#pls i wanna take care of him <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[omitea]

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋

“you know i love you right…,” satoru trailed off. his fingers were impatiently tapping on the kitchen counter— awaiting for your response.

“what did you do this time?,” you hummed as you continued to stir the broth you were preparing for him. he groaned, the cold he caught making it sound deeper than normal. “why do you always assume i did something.”

you huffed amused, “when do you not, satoru.” turning the stove off, you started to look through the top cabinets for a bowl. “you always start with that exact same sentence.”

you heard his tired sniffles closer this time and soon felt his warm welcoming arms wrap around your waist. “you take such good care of me, pretty,” he slurred. head craning to rest in the crook of your neck. “jus’ wanted to let you know, is all.”

you poured some steaming hot broth in his bowl and turned around to face him. his pale cheeks were tinted a rosy color along with his runny nose. his eyes hazy and brows slightly furrowed at the discomfort of being sick. “i will always take care of you, baby.” you smiled. “that’s why im here for.”

his eyes watered and he pouted, “i love you so much,” he sniffed. you kissed his pout and mumbled against his cold lips, “and i love you more, ‘toru.”

yeah, sick satoru equals emotional satoru.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

once again thinking abt cult leader geto and his hissy cat of a reader who scratches and bites him while he does nothing but coo over them on the daily. no one speak to me for ten business hours please

[fiendishartist2]

guys what if i want to make my own apollo justice game.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

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

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

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

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

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

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

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

➸ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

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

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

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

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for no flirting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Bros.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels like throwing up. 

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

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

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

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

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

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

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think about fucking you all the time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:34am you: do it then

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

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@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[idfkman-1]

Brobrobrobrobrooooo ok so me nd my crush (well call him pup cuz he did the “:D” face while we were talking nd it gives off puppy vibes 2 me) remembered ME out of all of the bravo bucks he got he remembered mine and this man’s got A LOT of ‘em

Anyways this is what my friend sent me telling me she thinks he likes me

So now I’m ded nd v happi

O nd also he’s 16 turning 17 soon (in October) nd Istg pup is soooo so so very cute

Now that I’m looking at that -:D- again it’s not so puppy esk maybe it was just him but anywaysssss he’s really sweet nd talked 2 me 4 a bit while he wat having dinner w his family nd then after as well so idk he’s just hella cute nd I’ve never felt physically sick cuz of a crush b4 so I think he genuinely might b the one

[starkeysbaby]

When the turtle incident at the beach happens the reader gets hurt saving the turtle 🐢 and rafe snap. Everyone sees a different side of rafe

a/n: i LOVE this idea. - Unfortunately i feel like i didn’t do it justice 🥲🥲 but hope you enjoy!! <3

“if i ever see you round my girl again…”

pairings: s4 rafe cameron x kook but not kooky!reader [est. relationship]

warnings: S4 E4 SCENE DESCRIBED/USED (not sure if it’s really a spoiler tho as nothing plot wise is revealed) turtles being hurt, blood, death threat, canon rafe lol, use of swear words. (pls lemme know if i forgot any)

summary: you just wanted peace between everyone, unfortunately you and a turtle became collateral damage over a kook vs pogue contest. rafe is not happy…

navigation ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅ obx masterlist

You were a kook? Well that’s what your bank account said. However, you were closer with the pogues and basically hung out with them or your boyfriend.. rafe cameron. that was the weird part. It had been awkward since the pogues all returned from El Dorado. You had sort of become the middle man in between rafe and the pogues including his sister, sarah. It was an unspoken rule between you and rafe that you just don’t talk about them with him which you respected. He’ll come around in his own time you thought.

When the swell came in, your boyfriend and his friends were eager to hit the beach and have a surf day to which you wouldn’t turn down. meeting up at tannyhill, you saw that topper had bought his new girlfriend, ruthie who you weren’t too keen on. You had mentioned this to rafe a while back but he said that it isn’t yours or his business to get involved with toppers love life and told you to just stay away from her if you didn’t like her to which you couldn’t argue.

Arriving at the beach you saw your friends, jj, john b, kiara and sarah and quickly told rafe that you were going over to say hi. Rafe just mumbled something as he set up his towel and told you not to be long as he stared daggers at sarah.

“hey!” you wave jogging up to the pogues, hugging sarah then kie. “what’s up y/nn (your nickname)” kie asked. “not much. just thought we’d hit the waves. i told them we should go a bit farther from here but they didn’t listen… sorry” you explained, knowing it’s best if the kooks and pogues don’t cross paths today. “you’re good. it’s them we don’t trust” jj butts in. “yeah, no. i’ll tell them to lay off..” you smile then turn to sarah. “he’s trying. he’ll come around. i know it..” you tell her, referring to rafe. Sarah just shrugs, pretending as if not being on good terms with her brother isn’t bothering her. “wanna surf?” you smile and take sarah’s hand dragging her to the water as you both laugh.

After surfing with sarah and the pogues for a while, you had joined rafe on his towel and spent an hour or so just chilling with him. He showered you in attention and you did your best to ignore ruthies little comments about the pogues and how jj is a poor sport. At one point, rafe saw you side eye ruthie for shitting on the pogues again. “hey. don’t frown.” he mumbles turning your head to face him and pats your cheek. “i don’t get her problem rafe.” you sigh. “yeah it sucks, but cmon” “no. it’s unnecessary. they aren’t doing anything to her.” you tell him, referring to the pogues just minding their business apart from that tiny squabble with jj and topper in the ocean but topper didn’t seem to care too much so why does ruthie? “i told you, ignore her” rafe says a little sternly taking your hand in his, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “yeah yeah…” you smile as you peck him, letting it go as you didn’t want ruthie to ruin the day.

While you packed up, unknown to you and rafe, ruthie was convincing topper to just ride the truck over to the pogues to mess up their set up. You in the meantime went over to the pogues to say bye, only to find them saving a turtle hatch in which you started assisting with. The next thing you know, you see ruthie driving her truck at a high speed straight at you. While sarah and kie do their best to get the turtles out of the way in time, you stand in front waving your hands trying to get ruthies attention to stop her. “hey! hey!!! stop! there’s a hatch!” you call out but she doesn’t hear you. you can vaguely see topper yell at ruthie, probably to stop but she’s just laughing. kiara notices ruthie has no intention of stopping and quickly pulls you out the way.

Luckily no turtles were hurt at that point but you see ruthie circling around to go again. You stand up again, trying to stop her. Rafe has also noticed this and starts making his way over to get, in his words, your stupid ass out of the way. You realise ruthie yet again has no intention of stopping so you quickly go to pick up a turtle that was in the way but you get hit slightly by the truck, knocking you out.

“what the actual fuck?!” kiara yells rushing to you, she takes the turtles from you and calls for rafe who’s at your side in seconds. He looks up at a shocked, somewhat guilty looking ruthie. “what the fuck is your problem?” he spits “did you not see her fucking standing there telling you to stop!” he yells as he takes off his shirt to wrap around a bloody scrape on your knee from something in the sand. Overall you weren’t too badly hurt but might need some stitches. That was enough for rafe to see red though.

As sarah goes to fetch water to splash you awake, ruthie stutters “i.. i thought she’d get out the way. why would she just fucking stand the-” kie cuts her off “there was a turtle hatch! look what you did! she was tryna save this turtle” kie yells at her, showing her the hurt turtle to which ruthie turns her face away from. “why the fu-” rafe cuts himself off on questioning you to wake you up with the water sarah got. As you felt water being splashed on your face, you sit up. “what happened?” you groan. “y/n im so so sor-” ruthie starts to apologise but rafe cuts her off. “no. you shut the fuck up and stay away from my girl” rafe snaps causing topper to get involved. “hey now rafe-” but again rafe cuts him off. “control your bitch, top” he huffs shutting topper and everyone else up.

He lifts you up and walks towards his truck. “my head hurts..” you mumble. “i know baby.. gonna get you to the hospital aight” he gently whispers to you to which you just nod. With a final “don’t pull shit like that again” from rafe, he places you in the passengers seat before shutting the door and quickly going up to ruthie. “if i ever see you round my girl again… i’ll kill you” he murmurs up close to her face in a terrifyingly dangerous way. Apart from sarah and a few of the pogues, no one has ever seen rafe like that.. so scary.. so threatening… so murderous. Ruthie just nodded which was enough for rafe to leave the scene so he could take you to the hospital.

a/n: hope you enjoyed - kinda struggled to find a way to set the dynamic where reader is dating rafe but close to the pogues at this point in the show cuz i couldn’t see rafes defending someone so furiously unless he was dating her 😭

requests are open!! enjoy lovelies - liv <33

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

me when i can’t resist the allure of a cute picrew 😔

no-pressure tags!!: @kissxcore @vagabond-umlaut @missukiyo @satoruxx :3

@tomtomslongdong thank u for tagging me honey! you know i love cute shit like this hehehe

the goal is to make it look as much like yourself as possible, so <3

link to make your own here

pssssst please feel free to tell me to fuck off if you don't like being tagged in these but: @calumfmu @cinemabean @eddiesxangel @eiightysixbaby @ghostlyfleur @joshlmbrt @lighteyed @littlexdeaths @obriengf @urhoneycombwitch @xxbimbobunnyxx (alternatively if you enjoy participating in these and i didn't tag you pls lmk and i promise to tag you from now on)

[nxtaliaistyping]

Jason Todd with breeding kink pls 👉👈?

Jason Todd + Breeding Kink <3

18+ smut, fem reader

“C’mon, push back into me.” Jason says gruffly, having slowed his pace down to a few slow but effortlessly deep thrusts into your cunt from behind.

When he’d come back from patrol, you’d practically jumped on him, needy beyond belief thanks to a particularly nasty wet dream. With the dawn sun streaming in through the blinds, Jason had hurriedly sought to give you what you wanted.

The way the soft orange rays bathed his face simply made you more desperate, reflecting off the deep pools of blue in his eyes. After ridding you both of clothes, and Jason’s fingers having pumped into you deliciously, you’d pushed him down and sank your needy pussy on him. In the frenzy, he hadn’t put a condom on, figuring he’d just pull out. While not the best solution for a man as responsible as Jason prides himself on being, it’d have to do.

Now, having grown tired of your messy bounces and instead thrown you into doggy style, he still manages to tease. Making you throw your ass back on him, impaling you on him after he’d been fucking your brains out.

“Jay…”

“No no, you can do it. I was gonna cum and didn’t wanna pull out just yet.”

Immediately your cunt tightens around him and you let out a pitiful whine. Using the most of your core strength, you fuck yourself on him with as rough of a pace as you physically can. He groans, feeling his cock throb at your determination.

“Don’t want you to pull out.” You sniffle, looking back at him from over your shoulder.

“I have to baby, m’not wearing a condom.”

“Don’t care…”

You truly don’t xare, about that or the fact you sound like a petulant child. You need him, need him to cum deep inside of you, to milk him for everything he can possibly give you. So you say three incredibly dangerous words.

“Please breed me.”

Your lover lets out a strangled noise, straight from the back of his throat. It’s almost like a dog being kicked, as he grips your hips hard to still you. His breathing becomes ragged.

“Fuck princess, you can’t say stuff like that.”

“I can Jason…I want it. I want you to breed me.”

He knows he shouldn’t, but god he nearly blew his load right there and then at your words. Taking a few shaking breaths, he calms himself down enough to grab at your throat, hoisting you up so you back arches and he can look down at your face.

“Y’want me to put a baby in you? Is that right?”

Your moan tells him everything, as he drops your head unceremoniously before moving his hips again. This time there’s no holding back, no he forces your upper half into the mattress and starts to pound you. The thick sound of him slapping against your backside with each thrust fills the air, and you nearly choke on that and the wanton noises that keep tumbling from your parted lips.

You can barely breathe, barely think as he rams into you again and again, making more noise than you’ve ever heard him make before.

“Okay…okay princess, I’ll give y’what you want. I’ll give you a baby…”

Gripping your thighs, he pulls out before flipping you over like a rag-doll; landing on your back with a soft grunt, you look up at him with bated breath as he pushes your thighs up and entering you again.

“Gonna fuckin’ breed you, just like you asked. Gotta make sure it takes.”

He angles himself before he starts fucking you nice and deep, watching your eyes roll back as you swear you can feel him messing up your insides with his cock. Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, and he knows it won’t be much longer.

“Keep squeezin’ me just like that, gonna make me cum deep inside this sweet pussy.” He mumbles, not completely sure what he’s actually saying with how turned on he is. “Gonna keep you nice and full.”

With a cry, his words tip you over the edge as you start to cum all over him. At your cunt gushing, he moans loudly and digs his nails into the plush of your hips so hard it almost hurts.

Then he’s cumming, and you gasp and twitch at the sensation. His head falls into the crook of your neck as he gasps and moans, swearing he's seeing stars or some kind of angelic apparition.

It takes him ages to pull out again, but when he does, he quickly collects any cum that seeps out and pushes it back inside, ignoring your overstimulated whimpers. Gently he sets your thighs back down, huge hands kneading the slightly sore muscles as he catches his bearings.

Although the next morning, he goes out and buys a morning after pill and watches you take it. He's not ready to be a father just yet.

[pupkashi]

satoru loves you & he’s tired of being your friend

a/n: loosely inspired by taehyungs song fri(end)s i hope u guys like pls lmk what yall think plsplsplspls

word count - 1,764

masterlist

the only light illuminating your living room was from your tv as it played your favorite comfort movie, one you’d seen countless times before. the familiarity of it had you dozing off on your couch, in and out of sleep as you lost the battle with your heavy eyelids.

there’s a soft knock on your door that has you jumping out of your skin, heart racing loudly in your ears. you pause the movie, wondering if maybe you’d hallucinated it and it truly was time for you to go to bed.

knock, knock, knock

your palms are sweaty, checking your phone before standing up. there’d been no missed texts or calls from anyone you knew, who the fuck knocks on a door at 3:24 in the morning?

you grab the baseball bat by the door, peeking through the peephole and being met with tousled white locks. a color of hair you’d be able to spot a mile away, one you’d grown to care for.

“what are you doing at my door at four in the fucking morning?” you whisper-yelled, setting the bat down and opening the door wider to let the man in. he gives you a small smile, one hand pushing his hair back and out of his face and the other holding his side.

“sorry sweet cheeks, didn’t wanna go home just yet” he mumbles, stepping in and standing by the doorway, waiting for your instruction.

“d’you get hurt? are you bleeding?” the annoyance in your voice is gone, and it makes satoru relax. he gives you a small nod, shrugging his shoulders and trying to play it off.

“nothing that won’t be healed by mornin’” you roll your eyes at him, muttering a small ‘come on’ and walking to the bathroom down the hall. “i miss you y’know” satoru says softly, watching as you searched for the first aid kit under the sink, grabbing the box and making him sit on the toilet lid.

“did you really?” you scoff, not meeting his gaze as you grab a soft rag, running it under warm water. satoru furrows his brows, confused as to why you think he wouldn’t have missed you.

“‘course i did,” he replies, opening his mouth to continue but closing it quickly when you turn to face him.

“can i take your blindfold off” you ask, your hands fiddling with the damp rag before setting it down when he nods ‘yes.’ you find the small knot hiding in his hair, gently undoing it.

the black blindfold loosen instantly, and you’re quick to gently take it off his head, setting it on the counter. his hair flops onto his forehead, falling almost perfectly to frame his face. despite the countless times you’d seen his eyes, your breath still hitched in your throat when you looked into them.

you try not to stare too long, brushing his hair out of his face and cleaning the dried blood on his face. satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you, eyes tracing your every feature. his gaze is one you always faltered under, growing nervous when he’d stare at you for too long.

“what” you ask, a small nervous smile forming on your face. satoru shakes his head, a small upside down smile on his face as you wipe the cut on his cheeks with an alcohol wipe.

“you’re just real pretty” he says, watching as you bite your bottom lip, surely trying to stop the smile fighting its way into your face.

“is you side hurt too?” you motion to where his hand is covering, trying to brush past the compliment he’d given you.

“healed it up a good amount while you were cleaning me up” he shrugs, lifting his shirt and showing you the brand new scar, “I’m not completely helpless.”

“no you’re the strongest” you tease, throwing away the used items and washing your hands. “did you wanna shower? you look like you could use it” satoru pouts at your words.

“don’t have to be so mean about it” you laugh softly, drying your hands before you’re standing in front of him again. you let your hands brush through his hair, exposing his forehead before you press a kiss to the skin.

“sorry angel, you’re the one who woke me up” satoru lets his eyes close softly, heart sinking a bit when you pull away from him.

“I’ve got some clothes you’ve left over so I’ll leave ‘em on the counter” you smile, closing the door behind you and sighing softly.

how’d you get to this point? how’re you stuck between friends and something more?

friends don’t feel the way you do about satoru. friends don’t place feathery kisses on their friends scars. friends don’t act the way you two act.

satoru steps out of the shower, smiling when he realizes his clothes smell like you. his heart leaps when he exits the restroom, finding you still awake and waiting for him on the couch.

“waiting for someone?” his voice makes you jump a bit, shaking you head and watching as he sits next to you. “did you have plans for tomorrow?” he questions, watching as you send a text.

“told them something came up,” you shrug, “figured you need me more.”

the words tugged on satoru’s heartstrings. there was a never night you hadn’t been there when he needed you. you’d been there for him since the day you’d met him, there to comfort him and ease his racing mind. you were there to calm him from panic attacks and frustrations, help him through grief and stress. everything.

you were a great friend.

he hated that word. you weren’t his friend, you were something more. he knew how he felt about you, he had an inkling feeling you felt the same. so what’s stopping him?

satoru shakes the question out of his head, focusing instead on the tv. the end credits are rolling but you’re not looking away, eyes unfocused and your mind elsewhere.

“should we go to sleep?” satoru whispers, a feathery touch to snap you back to reality. you nod with a small smile, the two of you making the familiar walk to your bedroom, satoru turning off any lights and closing the bedroom door behind him before slipping in next to you.

you’d always liked having your head on his chest, you were able to hear his heartbeat this way. the rhythmic pitter-patter never failed to make you smile or help you relax. it also gave away anytime he was nervous.

“your hearts beating real fast” you state, not looking up, instead continuing to draw circles in the palm of his hand. “what are you thinking about?”

there’s too many thoughts in satoru’s head, so many that he can’t begin to process a single one of them. so instead he blurts out what had been on his mind all night.

“i love you.”

you never thought people were telling the truth about time stopping when something like this happened. you’d always figured they romanticized their life a little too much.

but you felt time stop.

your fingers faltered and you felt your breathing hitch in your throat. your stomach erupted in butterflies, face hot and your eyes wide as the three words landed on your ears.

there was a million thoughts in your head, memories flooding in. spring nights around a fire pit, hot summer days at the beach, cool autumn afternoons carving pumpkins and cold winter mornings drinking hot chocolate. and in every one of them you bit back three words while staring at the white haired man.

“you don’t have to say it back” satoru begins, his heart beating even faster than before, “i just- I’ve been think-” you sit up quickly and cut him off, shaking your head and finally looking him in the eyes.

“I love you too,” you smile, letting yourself enjoy the the moment of euphoria the two of you felt upon hearing the other say the three words you’d dreamt of.

there’s only a second of silence before satoru’s blue eyes are looking at your lips, flickering up to meet your eyes momentarily. all it takes is you leaning in ever so slightly.

his hands are cupping your cheeks, crashing his lips against yours, a sense of urgency as his lips move against yours. he tastes like his vanilla lip balm and toothpaste, smiling as the words replay in your head.

“what’s funny?” he mumbles against your lips, laughing softly, not bothering to pull away from your lips. satoru’s cerulean eyes are fluttering open, completely focused on you.

you pull away a couple inches, staring into his eyes, you can see the emotions swimming in his eyes, love and excitement written over his face as he takes in your beauty.

“just happy” you reply, “never thought you’d put the end in friends” satoru pouts comically at your words, shoving his face in your lap and groaning softly.

“‘m sorry” he grumbles, “new to all the relationship stuff” there’s genuine frustration and remorse in his voice, it makes you smile as your run your fingers through his hair, tugging softy.

“‘s okay” you say, “thought technically I’m not yours since you haven’t asked me” he knows you’re poking fun at him, not rushing him into anything.

“don’t worry,” he says, sitting up and adjusting himself to lay down next to you, smiling when you lay your head on his chest, “gonna make you mine as soon as i can.”

the words make your heart flutter again, a sheepish smile on your face as your cheeks and ears burn.

“alright smooth talker let’s get some sleep.”

funny enough satoru feels the weight on his shoulders grow lighter with your body weight pressed against him. he feels a sense of serenity running his fingers up and down your exposed skin.

you can see goosebumps rise where your fingertips touch, smiling softly and holding back a giggle as your fingers ghost over his abs, causing him to shiver.

it’s different from before, more intimate.

satoru wonders why he was so afraid of baring his heart to you in the first place. he can’t find an excuse as he watches the golden ray of sunshine hit your face softly, causing you to stir. he’s still as he watches you immediately nuzzle your face into his side, falling back into a deep sleep in his arms.

it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep too, a smile on his face when he feels your grip tighten.

lovers, he thinks, it has a nice ring to it.

taglist (send an ask to be added): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

[hannieehaee]

Hiii i love your writing sm that is always look forward to anything you write . Pls remember to take care of yourself .

Imagine chan having a younger s/o , doting on her , taking care of her protecting her 😭😭😭😭 it would be so cute

them having a younger s/o

content: small age gap between reader and member, established relationship, etc.

wc: 1056

a/n: thank u hehe u take care too!! <3 also i wrote this assuming the age gap is nothing too crazy!! just something like 3-5 year difference for hyung line and 2-3 year difference for maknae line c:

masterlist

seungcheol -

he was MADE to dote on and care for a younger s/o. his credit card would literally be your own. his home would be yours. would treat you akin to kkuma in the sense that he'd coo at you incessantly any time he was away from you for more than a few hours and would love dressing you up in cute outfits to match his own (in a low-key, fashionable way, of course). he'd adore a younger s/o because he'd feel like he could really provide for you with both his wealth and wisdom.

jeonghan -

being the one of the elders of the group and having a younger sister, he's literally been trained for a younger s/o. im completely convinced he'd adoooore a younger s/o that he could dote on and baby in every possible instance. he'd use his preschool teacher voice on you all the time and coo at you so much that you'd literally have to beg him to stop. at some point he'd start doing it just to annoy you lmao.

joshua -

tbh i feel like he would be kinda indifferent about you being younger than him, but would still acknowledge it at times. would coo at you and baby you in exaggerated manners to tease you over being younger than him. but! this would just be a veiled way for him to take care of you.

jun -

how is he supposed to baby you when he's the embodiment of baby himself? however, the creator of the aegyo cat set would still manage to coo at you and attack you with constant aegyo to show his affections towards you. all in all, though, i think he would be a lil indifferent about you being younger than him. maybe it'd inspire a little extra protectiveness from him, making him always keep you close to him in public spaces and use his massive shoulders to shield you from crowds or any danger.

soonyoung -

he'd baby you at times but for the most part would be pretty indifferent about being older than you. however! he would let his childish/immature side come out more often while around you, reasoning that you brought out his more youthful side. would probably match your energy at all times. he'd 100% use the 'im older than you' card to try and win arguments/disputes (it wouldnt work).

wonwoo -

absolutely endeared by you!!! have you seen the way he looks at chan? if you were around chan's age, he'd give you the chan treatment but a thousand times over. would cackle at any joke you made, always keep his adoring gaze on you, bring you snacks even when you didnt ask for them, make space for you on his lap whenever he played games or watched movies. you'd be his baby.

jihoon -

he'd try to hold back for a while, but he'd eventually break and feel an instinctive need to take care of you in a way he would a younger member. even if you were a very independent and self-reliant person, he would still take care of you in his own low-key way. would make sure you always had all your meals, make space for you in his studio and provide you entertainment so you could accompany him in there in the long hours of the night. he'd feel a special type of love for you knowing he could dote on you so freely.

seokmin -

he'd be obsessed with you!!!! would baby you constantly and take care of you in every way imaginable. youd also kinda activate his cuteness aggression without him realizing. he'd wanna be the one and only man to protect you and become a rock for you to rely on. would feel happy and proud to be a person you trusted and someone you could look to whenever you needed.

mingyu -

yet another member who would go insane over being older than you and use it as an excuse to baby you at any given opportunity. would treat you like loyalty and would act as if it was a crime if you ever did mundane stuff on your own instead of allowing him to do it for you. walking to the other side of the room? why when he can just piggy back you there!! packing your own lunch in the morning? nope! he's cooking you a whole meal!

minghao -

ive always felt like he'd go for someone younger just for the traditional aspect of it (idk i have no basis for this belief lmao just a hunch). he'd enjoy playing the role of the dependable boyfriend with a younger s/o to provide for and dote on. it'd just bring him a special type of satisfaction to know that you could look to him as a reliable source of comfort. would be the ideal boyfriend and take care of all your expenses and all your emotional needs.

seungkwan -

he'd be so damn overbearing in the way he took care of you im ngl. would keep tabs on your meals to make sure you had all your meals every day, would push vitamins on you, and just have huge concern for your health overall. he'd also feel insane cuteness aggression for you at the most random times, becoming overly affectionate and expressing how cute he thought you were (even if your age gap was teeny tiny).

vernon -

gives me the vibe that he wouldnt really care if you were older or younger. however, seeing the way he dotes on his little sister and gets along with her, i think he'd be similar with a younger s/o. wouldnt really bring up your age difference much but would still use it as the butt of jokes or use it as an excuse to take care of you at times in which he just felt a little extra affectionate towards you.

chan -

as the youngest, he'd love the idea of him being able to baby someone for once (ik he has a younger brother ok). would use the 'im older than you' line to death and be so fucking annoying about it. however, he would also feel satisfied knowing he was a dependable figure in your life who could take care of you in the same ways his members always took care of him.

[hykwrld]

tired slow sex and talking him through it + minho

you hear the front door open then close and peak your head out from your bedroom, smiling when you see minho all but dragging his feet to come see you. he looks exhausted, hair a little messy, lips curled into his signature little pout while his eyes blink slowly at you. he doesn’t say anything, just dragging you over to the bed, practically collapsing onto the plush duvet.

“long day?” you ask quietly, fingers instinctively going up to thread through his hair. he leans into you, eyes fluttering closed as he lets out a slow sigh.

it feels like time’s moving so slowly, his lips moulding against yours as his hands work to tug off his clothes then yours. it’s gentle and intimate and missing the usual hunger and desperation he normally exudes when he’s in the mood. any other time, he’d have you pressed into the sheets, making you see stars as his hips snap roughly. but tonight, he’s just so tired.

he gently pushes your thighs apart, calloused hands caressing your soft skin so tenderly, mouth never leaving yours. he breaths a shaky breath against you as he bottoms out, his hips finding a slow but steady rhythm. minho’s hands find yours, fingers lacing together. soft grunts and moans fill the room, almost like whispers as if anything louder would burst the bubble around the two of you.

his pace starts to stutter and you know he’s getting close, his head dropping into the crook of your neck, trying to be closer to you. you can tell your lover’s trying to hold on, wanting you to be the focus of the pleasure, struggling to keep his hips moving at the same, consistent speed.

“does that feel good, pretty?” you whisper into his shoulder and he nearly shudders, letting out a soft whine as a yes.

“can feel you’re close, my love, doing so well for me”. minho’s breathing grows shaky too, melting at your sweet words. he’s always the one talking you through it, whispering the sweet words into your ears as he finds your sweet spot again and again, but he feels his brain go all fuzzy at the thought of you doing it with him.

“gonna cum for me, min? feels so good, doesn’t it?” you coo, not condescending or teasing, just wanting him to relax and let you take care of him. “c’mon, sweet boy, you can cum. cum for me”.

the words make his mind feel even mushier, lips parting to let out the sweetest of noises as he releases, helping you ride out your own high. he lays his head down on your chest, a small and tired but dazed smile on his lips as he feels himself slowly grow sleepy.

“there you go, min, did so well for me. let me get us cleaned up and we’ll go to bed, hm?” you whisper, untangling yourself to get cleaned up.

by the time you get back to the bed, he’s already asleep, deep breaths passing his plump lips as he curls into your pillow, arm draped across your half of the bed as if to keep it warm until you came back to him.

a/n: just wanted to write something nsfw but still sweet and fluffy and it was about time i wrote something for my favourite boy <3 pls ignore the ending because i can’t write endings to save my life </3 i wanna start writing more for skz so feel free to send me little ideas or thoughts anytime!! sending lots of love 🤍

[evilgwrl]

Simon Riley x Reader

Back Door

Summary: Simon wanted to explore more than just your pussy

CW: Anal, ass play/fingering, spanking, praise and degradation, no protection (PLS USE A CONDOM, JUST BC U WONT GET PREGNANT DOESNT MEAN U WONT GET AN STD!!!!!), established relationship (I love bf simon <3), aftercare, vibrator use!!, reader watches porn and gets caught, I don’t go into detail about prep bc I’m not that educated on it but pls use prep before anal intercourse <33

WARNING: BEFORE ATTEMPTING ANAL OR ANAL INSERTION PLEASE USE PROPER LUBRICATION, SPIT IS NOT ENOUGH AND CAN SERIOUSLY TEAR OR PERMANENTLY DESTROY YOUR ANUS RESULTING IN LIFE LONG INJURIES. PLEASE READ THE RISKS AND TAKE PROPER PRECAUTIONS AS WELL AS DOING IMMENSE RESEARCH (NOT PORN) BEFORE ATTEMPTING IT. NEVER LET ANYONE FORCE YOU INTO ANAL SEX, ESPECIALLY WITHOUT PROPER CARE OR THOUGHT.

Masterlist

You had heard mixed reviews on it, curiosity sometimes peaking through you as your girlfriends ranted about how good it feels, how full they felt, how sexually liberated. You were a subject to torture, your mind constantly battling between bringing it up to Simon or not.

Fingers twitched against the XXNX.com browser, horny digits darting between the three letters ‘a’, ‘n’, ‘l’.

Your shorts were undone, wrapped around your rigid ankles, your pointer finger pressed against your swollen clit, running a figure 8 in a quick motion as you watched the woman squeal in pleasure, her ass stretched with the sensation of a cock inside it.

It was taboo. Beyond taboo. It was something always frowned against growing up, always seen as profoundly dirty but maybe that’s what intrigued you.

You moaned in unison to the porn star on screen, her breasts bouncing against the white sheets she was spread out on her, ass flushed in the air as she was pounded to from behind, the man grunting in pleasure before thick ropes of cum spurted from the tight crevice, pooling down her pussy lips as she whined.

You clicked on the next video, not quite satisfied as you groped at your tits, perky nipples peaking through the fabric as you held your knees closer to your chest, feeling your orgasm coiling with desire as your eyebrows scrunched at the delicious sensation.

Simon could hear you. You were never one to be quiet. Pesky thing, he thought, he had only gone to the gym for less than two hours and you were this horny already? Surely him pleasuring you on his tongue earlier was enough, desperate pussy clenching against his muscle as you squashed his face between aching thighs.

He creaked towards the slightly ajar door, taking in your flushed frame, your knees knobbling against your belly as your tits shook with every pleasurable jitter that ran through you. Your pussy squelched as you occasionally ran your fingers through your soaked slit, lapping up any slick to lubricate your throbbing pearl.

Brown eyes darted towards the screen, taking in the dramatic title “HORNY SLUT TAKES FAT COCK IN HER ASS”. He raised a brow, a cocky smirk spreading across his face as he crossed his arms against his burly chest. You were interested in anal? How come you never told him that?

He can tell you were close, the way your hips bucked and soft pants fell from your lips as your actions got sloppier. Such a desperate thing, you were.

Simon cleared his throat right before a moan ripped through your parched lips, your eyes darting in fright as you stared at the intimidating figure watching you at the door.

“Simon? When did you- When did you get home?” You gasped, rushing to pull your soppy panties up as you stumbled to the door, instantly turning off the explicit video you were watching.

“You wanna explain to me what you were watching?” His tone was mocking as he stalked closer towards you, a deep arrogance and knowing lingering through every syllable.

“I- Uh- just stumbled upon it.”

“Hm? That right? So you don’t want me to fuck you in the ass? Treat you like a used slut? You know, like what you were just watching?”

You were lost for words, endless stutters leaving your lips as you tried to make do with what you were attempting to say. You let out a loud huff, pushing past him dramatically as you stormed to the bathroom.

“Aww c’mon baby, at least let me make you cum.”

Simon was enjoying the slow torture, stalking like a predator as he awaited the perfect moment to gnash his jaws across your neck and snap it, taking you as his. His to use, his to breed, his to own.

Maybe it was the way he teased you with his words, lapping seduction through the air just with the pure sultry tone he pronounced each syllable. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, dark eyes flickering with wanton need for you, lashes darting down as he stalked your frame. Whatever it was, it made you crack as you lifted your ass in the air on the bed.

Two fingers dipped into your slick, teasing between your folds as a deep laugh left his lips, a whine escaping yours.

“Stop teasing me,” you hissed, your sheer exposure sending a wave of humiliation through you as a hand spanked down on the fat of your ass, flesh jiggling under his warm touch.

Simon dug in your bedside table, delving through the clutter before rough fingertips felt the plastic ridged bottle. Desperate digits smeared the cool lube against your asshole, teasing the crevice as a quick smirk moved across his lips.

You and Simon had never really experimented with it before, the most being an occasional finger during doggy, but with him really paying attention to it now, it felt so real, so different.

“Relax for me baby,” he cooed, his voice soft as his spare hand rubbed the curvature of your back, comforting you. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you felt him coax a finger in, his already double the size of your own.

He worked another finger in, the tightness coiling around him as he lapped in the slight resistance. You felt a moan leave your lips as his fingers worked a smooth pace, walls clenching around the intrusion.

It was strange… different, but the fullness did something to you.

Simon’s hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you flush against his chest as he worked his fingers inside your back hole, soft pants and whines slipping past your tongue as your eyes fluttered shut, soft murmurs of his name filling the room as he praised you.

“Both holes take me so well, don’t they baby? So fucking good to me.”

“F-Fuck, Simon, I feel so full,” you cried, clenching instinctively around his finger as he smacked your ass in return.

“Think you can handle another?”

You nodded lazily, soaking in the pleasure as he bent you forward slightly, working more lube onto another digit before pressing it into you. He didn’t move for a second, allowing you to grow used to the tight stretch. The pain simmered slowly, your body relaxing at the naturalness of Simon’s touch.

Three fingers worked inside you, careful not to hurt you or go too deep as they focused on working a rhythm, letting you feel the pure pleasure of having another hole stretched by your Greek God of a boyfriend.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned, tongue practically lolled out of your mouth.

“Dirty fucking slut for me, sucking my finger threes in, ain’t you?”

“N-Need more, Si, please.” Your voice was dripping with arousal, eyes rolling back as you hummed at the filling sensation.

Simon grunted in satisfaction, slipping his three fingers out gently, softly rubbing at the puckered hole before he began to undo his pants. You bent over, your ass flushed in the air as you buried your face into the sheets.

You could hear the cap of the Lube bottle opening once more, followed by a continuous squirt of the gel, before more fingers prodded at your hole, working the substance around and into you.

“Baby, before we do this, if you want to stop at anytime, don’t even bother using our safe word, the moment you say stop or no, I’m pulling out. I won’t be mad at you either, this is completely about you. Your pussy’s tight enough for me.”

You nodded resulting in a harsh slap.

“Say you understand,” he snapped.

“Yes, Si, I promise I’ll tell you if I want to stop.”

You could hear the sloppy sounds of lube against his dick, his thick hands working his cock before you felt the mushroom tip line up at your hole. You winced as you felt him push in, his three fingers still not quite enough to make up for the sheer size of him.

Simon paused at the jerk of your body, holding your hips tightly before you whispered out an, “I’m okay, keep going”. Simon worked his thick length in bit by bit, taking his time as he continuously checked up to make sure you were okay.

At 3/4 of his length, Simon relaxed his movements, feeling you clench around him as you whined.

“Such a tight fucking hole, Jesus Christ,” he hissed, his hand coming down on your ass, the subtle print beginning to form.

“Please move, Si,” your voice coming out in short pants as you gripped the sheets, the sound of lube squelching as he began to rock back and forth, working his cock inside you.

Once you seemed more comfortable, your wanton moans filtering through the air, his pace fastened, gripping your hips like a vice as he occasionally spanked your ass, enjoying the way it moved as his hips slapped against the fat at a bruising pace.

“Dirty whore for me, let’s me fuck whatever hole I want.”

“Fucking filthy, takes me so well in her ass.”

“That’s a good slut for me, you love getting your ass filled, don’t you? Say it.”

His movements were quick as he fucked the right crevice, grunts leaving chapped lips as he practically growled out, harsh slaps delivered on your bruised skin, skin he would kiss later.

You were a series of whines and cries, strings of expletives leaving your mouth as your own fingers toyed with your neglected clit, rubbing the delicate bud at a quick pace as you screamed out at the fullness.

“Gonna cum soon,” Simon groaned, his pace growing more sloppy as he began to reach his high, your own fingers working faster against the sensitive bud.

“Come inside me, Si, please, need you to fill me up.”

Your words were practically sent from heaven, rolls of white meeting his vision before he let out a guttural grunt, hot pumps of cum filling you up as you whined at the sensation, your own orgasm quickly following.

You both panted, sweat engraved on your skin as your boyfriend slowly pulled out, cum leaking from the abused hole down to your cunt, both holes clenching around nothing as you collapsed.

You could feel a reassuring hand rub against the heat of your ass, shushing you as you breathed against the cotton sheets.

“Stay here baby, lemme get you cleaned up. You did so well for me.”

If you could take one thing from this experience, you were so glad you got caught watching porn.

WARNING: BEFORE ATTEMPTING ANAL OR ANAL INSERTION PLEASE USE PROPER LUBRICATION, SPIT IS NOT ENOUGH AND CAN SERIOUSLY TEAR OR PERMANENTLY DESTROY YOUR ANUS RESULTING IN LIFE LONG INJURIES. PLEASE READ THE RISKS AND TAKE PROPER PRECAUTIONS AS WELL AS DOING IMMENSE RESEARCH (NOT PORN) BEFORE ATTEMPTING IT. NEVER LET ANYONE FORCE YOU INTO ANAL SEX, ESPECIALLY WITHOUT PROPER CARE OR THOUGHT.

Sorry this is a piece of shit :(((

[dollfacefantasy]

Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.” 

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you. 

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing. 

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up. 

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top. 

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple. 

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh. 

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

[reshinless]

hear ye hear ye

imagine kinichs nightsoul burst activating... mid sex... feralkinichferalkinichfer-

its alr if it doesn't abide by ur rules and/or ur too stressed!! pls take care of urself <3

he doesn't know what triggered it- but ssshit he felt even hornier than earlier.

your cheeks flared with red, dusting your cheeks a pretty crimson as you held a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. yet your lover, kinich's hand reached almost chasing it away.

"l- let me hear y- you hhnngh-" he whispered desperately, hunger and list continued throughout his voice. it was clear he became much more.. needy than before.

his hurried thrusts into your sweet cunt had gotten him almost lovesick, waiting for your climax.

excitedly, a plethora of emotions slowly got to his head, pleasure and list dominantly taking over.

he felt almost overwhelmed, and vulnerable.. he shouldn't feel this good—shit he knows you've been together for long.. but embarassment was something he didn't wanna feel in front of you..

so embarassed of the sight of your body, and feeling his cock move on its own, into the soft folds of your entrance.

"ahhn- haah.. s'good, mmmfffuckkk.." stammering, and whimpering small apologies as if it was his fault. his hips thrust at an unsteady beat as if muscle memory kicked in.

"mmf- can i cum inside you? fffuck, p- please?" his whines spoke to you themselves—gosh he needed you like a little puppy in heat. such a different, and much more wild thinking style he couldn't think of anything else when it came to you,

but even the knot in your own stomach got tighter. damn, you were a sight, if only kinich could speak. the robust pounding that came from his cock, and into your entrance felt like a dream. all the other times you both made love were more on the vanilla side if anything.

his back laid atop yours, watching your every expression in the mirror in front as you rolled your eyes back, your head throwing back as well. your eyebrows knitting oh-so-perfectly fuck he could do this forever.

you craved this kind of kinich. one would put you in your place whenever he liked, taking you right then and there as soon as you both got into the car. but you also preferred the kinich who cared deeply about you, pulling chairs out for you at the fancy restaurants you went out to. (marry a man who can do both LOL)

whines and wails drag themselves out of your mouth—kinich hadn't even realized he had one of his hands around your waist as if to keep himself inside you. not to mention he hadn't even slowed down.

"ooh," he briefly grunts, he felt something tug onto his shaft, slowing him down effectively. "shit, y'close, baby?" he curses under his breath as he flips you over, your back no longer stuck to his chest. pinning you against the mirror.

"h—haah- y- yes, please don' stop-" you manage to whimper out with all the incoherent babbles from earlier. his emerald-amber orbs loved to take in the way your cunt sucked him in so good, or how your hips jolted, almost immediately wanting your orgasm, and he can't do anything else but help you.

putting you into a position similar to a mating press, he leans in close to land a french kiss on your lips, moaning and grunting as well.

this was gonna be a long night.

[rafesangelita]

hiii i was just reminded of this song & thought it was v angsty rafe coded so if you’re still accepting requests for your 5k celebration (congrats sm again btw!!!) may i req a 🍪 with sober by elita?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: dark!rafe x bambi!reader

summary: ❝when i'm with you i float on a cloud, but you cover my mouth and leave my legs bound. i'm scared that i gave you all of the control. i can't get up, i've dug myself into a hole.❞ — a back and forth match about rafe’s sobriety ends with him between your thighs.

warnings: dark themes, drug use, mentions of addiction and sobriety, arguing, yelling, rafe drugs you, dubcon (?), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slapping, choking, crying, dacryphilia, no aftercare whatsoever :(

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is out of the norm for me to write, pls read warnings carefully and don’t read any further if you’re not comfortable <3

“what are you doing?” you froze, eyes puffy and red from crying. rafe looked up from the small bag of blow between his fingers, his eyebrows knitting in irritation. “what the fuck does it look like?” he sneered, his knee bouncing as he itched for his next bump. you watched him take the white powder on his finger, wasting no time in rubbing the substance on his gums. your heart broke for him. “you said you were going to stop..” you stepped closer to him, the tears flowing once again.

“yeah? well, what else can i do?” he pushed you back, your hands catching onto his arm. “you promised me, rafe! you said it!” you cried, your boyfriend getting up before slamming you down on your shared bed. you released a breath, his manic eyes burning into yours. “look at you.” you whispered, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “how did we get here?” you croaked, panic settling in the pit of your stomach. rafe gritted his teeth, squeezing you tighter.

you started struggling against him, only being able to get out of his grip when you raked your nails down his chest. “you did this to yourself!” he shouted, punching the wall. “you choose to stay here, so i don’t ‘wanna hear shit.” rafe spat, turning around to shoot daggers at your crying form. “i just want you to be healthy. ‘n not high all the time.” you whispered the last part, your heart dropping when he narrowed his eyes at you. “what did you just say?” rafe stalked towards you.

“you know it’s true.” you scooted further up the bed, your heart hammering in your chest when he started laughing. “your eyes get so big, you scare me.” you flinched when he gripped the bedsheets, pulling them so he could get you close. “i scare you?” he laughed harder, “i’ll really give you something to be scared about.” you attempted to run, but he ultimately had the upper hand in caging you between his arms. “where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”

you shook your head, cupping his face. he looked like he was on the verge of going off the deep end. “no where! no where..” you were panting, afraid of what he might do. you had to be careful and watch your every move when rafe wasn’t in his right mind. any slip of tongue or the wrong movement would send him spiraling. “you trying to leave me?” his voice dropped a few octaves, his fingers shaking against your skin. “no. i could never leave you, remember?”

the fear in your eyes were as clear as day, and rafe knew you were lying out of instinct to stay on his good side. that only pissed him off more. swallowing thickly, rafe sat back on his heels, taking the small bag out of his pocket. “i didn’t want to do this to you, baby..” he took the tip of his finger and dipped it in. “but i promise you’ll feel so good.” with the powdery drug on his index finger, you started thrashing against him as he forced his digit inside of your mouth.

“no!” you screamed, but it was too late. rafe wore a wicked smile, popping the same finger in his mouth to get off the residue that didn’t smear against your tongue and gums. you stayed frozen underneath him, looking up at the ceiling as rafe got up from on top of you. not knowing where he went, or what he went to do, you laid there until you found it impossible to be still. getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom where you stared at your reflection.

your pupils were absolutely blown, a pang of hurt pulling at your heartstrings. you had given rafe so much control, that he did the unthinkable to you. speaking of the devil, you looked up at him as he emerged from behind the door, his eyes meeting your matching ones. he wore a smug look on his face, like he was proud of himself for corrupting you. “feel like you could run a marathon?” you were breathing fast, a thin sheen of sweat adorning your skin.

“how could you?” you turned around, his hands planting themselves on your hips. he felt hot, like his flesh was on fire. “don’t worry, bambi, you’ll be fine.” he kissed you, his taste just as intoxicating. if it wasn’t for the endorphins running through your veins at a million miles per minute, you would’ve pushed rafe away. instead, you felt like you needed to move, and fast. you kissed him back, the fervor between the two of you growing until he picked you up and carried you to your room.

nipping your bottom lip, you whimpered, the stinging sensation only making you cling onto rafe with more desperation. “gonna fuck you so good, baby. ‘have you coming down from that high around my cock.” he pinned you to the mattress, forcing your legs open as he slipped his shirt off in one swift movement. you gasped when he held both of your ankles in one hand, pushing down so your knees met your chest.

the sound of rafe’s zipper was the last thing you heard before he thrusted into you without warning, eliciting a piercing scream from your lips. he hadn’t got you ‘ready’ for him the way he normally did, your walls fluttering around the intrusion that was his throbbing cock. your back arched off of the sheets, your eyes watering as rafe merely used you to get himself off. he worked with precision, having no regard for you as he relentlessly slammed his hips into your own.

your nails dug into your skin, forming crescents as you cried underneath him. “rafe!” you tapped on his arm, which only agitated him. “shut the fuck up.” he said through gritted teeth, landing a slap to your cheek. holding your face, rafe looked down and groaned. he knew it was wrong to get off on you crying, but with lust and blow running through his system, he didn’t care. “you’re so mean.” you whined, your muscles aching as he started toying with your clit.

“i’m not mean. i’m the one who fuckin’ takes care of you,” he pressed a kiss to your calf, “so just lay there and take what i give you.” your eyes rolled back, your thighs trembling when his thrusts became sloppy. you hated yourself for falling into his ministrations, your orgasm ripping through you as rafe collapsed on top of you with a moan. “oh, shit.” he spilled inside of you, the thick ropes of his cum coating your velvety walls. he wiped your eyes before kissing your cheek.

you were coming down from both highs when he left you, the sound of the shower turning on in the nearby bathroom. you felt scared, not knowing what to think of your reaction to the drug you grew to hate so much. when rafe got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he didn’t spare you a glance before changing and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “you make me lose my temper when you wanna argue about shit like that. keep your mouth shut next time.”

[churipu]

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ���)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE