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inkedbybarnes · 1 month ago

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none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!”

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #mcu #marvel #inkedbybarnes

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gonzodangerfeels · 8 months ago

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I need to remember the pimps come from the slums and shouldn't be looked at directly.

#it must be fun for you when I get the weapon watching with me #so they're going or whatever and their car engine sets on fire #Mr Hughes made sure I got the laser books. I liked him. Too bad they skilled electrical stuff #doing anything with my Life Force is always good for me in the long game #I will just work myself into everything then #well smoking cigarettes is a form of burning cash.....but the cigarette is a smoother burn #I like music #it feels like my weapon has been with me all along in the sound though #on some level he was probably like I am forever and do not understand these life and death concepts so he ignored them #how? *shrugs* father's perspective #and the Copper Top...bless him one his engine is like.....wow #I am like see Arthur it was the first conspiracy theory and I am about to give it to someone who interacts with my bots #hey.....your eyes .... FUCK! ok #I am like Bleeeeeeew #ok btw I am glad Shannonwas always good to you....#I fucking worry about you so much back then....#me? look I am fine I always figure my own environment out #when you're across Hazard county line.....well I don't care I go anywhere #did I beam? fascinating #familiar chance to be a wizard #well he sure as fuck did some stuff #He did not like possums under the base #I always remembered LUMS so fond though #except for the beer dog #I was not happy #oh to summon Merlin......that would be.....I would that though #Merlin was my last male dog #would my timeless one bond with the dog ....#Wt......well it is 25 #checking the mayan hour glass we have it locked down

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sttoru · 10 months ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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kateschi · 2 months ago

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back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

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2aceofspades · 2 years ago

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He is babygirl...I mean...look at him 🥺💙✨

The babygirl

This is from a expression request

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #not my art #fav #simping over this ART GAH #your lines got me in a chokehold/pos #oh my gosh just LOOKIE HE'S SO HAPPY AND GOOFY I LOOOVE GRRR #bro im freaking out in a good way aaauuggh I am loving this linework fr #peepaw hours and my eyes have been blessed thank you 🥺#i love the little details like his scarring and the little buckle on his belt pouch like so so much i can't describe it but yes YES!!

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bbyseok · 4 months ago

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thinking about teen gojo who’s still learning how to control his powers… and just starts floating every time you kiss him.

you just started dating after he won your heart some time around your first year as jujutsu high students, and there’s not really a difference from when you were friends compared to when you’re now together but—

there are the closer cuddles during movie nights and the spotanenous hangouts now established as dates amongst other things, and of course, the kisses.

funnily enough, it was you who intiated the first kiss, even after his oh so bold and confident claims that he’d be the best boyfriend and kisser, despite never having been in a relationship before.

some might consider that your first kiss with gojo wasn’t so special, but it’s special to you.

it had been a convenience store run he had dragged you out on during the ungodly am hours. satoru rummaging for his newly bought sweets in the grocery bag, his tongue poking out of his mouth. his expression had lit up when he pulled out his candy, eyes flitting to yours and then-

you leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

his snowy eyelashes fluttered in shock, staring at you like you had just strung up the stars in the current night sky overhead. the dim light from the convenience store casts a glow over your facial features, and it takes him a moment to realize that the curvature of your lips had just been on his. that you had kissed him.

and then he started floating.

you couldn't help but laugh and pull him back down and in for yet another kiss.

and it keeps happening every time you kiss him now. it doesn’t matter what he was doing before, as soon as your lips leave his, his feet leave the floor too — quite literally.

you’d think that he’s doing it on purpose, but he swears that he isn’t! it’s not his fault that his technique goes haywire whenever you bless him with a kiss!

it’s to the point where you’ve decided not question it now, and even the others don’t too.

“suguru and i are going off for our mission!” and suguru watches his best friend lean down expectantly towards you, tapping his lips with a finger, “can i have a good luck kiss, sweetheart?”

and you oblige sweetly with a hum, “have fun, you two. be safe!”

suguru’s hand is already outstretched to tug satoru down to the earth by his jacket once he starts drifting upwards. “c’mon, satoru.”

hell, he’s been half-asleep, still drowsy as you give him a kiss while leaving his dorm early in the morning before you’re caught by yaga, and gojo starts hovering off the mattress like an exorcism is taking place, the thin blanket slipping off his legs.

(“i guess you can say that you really sweep me off my fee- ow!”)

and while it’s ridiculous, you also find that it’s rather endearing.

but god forbid you start making out with him though. you’re not quite sure on what might happen whenever that comes around..

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x you fluff #my writing #rain’s writing

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tojicide · 4 months ago

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⠀ REMIND ME! ☆ SYLUS QIN.

summary. six months after your breakup with sylus, news broke of you moving on, which is something he simply cannot allow—not if he can help it.

warnings. fem! reader, infidelity, pet names, established history, hair pulling, face sitting, oral ( fem. receiving ), doggy style, missionary, creampie, aftercare. wc. 6.1k.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Once news broke the N109 Zone of a prospering romance in his district, Sylus couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. It was when he heard whispers of your name adjacent to another man’s that he began to listen.

He was out the front door of his home within a second, his leg swinging over his bike before Luke and Kieran could have a say in the matter.

The two men stood side by side, shouting a frantic ‘it’s normal to move on, man!’ and a ‘it’s been six months!’ from the doorstep as they watched their white haired boss speed away.

Sylus was sure that if he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle any tighter, they’d certainly break off.

If he was willing to harm his most prized possession over the pure frustration you’ve stirred within him, you should consider yourself the most lucky yet damned woman alive.

He liked to think he was headstrong, but when it came to you, he lost all of his sense. All rationale was long forgotten. You consumed him and he gladly let you, because all in all, it truly was a blessing and a curse.

For how much he loved to put the pedal to the metal, he’s never once arrived at your apartment as fast as he has just now. He didn’t even bother to properly leave his bike in between the lines of a parking spot before he was practically flying towards your front door, knocking rapidly until you answered.

Surprise is etched into your facial features as you crack the door open just enough to see who your uninvited guest was, but a strong hand pushed it open until it was agape. “What the fu—”

“Where is he?” he cuts you off with a question, his red eyes scanning your cozy living room like a predator on the prowl.

“Excuse you, I— what? Where is who?” Your questions stammer out as your brain tries to catch up to the scene in front of you.

Sylus forces himself to turn around and face you, realizing that his erratic behavior was likely confusing you. As expressed, his common sense was truly slipping from him. God, he’s missed you, and he absolutely hates the look you’re giving him. It was one that made him feel like a pure inconvenience to you (even though he certainly was behaving like it).

“Your… boyfriend,” he clarifies, almost choking on the word. The fact that the title was no longer his was already a problem in and of itself, but losing it to another man was something he simply could not allow. “Where is he?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as you give him a once over. “You think that you’re going to barge into my apartment and pummel the ever living shit out of my boyfriend?”

“More or less,” he answers, his long strides continuing a bit further down your hallway. “Preferably more.”

You scoff, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you watch your ex–boyfriend scope out your apartment that he’s all too familiar with.

“He isn’t here.”

“So I’ve gathered,” he replies, his head poking into your bedroom.

Sylus did his best to sound nonchalant, as aloof as can be, though his heart rate was through the roof. He saw no signs of any male presence—no messily discarded clothes, no misplaced shoes, no second toothbrush in the bathroom—which meant that your relationship wasn’t as serious as he’d imagined.

And boy, was he relieved to figure that much out.

You straighten off the wall as he enters your bedroom, hurriedly walking behind him as you speak, “Y’know, since your objective for coming here can’t be achieved, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Did I say that was my only objective?” he simply asks, eyes scanning your bedroom.

A bit had changed since he’d last been in here. You changed your comforter to a floral pattern, and you even matched the drapes to the shade of your bedding. Your attention to detail was something he admired about you, and his attention to detail was something you used to love, though as his eyes fell to your open underwear drawer—you’re growing to hate it. A lot.

“Get out of there!” you exclaim, rushing to shove it closed, only to catch his slender finger in the crossfire.

He winces slightly, lifting his already bruising finger to your line of vision. “You’ve wounded me, sweetie. Kiss it better?”

You scoff, slightly pushing his hand away from your face. In any other context, you would have apologized, but given the fact that Sylus had entered your apartment without invitation and threatened to harm your boyfriend within five minutes of his arrival was enough to make you think that this made the two of you almost even.

A small smirk tugs at Sylus’s lips as he presses his finger to his tongue, soothing the stinging that you caused. Your eyes linger on his mouth for a bit longer than they should, and if he noticed (which he certainly did), he didn’t say anything.

“I see you went shopping,” he mumbles, his eyes falling to your now closed underwear drawer. “That’s a shame, baby. A damn shame.”

You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Why’s that?”

“I hate the idea of another man seeing what’s mine,” Sylus answers, tilting his head to the side as he gives your body an agonizingly slow once over, “in such pretty fabric, at that.”

Heat rushes to your face at his implication, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable or if you’re flustered by his forwardness. You figure it’s a mixture of both, but you mask it with an annoyed huff.

“I can do what I want,” you refute, crossing your arms over your chest. “And if what I want is to buy panties that you’ll never have the privilege of seeing me wear, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Sylus clicks his tongue, shaking his head with the slightest smirk curving upwards on his lips. He finds your attitude to be just as adorable as it is frustrating. With the way you look, arms tightly crossed over your chest with the tiniest wrinkle in between your eyebrows, he’d liken you to an angry kitten.

“If you’re trying to rile me up, you’re succeeding,” he states, drumming his fingers on your dresser.

Your eyes flit away. “I’m not trying to do anything. In fact, I want nothing to do with you.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely upset with you from the moment he arrived. “Your boyfriend may fall for this little act of yours, but I won’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sylus straightens up, his tall frame towering over you. You almost feel antsy under his gaze, but you do your best to hide it.

“I am what your heart truly desires,” he quietly murmurs, his finger tracing from the middle of your collarbones to the valley of your breasts. “And you can lie to him, you can even lie to yourself—but you cannot lie to me. I can see your deepest desires, remember?”

Betrayal is your body’s first instinct. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the pad of his index finger runs across your skin, and you physically have to fight off a whine from escaping your lips.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, you straighten up, glancing towards your bedroom door. “That’s… bullshit, Sylus. Get out of my head.”

“It’s nothing of the sort,” he replies with a much gentler tone than the one he possessed prior. “And I’ll do no such thing. Your mind is my favorite place to be.”

He studies his reddened finger for a moment, silently deciding to steer the conversation from its more serious direction. “It still won’t feel better until it gets a kiss from its favorite girl, you know.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes betray you by studying the reddened pad of his finger. It shouldn’t be as enticing of a view as it is. You find it to be almost criminal.

“You can lose that finger for all I care,” you scoff, trying not to remember how good it used to feel inside of you.

“So brash.” Sylus forces a pout on his lips, though it doesn’t last long. He presses a kiss to his own finger before he extends his arm to rest on the edge of your dresser, keeping you caged against your drawers.

“You’re awfully lucky that I’m a forgiving man,” he murmurs, his red eyes trained to yours. “You can do almost anything to me and I’d allow it.”

Judging by the way your expression lights up, that seems to give you an idea.

“Really?” you inquire, narrowing your eyes. “Say, if I punched you square in your face, would you allow it?”

“I’m not opposed to finding out,” he answers, his eyelids fluttering as he continues to drink in your beauty. “You know I love it when you’re rough with me.”

That comment forces a flush to your face, and you almost have to pinch yourself to keep your mind from bringing forward all of the memories that proved just how true that statement was.

It infuriates you how easily he could get a reaction out of you, no less than six months after you broke up with him. Perhaps that was why, in a split second decision (one that you’re hardly aware you’re making), your fist goes flying towards his face.

Sylus firmly stops your wielding hand before it can make contact with his cheek. His fingers unwind your fist and bring your hand close, allowing him to press a few chaste kisses to your knuckles.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled by the kisses he’s peppering along your palm and wrist. “So, so beautiful.”

Only he would say such a thing after you attempted to inflict bodily harm upon him. You wish you could rationalize his behavior, but you can’t—that’s just Sylus.

Your body betrays you in every way, shape, and form. Your face is flushed, your eyes are half lidded, and the mere contact of his lips on your knuckles is enough for butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Grasping onto the last bit of common sense you have, you pull your hand from his grasp.

“It’s time for you to go,” you insist, beginning to slide against the dresser to escape his gaze.

Sylus allows you to create a bit of distance between the two of you, lifting his arm up from your dresser to let you walk away. The last thing he wants is to make you feel suffocated—the very reason you broke up with him in the first place.

He tried to do better, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t an animal, though. He loved you more than words could ever describe, and he’d allow you anything you wanted. And if physical space was what you wanted, he’d grant it to you.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he quietly says, his voice carrying an unforeseen vulnerability to it, “but I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t let you give yourself to a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your eyebrows raise. “How can you be so sure he doesn’t deserve me?”

“I know you, baby. That’s how.”

A beat of silence passes, and he conjures up the courage to continue. “And I’m positive there isn’t a single soul who could possibly deserve your favor,” Sylus reasons, loosely crossing his arms, his toned biceps showing through the sleeves of his black button–up shirt. “Not even myself. I’m man enough to recognize that.”

His answer catches you off guard, but you do your best to maintain your front. You don’t want him to see how his words seem to squeeze at your heart.

“Then why are you here?” you genuinely ask.

Sylus knows he’s backed himself into a corner, and contrary to what you might think, he’d intended to do just that. He wants you to give him the green light to speak every word that he’s longed to say to you from the moment he’d seen you last, and now that you have, the floodgates are open.

“I’m selfish,” he admits, taking a tentative step towards you. “I’m drunk on you, and I can’t bear the thought of sobering up, even after all this time. It’s unfair, it’s horrible, it’s cruel—I know this, sweetie. But… I find my serenity in your eyes, and with you gone, my life is purgatory. The confines of hell must be more pleasant than what it is that I feel when I’m without you.”

Internally, you’re floored. Gobsmacked, even. Externally, you’re looking at him with the same soft expression you’ve worn this entire time.

Met with your silence, Sylus begins to internally panic. He slowly takes a few steps towards you, and when you don’t attempt to maintain the distance between you, his hands move to cup your face.

“Rid me of this life,” he whispers, his mouth so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips. “I cannot go on, not without you beside me.”

You truly hate how easy it is for him to reduce you to nothing but putty. You have a new boyfriend, you’ve moved on, you’ve allowed the love that you and Sylus shared to be nothing more than history.

You wanted to believe that moving forward was the best thing you could do, but if that was true, why is it that your heart hadn’t felt full until you laid eyes on Sylus? It seems to beat differently, like it’s finally come back to life in his presence.

Noticing the softening of your eyes, Sylus can’t help himself. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, holding both of you there for a few seconds. The sheer tenderness of his action was enough to make you melt, and you were sure you would’ve if his hands on your face weren’t grounding you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, tilting your head up so that he can look into your eyes.

Sylus was never one for verbal affection (or being desperate for a woman’s favor) prior to you, but he’d make this exception a million times over if it meant he could have you however you’d let him.

You’ve nearly forgotten all of your allegiances, and you can’t even blame yourself for it. You know that indulging in him is like eating a forbidden fruit, and even then, you can’t forbid yourself from its taste—not when you know how sweet it is. What you feel goes beyond want; it’s pure, unadulterated need.

“No response for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. You carefully slide out of his grasp and sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes trailing you as you do so.

You’re a firm believer that nothing is real until you’ve said it out loud, Sylus is more than aware of that. He doesn’t want to push you too hard, too fast, too much, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

As you sit, your thighs naturally part and your skirt rides up just a bit, enough for the pink fabric clothing your pussy to be shown. That sight alone was able to elicit behavior that you’ve never once seen from Sylus.

“God, you are a privilege,” he murmurs, taking a few steps towards you. Without hesitation, he slowly descends to his knees before you, his hands trailing up your thighs. “Such a sight,” he adds his eyes flitting to the dampening fabric of your underwear, “such a beautiful sight.”

If his words weren’t enough, the sight of him kneeling in front of you was enough to make you faint. (Or scream. Or cum. Maybe all three at the same time, you’re not sure.)

“Allow me the night,” Sylus pleads, his desperate red eyes finally locking onto yours. His hand moves to brush your hair from your face, tucking it loosely behind your ear. “Just the night. One night to indulge you.”

Lying would be no use, all things considered. He’d already shamelessly eyed the needy area between your thighs, knowing that the arousal collecting there is for him. Your stomach swirls with a mixture of guilt and need, and you honestly feel like you’re in an impossible position.

“Sylus,” you breathe, your heartbeat thumping so hard that you’re surprised your chest hasn’t burst. “This is so wrong.”

He shakes his head as his large, gentle hands move to rest on your knees. “Your pleasure means more to me than a simple case of right and wrong.”

“I wish it was as simple as you make it seem,” you say, a long sigh leaving you.

“Can’t it be?” Sylus questions, his thumbs idly stroking your knees. “Allow me this one night to remind you of how I feel about you, how you feel about me. If you want me to leave you alone by the time morning comes, I will accept that with a smile.”

You’d like to imagine that you’re stronger than this, that the idea of a final night of lovemaking with your ex-boyfriend to get him out of your head for good isn’t appealing—but it is.

It’s something you’ve thought about before (in the dead of night with your hand stuffed down your shorts), but never did you think it could become a reality.

Only now, with him kneeling in front of you, it was.

“Okay,” you sheepishly murmur. “Remind me.”

You know this is absolutely horrible of you to do, but you can’t find the will to deny yourself this. As much as you tried to get Sylus out of your head, you never could. Not long enough for it to make a difference, anyway.

(Perhaps this, a final intimate night between the two of you, will be just what you need to move on for good.)

Sylus knows that his time with you is limited, but he plans to make it the best night of your existence.

(Perhaps if he can remind you of how much he’s willing to give, how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you—you’ll change your mind.)

His large, strong hands trail up as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, pressing a few kisses to your calves and inner thighs. He presses a kiss to the fabric of your underwear, his tongue drawing out to taste the wet spot.

Sylus isn’t sure what’s come over him, but he honestly feels like he’ll either implode or cry at the sight of you right now. To have you again is something he’s dreamt about more than he’d like to admit, and he plans to show you just how much your absence has affected him as his fingers slide beneath your skirt to hook under the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Thank you,” he mutters against your skin, tugging the clothing piece down your legs. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters aloud the moment his eyes land on your heat.

He could seriously cum in his pants right now, and if he’s not careful, he will. His hands lock onto your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed to give him better access to your glistening cunt.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he breathes, licking a long stripe up your slit.

You would have replied if he hadn’t buried his face in between your thighs. His tongue laps at your wetness before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly at it with hollowed cheeks.

A cry leaves your lips at the sensation, your hand gripping onto his white hair as you revel in the feeling his tongue is giving you.

He’s eating you out like a man starved, his own moans rumbling into your cunt, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. Sylus could do this for days if you let him, but after not having you like this for so long, he can’t help himself from needing more.

Within moments, he’s slowly pushing you higher on your bed, still licking at your pussy until he’s physically unable to. He looks up at you with crazed eyes, licking his spit-slick lips as he kicks his shoes off.

“Sit on my face,” he murmurs, moving to lay on your bed. When he’s met with your hesitance, he’s grasping onto your arm to carefully pull you towards him. “I might die without it.”

You’ve never once seen a man so pussy drunk in your entire life, but you’re in absolutely no position to deny him. So, you move to hover above him, your hands resting on your headboard. You hear a satisfied moan beneath you, and he’s soon hooking his arms around your thighs.

“You won’t die without it,” you grumble. “In fact, you might die because of it. Suffocation—”

“Suffocation of this kind might be the best way to go,” he cuts you off, licking a faint swipe against your folds. “In fact, when we’re old and withered, it might be my last ask of you.”

Your face flushes, and you can feel heat rushing to both your cunt and your cheeks. Noticing the coy face you’re making, Sylus can’t help himself from laying a faint smack on your ass, squeezing its plushness as he stares up at you.

“For now, though,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want you to let go for me. Can’t have you dangling this pretty cunt in my face without letting me taste it.”

As you hesitantly begin to relax your thighs and lower on top of him, he lifts his head up to meet you halfway and gather your slick on his tongue.

“Very good, baby,” Sylus purrs, dropping his head back onto your sheets as he pulls your hips down the rest of the way, “now sit.”

When all of your weight crashes down on him, a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sheer passion behind the movements of his tongue. He almost seems to be more incentivized. His eyes flutter shut as he mouths at your pussy, the moans leaving his mouth in combination with the absolute filthy sounds of his tongue are enough to drive you insane.

Sylus feels like he’s finally left purgatory and has transcended into heaven. With his pretty girl on his face, taking her on his tongue, making the most beautiful little noises—he’s honestly never felt better.

(Well, there is that whole new boyfriend thing looming in the back of his mind, but he’s sure that you’ll take care of that once he’s done taking care of you.)

One of your hands leaves the headboard to grasp onto his hair, your eyes screwing shut as you rock your hips over his tongue. “Sylus,” you breathe out through a moan. “I’m— oh, shit—”

Sylus’s cock twitches as you moan his name, his eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands help to guide the rocking of your hips. With his other, he palms himself through his trousers, his mouth working tirelessly to make you feel good.

Even as self-admittedly selfish as he is, he can’t bear the idea of putting his pleasure above your own—even if the ache is physically eating away at him. With you writhing above him, the sounds you’re making, the look on your face, it’s all too much—even for him.

Your mouth lulls open as you let out the most beautiful whine he’s ever heard, and his tongue slows down, working you through your first orgasm of the night. He eagerly collects your juices with his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he finally presses a final kiss to your swollen clit.

“I can stay this way forever,” he says against your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your warm skin, “you and me,” he places another kiss, “together.”

You shift to lay beside him, out of breath and looking beautifully disheveled. Sylus licks his lips and lies starry–eyed beside you. Soon enough, a huff of laughter escaped his throat, realizing he might’ve said too much there.

Sylus turns his head to look at you. “Was that enough to get an ‘I miss you too’ out of that mouth of yours?”

You let out a breathless laugh, your hand running over your face. “No,” you lie.

That was the best orgasm you’ve had since your breakup, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You’ve developed quite the attitude,” he muses, rolling on top of you. He slots his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “That boyfriend of yours must not fuck it out of you like he should,” he adds, the low volume of his voice rumbling against your skin as he kisses along your jaw, “like I can.”

Before you can think twice, you’re lifting your hips against the bulge in his pants, a soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the very prominent shape of his hardened cock. With a grunt, Sylus pushes your hips down, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs.

“Such a needy little thing,” he chastises, his hand moving to cup your mound. “First you’re insisting I leave, and now you’re hoping I’ll give you my cock. You’re sending me mixed signals here, sweetie.”

You’re seeing stars, and your hand grasps onto his wrist, feeling the way his muscles tense as he begins to toy with your clit.

“I want it,” you whine, your toes curling as the pad of his middle finger circles your entrance, “you’re… you’re being a tease.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, licking a long stripe up your neck. “If you want it bad enough, you’re going to have to prove it, baby.”

Your head tilts to the side as Sylus pulls away from your neck to look down at you. His fingers move to work at the button of your skirt, tugging it down your legs and tossing it onto the floor of your room.

“How?” you ask.

He presses his lips to yours as his hands tug up your shirt, breaking the kiss to carefully pull it over your head. His large hands palm at your breasts, bringing your perked nipples in between his fingers.

“Pick up the phone,” Sylus answers, releasing your breasts to sit up in front of you, his hands moving to undo his belt.

Your curiosity soon turns into something much more lustful as he pulls his trousers and boxers down his thighs. His shirt goes next, the articles of clothing decorating your floor. His cock looks even better than you remember, but he snaps his fingers in front of your face to gather your attention.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your trance.

“Pick up the phone,” he repeats, reaching to your bedside table to hand you your cell.

You take the device from him, looking at it with confusion. You were embarrassed that you hadn’t even noticed it ringing, far too distracted by the sight of him stroking his hand along his length, but your embarrassment soon turns into dread as you read the caller ID.

It is, of course, none other than your boyfriend.

“Sylus, that’s— that’s crazy,” you stammer out, looking between his eyes, his dick, and your phone.

He snickers, flipping you onto your stomach. His hands grasp onto the plush of your hips to pull your ass up. “What’s crazy is the fact that you expect me to fuck you without your boyfriend’s knowledge.”

“You’re above adultery?” you gasp out.

Sylus shakes his head, his hand moving to prod your entrance with the tip of his cock, his other hand grasping onto your hair to pull you back against his chest.

“Obviously not,” he replies, licking along the shell of your ear. “Just want to show him how beneath it you are.”

Your heart slams against your chest as he takes the device from you and answers the call, holding the phone to your ear.

“Let him hear,” he purrs, slowly pushing his cock inside of you. “The noises you make with my cock buried inside you are such a prize. It’d be a disservice to not share.”

A sharp whine leaves your lips as he tugs on your hair, tilting your head to give himself better access to your neck as he bottoms out inside of you. “Tell him what you’re up to, sweetie,” he simply says, sucking a faint mark onto your neck.

On the other end of the line, your partner begins to blab on about his day, though you’re hardly able to listen, not when Sylus is pushing his cock inside of you like a madman. Your body tenses as he stretches you out, the sensation forcing a moan out of your mouth, though the man on the other end of the line didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, resting his chin on the crook of your shoulder to press an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “taking my cock so nicely. Missed this pussy so much.”

“—so then, I told him… wait. Are you with someone?”

Your heart rate skyrockets as Sylus draws his hips back only to pound the length of his cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck… y-yes,” you choke into the phone, almost breathless.

“Thank you for your confession, my dear,” Sylus teasingly remarks, knowing that your response was a reaction to how good he feels inside of you rather than an answer to your boyfriend’s question.

He presses a faint kiss to your shoulder as he thrusts into you again, using his grip on your hair to push you back onto your stomach. A hand smoothes over the curve of your back, his long fingers hooking around the plush of your hip to remind you that he’s still present despite the situation. He then brings the phone to his own ear, watching with a wide grin as you arch your back to take as much of his cock as you can.

“Our friend can’t talk right now,” he says into the receiver, grunting as your walls clench around him. “She’s gotten lost and found herself on my cock, which is such a positive turn of events, let me tell you,” the pace of his hips thrusting into you only seems to get more intense with each word he says, “considering it’s right where she belongs.”

“W-what? Who the fuck are you? I—”

“I can’t stay on the line to talk much either,” Sylus continues, his free hand grasping a bit tighter onto your hair as he tugs on it to fuck deeper and harder inside of you, his skin slapping against yours with each heavy thrust. “Have to make her cum for all the times you couldn’t.”

You’re lost in a whirlwind of sensations, your mouth gaped open as you moan out with each thrust he makes, your back arched as much as you could make it. You can feel a pool of warmth building inside of your lower stomach, and you let out a cry of pleasure.

You haven’t been fucked this good in, well… six months. That much is obvious to the both of you, given the way you’ve been losing your mind with each forceful push of his hips. He knows your body in ways you’ll never understand, and luckily for you, you don’t need to understand in order to receive the pleasure that he’s desperately trying to give you.

“Sylus!” you gasp out, serving as a warning for how close you already are.

“Mm, I have to go, duty calls,” Sylus says into the phone, releasing his grip on your hair to move his hand between your legs, two of his fingers circling your clit. “Call my woman again and I’ll kill you.”

Tapping the screen to end the call, he tosses your phone mindlessly, and it’s only when you hear it drop against the floor do you turn around to look at him.

“Sylus!” you scold.

He gives you a wry smile as he slowly pulls out of you, rolling you onto your back. “I’ll buy you a new one, pretty. Don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to protest, but when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you again, you’re hardly in the protesting mood at all.

Sylus towers over you, his forearm propping him up as he slowly fucks into you, his red eyes trained to yours. “God, baby, I’ve missed you.”

Almost instinctively, your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. There was a hidden intimacy of this position that you’ve always loved. He obliges to your request, resting his forehead on yours as he thrusts harder inside of you.

“You take me so well,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “So, so beautifully.”

You mewl at the softness of his praise, your eyes glossing over as he continues to fuck you into oblivion, your walls tensing around him. He hisses at the feeling, dipping his head to press a kiss on your cheek.

He can tell that you’re close, and he knows just what you need. He won’t give it to you so easily, though.

“Sweetie?” he breathes out.

You nod your head before breathlessly replying, “yeah?”

Sylus gives you a smirk as he raises his bruised finger to your lips. “Kiss it better. Let me use it on you.”

Protest is not on your agenda anymore, not by a long shot. You kiss the pad of his finger without hesitation, and you proceed to capture it with your mouth, your tongue soothing the bruising.

He smiles at the sight, a groan leaving his lips as he continues to thrust his cock inside of you. “So pretty, baby. God, you’re beautiful.”

Sylus retracts his finger from your mouth to bring it to your clit, his spit-slick finger rubbing it in beautiful, moan-earning circles. He watches as your eyes almost immediately haze over at the stimulation.

He lowers his head to suck on your nipple, his free hand palming at your other breast as means of stimulating you in any way he can. After a moment, he latches onto your other breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak.

“God, ah— Sylus!” you moan, your hands wrapping around his neck.

He nips at your breast before he pulls away, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as he feels you clench around his cock. “Going to come for me again, beautiful?”

You nod your head, rising up from the pillow to press a kiss on his lips, and his large hand moves to cup the back of your head as he kisses you through your orgasm. His fingers gently thread through your hair, giving you the best of both worlds.

“Cream my cock, baby. It’s all yours, always will be,” he mutters against your lips, his thrusts growing slower as he twitches inside of you.

Sylus breaks the kiss to look down at you, a heavy pant leaving him. “Where do you want me?” he breathlessly asks.

As if that were a question you ever responded differently to, he still needed to ask, even though you answered just the same. “In… in me.”

He nods his head as he thrusts inside of you a few more times, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek as he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full of his thick, white cum.

A moment passes in which the two of you simply pant breathlessly to each other, your sweaty foreheads pressed together. It was a beautiful scene by all measures.

“I missed you too,” you finally pant out, a smile breaking your lips. “I missed you a lot.”

He chuckles breathlessly at that. “I missed you even more, sweetie.”

Sylus presses a soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly pulls out of you, traveling slowly to your bathroom before returning with a damp towel. He settles in front of you again, using the warm towel to gently clean up the mess he’s made of you between your legs.

You stare at him with the most lovestruck eyes he’s ever seen, and it only makes him smile. “You tired, baby?” he lowly asks.

Nodding your head, you extend your arms to him, and he pulls you in without question. He lies down on his back, holding you against his chest. His large hand runs over your back while the other one tugs your blankets over the both of you, giving you a bit of warmth.

Not that he needed anything more than your presence. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, holding the woman that he loves, running his fingers over her hair just as he used to.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. It’s almost concerning how much he loves you, but he can’t help it.

“I love you,” you lazily return the sentiment.

As you cuddle into his chest, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up today, if he’d left you alone, if he let you move on.

You know it’s crazy to think about.

After all, it’s Sylus. Your Sylus. He’s the only person you’ve ever needed, and now that he’s reminded you of that, you won’t forget it.

note. thank you for reading! please interact if you enjoyed!! <3 i don’t even know what the hell this is—we have possessive, dominant, and soft sylus in one go. but hey, it works for me, so i hope it works for you. pls pls pls give me ideas to write more for this sexy man—i never get tired of him!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

#♥︎ tojicide #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus qin #sylus #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus smut #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace #lads #love & deepspace

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nanamiskentos · 25 days ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ your boyfriend, gojo satoru, told you that he was gonna' stay behind in japan, he had to go to work and all — he's a high school teacher, you see. so what's he doing sneaking behind the red carpet, looking all suspiciously rumpled and mussed? oh hell no.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, jujutsu canon, celebrity!reader, misunderstandings and mild angst, reader doesn't know about jujutsu, makeup séx, máting préss, cérvix kissing, brééding kink :D

word count ⋆ ★ 5.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ because i've always wanted gojo to be on the red carpet...yasss watched the grammys <3 smth silly, short and sweet i whipped up 😁

THE HOTTEST STAR OF THE YEAR RUSHES FROM RED CARPET, WHY? STAY TUNED FOR MORE.

saint laurent heels beat staccato taps into the worn brick, graff crystals dangling from your adorned wrist as you shove your brightly lit phone into your boyfriend's face, "what the hell, satoru?" the offending headline glaring right back at him from your screen.

gojo, for his part, just shoves his hands into his navy slacks, rolling his shoulders back in that deliciously snug ice-blue cotton dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with pale hair. you curse how your gaze dips, resolve cracking, and glossy lips pursed.

strange, how he he looks nothing short of absolutely roughed up, soft fabric crumpled, and sunglasses tilted askew. white hair mussed as though someone took to running their hands through snowy locks, huh.

"hi, baby. happy to see me?"

oh, he's trying to be charming. cute. gojo's grinning, lips parting over sharp teeth, acting as though he totally hadn't been lurking behind rows of insistent paparazzi practically hurdling themselves around the red carpet stairs.

and despite better judgement and little regard for desperate tabloids springing up, you'd pushed past security, past cries of your name, to chase after your boyfriend, who had just texted you an hour ago at most. about how work was going so great.

"you better have a really, really good explanation for this."

to his credit, gojo has the decent sense to look mildly ashamed. pale blue eyes narrow beneath tinted lenses, and he's faintly chewing on the inside of his cheek, "d'you want the long version or the short version? because you gotta' believe me, baby, hear me out –"

something's buzzing, faintly pulsing to the beat of not like us, it's gojo's phone. and he's fumbling through the deep pockets of his slacks. you furiously snap your eyes away from how well they fit, that's so not the point right now, ugh!

"your side chick, hmm?"

gojo looks vaguely offended, rolling his eyes skywards as he unlocks his phone, "hey, we got some attitude today, pretty. why's that?"

you cross your arms over oscar de la renta, sheer panels stitched to mimic stained glass, bless your stylist, truly. "we got some attitude 'cause my boyfriend told me he was busy with work, and had to teach class. dropped me off at the airport, even."

gojo sighs, teeth kissing his tongue as he clicks, "i am working, believe me. and — oh."

you crunch your heel into the gravel, loose stones that line this back passage behind the carpet and the theatre, "what's oh? 'toru?"

"promise not to get mad?" gojo's murmuring, tilting his dim phone screen around. it's a screenshot of a headline, barely a minute old. the photo? you, here, right now. wagging a stern finger at gojo, who's throwing his hands up in disbelief.

STAR FLEES RED CARPET TO RENDEZVOUS WITH MYSTERY MAN? BOYFRIEND, OR SOMETHING MORE?

the tagline follows, some blithe words about how you're prioritising a man in the shadows, over a shining career? over a golden gramophone clutched in your hand, lights sparkling your name on stage. you hiss at the ridiculous amount of shares and comments already, "oh, come on."

"we're so screwed, baby," gojo sighs, rubbing his temple, swiping away at a quick notification from stoic lookin' blonde who doesn't even crack a smile in his profile photo, kento? huh, you've never met a kento.

you sigh, feeling the headache oncoming at the mere thought of your manager furiously scouring the theatre for you, "we?"

gojo scowls, shoving his phone away, "hey, i have people to answer to as well. last thing i need is a public image."

what an odd sentiment, you privately wonder. gojo is wealthy, stupidly so. you're certain of that. something about old money, his family stretches back generations on some beautiful estate. but he's a high school teacher. you've seen him grade quizzes, seen blurry photos of students in dark jackets and neatly pressed uniforms. a private school on the outskirts of tokyo, sure, but public image?

"since when do high school teachers care about their pr?"

gojo flexes his hands, and your eyes drop. slender fingers that you know like the back of your own hand, fingers you've traced absentmindedly when he's sprawled across your couch, fingers that have curled into the dip of your waist in the quiet hours of the night. long, pale, too elegant for someone as brash as him, tensing now as though he's bracing for impact. he's hesitating, weird, because gojo satoru never hesitates.

well, maybe once. the first time he asked you out, flushed and nigh tripping over himself, looking so damn adorable that you had stomped your loubitons, and said 'yes' just so you could kiss him.

"i need to tell you something, baby."

something cold slides down your spine, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. the air shifts, thickens, pressing against your skin in a way that makes your pulse gallop. you swallow, tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth at how gojo looks unsettled.

that's what gets you. he's never like this. not even that one time months ago when you caught him unwrapping white bandages from his eyes, headache, he had muttered, fingers gripping some torn, stained bundle of purple and green silk. he had crashed out on your cosmos couch minutes later, surly and morose for the days that followed.

your mind races. his family, it has to be his family. the old-money, aristocratic gojo family, the family that he's never introduced you too. they probably think actresses and pop stars are meant to be ogled at from afar, hardly worthy material to bring home to the estate. your stomach churns, for is that why he showed up here, rumpled and tense, instead of waiting until you got home? is this it, ending things?

your heart's hammering, and you hate this, hate it so bad. how how much you want to cling to him, to stop whatever he's about to say from slipping past his candy-pink lips.

"i'm a sorcerer."

there's a sharp, stabbing pain right behind your eyes.

and you're blinking, slowly, mind whirring. then you laugh, loud. sharp, and far too high-pitched, "god, this is why i love you. you're funny, 'toru. i can't believe you actually had me worried and shit, like –"

"i'm being serious, baby." and that's the thing, isn't it? he seems so, like he believes every word coming out of his mouth. his hands, big and warm, close around yours, and there's something in the way that he clasps you, as though he's pleading, and it makes you freeze.

"swear i would never string you along in something like this," gojo murmurs, "i know it's a lot, but seriously, you can ask me anything. anything, and i'll try to answer. and i wasn't ever sure how i was gonna' tell you, but promise i was waiting for the right time and –"

your boyfriend, bless his beautiful face and questionable judgement, and golden heart, has lost his goddamn mind.

your fingers tighten around his, feeling the scrape of faint callouses and scars, "okay, c'mon. now this is getting a little weird."

"you don't believe me?" and gojo looks, god, he looks devastated. long, white lashes fluttering against icy eyes, earnest in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"babe, you said sorcerer right? like...magic? big pointy hats, and all that shit?"

gojo just nods, a faint flush colouring his cheeks, "jujutsu sorcerer. it's real, like, y'know shoko? remember when we met her at that bar downtown, we went to school together. she can back me up, or –, or, i can take you to the school, or introduce you to –"

"okay, okay!" you pull your hands away, feeling your breath hitch as your pulse pounds in your ears, "satoru, stop. seriously. i don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's really startin' to freak me out."

gojo's jaw tightens, the beautiful and haunting lines of his face hardening. something raw, and something sharp flickers through his eyes, "you think i'm fuckin' with you?" there's something brittle in the low control of his tone, "you think i'd joke about this?

you throw your hands up, bejewelled bvlgari sliding down your digits, "yes, satoru! you joke about everything, sometimes." your heart is erratic now, bile sitting in the back of your throat, "what the fuck are you even sayin', like, magic? that you really want me to believe that you're a wizard?"

"not a wizard, sorcerer."

"oh, my bad," you bite out, lips snapping around disbelieving words, "that just makes so much more sense."

gojo's eyes flare, and he's pressing a thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his defined nose, as though he can feel another one of his migraines creeping up, "god, can you just, — can you just listen to me for once?"

"listen to you?" you laugh, but it's far more of a disbelieving scoff, "listen to yourself, please. satoru, we're halfway across the world right now. i could put my career, my entire future, on hold because i really do love you. and now you're telling me that you — what? fight demons in your free time?"

"curses," gojo mutters, rolling big, blue eyes, as though it makes much of a difference to you.

"oh my god."

gojo's looking at you as though he doesn't even recognise you, like he expected something different, as though you're the one making this hard. his throat is bobbing, adam's apple shifting, and you can see his hands pinch at his sides, "knew you wouldn't believe me," he's muttering, shaking his head of tousled, white hair, "this was jus' stupid, no wonder i never tried this whole time."

"they why do it now?" you throw the words at him, suddenly furious and hurting, because you don't understand why he's pulling this on you, now. "why? like, go on, show me something, then, 'toru! or otherwise this is some insane, insane shit, i can't even – i don't know what you want me to do."

gojo's mouth opens, and then closes. his shoulders droop just slightly, and for a moment, just a brief and flickering moment, he looks far more tired than his twenty-eight years. but a split second passes, and he's exhaling, just stepping back.

"forget it," gojo snaps, voice clipped, "this was a mistake. i got real shit to do, talk to y'afterwards." he's turning, stalking off and pulling his sunglasses away from his face (he rarely does that), as though you're the one that's let him down.

what the fuck? the tell-tale click of a camera rings your ears, followed by a bright flash. great. you need a drink, stat.

you shouldn't do this. you know you shouldn't do this. and yet, here you are, gripping at gojo's sleek phone, left with you when he disappeared to fuck knows where.

your fingers twitch around the case, like you should just chuck it across the hotel suite and be done with this whole thing. but you don't, you just sit there. the silence pressing in too thick, your manager's tired voice still rattling in your skull.

yes. you have a boyfriend. yes, he showed up tonight. yes, you still love him, even if he's lost his marbles.

you keep that last part to yourself, thumb hesitating over your own phone, resisting the urge to doom scroll your way into some clarity. as though your snark reddit thread is going to have some answers for this mess.

the oscar de la renta is long gone, carefully pried off and zipped away into a smooth, dark bag — leaving you in a slinky ysl number, straight from their summer runway, drumming your fingers along the bejewelled hem as diamonds still glint at your ears. and gojo? nowhere to be found.

you exhale sharply, rolling his phone between your palms before pressing the screen to life. you shouldn't, you never do this. in two years, you've never once felt the need to snoop, nor pry, to check if he was lyin' about anything, because he never gave you a reason to.

but here you are, thumbing in the passcode anyway. it's your birthday, fuck. of course it is. you're staring at the unlocked screen, suddenly still, what the hell are you even looking for? if this was some elaborate joke, some ruse, what would you find? some notes app plan to send you spiralling? but it was the way that gojo satoru had looked, as though he had truly been hurt, and it hadn't seem false at all.

your thumb hesitates, tapping onto the messages. skimming past familiar names, shoko (right, yep), that kento, and something from an okkotsu with a smiling emoticon next to it. your stomach churns at the intrusion, but your curiosity (and desire to break free of the doghouse) presses harder. you press at a read bubble.

yaga we think it's a special grade. could possess a domain. gojo exorcised it. 👍

you're peering at the timestamp, thirty mere minutes before you had torn away from the red carpet, demanding to know why the hell he looked as though he lost the fight with an angry gnome, as though he'd wrestled a ghost in the back alley.

your mouth goes bone dry, 'exorcised.' this clearly isn't a joke, it's far too intricate, too deeply woven into gojo's life for it to be some elaborate prank. you feel vaguely ill, swiping through emails, some from a guy named ijichi, reports full of the kind of gory details you'd expect from a crime documentary. terms like domain expansion, cursed energy and a special grade blur together as you flip onto your side, heels still dangling off the bed, skirt hem riding up.

then, by pure accident, you tap into his camera roll. oh, there's so much of you. soft candid shots, like you laughing into a martini. you, asleep in the passenger seat of his car, caught mid-bite into a croissant that time he took you to paris. a dumb, fond smile tugs at your sparkling lips despite yourself, but then you swipe and —

a video. you press play, praying to the heavens above that there's no mortal punishment for being a nosy ass.

gojo, in that sleek, grey suit that you so adore. he seems to be at some restaurant, on a cruise ship, perhaps? demolishing a banana split with the kind of enthusiasm that most men reserve for their wedding night.

next to him, a pale and dark-haired boy is watching in resigned horror, while the bleary, unfocused lens swivels to a group of more, unfamiliar teenagers. they're all dressed in some form of black-tie wear, rambling about completed missions and gojo-sensei.

sensei, you frown, feeling a thick lump in your throat. they must be his students, the ones from his classes, and the way they're talking to him, laughing and giggling? he's so, so loved. fuck, what had you been missing?

the camera lingers on a girl with a sharp sway of auburn hair, propped with her elbows on the table, in a frilly black dress. there's a pink-haired kid nudging her as she snaps her fingers, something glinting on the table.

nails, like those you'd see at some hardware store. nails that move, without her even touching them once. your stomach twists, and you rewind. once. twice. ten times. watching, staring, trying to catch at how the metal swivels without even brushed against.

sorcery. gojo had said to your face, and you had scoffed. tch', you snap the phone shut and shove it on the soft sheets, something ugly clawing at your throat. nausea, guilt. some form of shame, and exasperation with the man you love for not telling you this earlier.

you fiddle with the diamond hanging from your ear, forlornly glancing at the heavy door, for you want gojo. to say that you're sorry, to say that you're furious he didn't explain this better, to say that you love him, that you want him to be alright, that you need him, that you want —

slam!

the door swings open, no keycard, and no knock. and you near damn jump out of your skin, a rush of heat and cold spiking through you all at once. crawling over your bare arms, legs still glossed and smoothed underneath your little dress.

gojo. gojo, standing there, looking undone. ruffled, and heaving as he drinks the sight of you in. those ever-present sunglasses, those tinted shades that he so favours are gone. and when his eyes flick up to you, you suck in a breath so sharp that it scrapes at your throat.

they glow, electric blue, almost too vibrant to be real, like something pulled straight out of a vivid imagination.

"satoru," you manage, voice pattering away at how his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, catching the way his lips part, something frayed and desperate twisting his expression. the fine cotton of his shirt is streaked with red, and there's a smear of that same crimson shade reaching up his left cheek, stretching up to his ear. like a painter who got impatient with a brush.

"baby," gojo exhales, voice thick, as though he's been holding this in all night, moving towards you, steady, "i shoulda' told you, told you more. need you to believe me, but –"

you press a manicured finger against his lips, "i believe you. satoru, i really do. i'm so sorry, i had no idea and — wait, whose blood is this?"

gojo shudders under your touch, just the slightest tremour, eyes blown wide, "not who," lashes fluttering lower, leaning against you, "what. and it doesn't matter much now."

your boyfriend's searching your face, looking for something, something more intimate, desparate in your expression. his brows pulled together, and mouth parting into a soft oh! when he sees a mirror reflection of his own want.

and then, he's kissing you, and you're kissing him. whining desperately into the press of his lips, suddenly hot for the urge to pull your legs right against that thick bulge that jostles at your thigh. to lean more into the wandering hands that tug at the hem of season ysl.

you're gasping, not protesting as thick hands pull at your thighs. laying you flat against the bed, the finest suite that this hotel has to offer. away from prying eyes, and nosy reporters hoping to catch the who's who of your bedmates. or rather, the singular love of your life.

gojo's chuckling at your expression, "don't worry, baby. won't ruin yer' pretty dress," lips curled into a slow smile, burning a determined path down the arch of your neck, past the low dip of your neckline over your breasts, "want me, baby? wan' this?"

"so bad," you murmur, just giggling as gojo groans, pulling you up so you're splayed out for him, balanced across his thighs. the very tip of your heels digging into his back as you cross your legs to pull him closer, "m'boyfriend's so hot."

gojo whines into your chest, laving blossoming bruises over the skin that you know will give the makeup artists a field day, and it's obvious how needy he is. thick curve of his bulge pressing right up against your core, rutting his hips for some friction as he showers you in attention, worshipping your form. lips coming back to press into yours, laving at your mouth.

"hah, 'toru!" you yelp, adjusting the silky, beaded neckline, "easy on the d-dress. fuck, can't explain that to my s-stylist when you –" you're mewling, your words getting lost in the heat of gojo's panting mouth.

"what'dya take me for, baby?" gojo hums, slick strands clinging to his dewy lips, running broad hands over your waist, "but i gotta' show my girl," and here, he's patting lower over your hips, "some lovin', and some care, heh."

gojo truly fears he may be obsessed with you, just as much as the rest of the world is. but he, well, he's the only one who gets to see you like this, the flesh of your thighs splayed out underneath the hem that's ridden up of that gorgeous number you've got on. throwing your head back for him, just him.

he's sighing, prettily, tapping at your cheek with loving fingers, "can fuck ya' here, right? gonna' do it so good, show y'some other things you've been missin' out on."

you tilt your head, "you already fuck me that good, 'toru." feeling him groan, racking his bulge up against you once more, "never made me miss out on a, hah, a d-damn thing."

gojo looks ravenous, eyes still wide, white lashes framing the pools of vibrant, electric blue, "told ya' about jujutsu, didn't i?" pressing a filthy kiss to your lips once more, "well, heh, just you wait. can use it for plentyyy other things, baby."

your dress is being pushed up, the soft fabric giving little resistance as gojo presses the rough pads of his fingers into your hips. haute couture giving way for gojo to touch as much of you as he can.

"baby," he's whining, jaw slack as he slides a finger over the crevice of your thighs, "prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen. love you so bad, it hurts. it really, really does." and how could you not love him back, gojo who's peering at you with dilated, adoring eyes?

"just gonna, yeah, put ya' down there. don't gotta' do much, just lay there, pretty." gojo's pressing you down slowly, gently. further into the mattress, as he slots himself right at the apex of your thighs. slapping at your fingers when you reach for the straps of your heels, "don't," he whines, petulant, "it looks hot. might hafta' get you another pair," bestowing another sweet kiss upon your waiting, swollen lips when you scoff.

"satoru," you purr, carding your polished nails over the man's scalp, threading your fingers through soft, white strands. relishing in how his throat bobs, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, "said you had some jujutsu, that's the word, right? something to show me? well?"

whatever paper thin resolve had been holding gojo satoru cracks, snapping away as gojo's eyes harden, hand pulling at the bands of your thin, sheer panties. ones clearly meant to flirt, and tease.

the lace waistband gives way with a gutting, sopping tear. and gojo's grinning, wide so sharp canines poke out from underneath cherry lips, rolling the ball of torn fabric up and tucking them away into his pockets, snickering as though he's won his prize, "s-soaked, already?"

you fight the furious blush that colours your cheeks when gojo whistles, low and impressed, laying himself flat on his stomach so your heels are swinging over his shoulders, resting against his back, as he takes in the brazen sight of your swollen folds throbbing, "pretty pussy's always so wet for me, heh." watching clear slick gather from your mound to your entrance, sliding his index finger along your slit, "wanna' taste you, baby."

you know there's little else on this earth that brings as much pleasure as gojo's eager mouth, the way he becomes truly ravenous when he's in between your legs — thighs hooked over his frame. how he always knows the right spots to press his mouth to, where to flatten his tongue against your slick. but now? right now, you want him in you. mouth lolling at the idea of his thick inches stuffin' you so, so full.

gojo latches onto your silence, resting his soft head of white hair against your thigh, batting long lashes up at you from underneath his lidded gaze, "or does my pretty girl want somethin' else, mhm?" the corners of his soft, pink lips quirking upwards in the ghost of a knowing smile.

it's hard to form a decent response when his slender middle finger is teasing over your glimmering slit, making you keen at the slick pop! of your arousal ringing in your ears, "s-satoru! think you, hahh, know what i want, please."

you're not above begging, certainly not when gojo's grinning, as pleased as the cat who got the cream. looming up to unbuckle his fine, leather belt, and hissing when his own hand provides just enough fiction to make his ears blush a hot, deep crimson.

you never, ever grow tired of this sight. the pale flush on gojo's neck trailing down, down further past sinous muscle and soft flesh. past the curl of white hairs on his groin, and to the long, thick curve of his cock that already looks as though it's throbbing.

"wait a sec', baby," gojo breathes, two gentle fingers pushing past your dripping folds to gather some of the translucent slick pooling onto the sheets beneath you. the wet smack! of his hand pumping your arousal over his cock like some lubricant, and the way he's releasing a sharp, serpentine sound at how filthy it all is.

he's teasing you, and it makes you groan. makes you writhe on the bed, desperately hoping that he has some form of mercy on you, bucking your cunt against his rounded, leaking tip that's sliding through your folds, "gonna' show ya' exactly how i hit bullseye each time, baby."

there's that luminous blue light, pulsing from gojo's irises (that you swear have reformed into feral, little hearts). it's a shade of blue so intense, it seems as though he's been carved from the sky itself.

"f-fuck," you whine, feeling the first inch of his thick shaft nudging past your swollen, aching folds, "hngh, 'toru, fuck, 's big." whimpering from the sheer pleasure as gojo chuckles, his warm palms resting on your thighs to swing your legs over his shoulders once more. pressing down into the meanest mating press that you can imagine.

glorious, hot inches rummaging past your gummy walls, exploring every crevice as you're certain his weeping tip must already be kissing that sensitive spot at your cervix, "babe, satoru, fillin' me so good already."

the nasty, acute angle at which he's got you folded is something out of your most lustful dreams, ones where gojo's panting just like he is now, already babbling, "always s'perfect for me, perfect fit, love you baby," that low rumble in gojo's chest quivering as he litters droopy kisses over your cheek, your neck and down your collarbone.

that purr falling from gojo's glossy lips getting louder with each surefire hit that he delivers against your sweet, rough spot, and had you been in a more coherent state, you would have been marvelling at how instantly your boyfriend had managed to hit the bullseye he promised, and you hear him faintly laugh, "called six eyes, baby. gonna' show you allll the ways i can use it, heh."

not able to stop the whimper when you feel the sticky smack of skin against your ass, slamming into you over and over again, "y'got two eyes, though?"

a damn near sob when he begins rolling his hips so sluttily, so he can truly swab at you with the most pleasurable sensation, laughing so pretty with a faint dimple creasing the corner of his mouth, "tch', so much to teach ya', baby. don't worry, we'll cover everything."

"hah, 'toru, satoru, babe," you squeal, the very tips of your manicured nails placing little perfect pricks onto the nape of gojo's flushed neck, "fuckin' me so damn' good." and you know how much your boyfriend likes to be praised, for he's flushing even more, whining as you lock your ankles in the air.

and the pace that he keeps up is nothing short of inhuman, tacking his groin against your sloppy clit until there's tears of relief pooling on your lashes. and it's not like you've ever been left dissatisfied with gojo satoru around, for from the very first night, he's been an expert at leaving you bleary eyed, and hazy with little cupid arrows dancing around your head.

but to be aware of all this, well, it's something different. there's that raw, searing blue gaze that you've never caught before, sending waves of raw pleasure down your spine.

each raspy groan drawn out of gojo is punctuated with the thick slap of his cock against your inner walls, that filthy mess of his pre and your arousal puddling beneath your hips and thighs so, so deliciously.

as though he's committing every inch of you to memory, his girthy shaft bullying fat inches, battering your guts with the most tingly, mind-numbing kisses ever, and he seems to be sipping at your lips, downing his favourite taste (or second favourite, he may claim with a cheeky grin). kissing at your neck, beneath the weight of diamonds that glitter at your flushed ears.

you're trying to shift under the weight pushing you down, parting your thighs to create more space so you can gasp, "h-here, 'toru, please. 'm so close, wanna' cum with you."

and how could gojo satoru not want to propose to you right then and there? visions running through his head, all of you. you, his wife, his love, and the idea of, fuck, little bundles with his white hair cradled in your arms. visions that he's heard you talk about fondly before. already dreaming of that opulent diamond band he saw in that window store front of some luxury flagship store.

and gojo doesn't even realise he's getting caught up in that lovesick haze. nimble fingers rolling over the hood of your throbbing clit, tight circles being traced over the sensitive bud. and how he relishes the sound of your wanton moans falling against his ear, you have to finish, he needs to see it.

six eyes kicking up into overdrive as he angles his aching cock just so, that ghostly, cobalt light finding the exact spot in your pretty, perfect cunt to make you whine and squeal, and gojo feels as though he may have just seen the pearly gates when you quiver, shaking in his hold as you release crashes down on you. you, you, you. falling apart so prettily for him, lashes fluttering shut as you squeeze your eyes, and there's that gorgeous glow that he so loves to admire.

"hah, ah, 'toru!" you dig into his back, feeling up the open dress shirt still hanging from him, "s-sensitive, babe. so, s-soo good, mmph!" moaning at the feeling of gojo bursting, filling you with thick ropes of pearly release, throbbing right at your very core. laughing fondly as he kisses you through his own release, gasping and groaning into your mouth, "baby, fuck, baby, love you sooo much." clearly reluctant to even pull out of you, but enamoured by the sight of viscous, creamy cum leaking of you, practically adoring the filthy sight.

"tsk', i got sloppy with my aim, pretty," gojo hisses, "didn't put it all in ya', wanna try again?"

you're tucked against gojo's chest, cheek pressed to that expensive cologne that always lingers on him. spicy, clean, with that faint undercurrent of something sweet. his hand is in your hair, raking through it, and he's laughing, laughing as he smooths down your dress, all so fond and unbothered as you scowl.

for you know that tomorrow, everyone's gonna' be demanding answers as to why that brand new little ysl looks as though you crawled through a hedge backwards. black silk all wrinkled, straps coming loose at your shoulders.

speaking of answers...

"satoru?" you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, and gojo just hums in acknowledge, slow and lazy as you sigh, "do you have a kid?"

your boyfriend's freezing, and you feel him stiffen beneath you as he pulls back to stare at you, "what — like a kid kid? like a mini-me?" pink, kiss-stung lips parted as he's blinking, as though he's missing to whatever you've caught on.

"yeah," you mumble, suddenly feeling a lil' silly about it, "i was just, y'know, looking at your phone. swear i wasn't being nosy on purpose, just wanted to see all that sorcerer shit you were talkin' about. and i think i saw something, like a legal doc' with a kid under your name." tapping your chin in thought, "ugh, what was it again? megumi?"

gojo's features shift, that flicker of 'oh shit' that makes you backtrack, "i don't mind, by the way," you blurt, hands up, "not mad or anythin', just, like, wanted to know. since you were tellin' me everything about you, and if you have like a secret child, or two –"

a beat, and then gojo laughs. you can feel the vibrations of the deep rumbles in his chest, that ridiculous cackle that makes your ribs shake against his chest. thick arms locking you tighter against him as he grins, "oh, baby," he's purring, "it's a long story. see, i met this fella' once, toji zenin, this was wayy back when i was in school, and he killed me –"

"what the fuck?"

"i have a lotta' stories like this, don't worry. i'll tell ya' whatever you wanna' know, hah."

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