me the honor” his finger brushes against your skin as he reaches out for the seat belt. 

Your heart practically jolts at his action. 

The click of the seat belt buckle echoes softly in the quiet car, as he straightens back to his former position. 

“Where do you live?” He clears his throat, starting the car engine and flicking on the headlights before pulling out the car into the driveway. 

“In the downtown.” 

“That's quite far from the campus, how bout I drive you everyday back home?” His eyes suggestive, making you chuckle.

“I can't let you do that.”

“Why?” 

“Since it's far from the campus and you won't be visiting often.” 

“Who knows, I might be visiting your place often.” 

You turn your face from the window to look at him. 

“What?” 

“I will have to— to teach you guitar.” 

You crack up at his silliness, finding yourself melting again.

“Okay fine. But that still doesn't counts.” 

“Why not!” 

Since that day, satoru did visited you often, sometimes barging in with shoko and sometimes alone teaching you how to play guitar, plucking on chords and notes. 

And you attended all of his concerts. Their previous artist has recovered now and has resumed his work, so you no longer work with them. However they insist you tag along each time and it's not like you complain. 

You liked satoru’s company. He was handsome, charismatic and popular. You'd watched him your entire high school. He was the one of most popular students, good in a millions of things, starting from academics to being athletic. He'd win every sports competition and even participate in all the extracurriculars. You'd admired him for he could do the things which you didn't had the courage for. 

You liked how he didn't judge people, helped them in their need, and even took care of those garish flowers nobody seemed to double take.

You'd previously met him before high school, though he never brought that up. You wondered if he even remembers the day at the mall. You wanted to ask him so bad, however—

Your world was only limited to papers and paints.

So you painted. 

You painted him so many times that you'd have more than five sketchbooks with paintings full of him.

You wanted to be friends, maybe even more than friends.

But that didn't matter now. He was near you and you would do anything to keep your thumping heart in control and not have satoru cut you out of his life. 

But how can you?

How can you control it when satoru so gently, so lovingly, takes your hand in his. When he smiles so sweetly at you. When he teaches you how to pull chords and other instruments. When he drops you home from college almost everyday. When he hugs you and tells you to take care. 

How are you supposed to be just friends when he's so overly affectionate to you?

Or maybe it's just your overthinking.

Satoru was always polite and sweet, he'd always been sweet to others and you were no special. 

“What are you thinking baby?”

You come out of your daze, rolling your eyes at the nickname.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that…” 

“Not my fault you aren't paying attention to me…” he pulls you closer to him, resting his face on your shoulder. 

“Have you always been this hungry for attention?” you ask, getting yourself comfortable abandoning the guitar beside you on the couch— of the club.

“I've been starving.” 

You cringe at his words. Satoru has another concert today and they just finished practicing an hour ago and now they are taking a break. 

Geto and nanami and other back artists wanted to get some fresh air so they left you and satoru alone to entertain each other. 

“Are you really skipping on me?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. 

“I've a gallery exhibition tomorrow.” You need to scoot back home to get ready for it. It's a big event for you to showcase your arts. 

Satoru hummed, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck, “I'll be there. You're going to do great.” 

An uncertain lump forms in your throat, hard to swallow, you say nothing. Your heart was in a conflict again, no matter what you can absolutely not—

“I will be going then. All the best for your concert.” 

You push satoru away, reaching for your tote bag from the side of a random arm chair. “Wait I will drop—” 

“Who's leaving?” shoko barges in with yura and others. 

Satoru points at you. 

“I just got here. You can't leave already.”

“Yup! Yup! Please stay a little longer, baby. I'll drop you back home, no worries.” 

Shoko exchanges suggestive glances with geto and they somehow persuade you to stay a little longer.

They start practicing for another round when shoko pulls your head closer, “what do you think about gojo?” 

“Huh?!” You shout over the music, unable to hear her. 

She grabbed your hand and pulled you outside, with Yura following closely behind you both.

“What— “ 

“What do you think of gojo?” 

A burning sensation hits you slowly as shoko’s question registers in your mind.

You ears turn red. 

“Eh…um h-he’s a nice guy. A nice musician…and—”

“And?” Shoko wiggled her brows at you, a sly smile on her face. 

“A-a nice friend.” 

“Just a friend?” You nod at her, seemingly more embarrassed at her implications. 

Shoko's face literally radiated disappointment. It was as if someone told her that cigarettes are now banned in the country. “I think he's interested in you,” you choked on air at her remark. “No?” 

Yura shrugged. 

The music slowed down and then paused, bringing your conversation to a momentary halt. 

Satoru rushed outside, complaining about why you left in the middle of his practice.

“Bruh, chill, I'm not trying to steal her away from you. We're just talking!” Shoko jokes as you laugh all flustered. 

Just when you were about to leave one of his fangirls suddenly appeared from nowhere and threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around his neck. He stumbled back a step, surprised, before regaining his balance but he didn't put her down rather he spinned her around before setting her back down, with a polite smile on his face. 

The other members just saw the scene unfold with amusement. Nanami was surprised at the fan’s boldness and geto simply observed the scene as shoko rolled her eyes, finding it hysterical.

“What do you think of shoko’s remark?” said yura, looping her hand around your arm. 

“What?” You say suppressing the slow tinge of jealousy. 

“About gojo being interested in you…” 

“I-i don't think so.” 

You try to laugh it off.

“Yeah, he's just polite. To pretty much everyone.” 

Her words felt like a splinter to your heart. You shouldn't feel like this. It'd happened before— not now again. 

Yura’s right, satoru is just polite and will do the same for everyone what he does for you— because he's kind. And you're no special.

The entire ride was silent. Satoru kept asking you if anything was wrong but you just guised a smile at him, insisting it was nothing.

The next day at the gallery event, you behaved oddly. You smiled at him but  didn't reach your eyes, your answers to his question were of one word, even avoiding his touch. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked warily.

“No.” 

Days passed by and you distanced yourself more from him. 

Satoru, on the other hand, was almost losing his mind. His world turned upside down. You stopped coming to his concerts, ignored his texts and even refused to let him drop you back home. 

It was yesterday you’d allowed him to teach you the guitar yet today you behaved as if you'd long forgotten him. You were cold and distant, leaving him puzzled by his own thoughts upon your sudden change in demeanor. 

He couldn't help but wonder whether he'd done something that made you this upset? 

You'd said it was nothing.

Then why?

What the fuck did he messed up?

Satoru missed you terribly and violently.

He eyed you from the inside of his car parked a bit far from your department. Today was another day you refused his offer to drive you to class. ‘I'm kinda sick so I won't be going.’ This was what you'd texted him the morning and yet there you were getting off your uber. 

You lied to him. 

“Come with me to their concert today.” Shoko urged you, her lips pursed in a thin line. 

“I'm sorry—”

“No you're not so sorry. Tomorrow’s Saturday, come with me, gojo’s getting mad without you.”

You suck in a breath at the mention of his name.

“What's wrong?” shoko says sipping the last of her drink before plopping it on your tea table. 

“Nothing.” 

“Then come.”

You agreed eventually. Attending the concert won't be a big deal. 

And it wasn't, except for satoru’s piercing gaze burning holes in your back. You accompanied Shoko backstage and casually greeted everyone— including him. 

“God, haven't seen you in so long.” geto side hugged you as nanami gave you a nod of acknowledgement before running off to the stage for some last minute preparations. “Satoru missed you like crazy.” 

You attempt a weak smile in satoru's direction, darting a hesitant glance his way. His gaze was fixed on you, but his expression was unreadable, almost giving shivers down your spine. 

One of the other members suddenly hurried over to Geto, urgently speaking about some issue, he politely excused himself and exited the room, closely followed by Shoko. Now, you were left alone with Satoru, the only two remaining in the room. 

“I should go and check what's the proble—” you try sprinting your way out the door, “wait—” when satoru stops you. 

His hand on your arm, preventing you to go any further and when you struggle to get out of his grip, he tightens his grip even more slamming you to the wall,  pinning you caging your body. 

“What's wrong with you?” 

“Gojo you're hurting m—” 

“Gojo?” His voice cracked, grip losing before letting your arms go, “why? Why must you do this to me?” 

“Do what?” You drift your gaze away unable to look at satoru, who's this close tearing up.

“This— why must you do this? Why must you ignore me? Why must you be distant from me? Why must you lie to me so that I won't bother picking you up or dropping you home? Why must you reject my affection?” He sucks in a breath “You know I can't live like that—” 

“why?” 

“Don't pretend like you don't know…” 

“no no don't say it,” you throw your hands up in the air frantically, “don't— I can’t fall again…no— I know you're just being polite and you will do this for anyone, but I can’t help it if I don't—”

“I love you—” he whispers, bringing your hand up, placing the palm flat to his chest.

“No you don't.” 

“Yes I do— what do you mean you can't fall again,” he suppresses your struggles of wrenching free your hand from his grip. “You have no idea how crazy I'm for you. I love you and I've loved you since I was 17. I was about to confess to you on our graduation day but you just disappeared leaving me alone. And now that I have you I'm not letting you go— make no mistake baby, if there's anyone I’d ever kneel for— it'd be you.” 

Thick silence covered the entire room, except your heavy exhales. Satoru gojo was inches close to you, your hand still laid flat against his heaving chest. 

“B-but I wrote you a note confes—” 

“What note? I never….” confusion twisted on his face bitterly. 

“You threw it in the dustbin— the one I wrote to you the day before graduation.”

His face told the truth, as he shook his head denying it. He never received any note from you— nevertheless having the audacity to throw it in the trash when he'd been hopelessly in love with you all these years.

“Yura told me—” you shut your mouth as the realization hits you. The person whom you considered as a friend backstabbed you long ago. 

She lied about him discarding it while it was actually her who had stolen it off his desk before satoru even noticed.

Your head raised in embarrassment, ready to apologize for the misunderstanding when suddenly, Satoru's lips met yours in a tender kiss. The kiss was filled with such affection and tenderness that you felt as if you might melt in his embrace. His arms held you close, firmly yet gently, as he deepened the kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you responded to his kiss. All thoughts of the misunderstanding were forgotten in that moment of pure intimacy before satoru pulled away with frowned brows and a dazed smile. 

“Tell me, would I kiss anyone the same way I kiss you?” he pulled you again, smacking his lips on yours as he snaked a hand around your waist, the other, still firm, holding your palm. 

You could feel his heartbeat going rapid the more he deepens the kiss, sucking on your upper lip. 

He pulls away again.

“Tell me, would my heart beat the same way as it beats around yours?” He smacks his lips again, this time pinching your waist making you gasp as he slips his tongue in.

His hand fumbles with the hem of your dress, pulling away again, a string of drool connecting both of your lips. “Would I be breathless the same way as I'm now?” 

His hand travels up your inner thigh, till it reaches the wet blotch of drenched silk. You grasp his shoulders, when he starts drawing circles over the fabric, smirking before nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. 

“Satoru, what if someone walks in—” your body jolts, nails digging into his back as he pulls the fabric to the side, plunging a digit in without any warning. “Let them…” he goes back to sucking your skin while rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit. 

Your teeth sank on your bottom lips, his finger slowly plunging in and out of you. “Nngh ‘toru, you’re—” small trembles quivered through your body as he plunged with a faster rhythm. 

“Shh baby! Let me take you” he inserts another digit as your teeth dug even deeper into your lip, stretching you and filling you so well. 

He was stroking you, curling his fingers inside until hitting your most sensitive spot. Sweat beaded your forehead as your trembles gave way to full body shudders, shutting your mouth with your hand not wanting to be loud. 

Satoru drew himself back from your neck, satisfied marking and suckling, withdrawing his digits, slick from you as you wince at the loss of his fullness. 

He brings them up and sucks your essence off his fingers with a pop. “I want to eat you out.” 

Before even you can make out his words he kneels down bunching up the fabric to your hips pulling your panty down properly and latching onto your swollen clit. 

“Fuck ‘toru.” he lapped his tongue on your clit, drawing circles, tasting your sweet before drawing himself back, “I am fucking you baby.” He says, licking a fat stripe on your vulva, his rigid tongue swiping back and forth over your clit sending sensations that make your body jolt. “Here and raw” he hummed against your pussy, his breath warm and hot sending vibrations to your core, before vacuuming on your clit. 

Your hand grasping his hair, as he worked on your orgasm.

He plunged his digits again, rhythmatic with the little pants escaping your mouth, along with the slick sounds of your hips buckling down his fingers. 

He smirked internally at your enthusiasm.

“So fucking nasty for me huh?” He said against your pussy, licking and sucking till you were nothing but withering in mindless pleasure. You were taking it well, suppressing your moans into breathless pants until he sucked, fingers pressing the most sensitive spot inside you. 

A shriek fell past your lips, knees buckling, followed by a string of moans and whimpers. “Oh— fuck..” you try closing your thighs which he prevents with his iron grip of one hand, forcing it open till he has better access. “Don't even dare closing on me…” 

The wet sounds of his fingers, plunging in and out of your gummy walls, echoed throughout the empty room.

Something coiled hot and fuzzy in the lower pit of your stomach. You clenched hard around his finger, when the bass-heavy beats of the band's concert began, causing you to involuntarily shove satoru’s face deeper into your cunt as you heard voices from the stage outside. 

Geto's unmistakable voice rang out, accompanied by the heavy drumming of nanami. They had started performing without satoru. 

“Nn’toru they start—” your voice died down into a breathless gasp as you felt your pelvic muscles clench, tension looping around your entire body as fiery sensations erupted. You arch your back against the wall, unable to stop your toes curling at the intensity of his tongue lapping, finger fuckin' you, as your vision gets blurry. 

“Yeah…cum for me baby” his velvety murmurs were all it took for you to turn into a mess of sensations, your body erupting as your high came down bursting, dripping and spilling down your thighs, his chin and his neck. 

Satoru lapped up the drops carelessly strewn about your skin, his tongue tracing a path along the droplets splattered on your inner thighs as he savored everything with anticipation.

“Tell me, would I kneel infront of anyone and let them cum this hard on my fingers?” He straightened himself up, “and then drink it up like a pussy drunk male whore?” his gaze never left yours, wiping the leftover slick from his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean.

The music from outside has now gained its intensity, thrumming even louder.

No— you mouthed. 

Satoru’s gaze was still fixed at you, when he unzipped his pants, his aching cock sprang out red, already leaking precum. 

You gape at his girth. 

It was big.

And fucking thick. 

Leaning in, Satoru brings his lips close to your ear, his voice clear over the blaring music from outside, “Like what you see—”

You didn't get to answer him before he slammed right in. 

A cry of pleasure tore from your throat, as you loop your hands around his neck, nails digging on his back.

He hissed out a breath, restraining himself from moving till you adjusted to his size. 

Only then did he slowly pull it out leaving only the tip inside. You grimace at the loss of fullness until he slams back in causing you to clench around him. 

He let out a low guttural moan which was almost inaudible to you over the roar of music if you weren't so close to each other, feeling the raw desire of his voice vibrating on your skin.

“Tell me— hahh- would I let anyone clench this hard on me if this weren't you?” 

You were at a loss for words. 

The kind, polite, sweet satoru you knew was gone. In his place was someone who fucked hard. 

When you don't answer he pulls out and slams right back in harsh, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. 

Satisfied, satoru guides his one hand to tapping on your thigh suggesting you wrap your legs up around him. 

He repositions his dick on your entrance, before supporting your weight with one hand, pinning your body completely to the wall, while the other hand grabs your neck, choking you before giving you a sloppy breathless kiss. 

“You like it don't ya’ hmm fuck— so tight—” 

Your cries came out choked as he pounded into you, in an insane manner, desperate and primal.

“Tell me—” 

Thrust 

“do you—” 

Thrust 

“still think I'm just being polite?”

Thrust.

The roar of geto's voice singing out aloud different notes masked out the filth of your moans. 

The sensation was in again, hot and uproar, coiling beneath the core of your consciousness. Satoru sensed you being close to your climax, continued to plow into your pussy, now supporting your weight with both hands against the wall. 

Your toes curled again, nails digging down his back almost scratching the fabric, “yes that's it love,” your eyes rolled back as you arch your neck unable to handle the pleasure, “cum for me…” 

Your mouth forming a little ‘o’, mind blank as your eyes saw stars. The only consciousness left in your body directed you to the burning of your heat, till it came crashing down.

You came hard letting your head fall on his shoulders too spent for anything.

Satoru too chased his high, thrusting into your swollen pussy, his cock twitching inside you, till you felt him getting sloppy and tense before cumming into you.

The music was still very loud, beats thrumming your flushed veins. 

None of you said anything, remaining in the same position. Satoru pulled himself out, his cum dripping out your vagina, before walking over and placing you on a nearby chair. 

He cleaned you up gently tugging your clothes back and fixes himself before cleaning the mess near the wall. 

“They— they started performing without you…” you huff out, drained still in the very euphoria of your pleasure satoru showed you. 

“I told them to do so…” he shouted over the noise. 

You remain stunned for a while, letting out a breath. “I'm sorry…I avoided you.” 

“Here I thought you were giving me a thousand kisses as an apology.” 

You chuckle at him, back to his normal self— your sweet, kind and maybe not so polite satoru…

He came over to you, lifting you effortlessly before plopping himself down on the chair with you on his lap. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

“No but I missed you like crazy…” he pouted. “y/n be my girlfriend…please.” 

Tears start forming in your eyes, overwhelmed, you never thought the satoru gojo you met at the mall, the satoru gojo you loved your entire high school would someday ask you to be his girlfriend.

To paint his heart with your love.

“I will.” 

“no wait— marry me instead!”

You dug your face deeper into his chest, laughing at his playfulness. And satoru just smiled.

Finally he would be yours. 

you and Satoru started dating since then and things couldn't have been any better for him. He practically announced to the world that you were his girlfriend, always picking you up and dropping you off from campus, and claiming a kiss as his reward. You’d also cut Yura off, not wanting any more negativity in your life. Satoru was yours, and you were his. And He couldn't be any happier.

Tags: @cccandynecklaces @secretfankoala

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[nyankochan]

Hashira Training: Wifely Duties

Synopsis: Your husband is working hard to train the members of the Demon Slayer corps in preparation for the upcoming battle with Muzan. However, they seem a bit stressed. You decide to help in other ways, like a good wife. Pairings: [SEPARATE] Uzui x Reader, Giyu x Reader, Obanai x Reader, Sanemi x Reader, Rengoku x Reader, Gyomei x Reader

Content: MDNI, fem! reader, oral male & female receiving, dacryphilia (Uzui), bath sex (Uzui), bondage (Obanai), pregnancy (Himejima), unprotected sex, rough sex (Sanemi), overstimulation, breeding (Rengoku), I hope I didn’t forget anything else but sorry if I did.

Word count: 7.2K (bruh)

A/N: Just finished the Hashira Training Arc. No anime episode has ever stressed me more than that finale...Added Rengoku as a hypothetical what-if since he's my favorite hashira. Muichiro excluded since he's a little baby but I still love him.

Uzui Tengen: Former Sound Hashira

“Move your asses! If you don’t finish the last rep, no dinner for you tonight!”

Your husband’s loud voice carries a great distance, no surprise coming from the former sound hashira. This allows you to find him and your other co-wives fairly easily as you make your way up the mountain side where Tengen’s endurance camp had been set up.

You’re met with a somewhat…comedic(?) sight..of your flashy husband dressed in a casual kimono swinging a wooden sword at the fallen demon slayers who were clearly on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor kids.

“If you don’t get it together you’ll never survive what the other hashira have in store,” Tengen huffed, seemingly more annoyed than angry.

“Now now, Tengen-sama, don’t be so hard on the kids,” you sigh, setting down the extra pot you had been tasked with bringing to help prepare dinner. “You’ll end up giving them all nightmares.”

The way Tengen’s face lights up when he sees you makes your heart flutter. "Y/n! I was wondering where you went off to."

"I asked her to go back home to grab another stew pot," Makio chimed in, all while throwing a subtle glare towards a Suma. "Since someone forgot to do what they were told and bring it like asked.

Suma proceeds to hide behind you and Hinatsuru as you help her with the rice for the onigiri. "Uwahh! Y/n-san! Hinatsuru-san! Makio-san is targeting me again!"

"Please, don't start," You sigh.

"We all need to do our part," Hinatsuru said, like the mature woman of the group she was. "Let's do our best with dinner so that we aren't inconveniencing Tengen-sama."

With four sets of hands, you guys get dinner done by sundown, the smell of fresh onigiri and beef stew wafting through the air. However, the poor demon slayers were so worn out from your husband's brutal training, you don't think any of them would have the energy to even think about eating. Still, Tengen snaps at them to do so as to not let you all's hard work go to waste.

"Tengen-sama, please try to relax a little," you gently say, tugging on the end of his kimono. You offer him a bowl you had prepared. "It's not good to get so worked up."

Although grateful, Tengen doesn't say anything as he takes the food you offered, sipping the broth in silence.

That night, you soak in the Uzui Manner's private onsen, the stress of the day clouding your thoughts. You’re worried. You know the final battle against Muzan will inevitably happen, but you’re terrified. For your friends. For your family. What if Tengen has to come out of retirement to help? What if you and your co-wives are caught in the middle like in the Red Light District?

You’re so in your head that you don’t even hear the door open and someone enter. “What a surprise. I thought you were in bed by now.”

Tengen’s voice startles you and you’re quick to sink into the water to cover yourself. Your husband’s laughter fills your ears. “What are you being shy for?” Clad in nothing but a towel, you gawk at your husband’s physique. Despite officially retiring from the Demon Slayer Corps, his consistent training kept him in shape.

“You just surprised me…that’s all…”

Tengen settles behind you in the bath, the water sloshing as he enters and pulls you into his lap. You relax against his chest. “You wanna tell me what you were thinking about?” He asks, tracing his hand down your side making you shiver involuntarily.

“N-no….its nothing. But you seemed stressed earlier, Tengen-sama. Is there anything I can do for you.”

Tengen sighs, leaning back against the edge of the bath, arms spread and muscles tense. “It’s nothing, love, don’t worry.”

You frown. You then turn so that you’re straddling Tengen’s lap, the water splashing with your movement. Tengen raises a brow in confusion, but doesn’t question your actions. “P-please allow me to help you, Tengen-sama.”

Tengen chuckles, cupping your cheek gently. “You already do more than enough for me, and for that I’m very grateful.” The kiss he pressed against your lips starts off soft, only to grow more intense and desperate. You squirm, letting out a small whimper.

Feeling you rock against him, Tengen groans, his cock beginning to harden. He scoops you up underneath your thighs with one hand, not breaking your kiss. As he lays you down on the onsen deck, you shiver at the cold feeling of the stone. Tengen trails gentle kisses down your neck while his fingers grace your clit, stimulating the sensitive nerves.

“W-wait. W-wait,” you suddenly protest. Tengen pulls back, worried he hurt you. “I-I want to be of use to you, Tengen-sama. Please let me please you.”

Tengen wears a rather perplexed expression before chuckling. He sits back on the end of the bath. “Ok then, please me.”

You drop to your knees before your husband, taking his cock gently into your hands. It’s already stiff with arousal, pre pearling at the fat tip. Your finger traces the thick vein running up the side of Tengen’s length, making him twitch.

Tengen groaned as your warm mouth enveloped him, his head leaning back in satisfaction as his fingers gripped your hair tightly. You immediately began to suck, feeling your jaw strain as he began to swell in size. Tears prickled in your eyes, and you rest your hands on Tengen’s thighs to steady yourself.

"Mhmm fuck," Tengen moaned deeply. His low raspy voice only turned you on more. He gripped Your hair harsher and pulled you closer; you nearly gag. "Fuck. Don't stop. Use your hand. Fuck. There you go.”

You eagerly obliged, sucking him harder and taking more of him, or as much as you could cause he was just so damn big. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and it takes all Tengen’s willpower to not buck into your mouth. The sight of you looking at him so innocently, crying as you try to take his size almost has him coming down your throat. You can tell he’s close to his release from the way he tenses, muscles tightening, yet he quickly pulled you away.

“T-Tengen-sama?” You question, out of breath. Before you can react, Tengen has you pulled into his lap and your knees pressed to your chest with his arms wrapped under your legs in a rather embarrassing position that has your cunt exposed. In a single thrust, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and you’re crying out.

Tengen rests his head against your back, breathing heavily. “You’re so good to me.” He groans at the feeling of your warm cunt wrapping snuggly around him. “I love you so much.” Tengen’s grip tightens, pulling your legs back further as his hips buck up, stretching you further. The slightly uncomfortable position makes you whimper.

“But tonight, I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”

Iguro Obanai: Serpent Hashira

You know how ruthless and impatient your husband can be, so you pity the poor slayers who were stuck in the vicious vice-like hold Obanai’s training has. Most of them had been there for at least a week, if not more, unable to perform at a level that satisfied your husband. So, you’ve taken on somewhat of a nurse role, providing first aid to the many bruises, welts and rope burns the slayers received as part of the training. Your hope was that your treatment would lessen the pain of entering the baths.

“There! All done,” you say, closing up your first aid kit having just treated the cut on one member’s face. “Next time, remember to guard your vital spots. You’re lucky it was only training. A demon wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“R-right! T-thank you Mrs. Iguro!”

You wave the slayer off as you finish packing your things up. Though you try to ignore it, you can still hear the whispering about your husband.

“How did such a sweet woman end up with a man like the serpent hashira?”

“Yeah the only real demon here is him…”

You grit your teeth in annoyance, prepared to say something when the sliding doors slam open. The atmosphere tenses as your husband walks in, a very angry and intense aura surrounding him.

“If you have time for idle chatter then you must not have worked hard enough,” Obanai scowled, Kaburamaru hissing around his neck. The slayers all quickly scramble to their feet and ran to grab their swords and avoid Obanai’s wrath.

You tug on his haori, stopping him from moving. “Dear, be nice.”

The scowl on his face somewhat softens only to immediately return when a new person announces their presence: Kamado Tanjiro.

“I look forward to training under you,” Tanjiro says, as cheerful as ever. Either he didn’t see your husband’s murderous look or he didn’t care. “Ah! Hello to you too Mrs. Y/n!”

You return the bright smile with one of your own. “It’s great to see that you’ve recovered well, Kamado-kun.”

“Oí! Don’t be so casual with my wife like you’re friends!” Obanai snapped. “And the rest of you stop gawking at her!”

You can only sigh. Of course, anything that you said practically went in one ear and out the other, and Obanai was so rough with the trainees you were surprised he didn’t break anything. Poor Tanjiro in particular seemed to get the brunt of your husband’s annoyance, leaving him with thankfully only some bruising since the training was conducted with practice swords instead of real blades. However, Obanai wouldn’t let treat anyone’s wounds this time around. The moment he ordered for them to scram somewhere, he dragged you out the dojo and back to the main house.

His grip on your wrist was tight, and you knew better than to protest when he was in his foul moods. But the fact that he hadn’t uttered a single word was making you somewhat anxious for what was to come. Was he somehow pissed off at you too?

Once you make it to your shared room and Kaburamaru slithers off somewhere, Obanai closes the sliding door. It’s just the two of you, the tension in the air is suffocating.

“U-um…O-Obanai…a-are you mad?” you try to break the silence only to receive the most piercing glare from your husband’s dual colored eyes, making you hush up instantly.

“Mad?” Obanai scoffs. “Nothing you do can make me mad at you. But…” His eyes trained to yours as he backs you into your shared futon. “I hate the way those idiots gawk and act too friendly with you. You’re my wife. You’re mine and mine alone.”

Obanai grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. His intense gaze while nerve racking is so insanely attractive that you’re whimpering quietly, trying to rub your thighs together in desperate need. Obanai picks up on this and lets out a low chuckle.

“I guess I have to remind you in other ways that you belong to me. Clothes. Off.”

You quickly start taking your kimono off, untying the Obi sash. Clearly you don’t move fast enough for your husband’s liking as he flips you on to your back and starts pulling the fabric off of you.

“W-wait, O-Obanai!” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Obanai ignores your pleas, and proceeds to use your obi to intricately tie up your l your wrists behind your back, pinning your arms almost uncomfortably together.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Obanai hums in amusement, pleased with the way the bindings were. He grabs your wrists and forces you to bend over, ass in the air. Obanai nudges your legs up to have a clear view of your dripping cunt, to which he inserts a finger, then two. You helplessly squirm against the restraints, keening against his touch.

“You’re so greedy,” Obanai scoffs. “You’re just sucking my fingers in.”

“Please, Obanai,” you beg. “I need you inside me.”

“Hm…since you asked so nicely.”

You hear him shuffle around, presumably to remove his clothes. You then feel the heat of his chest as he leans over you. Although he was somewhat rough with the restraints, Obanai is tender when he kisses your shoulder blade.

With one hand on you waist and the other on your wrists, Obanai inches his cock into you, groaning at how tight you feel around him. He bottoms out easily and you moan at the uncomfortable arch the position puts you in.

“M-move…p-please…” you whimper.

Obanai chuckles. He pulls out just to the tip before thrusting back in, setting a rough yet steady pace. His cock reaches so deep thanks to the position he has you in, making you gasp each time it kisses your cervix.

“Fuck…you feel so good…” Obanai groans. Usually he’s not one to be overly vocal during sex, but the heat of your cunt was just so addicting and he thought he would lose his mind.

“P-please…” you stumble over your words as he pounds into you. “C-can I hold you?”

Obanai falters briefly, his chest feeling strangely full. How do you always find a way to be so sweet to him? You were going to be the death of him.

Nonetheless, he unties the knot to release your wrists. He flips you over, realigning his throbbing cock at your entrance. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist to pull him close. Both of you let out shaky moans as he thrusts back in. You gently kiss at the scars on his mouth, and he shivers in response, taking one of your hands to intertwine with his.

“I love you,” he mutters so quietly you almost don’t catch it. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I love you too.”

Shinazugawa Sanemi: Wind Hashira

You’re currently pissed at your husband and ignoring him. You ignoring him has him even more pissed off, so the Shinazugawa mansion is tense and a literal war zone. The impending war against Muzan is inevitable. While you understand that, you see no reason why your husband has to be such a dick to everyone. Especially to his own younger brother.

“That damn bastard, who does he think he is, going off the rails like that,” you angrily mutter under your breath as you threat Genya’s injuries. He winced at the antiseptic on his cut. You frown. “Sorry sweetheart…”

“It’s ok…Y/n-nee…” Genya says half heartedly. The recent fight between the Shinazugawa brothers ended up escalating to a dangerous point. If it weren’t for Tanjiro’s interference, there probably would’ve been more injuries. And having known the Shinazugawa brothers since childhood, you were fiercely protective of Genya. So seeing Sanemi attack his brother the way he did without any hesitation was literally your last straw.

“I’m sorry…” Genya said.

“Hm? For what?”

“For causing trouble in you and nii-san’s marriage…” the younger boy avoids looking you in the eye. “if only I could use breathing techniques and weren’t so weak…then maybe he’d acknowledge me.”

“Awe, Gen, don’t say that,” you say, pulling the younger boy into a tight hug against your chest. “Your actions have nothing to do with my marriage. Your brother is just being a pain in the ass but that doesn’t mean I still don’t love him. I know he has a shitty way of showing it, but he does care. I’m sorry that you’ve somehow gotten in the middle of our marital problems. I promise things will get better. For all of us.”

You finish tending to his injuries before placing a tender kiss on his forehead, like you used to do when you were kids. Still, Genya’s face explodes red at your babying, making you laugh as you take your exit. As you leave, you’re surprised to see your husband standing outside the door with his arms crossed. Your face sours.

“The fuck you want?” You snap.

“Still got a fuckin attitude?” He retorts.

“Says you.” You walk off in a huff. Sanemi sighs and runs after you.

“Y/n, wait. Please talk to me.”

“About what?” You say bitterly. “I don’t got shit to say to you after the stunt you pulled. I don’t want to hear anything from you unless it’s an apology.”

“Fuck, fine I’m sorry! Now will you listen to me?!” Sanemi desperately said, grabbing a hold of your wrist to stop you. Your eyes narrow, not trusting his words. “Look. I know I was wrong but I can’t take anymore of you ignoring me and doting all over Genya.”

You snatch your hand away, scowling. “So now you’re jealous of your kid brother? I used to change his goddamn diapers.”

“That’s not…ugh fuck. Come with me!” Once more Sanemi grabs your arm, dragging you through the manner against your protests. He brings you to your shared room, which for the past few weeks you’ve stopped sleeping in out of spite. Sanemi closes the door, locking it shut.

“Now what? You got me alone.” You scoff.

“Ugh just shut up!” Sanemi yells, grabbing your chin and kissing you frantically, almost desperately. Your response is muffled and your knees immediately go weak as he forces his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss. You’re gasping for air by the time Sanemi pulls away. He buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling your scent that he’s missed so much.

“I’m sorry…dammit…” Sanemi’s voice cracks slightly. “I don’t want to lose you too. I couldn’t bear losing another person so important to me…so please, stop being mad at me…I’m sorry.”

“Nemi…” You cup his cheek before pinching it harshly making him hiss. “You dumbass. That’s what this was all about?I didn’t realize you were this goddamn emotionally constipated.” You sigh, Sanemi now glaring at you while rubbing his cheek. You gently kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon, okay? I promise.”

Sanemi exhales, almost like a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He kisses you again, this time gentler as if he’s afraid you’ll leave. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. “I’ve missed you.” Sanemi muttered. His hands begin to wander, trailing up the side of your waist under your uniform.

“Did you miss me, or my body?” You tease.

“Mhm? Both.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Yet you love me anyway.”

Sanemi kisses you again with more force, all while guiding you down to your shared futon. His hands are rough, groping your breasts, pinching your nipples that stiffen at his touch. You roll your hips upward to press against the growing bulge in his pants. Sanemi groans, biting your lip.

“You like testin’ my patience, don’t you?” Sanemi huffs.

“That depends,” you taunt, beginning to unbutton your uniform top. Sanemi swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You gonna do something about it?”

Sanemi grit his teeth. He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you on your backside, the rest of your clothes torn off from his own impatience. “It looks like I’ll just have to fuck the attitude out of you.”

Your husband makes do of his promise, fucking you senseless into the sheets, weeks of built up tension between the two of you finally being released. He’s aggressive and rough, gripping at your hips so tightly they’d probably bruise. Your neck is littered with bite marks, while Sanemi’s already scared torso has fresh red scratches from the way you grabbed at him. Not that he minded.

“F-fuck,” Sanemi groaned, relishing the way you clenched around his cock. His hips snapped against yours, making you gasp and shudder. “Fuck I missed this. I missed you. Don’t ever fucking ignore me again.”

“N-Nemi, please, I’m close,” you whimper.

Sanemi grins. He puts your legs over his shoulder, pressing down to pin your thighs back in a mating press. The position, though uncomfortable, allows for his cock to reach even deeper. You feel so deliciously full, Tears prickling in your eyes. you cover your mouth trying to hide the sultry moans leaving your lips.

“Nope, I need to hear you,” Sanemi pants, pulling your hair. Your cries are music to his ears. “I need everyone to know how good I fuck my beautiful wife.”

He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away your stray tears before kissing you tenderly. His pace faltered just a bit, making his thrusts more sloppy as his low grunts turned into airy moans. "Ah fuck I'm gonna come."

Sanemi gave one last deep thrust that had you gasping for air. You shivered feeling yourself be filled while your own orgasm hit. After he was sure he finished, Sanemi pulled out and sat back on his heels. He stared down you with a satisfied look on his face as some of his seed leaked from your swollen sex.

He scooped up some that spilled on to the bed and shoved it back into you. You whimpered from the overstimulation. "N-no more."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sanemi huffed. He aligned his cock at your entrance again and sank in with ease. He lets out a satisfied sigh and pulls you to his chest. "There. Now it'll stay in."

Tomioka Giyu: Water Hashira

“Tomioka-San? Hello! Tomioka-San? Excuse me? Are you there? Sorry to bother you. It’s Kamado Tanjiro!”

It’s the third day in a row the young boy has come by. At this point, you find it quite comical but you can tell your husband is losing his patience.

“Just entertain him, dear,” you say, folding up the laundry. “You know he’s not going to stop until you answer.”

Giyu doesn’t say anything before picking up his katana and leaving the room. You sigh. He had been so distant since the hashira training started. For some reason, he opted not to participate, and you could only assume that’s why Tanjiro’s been by every day to convince him otherwise. Nothing you could say would really change his mind either. The last few nights Giyu had been staying out later, only returning when he knew you’d fallen asleep and leaving first thing in the morning.

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you hope he’d open up soon. Or maybe, hopefully Tanjiro could talk some sense into him. You decide to at least go to the door and greet the boy.

“Giyu-San!? Maybe he’s not home…”

“He just left, in fact,” you say, opening the door. “Maybe you can catch him for me.”

“Ah! Y/n-san! H-hello! Sorry if I disturbed you!” Tanjiro said with a bow.

“No not at all! You’re always welcome here.” You then sigh. “Sorry my stubborn husband is causing you such trouble. If it’s not too much to ask, please talk some sense into him. I’m sure whatever it is it’s important.

Tanjiro smiled. “Of course! Leave it to me!”

For the next five days, Tanjiro shows up, trying to get your husband to talk to him. You’re thoroughly entertained by the situation that you do little to mitigate, ignoring Giyu’s obvious and desperate looks for help. After almost two weeks of this, Giyu finally comes home early one night with a rather defeated expression. You’re in bed reading when he enters your shared room and immediately collapses on the futon.

“Rough day?” You tease.

“Tanjiro doesn’t know when to quit,” Giyu sighs. He sheds his haori and places his is katana off to the side. “He wanted to have a soba eating contest?”

You laugh. “Did you win?”

“No. I yielded and promised to help with the hashira training.” Giyu doesn’t seem to thrilled by it from the tone of his voice. You frown, close your book and motion for your husband closer. Like a child, he crawls into your lap, laying his head against your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. Giyu sighs contently, inhaling your scent.

“Why were you so against participating in the first place? I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble understanding,” you say, gently running your fingers through his long hair, pulling it out of his usual ponytail.

“Can we talk about it later?” Giyu mumbles. He nuzzles his face into your chest. “I just wanna hold you right now.”

You cup Giyu’s cheeks, forcing him to look at you. You smile. “It’s ok. I’m here for you.” You kiss him gently. Giyu relaxes into the kiss, groaning at the softness of your lips. “I love you so much. Don’t forget, okay?”

Giyu exhales. “Okay.”

He kisses you again, this time with more urgency. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close as you lay back down into the futon. Giyu trails kisses down the side of your neck, leaving love bites in their wake. His wandering hands tug at your nightgown, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His hair tickles your cheek making you giggle.

“Come on,” you tease, unbuttoning the top of Giyu’s uniform. “Clothes off.” His cheeks were flushed red, and his arousal was evident from the growing bulge in his pants.

“Help me, will you?” Giyu asks, shyly hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He watches while you unbuckle his belt and losen his trousers so that they fall to the floor. He could almost sigh from the instant relief when you release his erection from the confines of his boxers.

You give his cock a few languid strokes, making Giyu shudder in response. He twitched in your hand as you rub your thumb over the sensitive tip, precum beginning to leak out.

“A-ah…f-feels good…” Giyu groans. He has to steady himself on his elbows, resting his forehead against yours. It takes all his strength not to cum right there on the spot. He hikes your leg up around his waist and aligns his cock at your dripping entrance. “Relax, okay? I got you.”

Giyu slowly thrusts in, your wetness causing little resistance. You both groan at the feeling of him stretching you out. Your hips buck upwards, searching for more.

“G-Giyu, m-more,” you plea.

Your husband grunted and picked up the pace. He couldn't get the enough of the way you felt around him. The way your gummy walls would convulse with each snap of his hips. Your high pitched and needy moans for him and him alone nearly drove him over the edge.

"T-there! A-again!" You beg. You wrap your arms around Giyu’s shoulders to hold him close. Capturing your lips again, Giyu sucked hard on them in order to bruise. His thumb jabbed against your clit.

The action caused You to cum. You squealed, biting down on his tongue, making him growl. Your clit pulsated, feeling like it was still vibrating. Tingles raced through veins, rocking your entire body.

"F-fuck, I'm close!" Giyu pants.

His own high was reaching. His thrusts became less rhythmic and more sloppy. Low grunts and moans left his lips. The feeling of You tightening around his dick even more was enough to send him over the edge.

He comes with a low groan. His body rocks and he collapses on top of you, burrying his head into the crook of your neck once more. You squirm feeling him release into your womb.

Giyu pulls out, almost reluctantly and pulls you into his chest. He holds you close as you lull off to sleep. Before you doze off you hear your husband mutter a soft “I love you.”

Himejima Gyomei: Stone Hashira

“Damn it!” You huff. “Why…huff…did his…huff…training…huff…have to be on top of a stupid mountain!”

You slowly waddle your way up the top of the mountain side, on your way to deliver lunch to your husband who had been preoccupied for weeks with the Hashira training. He barely had been home. If he was, it was usually long after you had gone to sleep just to check on you and your unborn child. Then, he was gone before dawn to resume the training.

You missed him dearly. You hated how empty and cold your futon felt without his warmth. You hated how antsy you felt with not only the fear of the upcoming battle with Muzan looming in the distance, but the anxiety knowing that your due date was approaching within the next month. Sitting around was driving you crazy, so you took it upon yourself to make your husband a home cooked meal and bring it to him, asking the crow to guide you. What you didn’t expect was him to be at the top of a literal fucking mountain.

“Ugh I can’t do this…” you groaned, pausing at a random tree to rest. “My feet are cramping and if this child kicks me in my bladder one more time…”

“Eh? Mrs. Himejima?”

“Eh? Ah! Genya!” While you’re thrilled to see the boy that you’ve quite honestly grown attached to like your own child, he on the other hand is freaking out. Why were you out here alone in your condition? Did Himejima know that you were here? What should he do? Help you get home?

“Genya, have you seen Gyomei?” You eagerly ask, grabbing the boy’s hands. “I was trying to surprise him with lunch, but I kinda got lost on my way up here. It’s such a ways away from the other hashira isn’t it.”

“U-um I-I,” Genya stammered. He then sighed. He couldn’t say no to you when your expression was so innocent. He also wouldn’t forgive himself he let you get hurt. “Ok. I’ll lead the way. P-please be careful. Let me know immediately if you need anything!”

“Of course!”

You follow Genya down a path, asking the boy how his training has been with the other hashira. Eventually, the sound of roaring water fills your ears and you both arrive to a massive water fall.

“Namu Amida Butsu,” someone chants and you realize that there are demon slayers standing under the water, bracing the impact.

“Oh my, this is Gyomei’s training?” You gasp.

“Only the first part,” Genya sighs. “Most people collapse and don’t get past the rest.”

“I see.” You’re not that surprised that your husband’s session was the seemingly most physically challenging and demanding. It would of course be no issue for him as his giant stature and inhuman strength made even the most impossible of tasks look like a breeze. But you feel for the younger ones who haven’t quite figured out how to unlock that same inner strength.

“Eh? Wait? Is that Zenitsu!?” You exclaimed, realizing you recognized a head of yellow hair floating down the river. “Ehh! Oh dear! Zenitsu!”

“Wait! Mrs. Himejima!”

You’re already waddling toward the riverbed, trying to reach out and grab the seemingly unconscious boy. You strain as you try your best to grab him, but he slips past you. The rocks are slick with water and before you realize it, you lose your balance. Before you tumble forward, someone grabs you by your waist and gently lifts you out of the river.

“My love, what ever are you doing here?” The low, calm rumble of your husband’s voice fills your ears. Your cheeks warm as your face lights up in excitement.

“Gyomei!” You turn in his arms to hug him around his neck. “I missed you! I bought you lunch! Come on, let’s eat it before it gets cold.”

Gyomei chuckles. “Let’s get you out of the wet clothes first so you do not catch a cold.” He looks over to Genya and gives a slight nod. “Thank you for looking after her. You can be done for the day, Genya.”

“R-right! Thank you, sensei.”

You talk your husband’s ear off about nonsense, him listening with a smile on his face as he carries your back home. By the time you make it back though, you’re sneezing, shivering slightly from the cold.

“My love, what ever were you doing up there?” Gyomei asks, setting you down. He gently unties your Obi, sliding the wet kimono off your shoulders. “You could’ve been hurt, dear.”

“I wanted to surprise you with lunch…” you say somewhat bash fully. “I haven’t seen you much and I’ve really missed you.”

Gyomei softly smiles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected.” He unties the juban undergarment and you’re left completely bare and exposed before him.

You feel slightly self conscious. Your body has changed so much from the pregnancy. Your breasts were constantly swollen and tender. Your stomach now round and full with stretch marks streaking across your thighs. Yet, Gyomei’s hands are gentle as he explores the new changes to your body. His fingers grace over the curve of your belly, smiling as he feels his baby…your baby…kick against his palm.

“It’s ok…” you let out a shaky breath. “I know it’s your job.”

“No, my first priority is you and will always be you,” Gyomei insists.

“M-mei, can you touch me?” You plea.

“But you’re so far along now. I do not wish to hurt you, my love.”

“You won’t!” Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been missing the gentle intimacy with your husband due to his busy schedule. Either way, you’re finding yourself overcome with desire, wanting nothing but for Gyomei to take and fill you up. “Please?”

Gyomei sighs. He can’t say no to you. “If I hurt you at any point please let me know.”

Laying down, Gyomei pulls you by your waist over his face, his hot breath tickling your core. Your face flushes. “W-wait, Mei, I’ve gained so much weight cause of the pregnancy. I’m so much heavier now and-“

“I don’t care,” Gyomei says, his gentle hands caressing your skin. “You can sit.”

“B-but-“

“Sit.”

The command leaves your legs weak and you settle down over your husband’s face. He grips your waist as he begins to eat you out. You gasp, for some reason more overly sensitive than usual.

“M-Mei-“ you whimper. You rock your hips in tangent with his tongue. Gyomei’s touch tickles your skin. He traces the curve of your stomach, making you shiver. He cups your breasts. They feel larger, and more swollen than usual in preparation to breastfeed. Your nipples are more sensitive too, stiff from Gyomei playing with them.

Your thighs try to clench shut, which Gyomei puts an immediate stop to. He forces your legs open wider to have deeper access to your dripping cunt as he greedily laps up everything you drop. Your essence is so sweet and he can never get enough of you.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s hated how much his responsibilities as hashira have taken his focus away from you. He’s missed your touch, your taste. He’s missed your scent and your presence. He has noticed all the subtle ways your body has changed and he hates that he hasn’t been around more often to witness it.

“A-ah, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, gripping at Gyomei’s hair. You let out a soft cry as your orgasm hits. Your body shudders and you feel your clit tingle as Gyomei sucks on the sensitive nerves. He laps up your release, squeezing your hips to ground himself. “W-wait. T-too much.” Suddenly, a second orgasm rocks your body that leaves you gasping. Your legs have lost their feeling, and you couldn’t stand even if you wanted to.

Gyomei pulls you into his lap. He hugs you into his chest, his hands snaking under your stomach to lift it gently and provide you some sort of relief. You sigh contently now that some of the weight was lifted.

“Are you alright my love?” Gyomei asks, kissing the back of your neck.

“Mm..” Your cheeks flush as you can feel your husband’s straining erection by sitting on his lap. His hard cock presses against his pants, yet he makes no effort to deal with it. “M-mei, do you…um want some help with…”

Gyomei chuckles, his chest rumbling. “Please do not worry about me, love. Your comfort and pleasure is my first priority.”

Rengoku Kyojuro: Flame Hashira

Like Uzui, Rengoku came out of retirement to help with the Hashira training. His session would take place after one passed Tokito’s endurance training and focused on working on Total Concentration Breathing.

Seems easy, no?

Reality is most people pass out due to their inability to regulate their breathing correctly, thus having to start the process all over again. Your job is to go around a bring water to keep the slayers hydrated. But most are unable to drink due to the constricting feeling of the lungs after trying to recover from constantly using total concentration breathing. That along with the other physical strains it puts on the body. So you just do your best to encourage people to drink when they can.

“Come now! You must focus on the flow of your breathing and raise your awareness of your entire body!” Your husband’s loud voice carries across the training grounds. You can even hear him when inside. “Mastering this will even allow you to detect the most hidden injuries and slow the progression of poisons”

“Darling, don’t overwork them,” you say, coming outside with a new pitcher of drinks and cups. You offer him a cup, which he gratefully takes. “Let them catch their breath first.”

“Very well! 3 minutes then we shall start the next rep!”

You can feel all the gracious looks from the junior slayers as they can finally recuperate for a moment, even if brief. You know your husband isn’t intentionally trying to be harsh. He just gets so passionate about something and sometimes seems to forget that others do not possess the same strength or stamina as him.

“Hello? Rengoku-San?” A familiar voice calls out. It’s a face you and Kyojuro haven’t seen in a minute.

“Ah! Kamado! Long time no see!” Kyojuro exclaims. “I’m glad to see you’re in good condition!”

“It’s good to see you again! You too, Y/n-san!”

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” you say cheerfully. “Good luck with the training.”

Since Tanjiro had already had some experience with Total Concentration Breathing, his session was slightly modified. He’d have to tackle the XL gourd, bigger than the one he did at the Butterfly Mansion and then would spar with Kyojuro. If he stopped his Breathing he’d have to restart. But before any of that, for a warm up, all slayers had to run a 5K while maintaining their breathing.

By the time the sun set, just about everyone was passed out, beyond exhausted from the day. Kyojuro was still in overly good spirits, and full of energy as if the training didn’t even cause him to break a sweat.

“Kyo, I think it’s best to call it a day,” you deadpan.

“Really? But it’s not even dark yet?” Your husband has the most innocent look on his face.

You frown but then an idea strikes you. You lean in close to Kyojuro so that others around you can’t hear the next filthy words that leave your lips.

“If you still have so much energy left, why don’t you use that to put a baby in me like you’ve been wanting.”

You walk off without letting him respond, so you miss the way Kyojuro’s face explodes red. He rambles off some sort of excuse to the other slayers about training concluding for the day before rushing off to find you.

You wait patiently in your room, undressing so that you’re in nothing but your underwear by the time your husband arrives in a frenzy. Kyojuro’s face is flushed, chest chest heaving. The moment he spots you, he picks you up and pins you to the nearest wall, kissing you with urgency.

You groan as Kyojuro’s tongue forces its way into your mouth. His hands gripping the meat of your thighs tightly as he presses his growing erection against your exposed core.

“Feel so big, Kyo,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his.

“My flame, did you mean what you said earlier?” Kyojuro pants, his voice husky and airy as what little restraint he had started slipping away. He needed to fill you up and feel you around him bad, but he wouldn’t unless you were serious.

“Put a baby in me, Kyojuro,” you all but demand.

“If that is what my lovely life wishes,” Kyojuro chuckles. He lays you on the futon and sheds his clothes quickly. “Then I shall fulfill.” His cock is already stiff against his abdomen, twitching in his hand as pre cum oozes from the tip. You trace your fingers down his scared torso, noting the way Kyojuro’s muscles tense at your touch.

“I can’t wait to see what you look like when you tummy’s all swollen and full with my child,” Kyojuro said, aligning his cock at your entrance, his cheeks flushed. “You’ll make such a good mother.”

In a single thrust, Kyojuro sheathed his cock into your cunt to the hilt. The penetration left your eyes watering, crying out in pleasure. Kyojuro groaned. You felt so snug and warm around him that it took everything to keep from pounding into you right away.

“G-gods…you feel so good…”

“K-kyo, m-move,” you beg, trying to move your hips for some sort of friction.

Kyojuro grunts. He pins your legs to your chest, With a languid roll of his hips, he experimentally pulled his length out from the clamp of your hole. And with a sharp snap, he drove himself back into you. The sheer force of his scorching length shot the first wave of pleasure through the both of you. The two of you let out low moans. That first penetration gave way to a succession of increasingly rougher thrusts that had your body burning with pleasure.

Kyojuro’s body shuddered slightly anticipation. You clung to him and dug your nails in his shoulders trying to keep him close. The way his cock stretched you out had you feeling so full and lightheaded, leaving you babbling his name like a mantra.

Kyojuro groaned. He hovered over you, leaning down the kiss you passionately. His hands trailed up side to your nipples that became erect from pleasure. Lips trailing up the side of your neck, he left several bite marks.

"Ah a-ah t-that feels funny." You squirmed. "Kyo ~"

The sound of you moaning his name made Kyojuro’s cock throb. He fumbled slightly, his aggressive and frantic rutting becoming slower and slightly sloppy, instead.

“Ugh, coming,” Kyojuro groaned. He buried himself all the way to the hilt inside you. His orgasm hit and it hit hard. His dick pulsated with each subsequent spurt of cum. His hips still as he emptied inside you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your insides snap. Your pussy clenching tightly around Kyojuro, practically milking him as your own high shakes your body.

“S-shit,” Kyojuro gasps. He pulled out of your abused hole, watching the way his seed trickled out. The sight made his dick twitch. “This won’t do,” he chuckled while pulling your legs up around his waist. “At this rate, I won’t get you pregnant. Guess I’ll just have to fill you up again and again until it sticks.”

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

[autumnmatt]

𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.

summary: matt is playing fornite with his two brothers and he gets to loud when he keeps losing, causing his girlfriend to wake up from her slumber.

classification: fluff

warnings: kissing, pet names, suggestive language, use of y/n

it was about 3 in the morning and you were fast asleep in yours and matts bed, snuggled up in a blanket with matts stuffed pug mr. wrinkleton tucked under your arm.

matt on the other hand was in the middle of a very intense fornite match with his brothers nick and chris. there were about 10 people left in that match and your boyfriend was very determined to win.

all was going good during the game play until him and his brothers came across this very sweaty team. “on me on me!! these kids are good I need backup quickkk” matt yelled to nick and chris through his headset.

he then faced one of the opposing teammates but of course he lost the battle between them and got knocked. “FUCKKKKK” he screamed out of frustration. nick also got killed a little while after matt did by the same person.

y/n wasn’t that much of a heavy sleeper so when he started to yell out, she shifted in bed a little opening up her eyes to see what the yelling was coming from.

she looked up and saw the bright screen in front of her with fornite being played along with her boyfriend sitting in his gaming chair banging on the desk from just getting killed. she puts the blanket over her head and closes her eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“CHRIS DUDE YOURE SO BAD THOSE KIDS WERE ASS” matt yells, slamming his controller on the desk making a very loud sound that could be heard throughout the room.

y/n tossed and turned once more slowly losing the battle of getting back to sleep. so she got up, yanked the covers off of her body, and started sleepily walking over towards matt, dragging her feet with every step she took.

once she made it over to the chair where he sat she stood there, waiting for matt to realize she was standing here. and once he did he could see the pout forming on her lips, instantly feeling guilt for being so loud so late at night.

“oh baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” he frowned, muting his mic and taking his headset off then holding his arms out to her and patting his lap, inviting her to come sit down.

she straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his warm body and taking in his familiar scent, the scent she loved most.

“go back to sleep baby, I promise I’ll keep it down”. he said and kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her so that he could still have access to the controller also slowly rubbing up and down on her lower back.

“come to bed with me.” she groaned into his shoulder. she was already strarting to fall back asleep.

“of course I will baby.” he smiled taking his hands off the controller putting the headset on one last time to tells his brothers his was going to sleep. he shut of his computer, put his headset and controller up and gently picked her up to bring to the bed.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling out of his arms. your face now buried into his chest.

he set you down on your side of the bed before walking over to his pulling the blanket over the both of you and situating the pillows so they were at a comfortable position under your heads.

you faced him for a few seconds to say your goodnights. you kissed his lips lazily before speaking. “goodnight I love you.” you spoke up, resting your head onto his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“goodnight I love you too baby”. he said before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. he kissed your forehead before you slowly drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

a/n: AHHHH I think this is so cute. my 2nd story on here, thank you so much for the love on my first story and definitely send me some requests. hope you enjoyed this fic, love you all!!!

taglist: @stayingstromboli @conspiracy-ash

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[lymtw]

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.���

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.