#the empty ass room is really doing it for me

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 6 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You make a mistake and get punished. You try to hate him, but there's something inside of you, clearly working against you. Stick to the plan. Play along, get his trust, get the hell out.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Where the fuck are you?! Get your ass over here, this instant!”

You froze when his angry voice cut through the silence.

It wasn’t really all too silent. Your thoughts had been keeping you entertained all morning, if you didn’t count the whole night to that as well. Unfortunately, you did. Not a wink of sleep, again.

And all because he didn’t approach you. The door to your room stayed closed, which was something that should have been a good thing in your book. He didn’t bother you, didn’t attack you, didn’t seduce you.

It was more than good, it was heaven-sent. It was a good thing, whenever he granted you a little bit of peace, a tiny ounce of normality.

And yet you found yourself tossing and turning all night, filled with the sinking feeling of...

Disappointment.

Disappointment?

Why on earth would you be disappointed?

Because he didn’t come into your room in the middle of the night with the intention to do unholy things to you and your body?

You should have been thrilled and relieved. But instead you felt empty. So empty, that once you got out of bed and realized he wasn’t anywhere to be found, you made a mistake. A grave one.

You snuck into his room.

It wasn’t like you had any bad intentions. You were actually trying to find him, to talk to him, to ask him-

Ask him what exactly?

However, your main intention was to find him. See him. Instead you found…nothing.

An empty room with an untouched bed. The second you saw that he wasn’t there, you should have turned on your heel and left. But some devilish kind of curiosity forced you to place one foot before the other until you ended up in the middle of his bedroom.

His bedroom.

Not yours.

His.

Nothing about it had been all too uncommon. It was a room with a bed and a wardrobe, a bookshelf, some notebooks. One caught your interest in particular.

A red notebook which you found underneath his pillow. Like a little girl and her diary.

What the hell was even going through your head to touch his pillow?

At first you didn’t want to, you truly didn’t. You just wanted to get a short, small peak into the room of the man who controlled every aspect of your life, even after he had explicitly forbidden it. So far you had obeyed him, but that morning some devil drove you to get inside and take a look around.

And God, how embarrassing was the reason. You were already half on your way out, when his scent caught your attention. The subtle perfume, this gentle note of him.

And that was when your mind went blank and you were so incredibly stupid. You had felt like a stalker, leaning down and pressing your face against his pillow. Inhaling his sweet scent like a lunatic.

But you didn’t really have the time to ask yourself what the hell you were doing, because that was when you found the notebook. And your hands, well, they acted like they weren’t really your own, like they were somehow disconnected from your brain.

They opened it. And what you saw confused you terribly.

On top, your name written in capital letters and crossed out.

And below that countless names. Female names. None of which you knew.

Some were Korean, you could tell. Others French. English. Slavik. Italian. Spanish…

When you heard a faint sound from the hall, assuming he came back from wherever he went, you quickly pushed the notebook back where you found it and scurried out of the room like the devil himself was after you.

Which he, kind of, was.

But he hadn’t been home yet and still, you couldn’t get back into his room. You were far too afraid that he might come back and catch you. So you stayed out of it, went back to your own bedroom and went back to waiting.

And now you were certain. He knew. He knew.

Before you even had the time to get up from the bed, he was already there. The door to your room flew open and he came in like he was indeed the devil.

His eyes were blazing with anger. You hadn’t ever seen him that angry before. Not even that one time, after you called him out on being oh-so unlovable.

And now you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Your initial reaction would have been to beg and plead, to crawl and butter up, even negotiate.

But no. You could tell the severity of the situation had changed drastically.

So you did the only reasonable thing. You jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. You didn’t even have the time to catch on his reaction, because you were too busy slamming the door shut and locking it.

It seemed to catch him off-guard, because it took him a moment to move, but when he finally did, he pounded against the door like a madman.

You couldn’t tell why you were even able to lock it. Maybe he didn’t think about it when he made his apartment kidnapping-safe. But now you were more than grateful for that circumstance.

“If you don’t open the door right now, I’m going to kill you!”

You slowly backed away against the wall, glancing at the window. You knew it was pointless, but you decided to still try it. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get the mercy of a quick death, jumping from the twenty-third floor.

“I will gut you and then I will kill you!”

He pounded even harder against the door and you were sure it was going to give in soon. All the while the window didn’t move an inch. You started pounding against it as well, desperate to find a way to survive this godforsaken hell, but it just wouldn’t move. You felt tears sting your eyes when you realized it.

There were so many things you hadn’t done yet.

You never sailed on a boat. Never saw Prague in December. Never saw the ballet or swam in the ocean.

Never told anyone you loved them. Never loved anyone. And you never got loved in return.

You didn’t even have sex yet.

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t fair.

But it was your life and maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

Maybe this was how it was going to end.

But you didn’t have more time to think about it, because suddenly there was a loud cracking sound and you witnessed in horror as he broke the door down. Your eyes widened and you stifled a sob, while he stepped into the bathroom. He was breathing heavily and moving slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. The look in his eyes was…murderous.

But the only thing you could truly focus on was the blood on his cheek. How had you missed it earlier? Probably due to the adrenaline. But now you watched intently as you saw the small cut on his cheek, messing up the perfection that was his face.

“Please.” You whispered breathlessly, but it was barely audible under choked sobs and gasps for air. “Please, I…What did I…”

He stormed forward and pushed you against the wall, so hard that your head banged against it with a fervor that made you go dizzy. His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.

“What should I do with you?” He whispered in a low voice. It was less of a whisper and more of a growl.

You opened your mouth to beg some more, but all your words were getting lost under a veil of tears and the symphony of your desperate, breathless sobs.

“Should I cut you open and watch you bleed to death?” He whispered as he squeezed your neck a little tighter. You coughed up and dug your nails into his wrist in a desperate attempt to get some air.

“Should I fuck you to death?” He whispered in the same feigned thoughtfulness, all the while you were ferociously fighting for your life.

“Should I make you-“ He stopped and let go of your neck. You doubled over and desperately gasped for air.

“No.” He whispered and his lips curved up into a twisted smile. “I know now.”

He looked you up and down in a way that made you less uneasy and more terrified, before he spoke in a tone that resembled gentleness.

“I’ll take something from you.”

After you finally regained your ability to breathe and gingerly touched your neck, trying to assess the damage he had done on you, you slowly looked up at him. And again, your whole focus was on the cut on his cheek. Only then you realized the blood on the collar of his shirt.

It wasn’t your fault, you suddenly realized. Not entirely. He had a bad day. And you found yourself aching to ask what had happened. Despite him taking his anger out on you, unfortunately.

But after all, it was you who went into his room, despite the clear instructions not to. Never to.

Silly girl.

“And give something else to you.” He whispered while he reached out and gently ran his fingertips over your neck. The touch made you wince.

When his words made you shake your head in confusion, he smiled slowly.

“Your name, sweet girl. It’s about time you got a new one.”

Oh, and how it hurt. How it hurt not knowing what was worse. Dying? Life hadn’t ever really been your thing, it seemed. You just weren’t good at it. But your name? At least you were someone. And now he was going to take that, too?

A small part of you was relieved. He wouldn’t gut you and hang you from the window. But he’d strip you of the little identity you had left.

Your lip quivered in an attempt to say something, but he just shook his head, the crooked smile still on his lips.

“You just made me break down my goddamned bathroom door and you think you got any right to complain?”

You stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes, your vision blurry with tears.

“That’s why you wrote all the names down.” You whispered in the voice of a timid mouse.

He hummed in response. “I was going to give you a say in choosing one. But that deal is in the past, sweet girl. I have the perfect name for you.”

He leaned in and murmured: "Kneel."

You didn't need to be told twice. You would have done anything, however degrading, if only it meant he wouldn't perform heinous crimes on your body.

You were shaking in silence, only interrupted by a few occasional sobs, as you watched him pick up the pair of scissors from the drawer.

Suddenly you didn't feel so safe anymore.

"Please."

He shot you a look that instantly shut you up. There was no way out and nothing you said or did could save you.

He stalked around you like a tiger, ready to pounce. And when you expected him to land a blow and knock you out, he instead gently played with a strand of your hair. And suddenly you were painfully aware of what was about to happen.

It's better than death, you kept trying to tell yourself. Better than torture, better than not being allowed to pee, better than being paraded around-

You gasped loudly when you felt the sharpness of the scissors press against your jugular.

"I bet you look beautiful when you're bleeding." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A part of you wanted to continue begging, but you knew it was pointless. Not when he was like this.

Instead of stabbing and cutting you to death and watch you collapse under a fountain of your own blood, he took your hair into a deadly chokehold between the scissors. You gasped again.

"Hana." He purred. "It's the perfect name."

He tugged on your hair, making your head jerk back.

"Hana is the first girl, here in Korea. One. First. My first girl.”

He ran the scissors up the length of your hair until it nearly reached your shoulders. You held your breath. This was it.

The girl you once were was about to be murdered.

"Hana", he murmured, "makes you a fresh, new thing. With no past and no strings attached. All you are now is my sweet girl. My Hana."

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you got a headache when you felt the metal of the scissors scrape against your hair.

"My sweet, darling Hana." He murmured.

And then he murdered you.

You kept trying to tell yourself that you got lucky. He barely even cut anything off, right? At least he didn't cut it to your chin or shoulder length.

At least he didn't kill you.

But he did kill you. The part of you that had been you, a little stubborn, a little defiant, was gone now as well. All that was left was this obedient, sobbing mess.

He had cut off just enough to make it noticeable. It didn't even look horrifying. You knew your hair would grow back.

But would your name ever grow back?

Would your soul ever grow back?

Hana, Hana, my sweet Hana. My first girl.

The second he released you, you found yourself marching back to your room. You didn't even feel the need to run and hide. And what for? What more could he do, how much more would he take?

"I'll cut it off, piece by piece, every time you deceive me, until you look like a Young-hee doll."

You had seen the ugly, little creature in a Korean store before.

You could already picture it. You with your hair cut down to your chin, wearing a yellow shirt and an orange dress. What was left of your hair, bound in pigtails.

You hated pigtails.

"I've been too soft on you, Hana. It's about time you learned how things work around here."

And after you finally managed your death-march to your bed, you collapsed on top of it like a lifeless doll. You couldn't even cry anymore. You were too exhausted after not sleeping all night and then this.

Maybe you would never feel well-rested again.

Maybe you would never smile again.

Did you smile much before all this? No. But at least you did sometimes.

That was all gone now.

Now you were Hana.

And Hana didn't smile.

The day dragged on like that. You didn't even get up to pee when you felt you had to. It was all pointless. Why not torture yourself a little more? Maybe you deserved it. Maybe you deserved it for going in his room, for reading his notes, for deceiving him, for taking his fucking hand after he just threw someone on the train line.

You should have known.

Looking back, you should have known.

Good people don't just go around, breaking other peoples' necks. Only sick psychopaths did.

So what had driven you to take his hand?

Was it his charming, reassuring smile?

Was it the fact that he rescued you from being raped at the train station?

Was it the excitement he promised, the new way of looking at things? The prospect of breaking out. Out of your dead, numb haze.

God, how you longed for a sitcom now.

Sitcoms usually ended in Happy Endings. Unlike you. You just ended.

Hana.

The way the door flew open would have made you wince, was there any fight or any life left in you.

Instead, all you did, was slowly lift your gaze. Your red, puffy eyes meeting his in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Still sulking, are we?" He sounded cheerful. Fucking bastard.

"Come. It's about time you ate something."

You didn't move. Didn't even blink. It wasn't to spite or challenge him. Instead you simply felt you couldn't move. Getting up, eating. Water. Teeth. Shampoo. It all sounded so distant. So useless.

You had felt like this before. More than once.

Every time your mother finished beating you with the belt.

Each time you woke up in your tiny, South Korean apartment and realized there was not much to live for.

It was mostly phases. On other days you got up just fine.

But today was such a phase, far more prominent than it had been in long.

His brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. A part of you expected him to chase you to the kitchen with a chainsaw.

"Don't be like that. Don't give me that look."

When you still didn't move or blink, his frown deepened and he slowly moved closer until he was crouched down by your bed.

He reached out and touched your chin.

"Are you going to kill yourself now over some hair?" He mocked.

"It'll grow back." He sighed impatiently. "You know you can't starve yourself anyway. I'll make you eat."

You didn't protest, but you also didn't react.

His frown stayed in place, but eventually he sighed and leaned back.

"Come." He said in a softer tone. "I'm making Hotteok. You're going to like it."

And suddenly, just like that, you sobbed again. Very quietly. You didn't move. But something inside of you was aching so terribly.

You expected him to get angry, furious even.

How dare you complain? You’re my Hana, my first girl. My Hana doesn’t complain. My Hana just takes it.

But instead he resumed the notion of gently caressing your hair.

He would hit you.

Somehow magically make a chainsaw appear.

Instead he whispered. Deadly. Menacing. Scary.

Gentle.

"You're still beautiful."

The first bite was hard. The second one way easier. You only ever realized how famished you were, after you bit into the warm, juicy piece of heaven. It tasted sweet and nutty and buttery.

For a second, you allowed yourself to forget about it.

All you could think about was the heavenly taste of whatever it was he had prepared for you.

And then it came back to you, stealthily at first and then suddenly hitting you like a brick.

Hana.

He watched you while you ate, his eyes unreadable. He leaned back and rested his ankle over his knee, watching you in quiet contemplation.

That didn't stop you from chewing your way through three more Hotteoks.

You had these issues, these unhealthy habits of being unable to eat infront of other people. Your mother had always demanded of you to act like a porcelain doll who didn't eat or use the bathroom.

But the longer you were here, the quieter her voice became.

Until all you could hear was his voice.

Hana. My sweet Hana. My first girl.

Your tiny eating disorder slowly dissolved into nothingness, your neuroses turning into ash and dust.

You ate to survive. You ate because it gave you comfort.

And any kind of comfort was a great distraction from the cruel farce which your life had become.

“You know”, he suddenly said after he took a sip of his tea, “no matter how short your hair is, you would always be beautiful.”

You slowly looked up at him with a frown. Suspicious.

“It’s true.” He hummed. “So deceive me all you want and maybe I can prove to you.”

There it was. No kindness without a jab to follow.

You looked back down at the food on your plate. You weren’t all too hungry anymore and your appetite turned back to what it was before. You slowly reached out and took a sip of your water.

“I’m curious though.” He said calmly. “What made you go inside there, hm? What made you disobey me? Were you looking for something?”

You stiffened. What were you supposed to tell him? Hopefully he wouldn’t mention the notebook. The pillow.

“Underneath my pillow, anyway.”

Fucking shit.

“What? Were you trying to set a trap for me, hm?” His voice stayed as calm as ever, but the look in his eyes only ever got colder.

“No.” You whispered.

He leaned forward, looking at you with an disturbing intent.

“Then what?”

He clenched his jaw tightly and grabbed a knife from the table. It wasn’t big, but enough to kill you. He squeezed the handle tightly in his hand and rammed it down against the table.

Poor wood.

The cold fury in his voice felt almost as unsettling as the scissors had.

No, actually more so.

“I was looking for you.” You said quietly, unable to look at him.

What kind of idiot were you? What were you trying to do, admit to that? But maybe it was better than to have him believe that you went in there with some ill intentions. Like placing a blade under his pillow and hoping that maybe somehow he managed to stab himself by accident.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned even closer. All you could look at was that cut on his skin.

“Looking for me.” He repeated and the disbelief in his voice was obvious.

What the hell was he so furious about? He had been so calm, just a minute ago.

But with him, you could never really tell.

You finally looked back into his eyes and nodded. “I thought you would-“ You immediately stopped yourself.

Oh God.

Oh God.

You thought what? That last night, he’d come in your room and sleep with you? Were you about to just say that out loud?

You took a shuddery breath, trying to come up with some other excuse. But it was too late. He already seemed to grasp your thoughts. And he wasn’t laughing or coming off somewhat amused about it, no, the thought seemed to make him even angrier.

Whatever had happened last night must have been horrible if it turned him into that.

More horrible than what happened to you just earlier that morning? You doubted it, but still, something like concern gnawed at you.

“You thought what?” He said slowly. “That I’d come in your room and fuck you? Is it that?”

You immediately looked down at your hands like you’d been struck. Your face flushed furiously and you suddenly felt the need to throw up.

“Are you that desperate? Are you that needy? I thought you were a fucking virgin.” He practically spat the words out. And you felt more and more nauseous with every word that came out of his mouth.

“I am.” You choked out.

“And still you crave my attention so desperately that you go inside my room, even though I told you you’d get punished if you ever did? Stupid girl. Such a stupid girl. Hana, you should know better than to-“

“That’s not my fucking name!”

You didn’t know if it was the use of that name or the other thing, but something inside you snapped and your depression crumbled down just like that. You could sit here and let him insult you or you could take action and find out what the fuck was going on here.

All the while you tried to ignore the bitter feeling of disappointment and shame that welled up in you, after he tried to shame you for what? Missing him?

You nearly shuddered. Missing him? Him?

You had a mission here.

Play along. Get him to trust you.

Get the hell out of here.

Right? That was the plan. Why did everything feel so…unstable then? Especially your own thoughts. You weren’t supposed to miss him. You were supposed to run. Grab his gun, shoot him and then shoot against the lock of the door until it fell apart.

And maybe then you’d finally find peace.

Instead you sat in silence, as you watched the expression in his eyes change. The bitterness and the man that had stooped down to insult you vanished and the monster who had cut your hair and punched your gut took his place.

“What did you say?”

“I said”, you gritted out in a fit of rage, so intense it left you breathless, “that’s not my fucking name.”

And just like that he snapped. But he didn’t snap like a normal person would, no. He snapped so hard, his head nearly exploded. And he lunged at you. He lunged forward and knocked you off the chair in the heat of the moment. Your head came down onto the floor with a thud, but what was far worse was the pain that shot through your back when it hit the ground.

He was on top of you, straddling you, before you even had the time to cry out in pain. But this time, something was different. You were different.

Before he could wrap his claws around your neck, you pushed him back, with such roughness that it left you surprised by your own strength. And before he had the time to recover and slap the hell out of you, you did something even more surprising. And probably stupid. 

You punched him. Right in his face, bruising his unharmed cheek. Your eyes shot wide open, but it was nothing in comparison to his own eyes.

First he looked surprised. Caught in a cloud of disbelief. And then the look changed. And just like that he was back to furious.

Murderous.

He got a hold of your wrists and pinned them down to the ground, ignoring the wince that shot through you and the cry of pain that left your lips, when he dug his nails into your skin.

“Such a stupid girl.” He hissed. “I really thought you learned your lesson. But it seems you didn’t. But don’t worry. You will in time.”

He reached out a hand to slap you, but before he could, you kneed him right in the stomach.

He let out a grunt of pain and momentarily loosened his grip on your wrists. But it took him no longer than two seconds to regain his balance and pin you down even harder.

You writhed underneath him, fighting as hard as you could to free yourself before he got the opportunity to damage your already damaged kidney, but he was on his best way to. He balled a fist and gritted his teeth, ready to make you pay.

“What happened last night?” The question sounded so incredibly ridiculous, coming from your trembling lips, underneath him, fighting for your life. And it was so ridiculous that, indeed, he paused for a moment.

“What?”

“Yes.” You gasped out. “What happened last night? What happened to your face?”

He blinked slowly, his grip on you never wavering.

“You don’t get to ask me questions.”

“Yes, I do! Where were you?”

He had trouble to control his temper, while he gripped your wrists so hard that his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking. He pressed his thumbs against the insides of your wrists so hard that a sharp pain flared through your arms and up to your shoulders.

“I was working. I had work to get done. And you don’t get to ask me questions!” He growled.

“Yes, I do!” You repeated, growing more and more impatient. His grip on you was so painful, that your legs kept kicking into the air, desperate to find some kind of relief from the pain. But it never came. And yet you forced yourself to stay angry. Don’t budge. Don’t beg. “What happened to your fucking face?!”

“Why?! Are you worried about me?!” He hissed and suddenly he was so far up in your face, you felt his breath on it.

“No!” You hissed back, still kicking into the air like a fool. You released something akin to a shriek of frustration, struggling against his grip, but he wasn’t even trying and he was so much stronger than you. “But I know nothing about you! I don’t know what you do! I don’t know what you are! I don’t know who you are! What’s you fucking name?! What is even your name?!” You were out of your mind, yelling furiously and pushing back against him, until he actually had to apply more pressure to keep you pinned against the ground.

“You want to know my name?” He gritted out. “I don’t have a name, silly girl. All you need to worry about is that you belong to me.”

“To a ghost.” You spat out. “Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?  You’re nothing but a ghost. You don’t have family or people who care about you. All you have is your job and yourself and this soulless place with no windows to open and let some sunshine in. All you have are these walls covered in sunny colors and yet there is no real sun here. It’s a façade. Everything is a façade. Because you’re nothing but a fucking ghost. You could be dead and no one would care.”

You gritted your teeth like a feral animal, ready to rip his throat out with your teeth if he’d let you, but of course he didn’t. Instead he met your deadly glare with one of his own, except that his was far more menacing than yours, more dangerous. Crazier.

“I may be a ghost, but you still belong to me.”

“What happened to your face?” You whispered in the same, angry tone.

He leaned further down until the tip of his nose nearly touched yours and slammed your hands against the floor.

“Why do you care?” He hissed back.

“What happened to your face?!” You nearly shouted.

“Why do you care?!” He shouted back.

“Because I do!”

It was true, you suddenly realized.

You cared.

Not in a curious way.

Not in a matter-of-fact way.

It was eating away at you. You needed to know what had happened, because you cared, you cared so much, it made your insides twist painfully. Ever since you had seen him that morning, you were in pain.

Not because he cut your hair.

Not because he demanded you to take a stupid name like Hana.

His first girl.

Were there others? Were you truly the first? Why not the last? Why not the goddamn last?

Was that jealousy?

The cut on his cheek made something inside of you ache and you were dying to know who the hell had dared to put his hands on him.

He seemed to have the same thought, because something in his expression changed. But you couldn’t tell what it was. Not yet at least.

“You care.” He spat out incredulously. “Idiot girl. Are you falling in love with me?”

You scoffed. “Not in a million years.”

“Good.” He whispered and leaned closer.

“I could never fall in love with a monster like you.” You whispered back and tilted your head up towards his.

His breath tickled your lips, but not half as much as his gaze did, as it slowly slid down to them.

“Stop.” You whispered, suddenly breathless.

“Tell me that you mean it and I will.” He whispered back. His brows furrowed and he took in a shuddering breath. It sounded like an exhale, it sounded like a moan.

Oh God.

“Stop.” You whispered again.

He stopped tormenting your wrists and you stopped struggling against thin air.

You didn’t know how but somehow his touch was almost gentle.

You didn’t realize when but somehow your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t.” You whispered.

“Don’t…”

“Please…”

“Don’t…”

Oh, fucking hell.

Fuck it.

“Please…don’t…stop…”

______________________________________________

Author's note: I'm dying, you are all too sweet to be true! Thank you so, so, so much for your sweet, kind words and I love you all so incredibly much! Just a few days ago, I had a moment when I was feeling like everything was going pretty shitty, but then I thought about this story and all the kind and loving support I'm getting from you and it cheered me up beyond belief. Much, much love! Lana ❤️

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @whitefeathers @ennvfv @heartzxx @yourpointbreak @hell0kittt @salesmanlover08 @pascalislove @nina357 @ing9449myu @vamplivivi @tvbais @ilovenana00 @misswannadiesworld @glads-stuff @chunkzdeluluwife @estreiiuh @lokis-lovely-muse @zaimeskuna @lalalaa2210

also thanks to @i-might-be-vanny for the name issue inspiration!

[starboye]

starring: chase davenport x male reader

request: sub!chase is letting reader ride him but he has already came like 3 times and he’s just a whimpering mess and reader is still not showing any mercy until bree calls chases phone but reader picks it up and covers chases mouth with his hand and bree finally hangs up and reader uncovers chases mouth and chase cums again and his eyes are just in the back of his head and reader gets off oh him and chases just sits there overstimulated his cock still jumping and leaking

warnings: smut, cursing, overstimulation, dom and sub

"y/n wait fuck i think that's enough i can barely feel my legs" chase tried to lift you off him but you just pinned his hands above him into the pillows and continued bouncing your ass on his lap, loud plaps of skin on skin contact reverberating through the room along with his obscene whimpers and whines "come on you said i could ride you for however long i want if i let you study and i held my end of the deal so time for you to do yours" you chuckle watching his head drop weakly onto the pillow.

"y-yeah but" chase stammers but you stop him "but nothing, now sit back and enjoy this chase" you kiss him before going back to doing you before you hear chases phone ring and roll your eyes, grabbing it before he can get his shaking sweaty palms on it "hey bree" you greet her as if you weren't turning her brother into a whiny mess "oh hey y/n where's chase at" she asks and just before he can say anything you cover chases mouth with your hand.

"he's in the bathroom right now but i think he'll be back in a little" you lie so easily to her, not missing a beat on still riding chase "well tell him to call me back when he gets chance" she says "will do" you reply before hanging up and going back to business "now back to you" you smile watching as chases eyes flicker back, feeling your bouncing get more rougher each time "fuck y/n m'gonna" chase moans, each moan reaching a higher pitch in his voice.

and in no time he's tightly holding onto thee headboard as he empties his fourth load into your ass, his eyes shooting to the back of his head with every spurt of cum into you until his balls are empty and his legs are slightly shaking "good boy" you coo patting his chest and moving some of the curls from his face before getting off him.

his cock twitching at the cool air now around it and chase letting out a small wince as you give his balls a little tap "wait where are you going" he asks weakly grabbing you wrist "to get some water and refuel, you didn't really think we were done did you" you smirk and chase shakes his head and lets out a little whimper knowing you're gonna ride him dumb.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

fuckboy

unnamed ppu character x f!reader | wc: 3.5 k | explicit, mdni

summary: you meet this guy at a bar, drink too much and he shows you his questionable definition of making out aka storage room sex. spoiler: it's never just the tip.

warnings: filth, very dubious dub-con, drunk reader, her consent is questionable, gaslighting, manipulating, he's an insufferable fuckboy and needs to go to hell actually, he's a bad lay, unspecified but legal age gap, fingering, rough-ish unprotected PinV, creampie, petnames (baby, cockslut), dick+pussy pronouns, two ass smacks, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied

a/n: this bitch was supposed to be a tiny drabble. oops. inspired by this post. @iamasaddie, you wanted me to elaborate, here you go, i hope this tingles in adult ways, at least a little bit. thank you for your help with the header <3 and thank you @guiltyasdave for the same as always: everything (aka beta and unlimited support and love 💕)

The bar is brimming, buzzing, the bass vibrates through every single person in the room, raw dogging each one of them, one after another and all at the same time.

He looks ridiculous. Too old for a place like this, hideous but somehow sexy Hawaiian shirt, of course only buttoned up halfway to show off his toned chest and a gold chain necklace, and he wears sunglasses, indoors. Big violet mirrors, aviator shaped, hiding behind them. Hiding his intentions but they are oh so clear.

The guy purses his lips, eyebrows dancing, hips moving side to side and back to front, obviously a preview of what’s to be expected if someone hooks up with him.

It was the blondish-white strand in the otherwise dark hair that made you weak for him. You don't even know why. While the rest of the man screams ‘fuckboy’ the blonde strand purrs ‘baby boy’.

The strand looks so pretty, whenever the color of the lights changes, always tinted in red or orange or blue. The strand looks really pretty in the storage room, too. It begs to be touched and tugged.

So you do. You touch it and gently tug it while he touches your thighs and tugs on your panties. Then he tugs them aside and you whimper when he runs his thumb through your slit without a warning.

“How old are you exactly?” he rasps against your neck, licking your skin while his thumb searches for something. Your clit probably, you think and moan when he finds it for a moment.

“Old enough to drink alcohol,” you mutter and let your head fall back against the tiled wall. The turned over crates bite into the flesh of your ass, empty bottles rattle when he pulls you closer towards him.

“So you're old enough for this bad boy.” He grins at you, a stupid proud grin, and takes your hand away from his hair and guides it to the bulge in his jeans. When you don't start moving your hand, he does it for you, over the whole length and back. “You want him? Wanna see him? You do, right?”

His damp breath brushing your ear adds to the dizziness in your head. Your head is spinning a little from the music and the drinks. Spinning, just like his thumb, that is now circling close enough around your clit to finally feel good.

“I dunno,” you murmur and try to get your swimming mind to focus.

“That's not a no, baby. So you want him. I knew it.” His free hand fumbles with his zipper. The crates you're sitting on quake when he pulls down his jeans. And before you know it, you feel something in your palm. Smooth and hard and hot, heavy, jumping in your hand.

It’s not exactly what you signed up for earlier, when he paid for two of your drinks and sucked on your earlobe. When he said something about you being so cute and making out with him. Just kissing. I promise, baby. I know a place. And then he dragged you along with him into this crammed storage room that smells like booze and sweat.

You kissed, for a minute or so. But now you have his cock in your hand. You look down and his thumb swipes over your clit, making you moan and him twitch. Why do you have his cock in your hand? He feels so heavy and warm. He feels a bit good, actually.

His hand moves to cup your cunt, the ball of his thumb pressing against your sensitive nub and a nimble finger -or two?- is slipping into you and immediately back out. At least that's what it felt like, you're not sure. But you feel yourself clamp down on nothing, chasing what was there just a second ago. His tongue moves over your pulse and a whine escapes you.

“Oh, I know, baby, you like him, right?” He moves closer, trapping you between the cold wall and his warm body, between the plastic crate and his dick. A finger dips into your heat again, deeper now, deep enough for you to be sure about feeling him inside of you. This is definitely not just kissing, but it somehow feels good.

“Baby, she wants me. You feel it, too, right?” His tongue runs along your neck and to your ear, his hips buck and your fingers tighten around his cock. He’s so hard beneath all the hot smoothness.

His fingers are pushing in deeper now and you clench around him. “See? You want me. You're so wet, baby. You know that it means you want me.” He pulls his fingers out and presses them back in, matching his thrusts in your palm with the rhythm of fingering you.

You groan out a curse and start accepting your fate. Fine, then you're getting fingered in exchange for a few drinks. That's okay, he's not too bad at it. The thickness of his fingers is half the battle.

The small blonde strand is catching your attention and lures your hazy mind in. Baby boy. Your body already surrenders to his ministrations and you roll your hips, moaning when he slips in another fraction of an inch.

“Mhmm, jus' what I thought. Desperate, that's what you are. You want more? You feel good?”

You dumbly nod your head because all you're able to think about is the throbbing ache in your pussy and the smooth movement of his cock in your hand. Yeah, he makes you feel good. With a wet sound he pulls his fingers out again.

“I'll give you more then, if that's what you want.” He nudges your hand off his dick and grips himself at the base. “Baby, look. He's excited for you.”

You look between your bodies again and squint to get a clearer vision. Precum. He's leaking. There's a clear drop forming over his slit. No, this definitely is not just kissing. Your eyes meet his again and when you open your mouth to speak he shifts forward and wedges the fat head of his cock between your folds.

You're whining again, your hips bucking into the sensation. A moment of clarity forms between your dazed mind and your nudged clit: Fuck. Shit. No. You don't even know his name.

When you start squirming he grabs you by your waist, firmly but not painfully. He hums, sounding a bit strained now. Slowly, slowly his dick glides back and forth through your slit, pushing at your nub whenever he reaches it.

“Baby, what's the problem? It feels good, doesn't it?” His eyebrows dance and he looks at you like a kicked puppy. “God, you're so messy, listen.”

It's true, you can hear the squelching over the soft clinking of bottles in the crate whenever he guides himself all the way to your entrance, rubbing his shaft against you.

“Yeah, but…” You groan quietly when he moves his hips back and drag himself along your clit. “A condom. You have one?”

He just laughs and continues his movements through your slick folds.

“What would we need a condom for, hm, silly girl? They're just cuddling. She hugs him, baby, hugs him real tight.” He pushes his cock forward to your clenching hole, but never makes the final move, never dips in. Your mind tells you no, yet your body clearly wants it, to be fucked.

“And he likes her. Look, they're kissing.” He draws his hips back, cock in hand, and starts dabbing and tapping and burrowing the thick, plush tip against you. “Just making out, like us. That's okay, right? Kissing?”

He pushes deeper again, only to move back immediately. Back and forth, just his tip rubbing you, just the fat rim teasing and teasing and teasing your aching clit. It looks good, the way he appears and disappears again, all glistening.

“That's okay, yes,” you mutter breathily, trying to suppress another moan. He doesn't let up, keeps the slow rhythm of back and forth. God, you need his fingers again, he needs to numb the pulse inside of you.

“I know it's okay. Feels good, hm?” he whispers sweetly against your lips before flicking his tongue against your top lip. “She feels so good, baby… You like how he feels? Like how my cock feels?”

You nod your head again and meet his movements halfway, tilting your hips so you can feel him prod your entrance a little more. The emptiness inside starts hurting and you whimper with his lips ghosting yours. He smells of beer and body spray, all mixing together with a whiff of arousal.

“I need… I need…” you gasp out and try to grind against him as good as you can.

“You want me to stop? Is it too much?” His movements come to a halt and he pulls away slightly, grinning and hiding it behind a sweet little peck.

You squirm again, this time closer instead of away. One hand clutches his, the one he pumps himself with. You swallow, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. They taste like booze and beer.

“No, no, god, please. I need a lil' more?” You tug on him, trying to guide his hand back right up against your core.

“Oh, I'm not sure, baby…” He gives in a little bit and lets his leaking cock rest against your sensitive nub again. “You really want more of me? Of him?”

You tug more on his hand, frustrated with his hesitation. “Need you inside,” you groan and pull on his fingers, wanting them back in your aching cunt.

“Inside? Are you sure?” He lets you squeeze his fingers into the wetness of your slit, carefully letting his dick follow.

“Yes! Please,” you whine and let go of his hand when he prods you with a single digit. Thank fuck, you think.

“But jus’ the tip,” he murmurs almost apologetically.

Your question about what the hell he is talking about is knocked out of your brain the moment you feel a stretch that’s not coming from his fingers. He presses inside of you. Just the tip, like he said. Like you never meant it. But he stretches you so perfectly on the first inches that you can’t even protest. Until he withdraws himself again.

“That good, baby? That what you want? Say yes,” he pleas, his breath hot against your ear and you feel him shift again. His dick slides all the way through your slit to your clit and back, slowly pressing back into you again.

“Fuck, yes.” It feels good. Better than the aching. You just want to feel stuffed. Your forehead drops onto his shoulder and you whimper when he continues to sluggishly fuck you with his fat tip. “But… a condom?”

He sighs and when he pulls out he stops moving again, leaving you hanging and you pussy clenching desperately.

“This isn't even sex, baby. It's just. The. Tip.” He tilts your head up and looks at you over his stupid aviators. “Listen, we can stop if you don't want this. I'm doing this just for you. Because you asked me to. You wanted more, right? Wanted to feel good?”

Your head nods, maybe a little prompted by his fingers under your chin.

“See, there we have it. You want this and they're just making out. Tongue kissing.” He pushes back in and it feels better than before. But you can't really say if he’s in deeper? You don't care too much. Tongue kissing. It makes sense. “I'm just doing this for you, baby. Because you seem to need it so badly.”

He smiles a friendly and seemingly sincere smile while pulling out and pushing back into you, painfully slow. Like scratching an itch with nothing but a tickle.

“I really care about you, hm?” His whisper fleets to your ear when he drops your face back to his shoulder. The next shallow thrust makes him grunt and your pussy clamps down on him. He slips past the tight spot -accidentally probably?- and you feel full for a second. Filled and good and you want it again.

But he draws back again, moaning into the crook of your neck. “Sorry ‘bout that, baby. But you're so wet. Got a slip and slide pussy there.”

His hips roll and his tip nudges back into you. Again and again, until your fingers are clutching him and your body writhes towards him, desperate for more depth. The edge of the crate cuts into the meat of your ass, the bottles rattling with every small thrust.

There isn't much to it. In your hazy mind this thought appears like a beacon. He's been inside already. The damage is already done, nothing you could take back now. He could fuck you stupid instead of feeding you this sample sized version of sex.

He wedges his hard cock back into your hole and slips out again, leaving your cunt sopping and clenching and empty. You can feel your slick slowly running down your thighs. You rarely ever felt this horny, this desperate for a dick. It’s almost like he teases you on purpose.

“Fuck me,” you whine and command at the same time. “God, just fuck me.”

“You sure? I don't have a condom. Are you clean?”

You manage to scoff at his audacity but… maybe he wouldn't ask this if he wasn't clean himself? That's good. It's safe, somewhat safe.

“Of course I'm clean.” You want to sound confident and pissed off but your voice is whiny and morphs into a moan when he thrusts into you halfway.

“I'm trusting you then. Don't lead me on.” He sounds strained now, strangled, with your snug cunt squeezing him.

A handful more slow strokes and he's buried balls deep. Both of you pant, you because your aching gets soothed and he because you pulse around him. Your body tries to egg him on to fucking move, but he just stays still.

“Shit. She tight.” He lets out a single hoarse laughter before his hips buck just a little deeper into you and you swear he must be somewhere in your guts. “Christ, she’s gripping him.”

He pulls out, almost completely, and fills you back up with one harsh thrust.

“Fuck,” you moan and hook your legs behind his ass when the tower of crates beneath you starts shaking from the impact. And then he starts fucking you, hard. Fast. The bottles rattle rhythmically in time with his thrusts.

His hands dig into your hips when he grabs hard enough to feel your bones. He pulls you onto him, fucking himself with you.

He's not good per se, just slamming into you over and over again, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh pump. But he has a good sized cock, just an inch too long and a little too girthy. The stretching is never ending, the slight sting hurts just right, and his pelvis hitting your poor, swollen, teased clit is going to finish you sooner or later. You just feel so full. The way he stretches you out on his cock makes you dumb.

“You always do this?” He snarls, using the wobbling crate tower for more leverage. “Getting a guy to fuck you in the backrooms? You just need it that bad?” His thumb somehow finds your pulsing nub and he starts to rub it roughly until your legs quake around his waist from the stimulation.

“Oh… oh fuck…” Your nerve endings are on fire and your muscles twitch and clench. You clutch his arm, nails digging into his bicep when he won’t stop to harshly flick and rasp over your clit. Despite it all, you feel the familiar tug behind your navel. The heat is not building slowly, it’s approaching you violently.

“Don’t tell me you're close already, baby?” You see him grin before your eyes roll back, your vision turning black. “I thought I would be special. But you're just using me. Just want my cock.” He lets his hips snap into you, thrusting in too deep but in a good way. “Little cockslut.”

You whine, wanting to protest but you’re pinned down on the tilting crates, spread over this guy’s girth with your toes curling in your shoes. Complaining is the last thing on your mind.

“You gotta pull out.” Probably the only coherent thought you have left. You’re on birth control, but having this stranger’s cum dripping down your legs later when you're back with your friend?

“For real? A cockslut but not a cum dump? Such a rare breed, aren’t you?” His laughter sounds choked, breathless, the wet slapping of his slicked balls against your ass just as loud as his words. “I’ll pull out, don't worry, baby.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and plucks your leg off of his waist. Even though your muscles are already tense and twitching he straightens it out over his chest. “But first I’ll make you come on him.” Another hard hip snap and the changed angle makes you see twinkling stars on your retina when he hits you deeper. He grins down at you when you cry out your pleasure. “That's right, baby, let me hear you. Let the people hear that you're my little cockslut.”

His lips latch to your ankle that's resting on his shoulder and sucks on your skin as if he wants to brand you. And while he somehow manages to fuck you harder you wonder how many women in this bar have a hickey on their ankles.

And then you stop thinking. His thrusts turn sloppy, sweat forms on his forehead and runs down your leg and adds to your slick. “I’ll make you come so hard. You can feel it, right? Make you gonna black out on my cock, baby.” A nip to your ankle and then a smack on the side of your ass and your pussy starts clenching and choking on his girth. Still he keeps on fucking into you, struggling with how hard your muscles tighten around him.

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

Your yelp makes him grip you tighter and with a last thrust you fall right over the edge. His moans ring in your ears when his hips stutter, but he keeps fucking you through it. Your spasming body is held securely in his arms, preventing you to hurt yourself on the wobbly crates.

“Fuck, that's it, baby. Best pussy I ever fucked, I swear,” he hisses when his hips start stuttering. “Gonna make me fucking come. Gonna come for you. You want that?” He slams into you and somehow prolongs your orgasm with how he spreads your quaking cunt open over and over again. More of that, you want more of this orgasm.

So you nod your head and moan, trembling like the stacked bottles beneath your body. “Yes, I want that, please. Jus’ don’t stop.”

Another smack lands on your ass and he gives you a few last pumps before he pushes into and against you so hard that it makes you wince. Through the pulsing of your walls you feel him throbs and twitch, spitting out his cum so deep into you that you feel stuffed, really fucking stuffed. And it feels so good.

After a second he starts rolling his hips, letting himself be milked by your pussy until he finally and unceremoniously pulls out. He tilts his head, looking at his handiwork over the rim of his aviators. “Fuck yes. She’s so pretty like that, all wrecked.” The tip of his cock squeezes through your swollen and ruined slit once more, slipping into your gaping hole to draw another moan out of you. When he pulls out again some of his cum gets pushed out and starts running down to your ass.

“You… you didn’t pull out?” Despite your anger your body still vibrates and twitches.

“Couldn't. She gripped me too tight. It’s her fault,” he smirks and pets your mound. “But don't worry, I'm snipped, baby.”

He wipes himself dry with his hand, doing a poor job but he doesn't seem to care. Still half hard and sticky he stuffs his dick back into his boxers. “You want my number, baby?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss and search the storage room for some tissues.

“I knew you'd break my heart, baby,” he chuckles and watches you clean yourself. “But I really like you. You're special. Got a perfect pussy, too. Here, if you wanna use me again, I'm all yours.”

He pulls out something off his pocket, like a business card. No name or number printed on it. He puts it on a crate next to you before kissing your forehead. “God, baby, I think I’m in love with you,” he croons with a shit eating grin.

“Sure you are, fuck off.”

He lifts his hands and walks backwards until he reaches the door. “Gonna miss you.” He purses his lips, making a little kiss noise and disappears back into the bar.

You look over your own appearance and see the blank business card. When you turn it around you see it. A fucking QR code. A fuckboy with a QR code. Some more cum leaks into your pulled back panties and you bite the inside of your cheeks.

“Fuck it.” You put his card into your bra. Stupid cockslut.

you liked this? that's alright, we are all filthy little animals here. commenting or reblogging is appreciated, thank you! <3

want more dub-con? maybe you like this short Dave York fic: tainted heart

find my general masterlist here

dividers: as always @/saradika-graphics

[hypnagogicwriter]

𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧

fandom masterlist | general navigation

synopsis: There's glitter on the floor after the party, and Y/N finds herself cleaning up year after year. Surprisingly, Gojo Satoru joined her once and didn't seem to leave.

Tags: Gojo Satoru/f!Reader, Reader is Not a Jujutsu Sorcerer, still kicks ass tho, Soft Gojo Satoru but he is struggling with emotions, Feelings?, Reader has a problematic past, We only briefly look at that, kinda Strangers to Lovers, inaccurate canon universe

Words: 1471

Kinda obvious based on this song

The sound of laughter and distant fireworks echoed through the halls of Jujutsu High as the students celebrated the arrival of a new year. The main room was a mess of discarded cups, streamers, and confetti, and Y/N stood at the center, broom in hand, surveying the aftermath.

It was tradition now—she’d clean while the others enjoyed themselves, preferring the quiet over the chaos of the party. That's where she belonged, after all.

“You know, there’s no rule that says you have to do this every year.”

The familiar voice made her sigh. She turned to see Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe, his blindfold perched on his head.

“Shouldn’t you be off dazzling everyone with your charm?” she asked, resuming her sweeping.

“I already dazzled them,” he said, walking into the room. “Now I’m here to dazzle you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Grab a broom if you’re going to stay.”

He smirked but complied, picking up the other broom. Together, they cleaned in silence, the remnants of the party fading away. This was not possible when Y/N took up the position as a regular teacher, the communication between the two of them was too harsh.

“You’re always cleaning up after everyone,” he said after a while, his voice quieter than usual. “Why?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the floor. Someone has to do the dirty work. At home, it was always her. A bit like Cinderella, only without a prince, but with a good friend with exceptionally good contacts, who couldn't stand her family.

His gaze lingered on her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing in him.

The first time Gojo had seen Y/N like this was a year ago, on New Year’s Day. She had been sitting in the empty common room, staring at the remnants of another celebration. He’d wandered in, looking for a late-night snack, and found her instead.

“You okay?” he’d asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Just thinking,” she’d replied, her voice echoing back from the end of the universe.

He didn’t press her that night, just sat across from her and shared the silence. It became a habit after that—running into her at odd hours, sharing unspoken moments in the aftermath of celebrations or battles.

She intrigued him, this non-sorcerer who carried herself with quiet strength. He wasn’t used to people like her.

There are 12 months between "Gojo Satoru is really getting on my nerves!" and "You're really hard in love, Y/N" (Shoko smirking diabolically).

It started with little things—passing conversations in the halls, stolen glances during meetings, and a steady rhythm that Y/N hadn’t noticed was building. Gojo had a way of inserting himself into her life, in the spaces between her routines.

One day, she was grading papers in the courtyard, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the stone path. She heard the distinct crunch of footsteps and sighed.

“Gojo, if you’re here to bother me—”

“Bother you?” he interrupted, dropping into the chair across from her. “I’m here to provide you with my much-needed company. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for your company,” she replied, not looking up from her work.

“Your eyes did,” he teased, leaning back and balancing his chair on two legs. “They practically screamed, ‘I wish someone would entertain me.’”

Y/N smirked despite herself. “My eyes must be malfunctioning, then.”

They fell into their familiar talking, his teasing bouncing off her sharp retorts. By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, she realized she hadn’t marked a single paper but didn’t feel annoyed about it.

Another time, they crossed paths in the library. She was perched on a ladder, pulling down a stack of dusty books, when his voice rang out.

“Need a hand, shorty?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Gojo.”

“Come on, let me be your knight in shining armor,” he said, winking up at her.

“Go pester someone else,” she muttered, carefully stepping down the ladder.

But when she mistook the last step, Gojo was there, catching her before she could hit the ground. She blinked up at him, her face inches from his, and for a moment, the air between them shifted and Y/N thought of kissing him.

“Careful,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

“Thanks,” she murmured, stepping out of his arms and busying herself with the books.

The moments kept piling up—him bringing her coffee during long staff meetings, her quietly leaving snacks in the training rooms he frequented. Neither addressed the subtle shift, but it was undeniable, and for everyone to see.

The breaking point came during a mission. A group of students had been sent to exorcise a minor curse but found themselves overwhelmed. Y/N and Gojo had been dispatched as backup.

While Gojo handled the curse with his usual flair, Y/N focused on helping the injured students. She knelt beside one, assessing their wounds, like Shoko had shown her and other non-sorcerers, when she heard Gojo’s voice behind her.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Before she could react, he was in front of her, his hand raised as a barrier materialized to deflect a stray attack. The curse dissolved moments later, but the weight of his protective stance lingered.

“You okay?” he asked, turning to her, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Can’t have anything happening to you.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, so honest.

Later that night, as she replayed the events in her mind, she found herself questioning her growing feelings. It wasn’t just his charm or his power—it was the way he seemed to notice the parts of her that others overlooked.

And while she hated to admit it, she couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. She had fallen for Gojo Satoru, and it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath her feet.

There are 12 months between “Y/N is a pain in my ass!" and "You're down bad, Gojo-san" (Ijichi grinning diabolically).

This New Year’s was quieter than the last. Most of the students had gone home, leaving the school nearly empty. Y/N found herself cleaning again, the silence soothing as she swept confetti into a pile.

“You’re predictable,” Gojo said, appearing as if from nowhere.

She didn’t look up. “And you’re annoying.”

He chuckled, grabbing a nearby chair and spinning it around to sit backward. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Hide away. Take care of everyone else. Pretend like you don’t matter.”

Because she meant nothing. She was just a mixture of bone and flesh. Meaningless. Next to everything else. For the sake of peace, she decided not to say it out loud. You hide something like that behind walls without doors.

She stopped sweeping. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been watching you,” he said, his tone serious. “You give so much of yourself to everyone else, but you never let anyone in.”

Oh, how she hated the way he read her like an open book. The way he gently hit the points. The way he tore down the walls, she carefully built around her past.

Her chest tightened, and she turned away. “Why do you care?”

“Because I care about you,” he said simply, standing up. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Don’t joke about that, Satoru.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, I really did. Because having this kind of feeling for people, for non-sorcerers especially, is tough. I learnt from my past that it can hurt, but I also learnt that it hurts the most not to talk about. So yeah, I do care about you so, so deeply and I would never joke when it comes to you —and my students.”

She turned to face him, searching his face for any hint of mockery, but all she found was sincerity. She was speechless.

“You drive me crazy,” she said, her voice trembling.

He smiled, but it was softer this time. “Good. Then we’re even.”

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Y/N and Gojo sat side by side in the common room, the mess forgotten.

“Do you think this is a mistake?” she asked quietly, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Probably,” he replied, lacing his fingers with hers. “But I don’t care.”

She laughed softly, and he turned to look at her, his eyes bright in the dim light.

“Stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

And she did, in fact, stayed in this love, even longer than him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

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Masterlist

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Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; manipulation; criminal behaviour; cumplay/creampie, talk of contraception; written for smut, just being honest. Not all elements will be tagged/warned.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features dark!Ransom Drysdale and dark!Modern Charles Blackwood. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Ransom and Charles are partner’s in crime but they’re looking for some pleasure after years of business.

Note: :)

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya.

Ransom paces. He’s agitated. Charles always has to be the big man. Always has to be in control. That’s not how this works. This is a partnership. They are equal, in all their gains. It’s why they’re so efficient. 

So how come he’s out in the cold and Charlie Boy is cuddled up nice and close with the kitty. He bets he’s in there getting a double dip. Fucking unbelievable. 

Ransom snarls and flops onto the couch. His satin boxers tickle his tip and he hardens. He hasn’t fully calmed down. Every time he thinks about how she squeezed him, he tingles and twitches. Fuck, that was good. Who would’ve thought?  

He sighs and stands up. He charges down the hall to Charles’ room then stops. He strides back to the front room and retraces his steps a second time. He snarls and cracks his neck. They had a fucking deal. They share. So why is he in there hogging her all to himself? 

He closes his eyes and pictures her shivering in the tub. The tears streaked down her cheeks and the glistening, sticky aftermath of fucking all over her skin. The way he covered her has him fully hard. Fuck it, he’s not waiting until morning. 

He turns the handle and swings the door inward. The room is dark. He can smell the chamomile. Charles’ snores rumble in the dark. He always sounded like a pig in heat when he slept. Ransom slows as his eyes adjust to the dim. 

He sees her squirm. She’s under Charles’ arm. He thinks she’s awake, he swears he can feel her eyes on him. He nears quietly, placing each foot carefully, and bends over the side of the bed. He measures’ his accomplices snores. 

He runs his fingertips down her arm and wraps his fingers around her wrist. He’s lucked out and he’s not gonna pass up the prime opportunity. He tugs her and she whimpers. He hisses out a hush. She gulps and slides out from beneath the blankets and Charles’ arm. 

Ransom stops and pulls her to him as the other man grumbles and shifts onto his stomach. He puts his hand over her mouth to quiet her gasp and she presses flush to him. She’s still naked. 

He turns her and walks her toward the door. He ushers her into the hall as she awkwardly mimics his steps. He reaches back to close the door and she whines. 

“Please, I’m tired--” 

“Shut up,” he snarls. “You can sleep, I’ll still fuck you.” 

“But... Ransom... I... I thought you liked me--” 

He chuckles, sure to keep it low. He nudges her down the hall. He points over her shoulder. 

“I like what you can give me. Well, more what you have. By nature, really. Nothing special but those holes do the job,” he smacks her ass and reaches past her to open his bedroom door. “So why don’t you show them off for me, baby.” 

She curls her shoulders, looking even smaller, and his balls throb. He feels full even though he was aching moments ago. Been a while since he felt so... ready. Usually, he just rolls over and prays he wakes up to an empty bed. 

She hesitates and looks around. He huffs. She’s a bit stupid. Her fear gets him going but it’s also fucking annoying.  

He marches up and grabs the back of her neck. He urges her to the end of the bed and guides her to kneel on the cushioned bench, like a fucking dog. Mm, he likes that. She’s his. His obedient little pet. 

Her back racks visibly as she quivers. He gets behind her and pushes down his boxers, the fabric catching on his swollen tip. He growls and stretches the elastic past his length. He lets the satin fall to his feet and grabs her hip. 

He steps closer and presses his tip along your ass. He smears around the precum already trickling out and shudders. His entire body pulses at the sensation.  

The surge drives him. He bends his knees and leans over her. She whines as he traces down past her ring, a moment of intrigue before he finds her cunt. Charles wouldn’t forgive him if he took her ass without him. 

He glides between her swollen folds and feels her flinches. He groans and rubs against her cunt. He pushes against her opening and she drones as she tenses. Her body resists his intrusion but it only goads him on. 

He snaps his hips and breaks through. She cries out and he once more brings his hand to her mouth. He puts his other on the bench as he bends over her and thrusts again. It takes several tilts for him to bottom out as she sobs into his palm. 

Her agony fills him with smoky delight. Fuck. Her walls throb, milking him as he tries to fight the pressure. He can’t blow already. 

He rolls his hips slowly, enjoying the feeling of her around him, so tight and slick, then the tingle of the naked air around him as he pulls out. In, out. He stands up, bringing her with him, and watches himself pump into her. Shit. Don’t, don’t, don’t. 

He exhales away the swell and carries on. He covers half her face with his hand and ruts harder and harder, pausing after each rippling slap of skin. He leans his head back as his eyes roll into his skull. Her fractured voice is smothered by his palm and she quakes uncontrollably at his mercy. 

He spasms as he erupts, unable to hold it in any longer. He fills her up as he fucks his cum into her until it squelches and leaks out. Even then, he doesn’t stop. He could keep her on him forever. 

👄

You stare at Ransom’s back. Your insides crawl and threaten to spill over. You stare at his muscles, the power woven through them, and you feel the weakness in you. 

His breath rises and falls as you lay in the soft hue cast through the window. You suppress a groan as you turn onto your back. It takes all you have to sit up. You hunch over and touch your pelvis as it scalds.  

You nearly stumble out of the bed. You limp to the door and glance back at his sleeping figure, focusing on him to make sure he isn’t awake. You slip through the door, leaving it slightly open, and creep down the hall. 

Your clothes are still on the floor. You dress in the grim night shade. The friction of fabric on your skin makes you wretch. You can’t stand even that. You never want to be touched again. 

You find your shoes and bag by the door. You stop to listen to the house as you put your coat on. You take out your phone before you flip back the lock. You sneak out into the whipping gales and steel yourself for the walk home. At least, you hope you find your way back. 

You open your maps app and follow the small blue arrow through the desolate night time. Each step is torture. When you trip off a curb, you feel it inside. 

You cry again, here and there, replaying the night in your head. Reliving your own mistakes. How could you ever believe Ransom? You really thought he was into you... 

Your mom can’t know. She’d be horrified. Or... what if she doesn’t believe you? 

That hurts more than anything they did to you. No one would believe you. If they did, they’d say it was your fault. You went to his house, you stayed there with both of them, you didn’t fight hard enough. No, you let them use you. 

You stop and sit on a bench. You know this part of town. You’re just too tired to keep going. You just need a minute. Or two. Or three. 

It takes you a while to get up again. Shivering, you watch the battery on your phone drain. You put it away as you recognise the street signs. It’s like a maze as you struggle to push through the pain and the blistering wind. 

You just want to go home and forget tonight. Forget it like it never happened. 

As you reach your front door, you fumble for the keys. You ease inside, keeping your steps soft and sitting to take off your boots. You hug your bag, huddling over it, and shuffle down the hall. The light flicks on above you. 

You blanch as your mother’s voice calls after you. You inhale and face her, hoping she can’t see your sadness. You force a smile. 

“Mom...” 

“There you are,” she says. “I’ve been waiting all night. I thought you’d be home before me.” 

“I’m sorry, mom, I... I lost track of time--” 

“You couldn’t call, or message?” 

“I know, mom. I—I—” You stutter. “I’m an adult.” 

She scoffs, “I know that but I worry.” 

“It’s okay--” 

“Okay? Out all night with a boy. You never know what could happen.” 

You sniffle, “mom.” 

“I’m just trying to look out for you, honey.” She girds and lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, but... I’m just glad you’re safe.” 

She comes forward and you tremble. You want so desperately to hug her and cry against her. No, like you said, you’re an adult, you made this decision. 

“Well, did you have fun?” She asks. 

The question nearly bowls you over. You stare at her dumbly and shrug. She smiles and snickers, “oh, you don’t have to tell me everything.” 

Good, because you’re not telling her anything. 

[a-loose-collection-of-ants]

Okay so I was doing something for work and sifting through some old things on my computer.... and I found this???

[red-dyed-sarumane]

i should make my blog title nou ni arou NLL wo again thats such a fun line in aru sekai shoushitsu

[gifti3]

I wanna imagine a demon asking asmo what mc likes cause theyre interested in them

I think he'd sabotage them on purpose by convincing them they arent MCs type (whether thats true or not) or giving them misinformation

[pastellmochi]

what kind of sicko would come up with this

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—geto showing gojo how to fuck you like you deserve

pairing: geto x fem! reader x gojo

content: smut, voyeurism, cuckholding, creampie, cunnulingus, cum eating (gojo eats geto’s cum out of you), praise, degradation, hair pulling, fingering, fingering, consensual cheating, overstimulation, choking

a/n: i’m really sorry for the repost, tumblr flagged the first one :’)

Geto showing Gojo how to fuck you, Gojo’s darling little girlfriend, just right. Gojo sitting on the single sofa in the two’s shared living room. With Geto on the large one and you on his lap with long fingers deep inside you, curling against your g spot as he pumped them in and out. His other hand was wrapped tightly around your neck, forcing you to keep direct eye contact with your boyfriend.

Gojo gulped hard as he felt his boner grow impossibly harder, straining against his pants as his face grew hot at the sight. Soft moans and pants were leaving your pretty lips as your body jerked with every thrust of Geto’s fingers. “See that? I’m barely even doing anything and she’s becoming a mess.” Geto scoffed, giving you no warning as he began hammering his long fingers into you at a rapid pace.

The curled digits were hitting your spot so perfectly, making you cry out loudly in pleasure. Your legs threatening to close as you whimpered, letting out a yelp when Geto slapped your thigh in warning. “Behave, slut.” You whimpered once more, teary eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck.. feels.. f-feels so good,” you moaned, eyes closing as you tried to lean back against the huge man.

“Look at him. Look at your boyfriend try to contain his boner.” Geto increased the pressure on your throat, keeping your head in place as you looked towards Gojo who kept looking away. “Bet he’s never even made you feel this good,” he falsely cooed, sending Gojo a smirk before focusing his attention back on you.

A loud moan escaped your throat when Geto inserted a third finger, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. His fingers curling against your gummy walls, and you could do nothing but whimper and cry as you neared your orgasm. “A-ah—” you mewled “m gonna, ngh— ‘m g-gonna cum,” you moaned, body starting to tremble as you felt a not so familiar coil building up in your stomach.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers and show your boyfriend what he could never do?” You nodded vigorously, your head empty as you babbled out little yeses and pleases. Geto’s eyes connected with his roommate’s, a teasing smirk on his face, “you know, you can get off to me ruining your girl if you’d like, there’s no shame in it,” he shrugged.

Gojo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he cussed the black haired man under his breath. Geto brought his lips down to your ear, “as for you, you don’t get to come until you’re nothing but a brain less slut on my cock.”

With that, the man removed his fingers from your now fluttering hole, causing you to whine out in protest, tears pooling in your eyes as you felt the coil slowly subside.

Geto lifted you up with ease, placing you on your hands and knees with your face towards Gojo before filling you up immediately. His length reaching deep inside you making you let out a soundless scream. Geto started off rough, fucking into you like he had nothing for you but hatred.

His hips slammed bruisingly against your ass, cock bullying its way against your g spot with every merciless thrust. Your eyes rolled back as you let him flatten your cheek onto the cushion of the chair. Drool pooling near the side of your mouth as you were rocked back and forth at a speed that seemed humanly impossible.

Your head was foggy, loud sobs and incoherent moans of his name spilling past your lips. “C’mon, you can do better than that. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” Geto grunted.

“Y-you— fuck- you are, ahh,” you let out a loud cry, “you’re making me- nghh— making me feel this good. Can feel you so deep,” You whimpered, hesitantly looking towards your boyfriend’s direction to find him cock in hand, trying his hardest to match his fist to the rhythm of his friend’s thrusts.

Gojo groaned loudly when his eyes met yours, the sight of your fucked out face sending blood straight to his dick. Geto chuckled at the other male, gripping onto the curve of your waist as he continued to hammer into you, angling himself to hit all the right spots to drive you crazy.

You mewled as you arched your back, his cock practically pushing against the skin of your lower stomach with each movement of his hips. “There we go..” he cooed, watching as your face contorted into one of a pretty little slut who craved nothing but cock. His cock.

“See that? This is exactly what the bitch needs to look like. Like there’s nothing else in the world but your cock fucking into her, isn’t that right baby?” he groaned.

“Mhm!” you cried.

“Fucking hell- you’re so tight, feels like you’re gonna break me in half,” Geto grunted. And all you did was let out an incoherent babble in response, barely even registering his words as you were fucked into oblivion. Your eyes teary with nothing but pleasure.

Stars clouded your vision and your toes curled as you neared your release, “S-suguru.. ‘m gonna cum, please let me cum. Wanna be your good girl ‘n cum on your cock,” you cried out in between broken mewls, eyes puffy as you tried to look back at him.

“You’re an even bigger slut than I thought, I hope your little boyfriend is taking notes on how to treat his slutty little girlfriend.” his voice was deep and raspy as he neared his own high. “Go ahead- fuck, look him in the eyes and cum for me.”

You let out a string of high pitched moans when he began to rub your clit, your brain fuzzy as glassy eyes looked towards Gojo. His mouth opened in pants and groans as he approached his orgasm with you. “Ngh— ahh. Gonna cum Suguru- ‘m a good girl right? P-please tell me ‘m a good girl,” you whined.

Geto’s eyes widened, his dick twitching at the pure desperation in your voice as you begged to be praised. He smirked, watching your ass recoil with each of his harsh thrusts. He hummed, “Such a good fucking girl for me, taking me so well.” His breathing getting heavier by the second, “Fuck, you’re my good girl baby.”

You let out a high pitched cry, “T-thank you, thank you, oh god ‘m cumming— nghh.” Eyes never leaving your boyfriend’s as your body quivered, pussy tightening as you came all over another man’s cock.

Gojo did not take long to follow after you, “Oh f-fuckk.” he groaned out as his body spasmed, fist halting around his reddened cock as his cum spilled onto his stomach in hot spurts.

Satisfied, Geto pulled you up by your hair, your back arched against his chest as he continued to fuck into you relentlessly. Pulling out another loud string of moans from your swollen lips. His head fell back, never slowing his pace as he reached closer and closer to his release.

He grunted, his breath hot on your ear when he let out a long groan. “Gonna cum in you baby— gonna fuck you full and make your boyfriend eat you out.” He whispered, his dark eyes meeting Gojo’s hungry ones.

“You’d love that won’t you baby?” you nodded with a shaky whine at his teasing coo, feeling his thrusts becoming hard and slow.

Geto let out a string of curses, stilling inside you and allowing his cum to fill your tight pussy to the brim. A glare on his face when Gojo opened his mouth to protest.

“That’s it. Take my cum deep. This is exactly how pretty little sluts like you need to be treated.” he coaxed, slowly pulling out of you for the milky substance to seep out your hole in spurts.

“Now, Satoru. Come clean her up.” his deep voice demanded. Sitting back with you on his thighs. His rough hands spreading your legs open towards your boyfriend.

Your folds glistened with your wetness, his cum slowly dripping out of you as you clenched around nothing. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Gojo stood up. Being stopped by Geto who grinned.

“Crawl.”

Gojo huffed lowly, getting down on his knees and crawling his way over to you. His tongue swiping over his lips before he found his head buried between your thighs. A soft whimper sounding from your throat at the light overstimulation to your sensitive clit.

Gojo licked up your folds, sucking both your sweetness and geto’s saltiness onto his tongue. You moaned loudly when he latched his mouth onto the small bud, his tongue swirling around it making a string of cries fill the room.

Geto watched in amusement as his friend devoured your sopping pussy. His long tongue dipping into your hole and curling into your painted walls. You let out a mewl, your head resting on Geto’s hard chest as your boyfriend used you as his meal.

“O-oh, S-Satoru baby,” you mewled, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging with every movement of his wet tongue. “F-fuck— so good.” you let out a broken cry when Gojo thrusted two of his slender fingers into you. Lewd squelching sounds echoing the walls as he fucked them into you.

Your pussy gushed onto his hand, the man’s skilled tongue unable to keep up with your leaking juices. Your eyes rolled back when he sucked on your clit once more, body shaking lightly at the sensitivity.

Geto smiled, kissing down your neck while running his thumb along your bottom lip. Slipping it inside and pressing it at the back of your tongue. He hummed, “Think we should feed his lil ego?” Your head tilting to the side to let him graze the skin of your neck with his teeth. “Make a mess on his tongue?”

You twisted and turned as your second orgasm washed over you. You were so sensitive, trying to squirm away but having your legs held tightly opened by Geto. “O-oh fuck— ahh, ‘s too much.”

Gojo moaned into you, his face becoming more drenched by the second as he feasted on your wetness. Hungrily lapping up everything you had to give. Your pussy squirting messily against the force of his fingers inside you.

“Look at that,” Geto teased, “Finally made your girlfriend squirt.”

Gojo kept on with his torture, loud whines and mewls falling past your lips as he became drunk on your pussy. His eyes closed and his mouth latched onto you tight. His face moving along with the movements of your hips trying to escape him.

“S-satoru— nngh- too much.” you sobbed, your legs twitching and your hips jerking as your back arched, your boyfriend getting back to almost painfully licking at your clit. “Satoru, ‘m too sensitive- fuck.” Gojo only looked up at you with half opened eyes, the only thing on his mind being how fucking good you tasted on his tongue.

Geto groaned, your teary face making his dick rock hard again. “Give him one more yeah? You can take it.”

Your second one did not take long to engulf you whole. Your legs trembling once more as you cried out loudly. Mewls of Gojo’s name falling from your tongue as your stomach tightened, pussy spilling even more onto his face. Gojo kept his face buried in you, tongue still making its final laps despite your constant whimpers.

“Okay now, that’s enough.” Geto laughed, peeling Gojo off of you by his hair. Your boyfriend letting out a groan as he tried to latch back onto you. “Gotta get our girl cleaned up now.”

[gojosprettyprincess]

Jujutsu Kaisen Men + How they'd moan w/audios.

Tw - dirty talk, assplay in Suguru's, daddy kink in Nanami's, (Got a bit carried away in the geto one haha) also not proofread cause I got tired.

A/n this was requested so tysm to the person that requested it but a part of it is kinda a repost because I've already done something similar before but I hope you guys like it! Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Nanami

Gojo Satoru

This is how Gojo sounds when he's close. (Ik this because he fucked me before so you can trust me on this)

He's very loud when he fucks you and he'd also whisper a lot of nasty shit to your ears while he's rutting his hips inside you, fucking you deeper into the bed while he has your legs over his shoulders, hissing and groaning at the way your tight cunt sucks him in so well, while your sinking your freshly manicured nails that he paid for into his back, decorating it with angry red marks and when he's close he'd be panting and breathing heavily on top of you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead onto you from how much he's been fucking you.

"Fuckfuckfuck gonna fill you up so good baby, m'gonna stuff you so full of my cum, bet you'll like that yeah?".

Geto Suguru

This is how Suguru sounds while you're riding him in cowgirl position, he has a clear view of the way his cock slides into your soaked cunt every time you bounced on it, he just can't take his eyes off of it, the way your cunt would swallow his cock in and the way your ass jiggles every time you moved your hips, it was so hot. One thing that really caught his eye though was the way your asshole looked so neglected and desperate to be filled, he thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try something.

he spat on his right thumb, making sure to gets his spit all over it to use as lube before circling it around your hole, spreading his spit all around it then sinking his thumb slowly into the tight rim. He hisses as he felt how tight your ass was, clammed around his finger. He noticed how you started slowing down, and how your moans got so much louder, he lands a sharp slap on your ass. "Fuckkk sweetheart k-keep going, Fuck yeah, keep bouncing on my cock, yesss that's it, don't worry princess I'll make you feel s'good". He groans, feeling your cunt fluttering and cleaching around his cock.

He starts thumbing your ass, fucking his finger in and out of you matching your rhythm. "Holy fuck need you to cum, Be a good girl and cum f'me yeah?". He hisses, feeling you thrusting your hips faster and faster onto him, your brain gets all fuzzy and blank it was too much, both of your holes were getting stuffed and penetrated. You start feeling yourself getting closer and closer as you bounced yourself on top of him. "F-fuck sugu gonna cum, M'gonna cum!" you cried out. "Go ahead, cream on my cock baby you can do it fuckk", and that's all you needed to hear before you came undone, creaming all over his cock, rings of your nut appearing at the base of his cock, his thumb still buried in your ass to the hilt. He lets out a loud groan, looking at how your creamy cunt covered in cum. "Good fucking girl, see the mess you made on my cock baby?".

Toji Fushiguro

This is how he sounds when he's close, he doesn't really make that much noise while he's fucking you, maybe you'd earn a few groans and grunts once in a while because of your cunt but most of the time it's just dirty talk.

But when he's close, he gets so much louder and faster, he picks up his pace, hammering into you harder from behind while your face is buried into the pillow beneath you and landing harsh slaps onto the soft flesh of your ass while looking down to watch it jiggle everytime he thrust his hips against you. the sound of his cum filled balls that's waiting to be emptied inside your little cunny, slapping against your clit filling the room with each thrust along with your muffled moans. Your cunt was clamping around him like crazy because one thing about Toji, he always fucks you so good every damn time.

"Holy fucking shit, tight little cunt milking my cock so well, you gonna give me another kid baby or what?".

Choso Kamo

This is how he'd moan while you're on your knees sucking his cock and he's getting close; he'd be whimpering and moaning loudly while saying stuff like "pleasepleaseplease m'so close don't stop please" with tears prickling from his eyes while he's looking down at you. He begs you alot and he's also really sensitive so that makes him moan and whimper even more.

Nanami Kento

This is how he sounds when he's ramming his cock up into your poor messy cunny in his work office, purposely molding your tight hole into the shape of his thick girth as his large beefy hands gripping onto the back your thighs to hold your legs up into a full nelson-type positon but the difference is that he's sitting down and your back is leaning against his board chest.

His thrusts was hard and fast as he continues feeding your greedy tight cunt with his fat cock, loud pants and groans escaping his lips at the way your cunt tightens around his cock while he stretches you out. "Hah- oh fuckk such a good little slut, taking daddy's cock so well, s'good f'me baby". His deep and husky voice made you throbbing around his cock while he ruins you.

[rafesangelita]

♡ oh, nothing! just bitchy!kook!reader walking around the house in nothing but rafe’s favorite heels after he decides talking on the phone with his friends is more important than paying attention to his girl..

warnings: bratty behavior, rafe being sexually frustrated lol, groping, heavy teasing, suggestive ending

a/n: just a little something on the shorter side because these 2k+ wc fics have done their number on me lol

you rolled your eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips as rafe’s laughter echoed from upstairs. he has been on a three way call with kelce and topper for going on an hour now, and while you usually didn’t care, he had you waiting for him downstairs in full glam and an empty tummy. this is what you get when you try to play nice and put your catty attitude to the side for one night; a negligent boyfriend who had no care for anything else in the world except for what him and his idiot friends were rambling on about. your impatience is what lead you to be in the position you were in right now; naked and ignoring rafe as he followed you around the house, begging you to give him the slightest amount of attention.

“we can go get dinner now, okay?! i was just listening to topper vent about ruthie, i swear i wasn’t ignoring you!” he refrained from stopping you in your tracks, his cock stirring in his pants when he watched the way your hips swayed with every step. “oh, really?” you spun around, your boyfriend’s eyes falling down to your bare chest, “not responding to me when i called you downstairs like a thousand times wasn’t you ignoring me?” rafe opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when you walked away from him again. this time he watched you round the corner of the hallway, making your way into the kitchen before cursing under his breath.

you could tell you were driving rafe insane by the way he was gripping the kitchen island, his knuckles white with tension. “so, what? you’re just going to walk around like that?” he asked, his eyes burning into your skin. you shrugged, bending over the counter with a look in your eyes that made him want to wrap a fist in your hair and take you right there. “too bad you were busy with your friends earlier.. i actually wanted to be the sweet girlfriend tonight and give you dessert after dinner. oh well..” you pouted, walking past him as you flipped your hair over your shoulder. why were you like this? toxic, bitchy, mean, but still irresistible, sexy, and perfect?

“it won’t happen again, i promise.” rafe was hypnotized as he watched you walk into the living room, your heels clicking against the floor as your boyfriend pleaded with you to let him take you upstairs. “maybe the neighbors would appreciate the view a lot more than you do—” you barely touched the curtains before your boyfriend snatched you away from the large window. “that’s enough.” he said through gritted teeth, his gruff voice just right below your ear. suppressing the butterflies from fluttering in your tummy, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “that poor excuse of an apology isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” rafe chuckled, his hands feeling like fire on your hips.

“let me show you how sorry i am..” he turned you around, his cock aching as he could now feel your tits pressing against him through his shirt. he was making it really hard for you to keep up your act. “acting like a little brat, i know exactly what you need right now.” you gasped when you felt him take a handful of your ass, his bruising grip only exciting you further. “and what is that?” you leaned in, feeling the last of your resolve crumble when he took your hand to feel him through the denim of his jeans. “it’s so hard for you, baby,” he nearly moaned, lowering his tone, “and i’m still so hungry..”

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Late Night “Talks”

Sevika x Reader

Smut with a bit’a fluff.

Warnings: Sex: degradation, ass slapping/griping, strap-on, crying, fingering, streching out your hoo-haa, and biting. (r! receiving)

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find Sevika grousing in her thoughts. Where would the night lead you? Cozied up with your girlfriend or being roughed up by her? (You already know where this shit’s going idek why i put a summary…)

A/N: I couldn’t find any fuckass photos for this fic. Pinterest ain’t freaky enough!!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

With a dry swallow, you stirr in your sleep. Groggily waking up and looking around. Sevika wasn’t in bed, and it was midnight. Maybe a work emergency? Probably out late gambling again. Would she really ditch you for a card game? You still couldn’t help but wonder if she was alright. Great risk came with being Silco’s second, both you and your girlfriend knew that. She was probably cleaning up after Jinx? You thought. Maybe even doing whatever her scrawny boss told her to do; her boss who you, very much, hated.

Shifting to a sitting position, you reached for the cup on your nightstand. Empty. Groaning with frustration, you pushing off the bed, and go to grab a cool cup of water. Making your way towards the kitchen, you hear rustling in the living room. Curious yet scared, you take careful steps and peak towards the room. Thinking it was you about to get robbed, you were expecting a man. Maybe even multiple.

Then again, if you had gotten robbed, one scratch on you and Sevika would go crazy. You’re talkin’ search the entirety of Zaun and find the asshole(s) who even thought of touching you.

But, to your surprise, it was your girlfriend. Sitting on the couch, hands inbetween her spread legs, and body tense. “Sevi?” You called out, slowly approaching her. She was leaned heavily onto the couch, looking surprised to see you. “Fuck..” Mumbling under her breath, she turned her head to you. “Did I.. uh, wake you?” Her voice a grumble as she patted the empty space beside her. You accepted her invite and plopped down next to her. Thighs touching, she huffed softly before her prosthesis arm came around your hips. “No, no.. I woke up to get some water.” You answered.

Judging from her eyebags and the smell of alcohol, she was drained. It was twelve fourty-eight at night and Sevika hadn’t had a wink of sleep. “You look exhausted, let’s go to sleep?” Bringing a hand to her hair, your slim fingers ran through her dark locks in order to untangle any knots, even brush away her tension. She grunted into the touch, clearly trying her best not seem weak.

Sevika had grown to think affection was weakness, it was to her pathetic in a way. So, your job, as her girlfriend, was to show her it was okay to open up, to express even the tiniest bit of vulnerability.

“Was it work? Again?” You tilted your head to try to get a better look at her face. Lidded red eyes and furrowed brows, she was definitely not okay. “Nah, just..” A weary sigh left her lips, “you should go back to sleep.” Of course she’d kept a wall between you and her job. No matter what, she’d made it clear she wanted you no where near what she did for a living. To stay out of her profession life. “At least.. give me an answer?” Hands now in your lap, you fidget with the hem of your red pajama shorts. Feeling grey eyes on you, you know you’re about to get a no. About to be shot down with a change of subject.

“Jinx.” She said, leaning forward with her arms on her spread legs. “That’s all you’re gettin’..” At her response, you silently thanked her for being, at least, a bit truthful, it was better than nothing. Letting her answer hang for a second, you smile widely and try to brighten up the mood. “I knew it!” Shoving her arm with yours, she chuckled lowly before placing her heavy hand on your thigh. “Hm, ‘course you did, you little brat.” Her voice was full of fondness, a hint of exhaustion still lingered as her thumb traced the inside of your thigh.

“Y’know I don’t want you gettin’ involved with my shit, right?” She’d said that a million times, but this time it was.. a little more heartfelt. She was protecting you, and you knew that. “Yeah, I do. But I expect you to give me some sort of explanation, instead of shuting me out. Yeah?”

The first few months of dating were rough. Sure, intimacy was sky rocketing but not so much the trust part. Emotions were usually bottled up by Sevika, and fucking you was her way of getting them out. Horrible coping mechanism, you’d tell her. Your girlfriend was more protective than a guard dog, hovering over you and staring you down whenever the two of you would head out. As nice as it felt to feel owned, it was irritating having her get riled up over small-talk with a friendly stranger. But, thank to your understanding, you and Sevika had grown out of the bad habits.

“Yeah, yeah..” She muttered out, resting her back against the couch with a huff. “I try to.” With that, the room held a comfortable silence. For a few seconds, Sevika’s words hung for a moment too long before she gave your thigh a squeeze, coaxing out a response. “Better than nothing.” Is what she got, which she smiled and shook her head at. “Anyways..” Voice less still, “What’d this pretty little thing do today?” Thumbs grazing over your soft, delicate skin.

Masterbate? Why?

“Books and this lame ass TV.” You lied, smiling and trying to hide the truth. But, this had happened countless times and Sevika was used to it by now. Used to your.. horniess. Patting your thigh and inching closer to your core, she spread your legs. “And, you expect me to believe that?” Voice amused and sultry, she moved to wrap her prosthetic around your hip and pullled you onto her lap. Your chest against hers, she grabbed the back of your neck and drew you into a much needed kiss.

Tongue entering your mouth, running along your lips, and then dancing around your own tongue, Sevika was completely aware of what she was doing. As much as you tried to keep your noises to herself, the feel of her biting your bottom lip and gripping onto your ass was what made you unable to restrain yourself. Whining for more you arch into her and cup her heated face. It was hard to ignore the pulse of your pussy. It was yelling for contact.

Sevika whispered a soft, “I feel it.” With a chuckle inbetween the kiss. Obviously, it made you embarrassed. You didn’t expect your cunt to be so fuckin’ needy, especially after a small peck on the lips. Pulling away, your girlfriend slid her giant, flesh hand up your shorts and rested her fingertip against your clit. A squeak escaped your lips and you had already begun to feel yourself getting wet. “Shit’s got a pulse, Baby..” She teased out, a cocky smirk on her face as her prosthetic arm gripped onto your hip to keep you still. “I know..” You huff out, resting your sweaty palms on your girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Let’s fix that, give you the satisfaction you’re clearly needing.” With that, she moved your underwear to the side and immediately slid her finger in. Being wet, you were already lubed up and ready. She took advantage of that and added another one of her big fingers. It filled you up, like.. completely. One more and you’d be streched out like some whore. Even though Sevika would fuck you like one.

Moaning at the movement, you shift your hips to find a comfortable position. Legs spread more evenly, back arched, and head coming to land onto Sevika’s shoulder. “There y’go..” Words murmured into your ear, she began moving. Curling against your g-spot, she slid her fingers in an out.

God, you wish she’d use her strap.

“Be a good bitch and stay still.” You obediently kept your hips still even though they were begging to be shuddered, to be able to tremble. Each in and out had you moaning and filling the living room with your lewd noises. Sevika’s eyes stayed on your figure before her prosthetic arm shifted to grip your tits, twisting your bud with enough pressure to make you whimper. “Sevi, baby..” Voice shaky and barely audible, you couldn’t contain the lewd noise that interrupted your sentence. “Faster?.. please?” — Pleading, you were fucking pleading. Sevika gave you a scoff, smacking your ass with her prosthetic arm before sinking her teeth into the skin of your shoulder. “You dirty little thing.” Was all she said before fastening her pace, even placing a thumb on your clit to give you more than one sensation to deal with. Circular motions on your bud as her two fingers worked inside of you to release the pressure bubbling up.

Each rub, touch, was enough to send you over the edge. But you wanted it to last longer, considering you’d been waiting to be fucked the whole day. Even masterbating didn’t work, your fingers were too slow for your liking. No dirty words were being whispered into your ear, which made the experience boring. Not to mention the absence of your girlfriend’s groans and huffs.

“Y’like that, don’t you?” She groaned inbetween biting and marking your shoulder and neck. “You’re getting fucked harder than this, Princess.” And with that, Sevika gave you the final rub to get you shuddering and whimpering out with pleasure. Arms tightly wrapped around your girlfriend, you cried out. You were at your peak, letting go of the tension in your body and completely melting against your girlfriend. Fingers sliding out, she made sure to clean them off with her mouth. Tongue licking off your cum, Sevika gave your ass a squeeze before pulling you to wrap your legs around her waist. Carrying your weary body towards the bedroom, she made sure to grab her thick strap-on.

Tossing you onto the bed, she stripped you naked with agressive, yet careful tugs. “Let’s see if you last long with a cock up your cunt.” She’d grunt out, taking her time to undress and stare over your perfect figure. Every curve, dip, and turn left her breath to hitch. She, herself, began to undress. Pulling her clothes off her toned and muscular body. The sight had your pussy thirsting for her. Tightening on her strap, she pulled you by the calves and held them up to her shoulders. You were positioned on the edge of the bed, legs spread as you laid on your back with Sevika’s strap dug halfway into your entrance. Enjoying the sight of you, she gave out a smug little grin.

“You’re gorgeous, baby..” Adoration and lust in her husky voice, she tilted her head to bite into your trembling legs. “Wanna see you writhing for me.” With that confession, she thwacked her cock into your pussy and it felt like your body had went numb for a second.

Sevika’s strap was thick, much thicker than her two fingers; which you could barely handle. So, for her to shove something so large in your cunt was new and a little painful.

Whimpering, you bring your shaky hands to your forehead and rest them there, letting your girlfriend thrust deep and hard until the sting of the strech was gone. Sure, it took some time, but afterwards you couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure— literally. You were crying. With each blow, your body was quivering. With your head spinning and heart pounding, you were a mess. “There you go, just like that..” Sevika smiled out, enjoying seeing those tears on your disheveled face. “Cry like the slut you are.” Leaning down to kiss your forehead, she held onto your hips as her thrusts became increasingly deeper, more steady, and stronger. “Fuck.. I.. I’m close!..” Head tilted to the side, you watched as Sevika placed a pillow under your hips.

Immediately, you felt the tip of her strap hitting your weak spot and you immediately gasped. The position was new and you knew for a fact that Sevika had done her research. “Shit.. Vika.. I… it’s too good..” You’d breath out, “S’fuckin’ good..”

You had found your new favourite position.

Hands gripping the sheets, you stare at the visibility of Sevika’s strap in you. You could see the way it went in and out, giving your flesh a bump. “Like seein’ it?” Your girlfriend huffed out, slapping your thighs before fucking you faster. “Yeah..” You nod, your moaned out answer a plead. “You’re fuckin’ filty for this cock, aren’t ya’?” She said, turning your pussy into a sex-toy with how rough she was drilling into it. The pressure was building up, heat pooling in your stomach as your body prepared for the release.

With the few final hammers, you let out a cry as your orgasm hit. Hands covering your face before sevika smacked ‘em away, your hips writhing and shaking at the intensity of your release. She enjoyed every second of your reaction. Furrowed brows, mouth open, eyes shut, cheeks a light red, and voice raspy from straining moans.

Holy fuck, that was probably the best sex you’d ever had.

Sliding out her cum-drenched strap, Sevika pulled your folds apart to see how much she’d streched you out. Your hole was ruined, completely owned by your girlfriend. Just as she liked it.

Body weary and sore, you gasped for air. Yeah, that was the definitely the last round. Head clouded and dizzy, you reach for your girlfriend as she pulled you against her chest with her prosthesis arm. The cool metal making your heated skin stand up with goosebumps. Grabbing a few extra-soft tissues, she wiped you clean. Shaking, you nuzzle into your girlfriend’s neck and breathed in that metallic, sweet smell of hers. You would always crave her smell when she was at work, even spraying some of her old cologne around the apartment to help with the loneliness. Eyes fluttering closed as you let your girlfriend clean you up, she rubbed your back with her flesh hand. Then, Sevika’s thick lips pressed loving and proud kisses on your shoulder and neck. Specifying going over the love-bites she’d left behind from earlier.

Your girlfriend was always good with aftercare, especially after ripping your pussy open, she knew you needed some time to cool down. Relax and regain your energy.

[kiemiu]

voice notes your boyfriend matt leaves you | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship drabble wc 348 (library) + (request)

one. moms been asking about you a lot recently. i mean—seriously, every conversation we have she's always asking "how's your girlfriend doing? did she blah blah blah." and it's like, woah, ask me about my day first, yknow?

two. i think i've gotten too used to you sleeping in the same bed as me...it's weird without you here...empty. i hope you're getting better sleep than me.

three. don't be mad but...i—i took your teddy bear. i promise im gonna give it back when i leave boston, i swear! i just really miss you and i knew the perfume on my luggage wouldn't last....please, don't be mad.

four. i know i said i'd wait for you to send your order but i was in the drive-thru already and people were behind me. i—..i got nervous and drove off. (long silence) so— pizza tonight?

five. i'm glad you had a fun day shopping with the girls...do you think we could facetime when you get home? i wanna see everything you got.

six. (nicks voice) don't come in matt's room for like a good hour, he just blew ass and it smells so fu- (gagging noises) (matt in the background: it's not that bad, nick!)

seven. was playing dress to impress on stream earlier and couldn't stop thinking about you...if you're up to it we should play duos. but only if you're up for it, i know it's late.

eight. i'm never listening to your playlist on shuffle again, i was folding laundry listening to clairo and the next song queued up was some fucking death metal band. nearly gave me a heart-attack..

nine. hey, baby..you okay? i'm not trying to be like, clingy or whatever but we haven't talked all day and..i don't know it's just a little out of the ordinary. i'm sure you're fine but just—just let me know if you're okay, okay?

ten. don't you wanna grab your cool, hot, and sexy boyfriend a drink from downstairs? (whispers) please, say yes, please, say yes, please, say yes.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt @chrispleasure @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ❞

❝ PROF. GOJO SHOWS YOU JUST HOW THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION WORK !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!gojo x f!reader (part one of the prof gojo series)

✧ summary: satoru gojo was only stuck at this weeklong conference to appease his new boss, so what happens when he finds you at the bar and can't stop thinking about just how attractive you are? and what happens when the conference is over?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, hooking up at an academic conference, reader is a professor, fingering (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), gojo getting very horny around you, so much flirting, amateur's take on physics, art by found on Pinterest (pls let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ wc: 10,878

“Come here often?”

If someone had asked Professor Satoru Gojo that a few months ago, he would have said—no he would have scoffed and asked if he looked like a professor who had to beg for funding — and he didn’t. But now, he swirled his drink, ice cubes clinking against the sides of the condensation-ridden glass — who knows?

His new department head might have his termination papers drawn from the moment he returns to the university from his very extended research trip — with no results to show for it. Normally he wouldn’t be worried — not with his renowned academic record, but he had extended this trip twice — and one of those on the university’s payroll.

And it wasn’t a cheap payroll.

To top it off, the new department head was doing a lecture here today at this conference hosted by his university, He had heard the new head was a real hard ass, a person who had straightened out the department while he had been away — garnering more grants, but also cutting funding to continual failures. And he and his research had been asked about.

Fuck. He downed his fruity mocktail, the sweet syrupy fruit juice doing little to soothe the bitter aftertaste of failure that lingered on his tongue.

He usually wouldn’t be so worried. He was Satoru Gojo — he had been the youngest in his field to achieve a Ph.D. in the field of Quantum Physics, a respected expert and renowned lecturer, and one of the scientists most likely to win a Nobel prize within the next few years or so. Or so his biography on LinkedIn said.

But that had gone up in smoke — his research on the potential curvature of quantum space-time as a method to slow or speed up time between two points of matter had been a complete failure.

One of his first major failures.

He sighs, and here he was feeling sorry for himself — alone. Or relatively so. His glass clinked against the sticky bar top of the tacky bar of the hotel they decided to hold this conference in — the rings from long-gone drinks lining up and down the relatively empty bar, other patrons having left for their rooms.

But not you.

He hadn’t met you before — not really. Although it was not as if he had made a habit of befriending people at any academic event, he knew if he had seen your face before, he wouldn’t have forgotten. He stole a glance as he sipped at his drink, eyes flickering over your form as you approached the bar.

Honestly, if he had, he wouldn’t forget someone like you.

He had seen you earlier during the conference, a particularly biting question asked during a keynote presentation that had wiped the obnoxious grin off the pretentious guy’s face, his reply then ripped to shreds in seconds with a smile on your lips.

And you had left so quickly he didn’t get to thank you for your daring rescue of his captive audience as he finally ended his victory lap with a scurry out the door. But maybe now, he could thank you with a drink — eyes flitting to those pretty lips that hid your sharp tongue — or something more.

You order your drink, sitting a stool away, the creak of the rusty seat catching his attention, as your eyes slide to his, “And another of whatever he was having,” Satoru tilts his head as you shrug, “looks like you could use it,”

He gapes at you in mock offense, “Eh? I’ll have you know I’m the most excited person here,” he replies as the bartender places both drinks in front of you, “who wouldn’t be excited to be in some hotel for this prestigious academic conference?”

“Almost every sane person?” and he chuckles, swirling his drink with his straw, “and the good news is that it’s only just begun. We still have the whole week to be bored to tears and have our brains turn to mush when pretending to be interesting to get funding from stingy donors,”

“I don’t need to pretend — I am interesting,” his lips curl, and you snort, downing your drink, before setting it down, ice rattling at the bottom.

“Well, I’ll say your face is more interesting with a smile on it,” you take money from your bag and pay off the tab with a tip.

You’re slipping from the stool with ease, stepping past his stool, nearly brushing against his back, as you make your way out of the bar, and it almost feels as if you're slipping from his fingers, “Is that a compliment?”

You pause, looking back over your shoulder, “You’ll know when I’m complimenting you,” and your smile is far better than his is, a heat settling over his cheeks at the sight of it, “see you around,”

And you’re gone, and he’s left dumbstruck, bitter taste in his mouth slowly beginning to fade — but he knows that the only way it would completely sink into sweetness is if he could have your name roll off his lips — maybe something even sweeter.

He paid for his drink with a tip, sliding off the stool himself, running a hand through his hair.

He could only hope you came here often now.

~~~

It was pathetic how often he had found himself frequenting this bar over the weekend. How frequent? The bartender had learned his name by memory the third time he showed up, his order already known and being prepared by the time he walked in.

So his drink was present — but you weren’t.

He hadn’t seen you around, but he had walked the floors of this conference and hadn’t seen even a glimpse of you. But why was he so desperate for a stranger that he met once? He wasn’t one for people — even from when he was a kid. People always saw him and his intellect as something they could take, they could use — an attraction that he only wished he could repel just as magnets did. He always had been shelved as a commodity in his field, but never trotted out for events because he never wanted to bother kissing up — he was better for a blunt word than mindless dribble.

Fuck him.

And now here he was — possibly at the end of his career and all he could concern himself with was this mystery woman he met at the hotel bar. Maybe because it was easier to think about — motion was the only thing he knew how to keep doing. Easier to keep in motion after a force acts on him than to keep still.

And you were a force.

“Y’know when I asked you if you come here often, I didn’t think I’d have come here to see you again,” the now familiar squeak and groan of the bar stool makes him want to bite his lip, “how long you’ve been here?”

He bites back his own grin, hoping not to look so desperate as he felt — was this a distraction from his own impending problems? Yes. But you were a welcome one.

“One drink, about fifteen minutes,” he replies, “I haven’t seen you around either — get stuck inside a conference room?” And you order your drink, “put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender, and the man nods wordlessly, but adds a raised eyebrow when you’re looking away.

“Something like that,” and you’re wiping the counter with napkins before leaning against it with your arm, “but more like I was always doing something—I’m not one to—“

“Stand still?” you raise an eyebrow, as the bartender sets your drink in front of you, “staying in motion is the only thing I know how to do, especially these days,”

“Staying in motion?” you repeat, and Satoru shakes his head.

“I’m the type to go from thing to thing — my best friend always joked that I was no better than the first law of motion—”

You snort, cracking a smile, “Being in motion is better than being at rest,” you sigh, swirling the liquid in your glass, toying with the straw stirrers in your drink, “it’s easy to get used to stay still once you are,”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and you’re sighing, downing the rest of your drink, as the ice clinks against the bottom of the empty glass.

“Ever have a failure that feels so deep it feels like there’s no going back? Not even a failure — just even a gap, and it feels as more time passes, the chasm widens before you and it becomes harder to see yourself making it to the other side,” you order another drink, turning to face him again, “soon you become more preoccupied with the abyss than thinking about how to make it across,”

“If you asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said no, but now,” he sighs, as he asks for a refill himself, “now I’m in that sinking ship with you,”

“Who said I was still there?” you reply and he’s gaping at you, before a laugh escapes your lips, “I got to shore, you will too,”

“And how do you know that?” And you only shrug, a smile on your lips that makes something in his heart stir that hasn’t in far too long.

“You don’t look like the type to drown,” and he tilts his head, “you look like the type who stubbornly figures out to swim, despite the odds,” and he snorts, as his drink is placed in front of him, “so maybe don’t give up so easily, after all the first time is the hardest,”

And he chuckles, “Personal experience?” You shrug, tracing the rim of your glass, “No, I always get what I really want the first time,” as you pause to catch his eye, a smile on your lips.

“And if you don’t?”

“Then I didn’t really want it,” you smile, as you get to your feet, “I have a dinner to get to, but I’ll leave you with this,” you wrote something down on the napkin you had gotten with your drink, folding it and handing it to him.

He takes it, but his eyes remain on you, “You’re always disappearing — want to keep me wanting, Professor?”

“You’d want me anyway,” and Satoru is turning in the stool to watch you walk off, a glimpse of a small smile on your lips, as he looks at the writing on the napkin.

—because he knows you’re right.

~~~

“You want me right, Professor?” you murmured in his ear, hot words said as your warm breath fanned across his skin, but your lips were more sinful than your words — pressing torturously chaste kisses along his jaw, your front pressed to your back, as your hands ghosted along his chest. One of your hands toyed with the top button of his shirt, while the other traced along his collarbone, “you followed me after all.”

And he did, Satoru had caught you by wrist, a graze that had your head flicking back, finding his blue, and your lips curled — and he just knew he was fucked.

He just didn’t know how well.

You had him sat on the couch, back to the armrest, biting back needy noises that he refused to let leave his lips, not yet at least, “Y’know I want you, sweetheart,” a small shiver crawling up his spine as your lips graze the soft skin of his ear, “I’m not exactly playing hard to get by coming up to your room, am I?”

And your hand drags lower, brushing against his growing bulge, a low groan in his chest, “Oh I’d say you’re fairly hard, Toru,” and your forefinger presses teasingly against his clothed slit, “so hard already, wonder what would happen if I got you in my mouth, flicked my tongue over the length, made you moan my name as your cock fucked my throat?” And fuck, maybe he was wrong — maybe your words were worse, his dick twitched against your touch, desperate as he felt for more of your touch, “where’s that mouth of yours now, Satoru?”

And you’re rounding him, guiding his legs so he’s sitting properly on the couch now, feet on the ground, but he certainly wasn’t clear-headed — not when you climbed into his lap. A grunt left his lips, a weight that’s a comfort rather than a burden, something he welcomes because he only needs you closer and closer until there’s no space left between you at all.

“My mouth is desperate to do something other than talk, baby,” and his fingers winding their way through your locks before resting against the nape of your neck, and the other trying to slide down the swell of your hip only for your hand to stop him, “but only if you’ll let me I guess,” his lips curl into a smirk, one that you drag your thumb down.

“I will,” your lips are barely a breath away from his own, noses bumping, as the anticipation grows thicker than honeyed molasses one that seems to consume every one of his thoughts at a snail's pace as he remains stuck on two things — you and your lips, “once I’m done teaching you my lesson,” and your lips brush.

“Sir?” The bill is slapped down in front of him, as he snaps back to reality, the sounds of bar stools thumping against the counter as they are mounted on top jars him, as he shakes himself free from his thoughts, “bar isn’t for sleeping, go to your room,” His cheeks burn.

Satoru pulls several bills out and leaves a generous tip, before sliding off his stool with a shake of his head, and a distinct ache between his thighs, that he quickly hides with his suit coat draped on his arm in front of him.

“Not anything you serve here.”

~~~

You’re like a daydream, Satoru realizes when he’s making his way to the hotel bar again. One that he’s using as a distraction — but a lovely daydream all the same. His conference days are spent waiting for a respite at the bar in the evenings — the only time he felt intellectually stimulated at a mechanically orchestrated event like this.

And one that he couldn’t get out of his head. The daydream he had was so vivid, he could swear it was reality if he hadn’t been so rudely awakened. And right when it was getting to—

Oh, what the fuck was he thinking? He shakes his head as if it would rid his head of his thoughts (it doesn’t).

He ran his fingers through his hair, what was it about you? You were gorgeous, sure, and brilliant enough to match him barb for barb, but you were just —- gravitational. He could feel him pulled in by your orbit and he found himself not resisting your force in the slightest — only hoping to accelerate.

Was this the phenomenon of quantum entanglement? He knew it was true for the tiniest of particles, the very same forces that pulled him close, he knew were pulling you close too — doomed in the same downward spiral without having to spare a glance. But did he?

He didn’t know the first thing about you — he only knew you were someone related to the field of physics — you had to be a professor, far too smart to be a generous donor. He only knew your first name, and you knew the same about him — and there was a part of him that preferred it that way. He had grown used to the attention given to him for simply his name — and he felt as if it was as if he had been placed on a pedestal that no one would dare to climb to speak, but instead only looked up. He almost chuckled at the thought of you ever doing that — but you were more the type to kick the pedestal out from under him, and force him to meet your gaze.

And he much preferred that — and you.

And now, he glances at the bar as it came into view, a double take almost warranted at the sight — was he dreaming again, even before his head had even attempted to hit the pillow? Or was it true that you were sitting at the bar nursing a drink alone? Pretty eyes glancing at the time on your phone and he bit back a smile, stepping towards you — eager remark about how long you’ve been waiting for him? Even though he wasn’t one to talk — as he had spent his whole day waiting for this.

Waiting for you, rather.

He stopped when another man approached you — Satoru paused, and he supposed he had to wait longer. Who was this now? You didn’t seem to know him, leaning away as he stood near you, not too close, but he seemed to be talking shyly, and yet his words never seemed to stop. Even though it seemed you wanted them to.

And when he caught a glimpse of the man’s face, he realized just who the man was.

Well, well — he knew just what to do to get rid of him — appear.

“Hey,” Satoru walked over, leaning on the bar, meeting the man’s gaze with a smile, before his eyes slid back to you, “make a new friend?” He orders his drink with the bartender as he slides his gaze back to the man lingering, whose face had grown both soured and pale all at once.

“Sort of, yes, this is—“

“I actually must go, please excuse me,” the man abruptly says, bowing politely to the two of you before shooting a glare at Satoru before heading off towards the elevators.

“Nice seeing you too, Gege!” Satoru called after him, smirking at the man’s flinch just before he turned the corner, “that guy hates me,” he orders his drink, taking a seat beside you, “don’t know why,”

“I can see that,” you chuckle, glancing back where the man had disappeared off to, “he’s some sort of author?”

Satoru nods, as the bartender places his drink in front of him, “He is — a mangaka fascinated by physics, he pestered me with questions, but he didn’t like when I did the same,”

You snort, only imagining what kinds of questions he had bothered the man with, “You freaked out the freak?”

“Well, he couldn’t match me,” you smirked, as he leaned against the counter, sipping his drink, your head tilting, “can you?”

“We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” you raise an eyebrow, as he grins, “think I’m doing a pretty good job so far,” and you shrug, a wry smile pulling at the corners of your lips as he pouts, “so cruel to treat the man that saved you from an uncomfortable conversation,” and he sighs dramatically, “maybe I’ll call Gege back down,”

You raise an eyebrow, “He wouldn’t come if you called,”

Satoru pauses, “He might if I promised to leave,”

“Is this your way of trying to get me to ask you to stay?” You were far too quick-witted for his own good.

“No this is my way of getting you to tell me that you want me to stay,” but lucky for him, he had the same biting tongue to match.

And you laugh, and he wants nothing more than to make you laugh again and again — a better achievement than any academic accolade that graced his walls, “Well I do owe you one,” you order another round.

“I think I earned more than a round of drinks,” and you raise an eyebrow, as you down the rest of your drink.

“And that is?”

~~~

“When you said we would be doing research, I assumed we would be doing research related to your speciality in physics, not—“

“This is important research,” Satoru led you through the streets, the stuffy halls of the conference growing more distant, “crucial to the furthering of our goals, our destinies,”

Satoru grinned, his smile somehow brighter than the sun itself, and even more obnoxious — but begrudgingly charming. He truly was a paradox incarnate — somehow bright but blinding, sweet but sharp, and enticing yet out of reach. Even more so in the casual white t-shirt and dark blue jeans he had opted for today, sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose as he looked at you over the rim with that irritatingly endearing grin.

And that grin must have been hypnotic because how else would he have convinced you to skip half a day of this week-long conference that you had been preparing for months to attend (that and you had grown tired of simply chugging your drink of choice between workshops and keynotes and skipping almost every meal except for some stale pastries offered at one of a dozen talks).

“And this crucial research is the best sweets shop in the area—“

You snort, as you eye the crowd of people in front of this particular shop, “Because that’s a question the physics community has been pondering — not dark matter or Baryon asymmetry—“

“Well, I know your specialty is astrophysics now,” and you roll your eyes, as his hand finds yours, fingers laced together, as he pulls you into the throng of people in front of the shop, “don’t wanna lose you there,”

“Is that your excuse to hold my hand?” You reply, lips nearly pressed to his ear with how loud it was.

He leans closer, his body pressed against your side, lips brushing your ear, “was I that obvious?” He grins, and pulls away as quickly as he had come, fingers parting yours as you both reach the front of the line. And why was it — your heart sinks ever so slightly at the absence of his warmth — that you mourned his touch as if you’d had it all your life instead of the first time?

“You coming, sweetheart?” and you snap from your thoughts, and follow up to the counter — brushing your thoughts aside as you occupied your head with the sweets in front of you — instead of the man obsessed with them beside you. You realize what he’s said and you’re not one for pet names, but the way it rolls off his tongue and sticks syrupy sweet in your head almost makes you like it

“Noooo, don’t!” You shield your strawberry dessert from his fork, as it prodded gently at the back of your palm, “you already ate so many desserts, why do you want mine?”

You had watched this grown man down half a dozen different cakes, pastries, and cookies — he was a walking advert for what not to do to contract diabetes. For as sharp as his tongue was, you watched him lick a bit of frosting from his lip, it probably tasted twice as sweet.

“Exactly because it’s yours,” he still tried but you caught his fork again with your own, “it’s so much sweeter when you steal it,”

“So we’re adding thievery to your list of crimes,” and he clutches at his chest in mock shock, “theft, harassment—“

He gapes at you, “Eh? When did I harass you?”

“Gege,” and he rolls his eyes.

“He loves me, he lives for me,”

“I think he wishes you would do the exact opposite,” and he pouts only to dart his hand out quick and steal a dollop of the airy frosting from the top of the cake on his form, he grins in victory, but you only lean forward, grabbing at his hand and lick it from his fork, “you’re right, it is sweeter, when you steal it,”

His eyes find yours and fuck, your heart nearly contused itself against your ribs, what was it about him that made you never want to look away? It was a game of chicken for you — stare until the other flinches, because then you could see them and they would never see you — and you had never lost—but he made you want to lose. But you also couldn’t bear to look away all the same.

“Suppose that was my first lesson for you, sweetheart,” and that sweetness seems to stick with you, the pet names growing on you.

“You do have a way of making me look at things at a different angle,” you admit, and you wonder why a man like this was so lost as he seemed — he was definitely seen, wherever he went, but never understood, “is that a talent of yours?”

“I tend to do my best with my back against the wall,” and you can’t help but imagine how he’d look with his back to a wall — it’s not a bad image.

Your lips curl, “I bet you do,” and you continue walking off, taking another bite of your cake, not noticing the way his eyes watched you — the same way you had.

~~~

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me to choose a place for dinner,” Satoru sighs, as the two of them are seated at the bar for dinner, the tables all full for the night, “I could have found us a place that would have given us an actual table,”

“For all I know, you would have somehow found a place that only serves dessert,” he scoffs, and the two of you order your drinks, as the waiter parts to bring your orders, “Don’t scoff at me, I know you probably know at least one place, if not ten,”

“I don’t know—” and you tilt your head, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs, a small smile pulling at his lips, “none of them are in the area, but there is a good ice cream place—”

You snort, not glancing up from perusing the menu, as the waiter brings over your drinks, and the two of you order — and to your surprise, he orders something savory and not sweet, “Surprised you didn’t ask for the dessert menu first,”

“Well, I do like to take my time, after all,” his lips curl into a small grin, as he lifts his glass to his pretty lips, “dessert is better when you’re patient,”

Oh? Oh.

“You don’t look like the type that’s used to waiting for what he wants,”

“You keep saying I look like this or that, screw that,” he leans back in his chair, “I can wait for the things I really want — and I always get what I want, sweetheart,”

You were toeing a line you shouldn’t be toeing — it was Schrodinger’s cat, and a box you shouldn’t look inside — because until you did, there was always a chance the cat was alive, and there was always a chance that this wouldn’t be a mistake — but once you opened it — there was no going back. But still — the words are pulled from your mouth as if you had no choice, the box tipping open of its own accord.

“And what is it that you—”

“Huh? Gojo?” your eyes snap over to a woman — a far too gorgeous woman, in a long black dress that floated down to her ankles, her black heels clicking against the wood of the floor of the restaurant, her silver hair in a tight high ponytail, bangs framing her face.

“Mei Mei,” his attention falls to her, and you’re left sitting, fully out of the loop and completely irritated, but you didn’t know why, “I didn’t know you were in town,”

“For good reason, then you might have a reason to avoid me,” Mei Mei smiles, “I saw Geto recently. He told me you were coming back soon from your sabbatical,” and you see a flicker of emotion cross his expression and disappear as quickly as it appeared, “and who’s this?”

You offer your hand and introduce yourself, “And are you a professor as well?”

“No, I’m a donor,” and you nod, “and what do you—” but then her friend is calling her back, her head turning.

“I should go back to my party, it was nice to meet you,” Mei Mei offers a smile before her gaze slithers its way back to Satoru, “I’m sure we’ll be speaking soon, Satoru. Let me know about that night out we had discussed.” Her fingers brush his shoulder, giving you a wry smile before slipping off.

And a sinking feeling settles over you — as he waves at her — a night out? Was this all this was? Another night out?

And your skin crawls as she walks off, Satoru turning back to look at you, your lips a thin line as you force your gaze back to his, “What were you saying again? And the waiter comes soon enough with your meals, placing them in front of them.

“Nothing,” your lips curl, perhaps this box was better left unopened, “nothing at all.”

~~~

“What’s wrong?” This was why Satoru didn’t care to get invested in others. When he couldn’t make heads or tails of himself — they expected him to make heads and tails of them. It was easier to write people off, put distance between him and them, than it was to draw close. He was used to too many being far too close, gawking as if he were an illustrious painting, unable to make out a single brushstroke much less who he was. But he never cared to explain or have anyone understand and he paid others the same courtesy.

Except you.

“I told you, nothing,” you sighed as you and Satoru made your way back to the hotel that was hosting the conference, “it’s just been a long day,”

And he could let this go, fall silent with a sharp remark that would only push you away, the same distance but eons further than you had ever been — a space-time curvature of his own making.

“You’re a terrible liar,” but he doesn’t.

“Well, my specialty isn’t lying I guess,” you snap, scrubbing a hand down your face, “sorry, I—“

“What do you think I lied about?” and you pause, as the two of you stand a few feet from the hotel, people filing in and out of the structure as bellmen and cars pull up to help them in and out of their cars, “about my brilliance? I know it can be hard to believe how someone can be so handsome and—“ you glare at him, and he sighs, “c’mon sweetheart, just tell me—“

“Who is Mei Mei to you?” your question surprises him, but seems to surprise you more, words falling from your lips without a first thought, much less a first, “I-I mean, uh—“

And he can’t help the grin that spreads over his lips — “I didn’t take you for the jealous type, sweetheart,” and your words failed you for once, “or maybe I should be calling you, Princess, because being jealous isn’t usually so sweet,”

“Satoru—“

“Except maybe when it’s you,” he takes a step forward, and fuck, you look so cute like this — your eyes unable to meet his with the usual defiance or smugness, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “think you’d be sweet no matter what you do,”

“I’m not jealous—“

“Uh-huh,” he smirks, “Mei Mei is just an old friend and tycoon of business — and she tends to have a night out to discuss opportunities and investment into education for a mutual benefit—“

“She wants a tax break?” And he nods, but your brow furrows, “then what was with the shoulder touch?”

“The shoulder touch?” and you click your tongue.

“She touched your shoulder, intimately,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it was! It was like this,” your fingers gesture over his shoulder, your thumb barely grazing over his shoulder blade.

He tilts his head, “That’s what you consider intimate?”

“Yes! Like,” you step forward, and he refuses to let his breath catch, but your perfume floods his senses, fingers nearly twitching to touch you — but he can’t, yet that makes it all the more tempting. Your fingers ghost over his shoulder, featherlike almost, and heat floods his body as if it’s his first time being touched by another — and it wasn’t, but it was his first time being touched by you.

“Like this,” and your words warm his skin, and it would be so easy to touch you — give you a taste of intimacy, and show that the only touch he craved was your own.

“I think I missed it, could you show me again?” he can’t help but tease when it’s so easy to do when you’re like this, “aw, come on, Professor, isn’t this supposed to be a hands-on lesson?”

Your body is far too close, yet too far all the same — had you managed to create the very phenomenon he had failed to study?

Your eyes finally found his, a spark of want that was only another match struck for the kindling, and your fingers drifted to his cheek. And he couldn’t help but lean into your touch, flames licking at his skin, but it was a burn he wanted more of, one he wished could consume him.

He leaned closer—until a group of people passing by, rowdy and drunk, made you flinch apart. And the moment was broken, flames extinguished—“I should go,” you murmur, and he nods, both of you taking a step back, “but if you’re not too busy falling asleep at keynotes, come to room 188 at 11:00 AM — I’m on a panel,”

“And you want me to come ask all the hard questions?” A smile graces your pretty lips, one he wishes he could memorize and map with his fingers — because it’s your smile and he’s the one who made you smile like that.

“I expect nothing less,” you turn to go inside as he calls after you.

“Was that a compliment?” and you cast a gaze over your shoulder yet again.

“Like I said, if and when I compliment you, you won’t need to ask that, Professor,” and with a flash of your smile, you were gone, and he was left outside in the humid air of the summer and the distinct sounds of cicadas and faint laughter and chatter of people outside the hotel. His fingers brushed against his shoulder, the ghost of your lingering touch still haunting him in the best way.

The flames were out, but the spark was still there — and that’s all you both needed.

For now.

~~

Fuck, he was late — and this time not on purpose.

Usually there was nothing more Satoru would like than to be late for a moderated panel — it was an excuse to skip altogether, to get lunch, a treat, a drink — anything other than sit through another session of educators and researchers alike stroking their own egos. But this was different.

It was for you.

He tugged off his crooked and badly tied tie and stuffed it in his pocket, sprinting to the conference room where you said you would be doing the panel. He had to oversleep — but it really was your fault. He couldn’t get to sleep, not after last night. The scent of your perfume still clung to him tauntingly, the phantom of your touch still haunted him, and the sight of your smile etched onto his eyelids each time he closed them.

He was so fucking screwed.

He wasn’t the time for sentimental bullshit. No, the world had bullied that deep inside of him, softness only reserved for the few friends he had and his students. But you had ripped it all to the surface. And now he was stuck moving at the same pace you were — a quantum coupling without the couple.

He gets to the door and he bursts in, a dramatic entrance much too loud for a conference. The room fell pindrop silence as all eyes stared at him. But his eyes, flitting like comets, finding their landing with you, and he would burn up in your atmosphere all the same with the glare on your face.

“Sorry, got a little lost,” he offers a small smile, before taking his seat, his eyes unwavering from you.

The moderator clears his throat, turning his nose up at Satoru, “Well, let us continue,” he turns to you, “you were saying, Doctor?”

Oh, a doctor.

He leans back in his chair, how was it you got so much hotter? If that was possible somehow.

“I was explaining our current understanding of Hawking radiation, the theoretical thermal black-body radiation that releases out a black hole and its theorized to cause black hole evaporation,” and yet as you spoke, he felt himself grow hot, a slight flush settling over his cheeks — he was right when he guessed astrophysics was your specialty. And he should have known you would have been an expert while he was at it — how could you not be? Even now your lips and tongue formed sentences he could only dream of making, and he did dream of your lips before.

“There are many unknowns about quantum fields and electromagnetism, especially regarding black holes in particular — one of the counters to electromagnetism—” the other speakers go on to interject and bristle at one another, but Satoru barely hears any of it all — too preoccupied with you.

You were far too pretty for your own good — how was no one else completely distracted, shifting in his seat as he carefully adjusted himself — and turned on.

“And now we open it up to the audience,”

The first few questions are fielded by the others and then the one of the last questions is for you. A person stands from the audience, fiddling with the question card they had in their hand, “when you were speaking about electromagneticism, you said there are many mysteries still — there is a theory called the law of attraction,” there’s a few distinct murmurs and even a few chuckles, but even so Satoru still finds himself looking at you, “they say the energy you put out into the world is electromagnetic waves, and when that interacts with the quantum field, which helps you attract what you’re looking for, what do you think of this theory?”

And for the first time, your eyes find his, the corner of your lips tugging upwards, before your gaze settles back on the audience.

“I don’t think there’s anything in physics that can explain what brings something or someone into your life,” you lean back in your chair, “if it were that simple, I think a lot more physicists wouldn’t be married to their labs,” Satoru snorts, and you garner a few chuckles from the audience, “but although all that stuff about quantum fields and electromagnetic waves isn’t rooted in physics, I think there’s something to figuring out what you want and letting yourself have it,” and he found your eyes on him again, and he wondered if he could let himself have you — even if he felt like he didn’t quite deserve you.

And his phone buzzed in his pocket, he glanced at the name and groaned — why was Ijichi calling him now? He lets it go to voicemail, but then messages come through.

Four-Eyed Annoyance: please reply. I have some news for you about the department head.

He bites his lip, but hauls himself to his feet, slipping out right as the panel wraps up. He presses the callback button and grumbles as Ijichi picks up, “this better be good or I’ll slap the shit out of you when I get back—“

“Huh?” Ijichi cried, aghast, “you told me to call once I had news,” and Satoru groaned.

“Just spit it out,” he sighed, rubbing his head.

“The department head said they would like to see you attend the mixer for professors in the department — a chance to meet you more informally — it’s the day after you return,” and Satoru scrubbed a hand down his face, and a chance to grill him about his failed research, “I thought you should know so you could prepare—“

He spots you disappearing around the corner, and hes curses under his breath, “Ijichi, you’re in for a serious slap later,” and the man doesn’t have time to react before Satoru cuts the phone. Great, not only was his career definitely in jeopardy, without a buffer to bullshit, but now — he rounds the corner, following after you, but in the throngs of people he doesn’t see you — he had lost you.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket. Not that he really deserved you.

~~~

Satoru doesn’t see you for the rest of the day — he didn’t know how long he spent waiting for you at the bar, About how long it takes him for the bar to close his tab and the bartender to shoo him away, until he meanders back to his room. Were you upset? You had noticed he came in late and then he left before it was over—and now he hadn’t seen you. And he couldn’t even ask you because he hasn’t seen you and he doesn’t even have your number—

Because he was an idiot, who wanted to play coy, instead of being direct.

He strips off his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, a heavy sigh caught in his throat, as he tosses the button down onto the desk chair nearby, knocking over his bag and spilling papers onto the floor.

Great. Was this supposed to be some grand metaphor for his life? He knelt down to collect them, maybe he should call Suguru and have him give him some philosophy bullshit to make him feel better. He picked up something scrunched underneath the papers, and it was a napkin — but not just a used one.

Well not exactly.

One free pass to take what you want.

He snorts at your scrawled handwriting — for how perfect he thought you were, your handwriting certainly wasn’t.

He continues to pick up the rest of the things scattered on the ground until he finds the cover sheet for his research. Messy doodles littered the sheet — ones he had messily scratched in frustration — including one of his own face breathing fire.

He presses his hand to his lips, how was he going to turn this into something remotely useable? The basis of research was that most of it never leads to great revelations or huge discoveries — it was a domino effect of building upon other research and one study tips it over. And research was also about framing — about seeing what was there and making something of it.

He was flipping through his research — and he pauses at a particular page that had the tables of his research, the one he had ruminated over for nights and days, but now — it seemed far less daunting.

You do have a way of making me look at things from a different angle.

Your words fill his ear, as if you were there whispering it to him — a different angle. He pulls his laptop out and gathers the papers in his hands before he pockets the napkin you had written on.

Maybe that’s just what he needed.

~~~

You had avoided him.

It was so fucking embarrassing. What were you? A rejected teenager hiding from her crush? And you down another drink at the bar, the alcohol burning down your throat as if it could erode away the words you had said during the panel.

But it couldn’t.

It shouldn’t have happened. The moment the night before, with his lips a breath away that hung like a promise in the air — if magnetism existed between two people, it was in that moment — because you never felt so drawn to someone, as if there were actual magnets between you both. But as much as magnets attract, they could also repel just as well.

And you supposed, as you swirled the bits of your drink with your ice melting at the bottom of the glass, that was what had inspired him to run after your little show. You hated being a fool — but you hated not taking a risk more — you drank the rest of the watered-down drink before setting the glass down — so you had made the right decision.

So, why did you still feel like shit? You hiccuped slightly, the buzz now settling into a haze over your head, clear thoughts lost in a slight fog.

It might be the alcohol.

But even so you ordered another drink, pushing the empty one forward, avoiding the bartender’s dubious gaze. What was it about this man?

You didn’t know the first thing about him — aside from the fact he was a professor, just as you were, and his first name was Satoru—and fuck, you didn’t even catch his last name. But you knew how his lips curled into a smile that was far too infectious, that he was flippant to a fault but he only used it to hide his vulnerabilities, and that for someone so intelligent and knew of his own abilities — he found his own failures and shortcomings unforgivable.

But you wanted to forgive all the same — even now.

Even after not seeing him, and avoiding this very bar like the plague for the last day and a half. But now, it was the last night of the conference, and you don’t know what possessed you to be here — but you did — it was him.

“Come here often?” your eyes don’t need to look up from the drink placed in front of you by the bartender to know who it is, “let me have what she’s having,”

You raise an eyebrow, “This isn’t the fruity mocktail you prefer,” and he slips into the stool beside you, his arm brushing your own, as the bartender heaves a sigh at the sight of you two, “think you can handle it?”

“Well even if I can’t, I have you to take care of me, don’t I?” and you snort, licking the salt rim of your glass, before washing it down with the drink, “c’mon sweetheart, I thought you were opening yourself up to me,” and you choke on it, a distinct heat settling over your cheeks and it wasn’t from the liquor.

You choose your words carefully, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin, “I did, but that was before someone ran out,” and you wish your words significantly less slurred.

He bites his lip, “would you believe that it was a life threatening emergency and only I, Satoru—“ and you cut him off with a glare, and he sighs, “I’m sorry, I got tied up on a call and by the time I had finished, you were gone,”

“And here I thought my little soliloquy scared you off,” you mutter, “but a phone call? Was it a life threatening emergency?” The bartender comes with two drinks for the both of you.

“Not exactly, it was about my research. Found out my department head wants to meet with me right when I get back,” but his lips were curled in a smile, until he lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip, a grimace replacing it.

“You don’t seem like you’re dreading it anymore,” you sip your own drink, pressing the cool glass to your too-hot cheeks, alcohol roasting you from the inside out.

“Well, someone said I had a knack for looking at things from a unique angle,” he gives you a grin, “so I just did what I did best,”

“I see that ego of yours has recovered,” and his gaze catches yours, “I’m glad this conference was good for something at least,”

“I don’t think that’s all it was good for,” and your eyes can’t pull away from his — a current that sparked between your gazes that only wished to pull you closer than further apart, “you’re selling it short — moderated panels, the workshops, the stale coffee, the networking opportunities,” and his fingers brushed yours, “what’s not to love?”

And any sluggishness from your intoxication is chased away by his touch, a live wire pressed to your skin, “Networking?” You repeat, the warm brush of his fingers against your skin feather-like, “what chances have you had to network?”

He decides to down his drink, a flinch as he swallows, “Not many, well, not many that hadn’t ended without people glaring or fleeing,” you snort, but still liking his thumb rubs across the length of your knuckles, “but the ones that went well have been more than satisfactory,” your eyes flit to his hand and then to his lips, before settling to his gaze.

“And you’re satisfied? With the conference?” you add, and it’s a dangerous game to play, fingers curling around his as if by instinct, a current completed by its circuit, and you were needlessly addicted to the feeling.

He hums, in mock contemplation, as he leans closer, until your knees brush, “Not completely, but that’s because I don’t think I’ve taken what I want yet,” and he pulls a napkin from his pocket, handing it to you, and you see your words scribbled on there.

And you know it’s already far too late for you.

You’re close. Too close — as you can see the specks of dark blue that you could map like constellations in his eyes and you were sure his cologne was melting every brain cell that told you this was a bad idea, and leaving only behind need — but still you spoke.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the napkin, next words far too breathless for your own good, as if the spark between you had caught fire from your touch and sucked the oxygen from your little bubble — and you were just waiting for it to burst.

But it didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer, a breath away, fingers cupping your cheek, “can I?” And you nod nearly out of reflex, and he kisses you — despite the alcohol, you can taste the hint of sugar from the sweets he undoubtedly had before. It’s chaste and much too brief, but you two fall into a second as if it’s second nature.

“Well, are you going to take it?”

~~

“This is a such a fucking bad idea,” you manage to huff out right as the elevator doors close, but not before Satoru has you pressed to the mirrored wall of the elevator, “we shouldn’t do this—“

But all the same, your hand cupped his cheek, mapping the contours and curves of his jaw until it melted into his hairline, fingers running through his soft white locks with reverence, and his cheeks are flushed red, and even warmer than they look, “did one drink affect you this much?” you chuckle, and he pouts, drawing a full laugh from your lips, “oh this is definitely a bad idea,” not only because both of you were drunk, but he was far too cute to resist.

His eyes flutter close for a moment at the sensation of your touch, lips parted as he relished in your touch — and when had he been touched so softly before? Your noses bump, as the heat is engulfed in honey for a moment, caught between breaths.

“I have nothing but good ideas, Princess,” his nose brushes your cheek, as he inhales — fuck, how did you smell like everything sweet, even after a full day of conferences and two hours at a rundown hotel bar, “you may be my best one yet.”

“Flattery, Professor?” And his lips dare closer to yours again, as the elevator finally reached his floor, “you’ll have to do better than that,”

And as he steps forward out the elevator, fingers finding yours, he grins, cheeks warm from intoxication — and whether that’s the alcohol or you is a mystery. “Y’know I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart.”

You follow him out, as he leads you to his room, tugging you along as your lips curl, “Anything?”

He catches a glimpse at the wicked curve of your lips as you grin while he unlocks the door, that curve soon pressed against his neck, and he knew he wanted nothing more than to be pulled into your orbit — because there isn’t a thing you could do to repel him.

“This isn’t—“ Satoru bites his lip, as he watches you sink to your knees, a shaky gasp parting those same lips, spit slick from your kiss, as you dragged your thumb down the kiss-ruined flesh, “what I had in mind when you said anything,” his words are slurred, and you’re seeing the glow settle over his cheeks, making you only want to litter the red flush with kisses.

“I see why you don’t drink often if one drink does this to you,” your nose bumps against his, “we don’t have to do this if you’re—“

“I’m fine, I promise,” he cuts you off gently, his fingers closing around your wrist, before bringing your hand against his cheek, “I don’t want to stop, please,” and your thumb rubs along his cheekbone, “do you need me to solve an equation? Motion? Velocity? Force?”

You snort, your fingers ghosting over his jaw, “There’s something else I’d rather do,” and you undo the button of his slacks, “or someone,” and his lips curl — which only makes you want to wipe it off his face, until his lips are only parted with your name on his tongue.

You had stripped him down to his boxers, every button of his shirt undone painfully slow, as your fingers ghosted up and down every inch of exposed skin, “such a good boy, Satoru,” you had murmured, as you finally had reached the last button of his shirt, choosing to kiss your way up his stomach and chest — and fuck, it was hard enough not to blow his load then and there, “gonna make you feel good, baby,” your hand slid up his body, dragging over his chest, and onto his cheek until sliding into his hair again, tangling in the locks before you tugged, hard, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips and sending a wave of heat throbbing between his thighs, “but not before you earn it,”

You take a step back, his hands twitching as they reach for you, “Just watch,” You strip slowly, your jacket already tossed aside, as you undo the buttons of your blouse torturously slow, as your lips curl at the sight of his pout.

Muscles winded and tense like a spring ready to snap at your word, but you didn’t let him, and when you step out of your slacks, his boxers strained against his erection, a dark patch over taut pulled fabric, “look at you, I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already about to rip through your boxers?” You click your tongue.

And your careful steps back to the bed have him swallowing thickly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he watches you, “Please,” he’s murmuring, “please, baby,”

God, he looks too fucking pretty begging, and you were only that much sure he would look prettier with tears in those eyes of his, whimpers and moans parting those pretty pink lips.

“Please what?” you leaned closer, your knees pressing his legs apart, brushing against his inner thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted them most, “gonna have to use some of those big words you got your degrees with, Satoru,”

Your knee grazes his clothed bulge, “Fuck—“ your fingers find his undercut with ease, nails grazing the nape of his neck as you did, a delicious shiver running up his spine. He was so sensitive for all the bravado he had — for how intelligent he was, how high he held himself, it only took a few of your touches to reduce him to this.

And fuck, it was so hot.

“Not that word,” your hand draws up and down his thigh, tracing the muscle, before drawing a path over the elastic of his boxers, “tell me what you want — my fingers? My mouth?” Your fingers dip inside his boxers only to snap the fabric against his skin, earning a sharp hiss and a jerk of his hips.

His eyes flicker up to your lips, and you know what he wants, but you’re still waiting to hear the words, “your mouth,” and you tilt your head expectantly, “please,”

“Good boy,” you don’t miss the way his dick twitches at the praise, as your fingers tug his boxers down, pooling around his ankles. His cock slaps against his stomach, pretty precum dripping down his length — and how’s it possibly that his dick is as gorgeous as the rest of him? Pretty red tip that melted into a blush pink length, lovely veins that wrapped around as if it was made just for you. And you didn’t believe in the law of attraction — but you knew you’d welcome his dick inside you anytime.

You sink to your knees, and the sight must be pretty by the way his gaze grows dark, “Like the idea of me on my knees for you?”

“Can’t I like the idea of using that smart mouth for something other than a verbal lashing, sweetheart?” And your tongue darts out to lick the precum from his tweeting tip, making his head loll back.

“You can,” and your fingers ghost over his balls, “but don’t forget who’s in control, Satoru,”

You press a kiss to his slit, before letting the length slap on your tongue. And already his chest is already heaving, as your fingers curl around the base, slowly pumping and smearing precum along his dick. You hear the crumple of the sheets as he grasps at them.

“You’re so fucking big — can’t wait to feel you inside me, g’nna feel s’good,” and a pretty moan parts his lips, hips bucking into your touch, boneless nearly, as you watch his precum slip down your fingers and wrist, “does it feel that good?” your teasing only draws a pout to his lips that’s quickly fading into another moan as you thumb at his slit, making him whine, “so fucking whiny,” you goaded, but no snark can find it’s way from his lips.

“F-fuck, sweetheart, can you blame me?” And your lips curl, as his tip bumps against your lips, dragging precum along them, “you’re gonna be the death of me,”

“And you’d thank me for it,” and you finally let his cock slip past your lips, and his mouth falls open, muscles tense as he feels his length settle along your tongue, until it’s tracing up the bottom, flicking against the tip.

“F-fuck, baby, you take me so well,” and you do, so fuckinh pretty as your head bobs along his length, messily sucking and licking, cock growing impossibly larger, just as his tip grazes your throat, “shit, ngh,” and he’s threading his fingers into your locks, beginning to buck his hips so that his swollen tip bumps against your throat, even deeper.

His lewd groans send a wave of head straight to your needy core, and you can’t wait, a hand slipping up to grasp at his waist, but the other slips into your panties and your fingers brush against your drenched folds.

You’re a fucking vision when he glances down to watch his white pubes brush against your face, half spit and half pre dribbling from the corner of your mouth. He’s practically fucking your mouth at this point, tears slipping down your cheeks, he’s not sure if he’s drunk from the alcohol or from his cock anymore. And when he sees your fingers buried in your cunt, fucking yourself because sucking him off was too much—it was too late.

“F-fuck, not g’nna last much longer, need—“ but that only makes you suck around his length, letting his tip hit your throat, and his nails dig into your scalp, as he finally cums, hard, your name on his lips. Thick ropes of his cum paints your mouth, hot release burning down your throat. You swallow every drop, relishing in the soft groan of your name that leaves his lips, enough for you to hit your sweet spot with your three fingers stuffed in your cunt before cumming.

You’re panting around his cock nearly as you pull your mouth off, strings of spit and cum stick to your lips and his dick, as you hear the creak of the mattress as he lies back against the bed, probably too fucked out to think. And you’re getting to shaky feet after easing your fingers out, ready to have him taste your own juices. But no, you can’t.

He was too fucked out to be conscious.

“Satoru?” You asked slowly, but you were only met with soft snores and the easy rise and fall of his chest that told you he was asleep.

Well fuck.

~~~~

Satoru never drank. And it was for good reason.

He always felt shitty afterwards. Headaches, nausea, and body aches. And that didn’t account for the side effect that had afflicted him the most — regret. The events of the night flash through his mind, a slideshow movie of the worst kind as he shoots up in bed to find himself alone in bed. He glances around, rest of his body still frozen in place, as if he had stopped moving, you wouldn’t see him.

But no, you wouldn’t see anything — because you weren’t here.

Not a single sign of you. The bedside beside him empty, and no trace of your clothes left behind — you had left. His eyes flickered to the time, 10:00 AM, far too early this morning. But what had you expected? He scrubs a hand down his face, cheeks burning — especially when he had cum down your throat and then had thanked you for it by passing out like a virgin.

And still he woke up hard. He glared down at the erection tenting in the blanket, as if it was the reason for his own downfall, but it didn’t have the courtesy of falling down itself.

Oh, he was never going to live this down.

And then the phone rang, and his heart leaped, likely bumping against his ribcage, as he reached for the hotel phone, wondering if it could possibly be—

“Hello? Is this Mr. Gojo?” The receptionist asks.

No, of course. Perfect.

“Yes, this is him,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, this day could only get better, couldn’t it?

“I’m calling to remind you that you had selected the early check out time, and your check out time is in exactly an hour, and we are unable to extend it due to other guest check-ins,”

He shouldn’t have bothered to hope.

A frantic packing job and harried check out, he had slumped in his taxi to the train station. He didn’t even get your number. And he scoffs at the thought, like you’d give it to him after last night. He leans against the cool glass of the window, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to see you that night. Maybe it would have been better to stop. But the two of you were always in motion — night by night rushing by each other, and last night was no different.

But now you both are still in motion — just not together.

And maybe it was better that way. But if so, his eyes open to take in rushing outside, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

~~~

Satoru forgot how much he hated this department.

Satoru found himself sipping his drink by the makeshift bar again. He had waded through the questions of the other professors, wanting to know the details of his research. He saw the sharp gazes behind plastered smiles, and they were just hoping to learn something to tell the new department head. But he told them nothing, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass at their sour glances. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

And then he spots a familiar figure.

“Oi,” Ijichi tensed at the sound of Satoru’s voice, he makes his way to Satoru’s side, “I thought you said the department head would be here,”

“She’s on her way. She got stuck in a meeting. Haven’t you been checking your email?”

“Who checks their email when they’re away?”

And Ijichi mutters under his breath, “People who are actually responsible,”

Satoru glances at him, “That reminds me, didn’t I owe you a slap?” And Ijichi squeaks in terror, before he takes a step back, as his phone goes off.

“The department head is on her way now,” and Satoru raised an eyebrow.

“Her?” And Ijichi frowned.

“Have you really not checked your email the entire time you’ve been away? The new department head’s name was announced months ago, and she’s sent consistent emails, and Satoru runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ve had all department emails sent to spam,” and Ijichi gapes at him, as Satoru pulls his phone out and opens his spam folder, scrolling through the hundreds of unread emails, “what’s her name?”

And just then the doors open, and he wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’s back in that hotel room again and he would wake up any second beside you.

But he doesn’t, as your eyes find his, stepping through the crowd of other professors, as Ijichi steps forward, “Ma’am, this is—“

“I know,” you smile, before your eyes slide back to his, “come here often?”

And he knew he was far too deep already.

✧ a/n: this took so long to write — I thought I would be done last week but I was not haha. I hope you guys enjoy. there will be a part two! I have plotted out part of it. thank you guys for being so kind :)

✧ taglist: @dazailover1900, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @satorusmochis, @dreamtardisspace, @mixmatcheds, @kxouri, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @happystrawberrytyrant, @mynahx3, @destinyrosexoxoxo, @iwannaeatthewolrd, @parkeronii, @nanasukii28, @9419x, @5sos-wdw, @zeee26, @saintlesssaint, @forest-fruits-jam, @cowgirlcujoh, @somrou, @satowooo, @buddhas-bunny, @spider-fan72, @daintyfaintyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @nightfloweruponahill, @xxemmarldxx, @hanxyy, @caramelmac-chiato, @faeryli, @penutjuice, @waterfal-ling, @buttercupblu143, @ilikeweedalot, @amy-chaan, @johannakhalafalla, @alexithemiyatic, @theshylittleelfgirl, @kittykattysstuff, @shervinss, @catsgomurp, @notgoodforlife, @anth0nyx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @fackeraccount, @fushitoru, @svt-backup, @suguwife, @mua-for-now,