#white tea does taste good

[galakianexplosion]

Kurabe has a question.

"Chaos, do you have any kind of tea that you like?"

"What about you Kurabe? Any drinks you favor?"

The "It" accidentally cut off-

He mostly drinks grape juice*{he cannot get drunk} but if you were to offer him some tea he would probably go with white tea, personally, i like mint tea too much. Also Astrophel (if anyones not aware) is a little ufo powered guy! He hangs around Chaos just in case because he does wear his name well. Plus astrophel is just a helpful little guy and brings tea and snacks for people who interacts with him

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you’re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.”

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. “You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-”

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[shotmrmiller]

neighbor ghoap deciding it’s time to quickly put their plan into action once they get a taste of reader’s own sounds through the walls.

Brought home some guy off tinder, and they were seething the whole time. They heard the door slam, noting that the guy had left, and your moans started again. This time they were different, real, which just made Simon start laughing.

no cuz johnny almost bit through the skin of his knuckles in fury.

see, he's the one that's nudging at simon about how he needs to have you, even if it's the once.

(it's not gonna be but what simon don't know won't kill him)

simon is a bit reluctant because he's not used to sharing. what's his is his. period.

but johnny's got a honey mouth. he can spin straw into gold.

it takes a couple of deep throat blowjobs, and a few nights of murmuring directly into simon's ear as he gets fucked into the mattress to make simon see (his) reason.

and then you've gone and brought someone home. some bawbag that sounds like a cow about to breathe it's last. he feels rage, white hot, deep in his chest. his blood is practically at a rolling boil under his skin.

the last time he felt this angry was when they had makarov in the plane.

he can't even hear your sweet little whimpers you usually let out when you masturbate.

johnny turns to simon, who's absentmindedly cleaning his gun on the table and tells him to get up.

"make sure tha' feartie doesnae come back when he leaves, aye?" he snarls.

simon tips his head wordlessly. he'll let johnny order him around, just this once. the scrunched skin of johnny's nose as he bares his teeth in aggression is adorable.

he racks the slide of the gun and places it down with an audible clack, grabs his leather jacket from the chair and shrugs it on.

"does he need to disappear?"

johnny makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. "i dinnae care! just make sure he goes and stays gone."

simon moves quick- light on his feet toward him and fists his hair cruelly, forcibly craning johnny's neck back to lock eyes with him.

down boy.

"watch the attitude, or i'll be fuckin' it outta ya 'n there won't be anyone tell tha' imbecile t'piss off, yeah?" simon's voice rumbles with his warning.

if johnny had ears, they'd be pinned flat to his head. "aye."

he gives a soft slap to johnny's cheek. "good. i'll be back," and is out the door in seconds.

-

the next day, johnny corners approaches you in the lift, and rubs the back of his neck, feigning discomfort.

he watches your eyes widen, mouth gape in sheer horror as he tells you that he got no sleep, some guy couldn't stop caterwauling like a cat in heat last night.

oh, you look like you're about to burst into tears. he can't help but unabashedly stare at you. that expression is moving all the blood in his head south.

please cry. he'd come in his pants if you did.

the lift pings and the moment is broken, so johnny wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and does that he's always done best.

use his honeyed tongue.

"grab a tea with me? i promise to not bite." he walks out and steps to the side, extending a hand towards you.

he notices your hesitance, so he amps up his charm. johnny's lips curl into a roguish smile, the blunt edges of his white teeth barely visible.

"please? jus' a tea. i'll pay." simon's always said he looks best while begging.

you must seem to think so too, because you're sliding your much smaller, softer hand in his- fingers grazing the rings that adorn his hand.

"atta lass. we'll take a cab."

-

a few days later, johnny has the tv running in the background as he cooks dinner, when he hears:

'a man crashed into the bay, possibly under the influence...'

you're all theirs, now.

only theirs.

[featherwurm]

Like the Tadfools Drink Orders - I've been thinking about their tastes in coffee too. The local coffee shop knows when the whole group comes tumbling in it's going to be raucous, but several of the group (Tav, Karlach, Wyll, and Halsin) always ensure they, as a group, tip well.

Tav: Small black coffee – simple and straightforward, she’s drinking it to wake up a bit and out of habit.

Karlach: Seasonal mixed coffee beverage – big, sweet, and rich, she likes it fun and STRONG.

Gale: Double-shot espresso – he wants to wake up but is fancy about it, and it sounds classier when you order it.

Wyll: Mocha – the man is not above getting himself a treat (yes, they always misspell his name. Yes, even though he's a Duke's son.)

Lae’zel: Cappuccino – she has become intrigued by this beverage – the right blend of strong and soft (She will not let them misspell her name.)

Shadowheart: Caffeinated iced tea drink – cold and sweet, and also very strong, she’s not a morning person.

Astarion: Large coffee with cream and sugar – he’s not going to drink it it’s for the aesthetic (he might sip a little though.)

Halsin: Full thermos of coldbrew – He’s good for a couple days at least now.

Minthara: Flat white – the soft cream that offsets the bitterness... it appeals to her for some reason.

Jahira: Large coffee with cream – she knows who she is, she’s not going to make this complicated but she does like something a little easier to drink than black (the barista also knows her and carefully puts her name on it.)

Minsc: Large hot chocolate – Jahira says you don’t want to see him caffeinated – or maybe you do but he’s a YOU problem then. (Boo gets a tiny whipped cream treat.)

Scratch: Pup Cup – He gets whipped cream because he is a very good boy.

[sammyluvr]

✶ sweet potatoes — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of kissing, food, and very minor injury (spilt hot water), unedited, 1.2K words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a kitchen that smells like roasted sweet potatoes + “honey–” “why do you keep calling me that?” “i– do you want me to stop?” “…no.”

the promise of a freshly made hot drink has you wandering into the bunker’s kitchen. coffee or tea or maybe even hot chocolate, you’ll decide when you get there. a warm, rich smell greets you before you make it all the way down the hallway, and you breathe in deeply as you cross the threshold to fill your senses with it.

you’re greeted by a sight almost as sweet as the scent. sam sits at the table off to the side, pouring over the book he’s reading these days. he looks up when he hears you and smiles lightly. he and the smell of roasting sweet potatoes is a familiar pairing by now. it’s his favorite way to cook them, and one of his favorite foods. they’re incredibly healthy, and though he doesn’t always love sugared tastes, he likes their particular version of sweet.

you smile back at him easily, drifting past him and to the cabinet stocked with mugs. “smells good,” you sigh as you pull a cup down, knowing he’s made some for you too.

“there’s fresh coffee,” he tells you, and you glance back to see him hold up his own plain white mug as evidence.

“thanks, i think i’ll have some tea, though,” you decide. there’s an herbal mix better suited for this time of day. he nods in understanding, and lets his attention drift back to the book. at least, that’s how it looks before you turn away from him to fill the kettle with water and switch on the flame beneath it. once you’re not looking, he is and his honeyed eyes are trailing your form as you move about the kitchen, settling the tea bag into your mug. his chin dips back down when you pad over to the little table and settle in the seat across from him.

you sit there, a bit absentminded as you wait for the water to boil and he keeps his eyes mostly trained on the book in front of him. his gaze has a tendency to wander when he’s around you, usually just to see you. to see the tip of your nose or catch the movement of your eyebrows as you try to understand something. just for your fingers or smile or eyes, or any part of you at all. but he’s been accused of having heart eyes around you, so he tries not to be too obvious. he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“so, when did the sweet potatoes go in?” you ask as a way to find out when they’ll be ready to eat. you asking him a direct question is an appropriate time for sam to be able to look at you, so of course, he does.

“about half an hour ago. it won’t be too long until they’re ready. you hungry?” he answers. he hopes you’re not too hungry to wait, maybe he should’ve asked you before.

“just a little,” you shake your head, thinking the timing to be perfect. you’ll be hungry enough by the time they’re cooled and ready to eat. the shrill whistle of the kettle interrupts you before you get the chance to ask him if he plans to make something with them or just eat them plain. you stand quickly to get rid of the noise. this old kettle is completely functional, but sometimes you think about investing in an electric one to avoid the loudness.

you turn of the stove and pull the kettle away from the heat. the water spills right into your mug over the tea bag as you tip the spout down. light brown tendrils stain the water, evening out into a pale color that will darken as it steeps. you fill the cup nearly to the brim, for no reason other than wanting more tea. then you set the kettle back down and loop your fingers through the handle, careful not to have your knuckles pressed into the now heated body of the mug.

sam watches fondly as you walk back to him, your movements slow and careful as to not spill. these efforts are futile the moment you sit down. you really should’ve just set the mug down before sitting, but maybe you’re a bit eager to be near sam again and the thought never crossed your mind. everything is much less steady as you lower yourself into the chair, scalding tea sloshing over the rim of the cup and pulling a pained gasp from your lips as it pours over your fingers.

“damn!” you hiss, spilling more as you quickly set the cup down and pull your hand away to rid it of the hot water.

“oh, honey,” sam mutters, the sweet name slipping from his lips without his control, just like it has been these days, a little too often. fingers gentle, he takes your hand from you by the wrist and pulls it towards him, inspecting it to see if he can find any signs of a burn. then he gives a soft tug. “c’mon, let’s get this under cold water.”

“it’s fine,” you say easily, but let him guide you back to the sink because your mind goes a little fuzzy every time he calls you that. he turns on the tap and checks the temperature, just to be sure it’ll be cold for you, then brings your hand under the stream of water. it feels nice, and you’re sure the burn won’t bother you for any longer than a few minutes. it’s quiet except for the rush of water and its splashing into the metal sink. closer to the oven, the scent the roasting sweet potatoes is thick, honeyed. honey. your voice is quiet when you speak, unable to let it go this time. “why do you keep calling me that?”

it takes him a moment to register what you mean. then he feels heat rise up from his neck, through his jaw, and into his cheeks. he’s not so sure how to answer. he calls you honey because he loves you, because it suits you, because he thinks you’re sweet and endearing and that you deserve to be called something soft and full of love. and also because he can’t help it. because it just slips out when he’s around you, and his self control wavers in your presence.

“i– do you want me to stop?” he says carefully. he decides to answer your question with one of his own, in hopes that he can deflect responsibility and in fear that he’s made you uncomfortable.

his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist with all the care in the world, and you probably don’t need to keep your hand under the water any longer, but you don’t move. there’s a moment where you don’t answer, and he holds his breath without realizing it. if you ask him to stop, it could very well break his heart.

“no,” you murmur, “no, you don’t have to stop.” it’s almost the perfect answer.

“but do you want me to?” he asks, voice softened like yours.

you shake your head. “no. i like it when you call me that. it just confuses me a little bit,” you say in all honesty. he turns the water off, and gently wraps your hand in a towel. in the process, he turns you both so that you’re face to face.

“i’m sorry i confused you. don’t be confused, though. i mean it when i say it,” he says, so very sincere and sending your heart into a lovesick panic.

your kiss is interrupted by the beeping of the oven timer, signalling the readiness of the sweet potatoes. you’re sure nothing will be as sweet as his lips, though.

[3cremepie3]

Frosty

Riddle Rosehearts x Gender Neutral reader

Sypnopsis- Riddle is taken captive by your love and does something out of character for himself as you make love in the rose maze.

Warnings - Smut 18+, head given, virginity loss, unprotected sex, creampie

A/n - I said I wasn’t gonna write for twst but I lied. lol sorry reblog are appreciated!!

If you told riddle he would be making love in the snowscapes of the rose maze he would've spit his piping hot tea in your face and died of laughter. It was hardly believable considering the type of strict person he was.

But he just couldn't resist your advances. Of course, he was a teen with hormones but before you he never acted on them. Making sure to use his hand only when absolutely necessary. You turned him into mush. Which is why he caved when as soon as you offered to fuck him fully for the first time.

You whispered sweet romances at an early Christmas party of all places and before he knew it you, he was on his knees pleasuring your heat. His tongue which you had trained worked upon your most sensitive bits. Even though no one was sure to be out in mazes you still held back your moans.

Eventually someone would notice that the two of you were gone. But for now, your hands wrapped in his short ginger roots and tugged harshly. You needed to feel him deeper. He grunted as you brought his even further into your heat.

He could hardly breathe his face flushed and messy with your juices that poured so heavily upon his tongue. Your back arched off the cold wet bench and he had to use all his might to hold you down. You drew blood from biting your lip so hard.

'You taste exquisite darling," he groaned. You rubbed the side of his cheek lovingly since you were too breathless to speak. Riddle had brought you to the edge before, but never did he act like such a starved man. Tonight was different he was preparing your hole for himself.

Your body began to shake getting intense shocks from your upcoming orgasm. The cold didn't matter to you anymore his love making you feel warmer than ever. In fact, your hands hiked up your shirt to begin toying with your nipples. Riddle swore you were trying to kill him.

Your actions looked so sinful against the pure white snow. Unlike you it was untouched while you were used and dripping all for him. He watched you come undone amazed at how your body contrasted the atmosphere.

Your body spasmed as riddle sat up removing his dick from his pants. He kept all his clothes on to embarrassed to strip down. Ironic since you were now about to take all of him. But he got in his own head to much at times. "You ready," you asked. "Remember we don't have to rush baby I'll be happy to wait," You admit.

Your words seem honest, but he can see how your body is betraying you. Your legs spreading opening naturally and your hole puckering. He could see that you were ready for him and although he wasn't sure of himself, he moved forward.

He entered in you slowly his eyes shutting tightly while doing so. You grabbed his hands entangling them in yours. As he bottomed out his thighs hit the stone bench you laid back on. He fell forward capturing your lips in his. Your kiss gave him all the reassurance he needed to continue as you moaned into it.

"Doing so good baby," you cooed. He couldn't help but give your face a delighted peck. His hips began to set a slow pace almost painful for you who just wanted to feel him drill you. But you had patience since it was his first time. "Ah love you."He whispered into the crook of your neck.

You let out a small giggle "you're so cute baby I love you too." Your eyes met each other's as he grew more frantic. He wanted to give this his all as though it was like him being a try hard like in most of his studies. Your legs were lifted to his shoulders allowing him further into your depths. "Thank you for loving me," mumbled.

"Riddle you're being so silly are you delirious," you questioned. He was "pussy/bussy" whipped for you. "No, I'm serious," he squeaked. His voice cracked pathetically you can tell he was struggling to hold out. "Love you so much, so so much, so much," he ranted.

You two were completely lost in the moment ignoring everything going on around you. The only thing that mattered in your universe was him which is what made it all the more special as he spilled his seed inside of you.

It was unexpected as he muttered apologies over and over but still your legs wrapped around his thin torso keeping all his love inside of you.

[disasterofastory]

New things (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

New things // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 7/14 Warnings: facesitting

Summary: Brahms finds interesting things on the internet.

The air is thick and heavy in the bathroom. Your reflection in the mirror is obscure because of the steam. Small water drops run down the surface, holding onto the bottom until they land on the edge of the sink. Your nostrils are filled with the scent of your shampoo and lotions. Honey and something else you picked out from the shelf without looking. Your hair is still wet, and the towel around you is soft and warm.

"I still don't understand why you didn't join me," you speak up when stepping into your room, you meet the view of Brahms sitting on the edge of your bed. Your laptop is on his lap. The bright screen illuminates his features, highlighting the rough marks on his face. When he doesn't look at you, you continue with a small frown. "If you continue like this, I have to set screen time for you." Still nothing. "Brahms? Are you okay?" Now you start to worry.

Ever since you have an internet connection, you try to teach Brahms about it as much as you can without overwhelming him. It's fun and sad at the same time. This is the closest he has gotten to the real world in many years. There are things he doesn't understand and things that fascinate him. He already made you order an ebook reader, and you added a few clothes, too you think would look good on him.

"Nothing," he replies after a while, putting away your laptop to focus his attention on you. His eyes rake over your body with appreciation. Yeah, you don't believe him. "What is it, Brahms?" "I saw something on the internet, and I want to try it with you." You are surprised. "Okay," you reply carefully. "What did you see?" "I want you to sit on my face." Now you are shocked. "And where did you see that?" Even the thought of you sitting on his face is enough to make you excited, but the blush appearing on his cheeks makes you even more impatient for what happens next. "Does it matter?" Brahms asks, scowling and pouting. "No," you reply with a sigh. You decide to leave the subject at least for now, so you can enjoy your night with Brahms without him getting upset. "So," you grin down at him when you step between his legs. Your fingers rake through his hair, grabbing a few curls to make him look at you. You can feel his warm hands on the back of your legs as he slips up and up under the white towel still covering your body. "Do you have a plan or…?" Without a word, he stands up, towering over you and placing his hand at the back of your neck to pull you into a quick kiss. Brahms nibbles on your bottom lip, biting the soft flesh before pushing his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like tea. "Take it off," you murmur against his lips, tugging on his shirt. The moment his chest is bare in front of you, your hands find their way to his abs and the soft hair that covers his body. You love touching and caressing him almost as much as he loves being under your hands. "Take it off," Brahms repeats your words, but even before his quiet command can register in your mind, the towel is already on the ground, leaving you gasping and bare in front of his hungry gaze. His attention falls onto your breasts for a second, seemingly fighting with himself before turning around and laying down in the middle of the bed. It's so robotic that you almost laugh. Okay, you need to talk with him about vibes and romantic settings before strutting into the middle of everything, but it can wait.

"Okay," you breathe out, climbing next to him and noticing his erection already tenting his pajama pants. "Sit on my face, Y/N," he says again, lifting his head to look at you. "Did you hear about patience before?" You ask him without wanting an answer. "Help me." Brahms reaches out for your hand, helping you balance until you kneel above his face. It's new for you, too. You are surprised that after everything you did with Brahms, there is still something that makes you almost shy.

Before you can adjust yourself better, he already lifts his head again. His tongue stretches into your warmth, sliding over your slit for a quick taste. The tip of his tongue swipes your clit repeatedly, flicking and teasing. "I said sit," he grunts angrily, grabbing your thighs harder to tug you onto his face entirely. A shriek escapes your lips and echoes off the walls at the sudden movement. He groans something into your pussy when you try to shift your weight off his mouth, and he doesn't let you. His fingers dig into your flesh.

Fuck.

He licks on your clit back and forth before sealing his lips around the sensitive bud to suck the soul out of you. Your body trembles and jerks at the sudden pleasure. Your hands reach out for the wooden headrest to hold onto something. "Brahms!" You cry out his name in shock when you feel his teeth nibble on you before soothing the slight sting with his tongue. "More, baby," you tell him desperately. "Give me more." Brahms feasts on your pussy, letting your juices soak his face and beard. He rubs your clit, opens your folds, and pokes your hole before swiping his tongue all over your slit. Meanwhile, your hips start to rock down on his mouth. You grind against his face, chasing your pleasure. His hands go back to your ass, gripping your cheeks to push you a bit forward until he can plunge his tongue into your dripping channel. You are warm and wet around him. His senses are full of your taste and scent. "Can you even breathe?" You gasp out, ready to move away, but he holds you down. A muffled grunt is your only answer, and the vibration of his deep voice strikes through your body. Your head falls back, and black dots dance and swirl in front of your eyes. His tongue works in and out of your pussy, gulping down everything you can give him. He pushes into you as deep as possible. In and out. In and out. "Brahms!" You scream his name again. One of your hands goes down between your legs to rub on your clit. The burning coil in your stomach flares through your veins and makes your limbs numb and heavy. "You're doing so good," you tell him, still grinding.

Brahms's cock still throbs in his pants, wanting your mouth or tits, but the man's attention is entirely elsewhere. He wants you to cum on his face, into his mouth. He wants to drown in your nectar until he knows nothing but you and only you.

You can feel your climax building inside of you with rapid speed. It trembles through your spine and roots in your belly.

"I will- I will-" You don't even have enough time to warn him. Your walls flutter around his tongue, and your clit throbs under your fingertips. You moan and whine above him. Your voice mixes with his grunts and groans under you. Your hips twitch and rock until every energy leaves your body.

Brahms laps on your pussy hurriedly, wanting your taste on his tongue before you move to the bed next to him.

And you look beautiful when you fall onto your bottom. A thin layer of sweat shines on your skin, and your bottom lip is swollen and red from biting it almost the whole time. Pride stretches in his chest as he watches you try to clear your mind. Your gaze is unfocused and glassy.

You need long minutes to calm down and notice the dark, wet spot on his pants. Your lips twitch into a taunting smirk even though you are still panting. "Oh," you coo. "My good boy cum in his pants?" He blushes again. His face and beard glint with your wetness smeared all over him. "Do you want me to clean you up?" You offer, already reaching down under the waistband of his pajama. "Please," he whispers, pushing his hips against your hand.

Maybe letting Brahms explore the internet some more is not a bad idea after all.

[proheromidoriyashouto]

headcannon that Witchers are obligate carnivores and it means they can't just drink normal tea they have to brew that shit with bones in it or something or else it upsets their sensitive tummies.

like whenever Jaskier is brewing tea in camp and turns away for a second Geralt tosses in little bones he won't notice until its time to drink up and little pieces of white bone just plink into his cup. trying to get answers out of Geralt for something like this is a fool's errand so Jaskier just has to figure out why this is happening over time.

made all the more frustrating by Geralt getting miffed about Jaskier not eating the little bones and calling him wasteful and taking them for himself to eat. "the crunchy bits are the best part of tea."

but Geralt will not just call it soup. will not just ask for bone broth with herbs in it. it's "tea" and special "Witcher tea" when Jaskier won't let it go. and people think Jaskier is the dumb and pretty one of their pair.

but the other Witchers all do it to some degree, and if Jaskier wants a hot drink experience that doesn't taste wildy off and like shit he has to start just making broth or soups. crushed rosemary and garlic and a hefty helping of salt along with a big marrowy bone at least.

if he wants his own tea he has to brew it after Geralt is asleep or meditating or off on a hunt becaus he ALWAYS sneaks little bones or chunks of meat into it even when its only for Jaskier. he complains enough about it that Geralt buys a little tea pot Just For Jaskier that he promises not to mess with (but still does because surely the bard will die without animal fat and protein in every cup. Jaskier has to burst into tears for Geralt to stop in truth).

Geralt is delighted that tea is good now--he had no idea humans knew how to make a good Witcher tea! ah the bard has been holding out on him the strange little herbivore. glad he finally saw sense.

now if Jaskier would believe Geralt when he says he can't taste sweet things and stop trying to feed him pastry and wasting their hard earned coin on things that aren't even real. like sugar.

Ciri gets bit by a tick when she's on the run from Nilfgaard the first time and becomes deathly allergic to meat and it is SO upsetting to the Witchers. why even live.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 10: College!Matt

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: College!Matt (✨)

Summary: On a cold night in his dorm room, Matt decides to try and warm you up. With his fingers.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), fingering, college!Matt, Foggy gets traumatized, use of "good girl"

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: (I’m sorry for posting this a day late.) I’m obsessed with this guy's fingers, can you tell? Something about a rainy day with college!Matt while he takes care of Reader just... does something to me.

Read Me On AO3!

Rain falls over the grounds of Columbia University, pattering against the window of Matt’s dorm room. You’re tucked neatly under the big throw blanket you knitted for him last winter, but it’s his body truly keeping you warm as Toy Story plays on your old laptop.

You met him in your Criminal Law class one semester ago. Most of the time, he would come in, sit in the row before you, open his Braille textbook, and listen silently for the rest of the lecture. You were the only person he talked to, the only person he made an effort to pay attention to. At first, you thought he had merely taken pity on you, but the more time passed, the more you started to enjoy his presence. 

It was he who asked you to dinner first; he didn’t take you out to a fancy restaurant because, after all, you were both broke college students who couldn’t afford it, but he ordered pizza, and you spent most of the night curled up on a blanket under a sky full of stars as you painted a picture of the constellations for him. He told you about his father, the accident that blinded him, and why he chose to become a lawyer. He told you about his roommate, too, and how Foggy had become his best friend he wouldn’t trade for the world. You saw all of him that night. He was no longer just the mysterious nerd from your Criminal Law class, he was the man you were falling in love with. 

The silence between you is interrupted by a rumble of thunder. You inch closer to him, seeking comfort with your head on his chest. It is an utterly ugly fall night.

“You’re not watching the movie,” Matt observes. His fingers travel from the nape of your neck down your spine. “You okay?”

You hum. “I’m just cold.”

“Yeah? Want me to warm you up?”

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Hm?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I… I’d like that.” 

He makes you feel like a teenager. Like you’ve never really known what love is until he came along, and maybe you haven’t. 

Lightning strikes and streams into the room, illuminating his face in a white, hot glow. 

Matt rolls you under him. He’s warm against your skin. His fingers move carefully over your clothed stomach to your hip, pulling you just a little closer, and then, he kisses you. Slowly, carefully, almost hesitantly. He moves against you with utmost caution—he always does. 

He kisses you like you are a fragile porcelain doll, at first, at least. He waits for that hitch in your breath, the little jump of your heart that gives away how badly you need him before he allows himself to kiss you deeper. You taste like Chamomille tea and Chinese takeout, and a little like him.

His hand slides under the waistband of your shorts. He doesn’t dare pull the blanket away, doesn’t dare to undress you; he caresses you with the warmest of hands, kisses you with the warmest of lips, and the world just falls away.

Matt cups your pussy through your underwear. You gasp at the contact, gentle and tentative as ever. Just feeling you. 

“This okay?” he asks.

Your hand comes to rest over his. “Yes,” you breathe.

He traces a line over your clothed clit, over your folds. You shiver, but the cold has little to do with it. The room is so much hotter than it was a moment ago. The rain has disappeared into a haze of labored breathing and the steady beating of his heart against yours.

You look at him. You look into his eyes, the way he’s taking you in with every stroke of his fingers. He’s focused on you and you alone, your body a temple he needs to worship. If your skin didn’t resemble a block of ice he would get on his knees and feast on you until your legs were shaking around his head, but it’s too cold. You are too cold.

Your pulse jumps under his lips, trailing a path down your neck. “You smell good,” he whispers. 

“You feel good,” you whisper back.

A chuckle breaks from his chest. He moves the fabric of your panties aside and slowly but gradually runs a finger through your folds. 

Your hips jerk off the mattress toward his, feeling the rock-hard length of his cock pressing against your stomach. The moan gets stuck in your throat. You may be alone, but there is something incredibly intimate about being with someone who can hear and feel everything. 

“Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna hear you.”

He knows. He always knows. You can bury your face in his neck all you want; in the end, Matt always gets what he wants.

His middle finger travels from your aching entrance to your clit. The pleasure digs its nails into your belly, tying your nerves into a knot and setting fire to it—like a bomb waiting to explode.

You moan into his neck. 

“Good girl.” He circles the sensitive bundle of nerves. “So good.”

You tangle your fingers in his hair for something to hold on to. He circles, and he rubs, and he circles your clit some more. One finger turns to two. He cups your pussy, almost caressing it with how gently he’s driving you to the brink of insanity. How badly he wants to just sink into you and fuck you into the mattress until the old wood of his dorm bed breaks, but he’s content like this. Touching you, feeling you, making you come. 

He dips one digit into you. When you moan again, louder this time, he takes that as his cue to go ahead. 

Matt is only discovering you anew every time he touches you.

He sinks his finger deeper into you, feeling your walls clenching around him. “So wet,” he purrs. “Does that feel good?” Just as the words leave him, he curls his finger just so. He finds the spot that makes your toes curl with complete and utter ease; your entire body begins to buzz with electricity. 

“Fuck. Yes.” Your nails dig into his scalp. “Don’t stop. Please,” you beg.

Matt slides another finger into your tight cunt, relishing in the noises you’re making. He places his nose against your throat, against your pulse point. Your heart is beating so fast, and it’s all because of him. 

No other man has ever touched you like this.

No other man has ever made you feel like this.

And no other man has ever known you quite like he does. 

Sweat drips down your back under your thick wool sweater. Thunder and lightning take their turns shaking New York, but the only storm you can focus on is the one raging in your core. 

Matt thrusts his fingers in and out of you. He strokes your walls, strokes the fire in your belly. His thumb presses down on your clit. Right there. He plays you like an instrument.

“C’mon. You’re so close,” he says. He feels it in the way you clench around him, hears it in the way you’re thrashing and moaning and crying out for him, and he smells it. He smells it all over and inside of you.

The knot tightens. Your legs shut around his hand, though he doesn’t stop you. He wants you to get there—needs you to.

He kisses you. He kisses your neck, your collarbone, then back to your lips again. Tongues tangle and teeth clash. You are so close, indeed.

“Gonna come,” you confess. 

Matt smirks. “I know.” 

“Please, Matty.”

“I know, sweetie.” He finds that spot again, and again, and again. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

You surrender yourself to the pleasure as the fire reaches its fever pitch, and the bomb explodes. His name is a faint cry on your lips in the empty darkness of his dorm. 

Matt works you through it, your toes curling and uncurling against the silk sheets underneath you. He listens to every last twitch of your muscles until finally, you slump and relax against him. 

“Hi.” Your eyes flutter open. He smiles. “Still cold?” he asks.

“I’m sweating,” you say.

He chuckles. “Yeah, you are.”

You meet his eyes. Your heart jumps another beat. And another.

“I love you, you know that?” He nudges your nose with his. “I love you.” 

You open your mouth to answer. You want to kiss him. You want to make love to him. You want to finish college and find a nice apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen, and one day maybe marry him. Because you love him, too. 

But you get none of that out. The words are there, but before you can utter those three words back to him, the door bursts open, and a very drunk Foggy stumbles into the room. 

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” he roars. “The prodigal son returns!”

Matt pulls the blanket up to your chin. “Foggy!” he snaps.

He was supposed to be out all night.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, a bottle of tequila in his hand, and he looks between you with a frown on his face.

“Okay, I feel like I’m interrupting something,” he realizes.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh while Matt’s cheeks have turned red enough to rival a field of tomatoes. 

“Oh!” Foggy’s eyes widen. “Am I interrupting sex?” 

“Dude!” Matt reaches for a pillow. “Get out!” And he tosses it in his direction. 

Much to your surprise, it lands directly in his face. 

“First of all, ow! Second of all, how? And third of all,” he says, “Use protection. I’m out.”

The door falls shut as fast as it opened. 

“Sex rocks!”

You can’t hold it in anymore; you start laughing, burying your face in his chest. His entire body is hot with embarrassment. It’s cute, in a way.

“Jesus,” he says. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head. “It’s fine. It’s… I love him.”

“You love him?” 

“And I love you,” you say, rolling over and on top of him. “I love you, Matt Murdock.”

He smirks. “That’s better.”

“Shut up.”

He giggles, but your lips cut him off. 

You love him, and you’d be damned if you didn’t make use of your alone time before Foggy comes back.

Again.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama@bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[hyunjuenthusiast]

can you write a headcanon about y/n and hyunju living together or maybe hyun ju finding y/n secretly crying about her insecurities, thank u~~

Yayayyayay of course! I'm just gonna combine both of these! Thank you anon!

- Since Hyun-ju won the games, (she will NOT die in s3, I refuse) she bought her small house that she's always dreamed of.

- She loves nature, so I can imagine she'd want to live somewhere like the gif above with her significant other. Where they both can garden and take walks in the forest kinda like....

-I headcannon that she was def on a walk when the recruiter found her, she wanted to be one with nature! Anyway...

-Once you and her start living together, she's so attentive ��� she'll make sure everything is to your liking, you don't fuck with the wallpaper?! Tare it down and pick out something you like! She just wants you to feel at home in your shared space!

- One of her love languages is acts of service, so she'll mostly do all the chores and cooking, if you happen to get to it before her she feels guilty. So she makes it up to you, either by spending time with you (more than she already does) or giving you a massage.

- Yalls closet is PACKED😭 And you share clothes! Her favorite thing to ware is a pastel purple sweater (I will DIE on this hill. She has a favorite pastel purple sweater!) And she likes skirts, but sometimes doesn't feel comfortable to ware them outside of your house.

- You guys have a whole ass bedtime routine! Skincare, baths, face masks, hair masks, hair curlers, and matching pajamas. Her toothbrush is the Pink one and yours is the white!

- CUDDLES! She can't sleep without touching you in some way! Spooning is good yes, but she prefers when you sleep ON her, like a weighted blanket.

- Shes always up first. Being in the military gave her a strict sense of schedule, and she's a morning person...unlike you. She's up most of the time before the sun. She'll watch you sleep for a while before she brushes her teeth and head down to the kitchen to make tea. Yes tea. Not coffee. Tea.

- She loves the way you look when you wake up, so messy, so cute! But she hates when you refuse to let her kiss you when you have morning breath, she dgaf! She just loves kissing you :(

- Hyun-ju knows all of your favorite recipes, and she cooks them pretty regularly, she likes her sweet S/O to be well fed and happy. Her favorite thing to eat is Kimchi Stu, it's always been a staple (and she really grew a taste for it after the games when they all had dinner with Geum-ja)

-One night, after she finished the dishes from making a delicious butter chicken recipe, she heads upstairs to your shared room. Apparently quiet enough that you didn't hear her come in. She immediately softens as she sees that your laying on her side of the bed, crying.

- you practically jump out of your skin as she spoons you from behind, and you quickly wipe your tears. "What's wrong, sweetness?" Shed ask softly, gently sliding your hair away from your beck so she can place kisses there. If you say it's nothing she's softly talk you through it, asking about the day and if she did anything wrong.

- if you feel comfortable enough to talk about it....she's melting inside. You trust her enough to be vulnerable?! Marry her?! But the second you say something bad about yourself, she cuts that shit SHORT. No one will insult her baby, not even yourself.

- if it's an insecurity about your weight, bitch she's worshiping your body the whole night cause excuse tf outta her?! She knows she must have misheard you. Your body is perfect to her. You're her goddess. And she'll show you.

-(I KNOW for a fact that she is the best pussy eater idgaf.)

- if it's a different insecurity, like your height, or looks or even acne, she guides you to the mirror and explains all the reasons why you're wrong. Softly of course.

- She's just basically to good to be true, such a green flag. Love her.

I can definitely do some nsfw headcannons if yall want, just lmk!!

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 3: PHONE SEX

johnny mactavish x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.3k words

summary: on leave, johnny can't resist pestering you while you're at work. or perhaps he just can't resist you...

cw: f!reader, sexting, dirty talk, voyeurism(?), begging, masturbation (m & f), orgasm denial, inferred voyeurism. this one made me blush.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 4: APHRODISIACS ⇾

❝You look so good right now. I can’t actually see you, but I assume you look good because you always do.❞

A grin splits across your lips as you read the text that lights up your phone screen. It lays next to your keyboard on your desk, the lock screen a photo of you and Johnny on holiday in Spain. The sky brings out the blue in Johnny’s eyes– or what you can see of them. They’re almost crinkled shut as he laughs at you, having pushed the icecream you’d both been sharing into your face, creamy white gelato smeared across your nose. 

Peering over your desktop screen, you make sure no one in the office is looking as you pick your phone up. Donna has her eyes firmly on an excel spreadsheet that looks far more like an ancient language than it does data she can make sense of, and Peter has left his desk to make what you could only assume was his signature, watered down cups of tea that made you gag when you tried them. Before he could come back and catch you red handed, you tap your password into the phone, unlocking it to respond to the cheeky text message. 

It was odd to get a message like this now. Texts like these were usually reserved for when Johnny was on deployment, off in some God forsaken sandy wasteland where bullets would fly past his head and threaten to steal him from you. Instead, he was on leave, no doubt sitting on the sofa with his PS4 controller in hand, yelling commands to his makeshift squadron. You’d be home in a few hours – an office job wasn’t quite as long and treacherous as a place on the special forces. 

“Can’t last 7.5 hours without me? x” 

You smile to yourself as you hit send, turning your attention back to the work on your desktop before noticing how quickly the ‘ … ‘ speech bubble appears above the keyboard in your chat. It takes barely a couple of seconds before Soap replies. 

Bzz. 

“Go in the bathroom and take a picture of you touching your pretty pussy. Please? xoxo” 

It’s ridiculous, the way such a simple text sets your body alight. The warmth prickles in your stomach, settles between your thighs as you try to reason with yourself. Lunch was two hours away, and you had no doubt that Johnny would keep pestering you until you finally gave in to his pleadi–

Bzz. 

“Please? xoxoxoxox”

Chuckling to yourself, you lock your computer and stand from your desk. As casually as you can manage given you were soaking your panties, you inform Donna that you need a bathroom break. Making a note to pat yourself on the back for working so hard and earning her trust, you grin and offer a quiet thank you when she nods her head in dismissal. 

As you try to hurry to the bathroom without catching anyone’s attention, you can feel your phone buzzing in your hand. 

Bzz. 

Bzz. 

Bzz, bzz, bzz. 

Biting back a stupid grin, you ignore his pining text messages entirely and head straight for the call button, pressing your phone to your ear as you enter the single stall bathroom and lock the door behind you. 

It takes two trills of the phone before Johnny answers. You’re surprised– you expected him to hit the answer button halfway through the first. 

The first thing you hear is the sound of skin on skin, wet, sloppy sounds of Johnny working his cock in his hand as he groans your name down the receiver. 

“Fuuckkk. Yer a dirty girl, bonnie. Leavin’ yer desk to touc–” 

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny,” you breathe, malice lacking in your voice as you quickly pull the hem of your skirt up to your hips, leaning against the wall and burying your hand underneath the waistband of your panties. 

“But– Fuck– I wanna taste you,” Johnny continues pining for you, making your clit throb as you roll it beneath your fingertips with an airy sigh. Johnny sounds far more unhinged on the end of the phone, crackly audio punctuated with heavy, needy gasps of bliss and the slick sound of him fucking into his hand over and over.

“You sound so needy, Johnny,” you coo quietly, pinching your clit and feeling the warmth of your arousal trickle through your nerves when you hear Soap groan desperately. 

“Jesus– Yer bein’ so fuckin’ mean t’me,” he complains weakly, the sound of his thrusts getting louder and quicker over his slurred protests. “Feels so fuckin’ good, Bonnie. Wanna feel you ‘round me.”

Slowly burying your fingers inside your slick cunt, you whimper softly as you grind your clit into the heel of your palm. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough after having Johnny. His months away on deployment are torture, no technique or toys enough to bring the same bliss he consistently pulled from you each and every time you fell into bed together. Or the sofa, or the shower, or the kitchen counterto–

“Need you t’come home, Bonnie. Need you t’come home and sit on my face. Cannae wait all day for ye to come back home,” the timbre in Johnny’s voice is hoarse. It burns something sinful deep down in your gut, pleasure arcing with another circle of your clit. 

“What if I just left you there?” You muse quietly, careful not to be too loud incase anyone was passing by, “What if I clocked off after work and went for dinner with that guy on the payments team… What’s his name, Darren?” 

You’re grinning halfway through your teasing comment, hearing Johnny spluttering in complaint. 

“Bonnie–”

“Or… You could behave. Could wait for me to come home without interr-upting my work,” you hiccup, dangerously close to cumming when you felt the beginning of your orgasm zing up the base of your spine. You arch your hips away from your palm despite your clit’s throb of complaint, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing your voice to sound steady. “And when I come home, I’ll ride you while you play your game. You can be on mic, and Gaz and your friend’ll hear you struggle to keep it together. Hear how fucking wet I sound when you put your dick in me.” 

“Steamin’ fuckin’ Jesus–” Johnny wheezed, the sound of him fucking his hand hastening at your filthy offer. “Hah–”

“You can’t cum, though,” you urge him quickly, grinning at the sound of his desperate wail when the sounds suddenly stopped altogether. It was replaced by the sound of Johnny’s heaving breaths, quiet moans of complaint. You could imagine him now, sprawled out across the sofa, grey sweats around his ankles. He’d have his face buried in the crook of an elbow, cock flushed like his cheeks while bobbing up and down in protest and drooling precum onto his stomach. 

“Stay right there, just like that,” you breathe, excitement bubbling in your chest at the sound of his struggle, “Text Gaz and tell him to be online at 17:30.”

“Fuck,” Johnny slurs, and the sound sparks something so visceral in you that it threatens to spark an orgasm all on its own. “S’fuckin’ torture.” 

“I know, baby. I’ll make it worth it,” you promise him, ending the call before the sound of his keens made you cum. 

An hour or two later, sitting at your desk and vaguely focusing on the spreadsheets of information that were all beginning to blur together, your phone buzzes with another text. This time, a picture is attached. 

“Still here.” 

Johnny’s laying on the sofa, lips raw from gnawing on them in what you could only assume was an attempt to restrain himself. His cock is rock hard, bright red and angry with its neglect as it drools a wet pool of precum across his abs and down his shaft, exactly as you’d predicted. 

You’ve never been so excited for clocking off. 

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[demonsword586]

Gehenna pp headcanons! (Just nobles)

(A little warning. This gets explicit. I was trying to make it goofy but I think I might have gone a bit....off. Still I hope you enjoy it. Mind you,I never saw a pp before,only an imaginary one of my friend and they still didn't let me poke it.)

Sitri

- Okay let's start off with the size...just from what I seen of him,I think he's on the bigger side. Definetlly bigger than Satan and his king is still pissed about that from time to time.

- 20-21 cm I think

-Now he is a gentleman. He was raised in hell called Hades. Which means he was probably taught of proper higene. In other words,this man's lower region is as smooth as a baby.

-Smells like tea. He drank so much tea,his piss now smells good and his cum tastes like black tea.

-Now for the shape and color. I think his tip is on a brighter side of pink. It's suprisingly slim and elegant compared to someone like Satan who's penis looks like a meat claymore.

-Anyway good penis on a good man. Refreshing as well if you need a man with flavoured cum.

Zagan

- Hmm....Now for Zagan,I think he's a grower.

-His bulge is pretty small but if we think on how much he exercises,there's no way he isn't training his penis as well.

-Okay hear me out. He has a little workout routine for his pp. He flexes up his muscles and makes it go up and down,probably does a helicopter to warm it up.

-And it actually works! His pp has grown in lenght and girth from his training and now he can make it hard on command.

-He does smell a bit funny though. He works out and while yes,you can hide the scent of sweat on most of your body,this is one part where he can'r mask the scent because it is simply too strong.

-My point? His pp smells...of manliness!

-He tries to take care of his pubes but would prefer to keep a small white bush above the shaft. You can't get him to shave it off tho. The bush stays.

-Also I think most of his cock is the color of his skin except his tip which is just one shade lighter.

-His seed tastes like protein tho.

Paimon

- Tucks it. I can't explain why but he tucks it. This bulge? Those are his balls.

-The actual size of it is around 13 cm. A little small for a devil but still packs a punch.

-He wears very cute underwear. He knows no one will see it but it just feels nice to know he has something cute on. Wears comfier undies when he's home and done for the day.

-Likes to put glitter on it. He just thought it would be a funny little thing if he putted some of that super fine and sticky glitter on the shaft....and now he puts on a little fasion show for the other nobles every once in awhile.

-It's actually good tho. He uses those little brushes and stencils. He once even did it for Leraye who then ran around pantless to show everyone how talented Paimon is at dick decoration.

-Sometimes when he thinks he doesn't smell good,he might put some parfume on it. Don't be suprised when his pp smells like flowers or vanilla.

-Very well groomed. No hair on the balls or around the penis. The only thing that he does have...is a little heart shaped bush slightly above his pp.

-The penis itself is on a little more girthy side and when hard it leans slightly to the right. Pretty pale with a pale pink tip.

Leraye

- flat

- Anyway Leraye I think is also a grower. It may not look impressive flaccid wirh only 12 cm but when it gets HARD..oh boy. It goes from a puppy to a wolf. This thing is easily 21 cm once you wake it up.

- The shape is on a leaner side. Being slender but also long. He does hower go thicker around the base. But only at the base,like a slight knot.

- He once walked in on Zagan when he was warming up his pp with the helicopter move and then very euthusiasticlly asked Zagan to teach him.

-Next time you two were about to have a passionate night he wanted to show you a trick. Wipes it out and then swings his pp around like a disco ball while saying 'Look what I can do!😃' It ended up being a little joke between the two of you.

-Suprisingly doesn't have a headless teddy anywhere near his cock. If you ask him,maybe just our of curiousity,why he doesn't have a teddy there like on his horn he will look at you with dread. That would be just rude of him to dirty the dead body of a plushie by impaling it on his pp. He can't bring himself to go as low as Glasyal.

- He does have a bit of pubic hair. A small, dishaved,blond bush . Very pretty and suits him. Please let him keep it.

-His cock is as milky as him. A very pretty color with a flush tip.

Belial

- Normal. Questionably normal lenght. It's not too big and not too small. Just...normal. maybe falls a cm or two from perfect.

-It's also on a little skinnier side. Nice and thin.

-Still size isn't everything. It's important how he uses it....and unfortunatelly for you,he's good!

-He manages to fill in for the lack of impressivness with his experience.

-He is quite strong so with him you're able to try some more adventurous positions like the bicycle or the ballet dancer.

-Gets easily moist. His precum is very watery so his tip looks like it's always glistening.

-Very well groomed. Almost no hair down there except for a thin strip. Also the carpet maches the drapes,his pubes have red ends.

- He also has 2 frenum piercings. Astaroth recommended him to get them,saying " You will corrupt many mortals with these. "

-The dick itself is pretty pale with a darker shade of pink at the tip.

Astaroth

- OH HOLY MARY

- *cough* Sorry *cough* thighs...

-Anyway! Let's go from the size down....BIG. The snake on his bory isn't the only snake he has.

- 26 cm

- You know how snakes hide their pps in what looks like a slit? Yea Astaroth can do that.

-Normally he keeps it inside of himself,but when he gets shy or horny,it pops out and his pants suddenly look a little heavier. There was a time when Sitri didn't know about his anathomy and just saw him suddenly get a bulge. He asked him if he just shat himself.

- Once out and hard,his cock naturally curves upwards. It's just slightly thicker than a normal one but with how long it is,that may be for the best.

- He has a dydoe piercing on the head of it. He considered going for more but decided not to after how intense it felt. He does always wonder how it would feel like if his piercings got stuck inside of you. How romantic~ Two lovers tied together as one for eternity~ (Thankfully it never happens. He is nice enough to take them off if you don't like the feel of them)

- He likes to keep himself well groomed. I mean very well groomed. He waxes off everything and then puts extra virgin olive oil on top. He also puts some on his shaft from time to time to make it a bit more smooth and squishy.

[writemekpop]

Bad Girl | Jung Jaehyun

Summary: Jung Jaehyun is the first guy you’ve ever met who isn’t attracted to you. You’re determined to seduce him. 

Genre: Enemies to lovers AU

Word Count: 1.5k

As you walked into the first play rehearsal, you felt your heart stutter. 

A painfully hot guy was standing by the cast-only coffee table. He was tall, statuesque, in a long black coat and glasses. His chest strained at the fabric of his white shirt, as if his stiff body couldn’t be contained.   

"Hey, you must be Jung Jaehyun," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. Now, you just had to wait for him to start drooling - guys couldn't resist you. 

"Afternoon," Jaehyun said. He barely glanced at you. Was he gay or something? "Thank goodness you're here, we're out of tea." 

You blinked. "Sorry…I’m your co-lead? I play Margot Warner, your character's wife?" 

He stretched out his hand to shake yours, stiffly. "Apologies - I thought you were the coffee girl." 

Damn it, even his cold stare of indifference was sexy.  

"Let’s start with the argument scene," the director said. 

You and Jaehyun took centre stage. "Does my gaze make you feel nothing?" you breathed, looking into his eyes. "My touch?" You twined your fingers in his heavenly soft hair. "My kiss?" 

Standing on your tiptoes, you squeezed a kiss to his lips. They were cool as marble. 

Jaehyun stared into your eyes. Now, overcome with desire, his character was meant to tear the buttons off your shirt and pull you close, just as the lights dimmed. 

But Jaehyun stepped away from you. "Time out!" He sighed. "I just cannot understand what my character sees in hers. Why does he suddenly give in?" 

The director nodded. "He’s right. We need some chemistry here, guys! This is… PG-13 at best.” 

Jaehyun looked at you. "Listen, you may have never seduced a man, but you are going to have to pretend. That is of course, what actors do." 

You could just strangle him. Never seduced a man?  Jaehyun thought he was so much better than you, with his stupid little theatre degree from Harvard. 

You didn’t need a fancy degree to be a good actor. Plus, you could eat Harvard boys for breakfast - and you had. You’d tasted half the football team, in fact. 

Four hours later, you still hadn’t got the scene. 

The director looked like he'd had enough. "Sort out the chemistry by tomorrow, or I’m firing one of you. Which one do you think I should fire?" 

"Him!" you said, at the same time as Jaehyun snapped, 'Her!" 

You stormed up the stairs of the auditorium to get your bag from one the seats. Chemistry problem. Bullshit. That was like saying Albert Einstein had an intelligence problem. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Jaehyun said. 

A tiny shiver ran down your spine. 

"Are you really going to give up on the scene that easily?" Jaehyun taunted. "I've seen chihuahas with longer attention spans." 

"It’s tough acting against a brick wall," you shot back. 

Jaehyun shuddered. "If I have to teach you how to act, I will. Come here."

You walked over to him. 

"Margot is trying to seduce her husband. Your acting is too unidimensional!" 

"Uni-what?" you said. 

"Obvious! You're playing it too obvious," Jaehyun said. "I can see why that would be a problem for you. The whole Barbie thing usually does the trick with men, doesn't it? With your tight dresses and your… long legs. " He glanced at your body, and quickly looked away. But you’d noticed.   

You smirked. "So you think I'm hot." 

Jaehyun scoffed. "What I'm saying is, you need to play the role with your whole body. Subtle - yet hair-raising." He grabbed your script. "I'll try Margot. Watch and learn." 

Jaehyun stepped towards you. 

On the surface, nothing had changed. But Jaehyun was a different man. His face was flushed, his breaths shaky. His eyes kept flashing to your lips, like it took everything in him not to kiss you. 

"Does my gaze make you feel nothing?" he said quietly, his black eyes searching yours. "My touch?" He twined his fingers in your hair, and you couldn't hide the sound of your breath catching.

Every inch of your skin was alive.

"My kiss?" 

Jaehyun kissed you. His lips were so much gentler than you'd expected. You knew it was just acting, but Jaehyun seemed so into you it made him nervous. His whole body trembled with desire. 

You pulled back, struggling to catch your breath. That kiss was hair-raising.  

Something told you Jaehyun wasn't that good an actor. 

Jaehyun pulled back, his face flushed, a pink cloud of lipstick rimming his mouth. He was biting his plump lips, almost as if he was fighting a smile. "Clear?" 

You smiled. "You've forgotten the end of the scene."

An unreadable expression flashed over Jaehyun’s face. 

“How did it end again?” he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours. 

Your eyes fell to Jaehyun’s lips. “Margot and Lewis find the time to… reconnect.” Your fingers found the opening of Jaehyun’s shirt. “To get to know each other again.” 

Jaehyun gulped. “I thought they hated each other.” You started unbuttoning Jaehyun’s shirt, one button at a time. He shivered under your touch. “Hate and love aren’t as different as you think,” you said. 

You abandoned Jaehyun’s shirt on the seats. His body belonged in an art gallery, a sculptor’s impression of the perfect man. Only, Jaehyun was not still and cold anymore. His chest was rising and falling, his flesh hot. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m giving in,” Jaehyun said. “I still abhor you.” 

“And I still don’t give a damn what abhor means,” you said, smirking. Jaehyun hoisted your leg up against his hip. His lips met yours now, hungrily, no script to lead the way. 

On the couch in Jaehyun's big New York apartment, you smirked down at him, stroking his chest. "How was that for seducing a man?" 

"Excellent work," Jaehyun said in mock-seriousness, trying not to look ridiculous despite still panting. "Highly commendable." 

“You know…” you said, nuzzling into his chest, “if you were so into me, why did you act like a jerk?” “I’m married,” he said.

 You felt a pang of disappointment.   

“Divorced, to be precise,” Jaehyun continued. “Eight years. She was my… my first.” He spoke into your hair now. “I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt about you. I know I’m just a fling to you, but-“ “You’re not,” you said, moving to meet his eyes. He was gnawing at his plump lip, and you smoothed your finger over it, stopping him. “The way I felt last night… let’s just say I don’t get that a lot.” Your voice dropped. “Or ever.” “Are you saying I’m the best you’ve ever had?” Jaehyun said, turning you around so he was hovering over you, wearing a smug smirk.

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to earn that title…” you said, fixing your fingers in his hair. 

-- 

The next day, when you returned to rehearsal, something had changed. “You- um, you first,” Jaehyun said, gesturing to the coffee pot. 

“No, really, you,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. You had no idea how to act professionally now. Should you touch Jaehyun? Smile at him? Ignore him completely?  

You both broke out into laughter.  

When it came to that scene, however, you and Jaehyun fought the urge to rush to the end.  

"Does my gaze make you feel nothing - my touch - my kiss, blah blah blah..." you mumbled, then pulled Jaehyun towards you in a kiss that made you weak in the knees. 

A lot of the director’s throat-clearing later, Jaehyun finally prised you off him, and you stood next to each other. The spotlights were a little blurry – or was that your eyes?  

The director started a slow clap, his mouth ajar. 

"Will these two set the house on fire? I think so!" He walked towards you, lowering his voice. "But really, how did you do it? What's the secret?"

You grinned at Jaehyun. "We were just acting. That is, of course, what actors do." 

—     

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[neiptune]

best case scenario

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, friends with benefits, angst, hurt no comfort, you will not find any joy here my friends your girl is going through it and is trying to heal lmfao

Suna is staring at you.

It happens frequently as of late, the feeling of his eyes on you always teasing your spine with a telltale shudder while you pretend to occupy yourself with something entirely different. The thing is, you need things to ground you when you’re with Suna. After you’ve been with him or right before you’re about to be. Distractions to keep you sane, to prevent your heart from freeing itself from your chest cavity.

These quiet moments are not rare anymore, his sorcerous gaze a distraction too dangerous unless he speaks, voice like an enchantment freeing you from the quiescent bubble you intentionally lock yourself in. Today, the bubble is his rubik’s cube. You try very hard to remember at least part of the instructions you once looked up on the internet: think of each face as a layer, start by making a cross, don’t forget to pay attention to the color of the side center pieces, arrange the corner pieces-

“Twist the bottom layer so that one of the white corners is directly under the spot where it’s supposed to go on the top layer”, Suna’s voice is calm yet you sense the amusement it’s coated in. The snark. Ugh.

“Shut up” you grumble, stubbornly doing anything but following his instructions. The white corner piece is where it belongs but turned wrong and you have no idea how to fix that.

“Sure. I always like it better when you’re in charge anyway” he murmurs, too close. Like a cat, his chin suddenly rests on your shoulder and infuriatingly soft hair tickles your cheek as he presses a kiss behind your ear.

“I’m trying to focus here” your hold grows rigid, fingers moving layers of the cube randomly.

“And I’m just watching” he coos, voice a gentle murmur against your skin.

“You’re sabotaging. First by staring, now with this”.

“Should’ve been less pretty if you didn’t want me to stare”.

You shut your eyes for a second, let a deep breath fill your lungs with oxygen and your heart with little sparks of hope, crimson and golden and oh so fickle.

He doesn’t need to say these things. You’ve been sleeping together for enough time for him to know you’ll gladly welcome him back into your bed, day and night, no additional convincing needed. Why does he bother?

Suna is like one of those beautifully crafted russian tea dolls, only backwards. He starts as the smallest figure, blunt and perpetually unbothered, seemingly uninterested in anyone or anything. Then, if he feels safe enough to allow layers to be carefully exposed, the figure starts getting bigger: each crevice comes to light and contains way more than what one would expect from someone so stoic.

He’s a dog person, doesn’t like his morning coffee to be too hot, rewatches his favorite movies when he needs a good cry, sucks with plants, can’t get on a plane without taking an anxiolytic first. More than anything, Suna’s affection is hard to earn but runs deep. He loves his family, adores his friends. He’s in love with someone who isn’t you.

Suna is a one night stand enjoyer and doesn’t disdain dates or conversations that stretch out for days on dating apps. Worst case scenario, he’s entertained. Good case scenario, he also gets a good fuck out of it. Best case scenario, he finds relief and a friend. You suppose you’re his best case scenario.

It’s not like it was entirely unanticipated. He’s good looking, charming in his own stoic way, polite. First, it was attraction. Then, it was nothing but the cruel irony of a fate that came as doom. You just kept texting each other, taste and humor matching curiously, memes exchanged in the middle of the night and laughter muffled in pillows until he just had to ask for your number and smoothly text if he could come over one more time. Two times. A million times too many. For months, until Suna started sleeping in at your apartment and you started to fix breakfast for the both of you, until you walked his dog together, until you accidentally met one of his ex schoolmates and he introduced you calmly, by your name and as a friend. Until sleeping together wasn’t the only motive to see each other anymore, nights spent on his couch watching movies and afternoons devoted to driving around the city, exploring new bakeries and vinyl record stores.

Suna’s been honest since the beginning. Not when you started hooking up, rather when you became friends. I’m in love with someone I’m unable to forget. That’s alright, you replied. You were friends who were attracted to each other, simple as that: nothing was supposed to change.

And then, because life is a never ending sequence of sadistic developments, you ended up falling for him. Not only that: you started harboring hope, which is even worse than desire or delusion. Hope doesn’t keep you grounded. It makes you hang on every word Suna says, each unnecessary compliment, the way he sometimes takes you by the hand while strolling around shops, that one time he got so drunk you had to collect him from a bar. Then he fell asleep in your bed, arms around your body keeping you pressed against him all night. He was drunk enough to giggle (a rare occurrence), to ask you a question your mind still conjures word by word on nights you feel like you’re about to go insane, brain delirious with fabricated scenarios that could never be real. They couldn’t, right?

If we end up falling in love at last, will you stay and never leave?

For the longest time you refused to allow your heart to believe there could be some hidden meaning behind all those criptic words and uncharacteristic gestures. But then treacherous hope infiltrated your thoughts and the throb in your chest, arrangement now seemingly exclusive, dating apps no longer on his phone, ex schoolmates crowding his apartment and chatting with you like old friends. It must’ve meant something. It must mean something. And you’re sure you’ll end up going crazy if you don’t take a goddamn shot. 

“Wanna do something tomorrow? There’s a new cafe I wanted to take you to”.

Suna nods, cheek pressed to your bare shoulder.

“Sure, sounds good”.

“It’s a date, then?”.

“Yeah, I don’t have anything else planned. We can spend the day exploring”.

You pause your ministrations for a moment, then attentively place the cube on his nightstand once more.

“Can it be a real date?”.

You feel it before he can speak. It’s in the way he stiffens against your body, embedded all over his features as he straightens up to stare back. It’s in his parted lips, in the regret tucked into the corners of his mouth.

Suna just says your name and it’s mortifying, humiliating. 

“It’s okay” you take a shaky breath, nod once “forget about it. I’m so stupid”.

“No” he’s quick to interrupt “let’s talk about it”.

“Why? I already got my answer”.

“I didn’t say anything yet”.

You finally look at him, heart sinking to your stomach. It’s not like you’ve known Suna for years but you’ve known him long enough to recognize that stare, the watchfulness in his tone. You’ve already heard him turn down other women before.

“Let me say something first” you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat “I like you, Rin. I like you way more than I should and that's on me but I was starting to believe that, I don’t know, you liked me back”.

He takes your hands in his and holds them tight, conflict laced into his upset features.

“I do like you. I like you a lot”.

You smile a sad smile.

“Just not enough to date me?”.

“I would fucking love to date you. I’d be the luckiest man on earth. If I could decide to fall in love with you, if that choice belonged to me, I wouldn’t waste a single other second”.

“But you don’t see that ever happening so why waste your time, right?”.

Suna’s hold on your hands grows stronger, brows furrowed in anguish.

“I wouldn’t ever let you date someone who’s in love with someone else. You deserve so much better than that”.

As you pull your hands free from his grasp, you dazedly wonder how many times a heart can break and if it’s truly shattered if the person causing that agony doesn’t even seem to hear a sound so clear. The pain is unbearable, it makes you petty and it makes you cruel. You hope she’ll never want him. You beg that a gut-wrenching void swallows him whole. You pray that he’ll have to spend the rest of his life torturing himself, thinking about what could’ve been over and over again.

She’s not here, I am. She doesn’t want you, I do. She didn’t even remember your birthday, I memorized it a year go. Fuck you. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.

Suna tries to stop you from leaving, runs nervous hands through his disheveled hair. He doesn’t want to lose you as a friend, you’re important to him, he’s sorry. He doesn’t know what to do, wishes something could make this right.

“I would’ve made you happy” you aggressively wipe the tears running down your cheeks, humiliation still burning in the pit of your stomach.

“I would’ve wanted it to be you” he doesn’t cry, he never cries. You’re sure he’s going to miss you for a week or two, then he’ll easily fall back into his usual routine, download his apps once more, find other women to fill his time with. His friends are going to stop asking about you, your name won’t be mentioned over beer and board games anymore. His absence is always going to weigh more in your life, just as his presence.

“Good luck, Suna” his last name sounds weird, so weird the sound makes him flinch.

It’ll pass.

[talkbycolor]

me and my husband

A/N; wholesome old fashioned marriage in 1950, ITS 5AM I DIDNT SEELP ALL NITH

Pairing; "Mychael" x AFAB!Reader

CW; fluff / this is a what if MC stayed willingly on the forest, forgetting about the cat, his job and everything / reader is called wife and wears dresses but that doesnt mean its a woman (to my transmasc fellas (probably only me)) / this made me feel like inside a disney old movie / mawar, sansuyu and primrose are kinda like their babies / cute implied sex

The morning was as beautiful and warm as your heart, the sun's rays came through the windows while you combed your hair in front of the mirror, you could hear the morning song of the birds echoing from outside, the aroma of the forest was fresh, like a delicious mint tea in the morning, ready to brighten your day.

"Honey, Mychael, are you awake?" You asked as you looked at the green-tinted body next to you, the non-human boy only letting out a few muffled sounds, trying to sweep the dream away from himself.

"Good morning, firefly" Mychael said in a lazy tone, he opened two of his four eyes before leaning down to kiss your lips, morning breath was not a problem when it came to showing how much he loved you.

"I'm going to make breakfast, can you feed the girls?" Even though it was a question you were already standing up to put on a coat and head to the kitchen.

Mychael imitated you by standing up and putting on a coat, it would soon be winter and the weather was already starting to change, but that was okay! It meant you could be the little spoon when giving yourself nightly cuddles with your husband.

Ah, husband, that word sounded so nice.

Not long ago you told Mychael about what marriage was and the emotional meaning it carried, how that made you "officially" a family, so to speak.

Your wedding was in the garden, Marmar, Sunny and Rosie were present of course, Mychael walked you back to the city to get a beautiful white suit and veil, you looked so beautiful that day, Mychael made sure to repeat it every second and make you feel like the most esteemed jewel in the world.

You could still remember how your mother told you things about maturity, how sweet life would be once you found your loved one and shared a life together until death do you part.

Mychael was that, your loved one, a boy with a heart of gold who only loved you.

And to his three girls, of course, Mawar, Sansuyu and Primrose, since that day, every moment has felt so fresh and pure, like tasting paradise, swimming in clouds, sobbing stars.

And Michael? Oh, it was so adorable to see how he did anything for your comfort, you were his beloved pearl, his old-fashioned lover who loved naps by the fireplace and telling stories about his life.

If chickens could talk, they would say that you look at Mychael with radiant love in your eyes and he does the same.

While you were washing the vegetables for breakfast you heard Mychael entering back into the cabin after feeding the chickens and checking the crops. He approached humming a song, the same one he played for you for the first time on his kalimba, his hands wandering. over his hips and moved playfully from side to side, inviting you to dance with him.

"Come on sweetie, don't you want to dance with your husband for a moment?" He whispered in your ear, his hands took yours to force you to stop working and turn to look at him.

Yes, he didn't look human but that doesn't mean he wasn't attractive.

Your hand went up to caress the strange mushroom-patterned horn on his head, causing your husband to purr, it was so cute to see him so comfortable next to you, with you, with the life they had.

You left your job behind, his old home, but you wouldn't change anything you have now, a quiet and domestic life was all you needed.

Both bodies moved through the kitchen, spinning to the rhythm of Mychael's humming, the home was so cozy that the cold seemed nonexistent.

Despite still being a little numb from just waking up, you interrupted his humming to sing, it's not like you had the best voice and it was actually kind of embarrassing, but when you're in love, who doesn't do the cheesiest things? You laughed a little at how happy it made you to dance alongside your husband.

"Hey, hey, hey, lover… you don't have to be a star, hey, hey, hey, lover… I love you just the way you are" Your cheeks burned with grief but that didn't stop you from smiling, Mychael leaned in to gather his forehead with yours as he enjoyed the moment with you.

Being with you made him the happiest man in the world.

"My wife is so sweet, you make me so happy, firefly" he whispered as one pair of eyes watched you, the other pair was closed as he savored the dance with you, he pulled your hips to cling to his body even more. "My beautiful wife, my beloved is so alluring, so charming, so wonderful, stunning, breathtaking" Receiving compliments from your man was always so pleasant, if you could purr like him you surely would.

"You look so alluring wearing that flowery apron" He commented with a mischievous smile, Mychael was a bit cocky by nature and loved to tease you.

He knew you liked that.

You both cooed at each other for a long time until your stomach growled, demanding food, you couldn't ignore the routine anymore so you both got to work on breakfast.

It was such a complete love, such a full life, such a happy heart.

After having breakfast you made sure to take good care of Marmar, Sunny and Rosie, that the field was in perfect condition, and clean the cabin. Mychael had gone out to bring a few things that were missing from the home, such as more firewood, meat for dinner and some pipes to install the drainage system in the bathroom, it was almost ready.

Not every day was the same, sometimes they had time to spare and they would settle down together in front of the fireplace, go for a walk through the most relaxing areas of the forest, or cuddle the chickens.

"Honey, wifey" Your husband's voice rang, he was knitting new wool sweaters since it would soon be winter. You walked over to your husband to snuggle up next to him, the atmosphere making your eyes feel heavy.

"Tired, firefly?" Mychael asked, just watching you pout and bat your eyelashes was enough to have the green-skinned boy carrying you bridal style to the bedroom, it always worked so you didn't help but let out a malicious giggle.

Things in bed were also fun, you were both passionate and loved each other intensely.

"I love you so much, Mychael, I want you to lull me, drown me, crush me…" You asked him in a whisper despite being the only ones in the cabin, the warm atmosphere of the home protected them, You were in the dark, the sounds of the forest setting their act of love. "My husband is so good, he knows how to make me feel so good, so desired" You confessed to him with a blush on your cheeks, saying what you felt so openly (maybe even a little bold) was still something that made you nervous.

"Thank you for coming into my life, dear" The seriousness with which he said those words carried so much feeling, he gave you a sad smile, you knew that Mychael was alone before he met you… very, very alone. "You always fill my heart with so much joy, knowing that you are mine... I feel so loved and… I want to make you feel loved, I am completely devoted to you, firefly, your wishes are my commands"

You were both sighing under the sheets, exhausted by their recent act, bodies so close together that they seemed to melt into each other as they enjoyed the other's heat.

"I love you"

"I love you"

You both laughed, sharing a loving kiss before falling asleep.

♡

[manufactured-pleasantry]

Those of you reading my fic 'Hundred Day Curse' on AO3 may enjoy this snippet. It's a scene with Alfred and Bruce, set in the future of the fic that may or may not make it into future chapters. IDK yet. I like it, but it might not fit with how I eventually write the rest of the fic. Even so, it's a spoiler for them meeting again, so click read more at your own risk! (It's 1700~ words btw)

Bruce stared at Alfred as discretely as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure Alfred hadn’t noticed - he was Alfred, after all - but the man continued on as if he hadn’t so Bruce kept watching. Alfred was brewing tea in the suit he’d always worn; dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, and white gloves. His butler suit.

'Love me.'

Bruce hadn’t signed any employment documents recently so he was confident that he hadn’t rehired Alfred as the Wayne butler. Even if his parents hired Alfred for a lifetime, Bruce was rather certain that became null after Alfred had formally retired. Lifetime employments don’t tend to resume after retirement. Alfred couldn’t just rehire himself, could he? Why would he do that? Maybe Alfred was under the impression that the only capacity he could be in Wayne Manor was if he were a butler.

'Love me. Love me.'

That was silly. The kids invited Alfred over (because they couldn’t trust Bruce to take care of himself and Alfred was being shackled with him again after he finally escaped—) and Wayne manor was as much the kids’ as it was his. (Even though they didn’t really want it.) Surely Alfred knew that the kids saw him as something like a grandfather—he didn’t need to be a butler to stay here.

'Love me. Love me. Love me.'

Alfred placed a cup of tea in front of Bruce. It was doctored exactly how Bruce like it - the current Bruce, not the old man that actually enjoyed bitter things, because somehow they were still sweeter than his decrepit soul. With milk and an overabundance of sugar. An insult to proper tea but the only way Bruce was able to stomach it back when he was a child.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce murmured. Because he wasn’t in a speaking mood but manners were a must.

“Your thanks is appreciated but unnecessary, Master Bruce,” Alfred responded.

Master Bruce. He drank some more tea. For surely the milky beverage would drown this ugly emotion in his chest. It was better than Mister Wayne, he told himself.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

Alfred had not made himself his own cup of tea. He busied himself with making lunch instead. Cute little tea sandwiches, including the cucumber sandwiches that he knew Dick hated but Bruce secretly liked. Usually Alfred would have the sandwiches prepared before he served tea but Bruce wasn’t going to complain. He liked watching Alfred cook. Alfred’s movements were always so fluid, so sure, never pausing as he moved from one step to another.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

Bruce would enjoy this more if he hadn’t been basically ordered to remain by Alfred’s side while his kids busied themselves with work. Ordered, like a misbehaving child in desperate need of supervision. Bruce hadn’t been misbehaving. He’d been good. He broke zero rules and took care to ensure he didn’t break the not-really rules either. Bruce didn’t need Alfred to be his nanny again.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

“Sandwich, Master Bruce?” Alfred offered.

Bruce nodded and Alfred plated five different tea sandwiches on his plate. He didn’t thank him again because apparently his thanks was unwanted. The sandwich was good and exactly how he remembered them tasting.

“Alfred?” he inquired, after he finished his lunch. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here in the kitchen or why am I here in the manor?”

“The latter.”

“The children informed me of what happened and I thought it best if I were here to help,” Alfred answered.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

“You’re retired,” Bruce stated.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“You’re no longer a butler.”

“One does tend to disidentify with their job title once they’re retired, yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I believe I’ve already answered that, Master Bruce.”

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

“You’re being obtuse,” Bruce growled before freezing. He had no right to growl at Alfred like that. No right to lose his cool. No right to be so rude.

Alfred sighed and Bruce braced himself to be dragged into Time Out. He knew Alfred didn’t do Time Out but prepared himself anyway.

“I was informed that my ward had reverted to that of a child’s physique. It is only natural that I have returned.”

Ward? “I have not been your ward for decades.”

“You’ve been in my charge since you were born, Master Bruce.”

'LOVE ME!'

“Uncle Philip is my legal guardian.”

Alfred’s fluid movements stuttered for a moment before resuming. “I seem to recall that he entrusted you back into my care after a scant two years.”

“You were my employee.”

“... Indeed.” Alfred opened a drawer and retrieved the silverware. He began to polish them.

“Alfred, why are you here?”

“What answer are you seeking, Master Bruce?”

He fell silent and watched Alfred polish the silver. Alfred would never give him the answer he desired.

'Why won’t you love me?'

“I want the truth.”

“I’ve told you the truth.”

“Then why are you dressed like a butler?”

“I’m comfortable dressed like this.”

“So you’ve not rehired yourself?”

Alfred’s mouth twitched. “No, I have not. I’m still retired, Master Bruce.”

“Then why are you here?”

Alfred sighed. “I’m starting to suspect that you do not want me here.”

'Will you ever love me?'

“I just want to know why. You left.”

“So did you. For four years, with only a brief visit in between.”

Bruce clenched his fists. “No, you went home.”

“I retired, Master Bruce. I did not go home.”

“Why are you here?”

'How do I earn your love?'

Alfred put the silverware down and made eye contact with Bruce. “My retirement was dreadful. I had not desired it, certainly not in the way I spent it. I had rather been here instead of retiring.”

“Then why retire?”

“Because, Master Bruce, I’ve noticed over the years that whenever I went on vacation, you were more careful on patrol. You got hurt less. You ate consistently. You slept more. I figured I was enabling you by virtue of being here and assisting you in everything you desired. I lacked the willpower to simply refuse you and so I remove the temptation and I retired. I wanted to return many times but feared that I would go back to enabling you. However, considering you’ve managed to embroil yourself in greater troubles than previously thought possible, I figured my retirement made no difference and saw no need to torment myself any further.”

“... You retired for me?”

Alfred huffed. “I retired out of misplaced judgement. I was simply being a fool, deluding myself. Trust me, I shan't be doing that again any time soon.”

Tell me.

“Am I correct in assuming you wish to come out of retirement?”

“No, Master Bruce.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me what you do understand and I shall endeavour to explain what you don’t.”

“You retired for my own good but you’re back because it wasn’t working and you didn’t like retirement but you’re still retired.”

“I didn’t like retirement because it kept me away from Gotham. I’m perfectly content with being retired in Gotham.”

“But you’re performing butler duties.”

“I’m not.”

“You made me tea and sandwiches.”

“Yes.”

“I do not understand.”

Alfred sighed again and placed the silverware and cloth down. “Forgive me.”

Bruce frowned.

“You’re right. I’m being obtuse. Perhaps I’ve been obtuse all along. I thought you understood our silence, Master Bruce. I thought I understood your silence. Now I realise I’ve been wrong all along. I’m sorry.”

“... I don’t understand.”

“In truth, I haven’t been here in the manor in a butler’s capacity ever since your parents passed that fateful night. Though I performed my duties, that was more from habit and personal enjoyment than anything. I suppose I was also afraid of change when so much already had. I had convinced myself that you needed the familiarity, when the reality was that I that relied on it.”

When Bruce didn’t respond, Alfred continued.

“It was foolish of me and that has cost you and I too much. You especially. Decades of silence, unspoken thoughts left to fester uncontrollably, it has done us no good. Well, my retirement has given me much to think about and this conversation has given the final push I needed. You asked me why I have prepared you tea and sandwiches; I did so because I wanted to, because it is how I show my care, because you are my child and you hadn’t eaten yet.”

To hear it spoken so plainly made it seem so simple. It hurt that his insecurities could have been so easily settled if only he had the courage to ask. If only Alfred had the wherewithal to breach the topic. If only.

“Ask me again why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?” Bruce asked, chin wobbling with suppressed emotion.

“I am here because I am your guardian, your friend, whatever it is that I mean to you. I am here because I want to be.”

“... Because you care for me…”

“Because I love you,” Alfred corrected.

'You love me.'

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, voice thin with tears.

“I do. I always have.” Alfred dabbed away at Bruce’s face with a handkerchief.

“I have more memories of you than I do of my father, even when he was alive.”

“The late Dr Wayne was a busy man,” Alfred admitted. It was the closest Alfred would ever get to criticising his former employer.

“Mama said my first words were an attempt to say your name.”

“A fact I treasure to this day.”

“You’re the one to turn towards when I need help.”

“I’m grateful that you let me.”

“I want you to call me Bruce. Not Master Bruce.”

“Bruce.”

The call was unfamiliar in Alfred’s clipped tones but oh so beautiful. It was what he’d wanted for over thirty years. This simple address. Bruce devolved into a mess of tears and clutched onto Alfred’s lapels. Alfred responded by pulling Bruce to his chest and embracing him tightly.

“I think of you as a father,” Bruce confessed through his sobbing.

“I think of you as a son.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

It was all so simple, really.