#yeah in tagging this. even if its just me wanting my figures to come home lmao

[haunted-xander]

The rest of my Labrys figures still haven't arrived yet........ I did get an update that they've finally arrived in my country yesterday so hopefully they'll be home soon..............

[chiistarri]

imsoo normal about guys byw

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

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

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

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

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

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

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

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

➸ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

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

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

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

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for no flirting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Bros.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels like throwing up. 

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

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

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

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

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

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

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think about fucking you all the time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:34am you: do it then

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

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

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

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

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

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

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

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

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

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

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

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

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—” He stops himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

[the end]

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

➸ masterlist

taglist:

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

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

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

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

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff

@nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf @badbclub @blackunecorn @geniejunn @n0tviv

@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[haikyuuhoo]

tired eyes

pairing: gojo x reader

wc: 790

warnings: light angst, minor manga spoilers

a/n: tagging @shotorus in this bc sel your sleepy gojo thoughts made me unable to stop thinking about this idea I've wanted to write. I know this is so different to the vibes of what you were talking about but I figured you deserved the tag since this lil drabble finally made its way out of my head bc of you <3 (pls don't feel like you need to read this I'm nervy just tagging you lol)

Gojo’s keys clang loudly against the bowl on the table in the entryway, and he has half a mind to cringe at the noise, seeing as it’s so late and you’re probably asleep by now. He unzips his jacket as he drags his feet in the direction of the bedroom, heaving out a sigh and finally letting his shoulders relax a little, letting some of the tension he’s been harboring for days leave his body. He's so tired that he feels like he could fall asleep in his clothes without even crawling beneath the duvet, though he knows he should at least shower first. But that's all forgotten when he steps into the warm glow spilling into the hallway from the light on your nightstand, and he hesitates for a moment when he notices that you're not asleep—in fact, you're very much awake, like you've been waiting for him.

Your gaze darts up when you see the figure in the doorway, a smile immediately lighting up your face. “You’re home,” you say as you set aside the book you were reading and pull your headphones off.

Gojo raises an eyebrow, making his way to the edge of the bed where you rise onto your knees to meet him. “You’re still up?”

And you nod, shrugging one shoulder slightly as you bring your hands up to cup his face. “Of course. Can’t really sleep well when I’m waiting for you to come back from a mission, ya know?” You say it so casually, but it makes him frown knowing you’re referring to the nineteen agonizing days he was gone from you. You lean in to close the distance between you two, pressing your lips to his in a hungry kiss that has him grasping your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Well, as much as I wish you wouldn’t stay up just for me, I’m glad you did,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“Mmm,” is all you hum in response, pushing your fingertips underneath his blindfold. And then you kiss his nose, then his forehead, and then briefly his lips again.

And those lips fall into probably the prettiest pout you’ve ever seen. “You gonna take it off?” he asks, his voice low, and normally the tone would have you moving quickly to take everything off of him, but not tonight. Tonight, his voice is low with exhaustion, and you'd noticed the way it seemed to seep into his bones the moment he entered the room.

“No,” you say softly, and he nearly whines, “you’re tired. Your eyes—” You gently let your fingertips smooth across his eyelids over the blindfold “—I’m sure they need the rest.”

Gojo had a penchant for coming home with migraines after missions, all that time with his blindfold off to help him fight draining him and making his eyes even more sensitive than normal, and you’re sure tonight is no different.

“But I want to see you.”

The corner of your mouth tilts up. “I may not know exactly how your technique works, Satoru, but I know you can see me.”

And this time he does whine, squeezing your waist and pressing his forehead against yours. “You know it’s not the same. I wanna see you.”

You hum, stringing him along like you’re thinking about it and toying with the edge of the black fabric. “Okay,” you finally say, “just a peek, yeah?” Before he even has a chance to respond you're lifting it off and dropping it to the side. His hair falls around his face, messier than it normally is, and you gently brush it back.

Gojo blinks a couple of times to adjust his eyes to the light, and your chest tightens at the sleepy smile he gives you, at the way his eyes seem dimmer than usual. “Hi,” he whispers.

And you’re suddenly overcome with a wave of emotion that has you blinking back tears. “Hi.” You cup his face again, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. “I missed you.”

He flashes you a grin. “Aww, no need to miss me too much, you know I can’t stay away from you.”

And you both know it’s his attempt to lighten the mood, to pretend that someday there's going to be a time when you’re not waiting up for him, when you can be at peace despite knowing his responsibilities will always take him away for days at a time, when he's not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—when there's not a very real possibility that someday he may not come home to you.

So you decide that today you two will pretend, and you let your tears fall, giving him a wobbly smile. “I know.”

reblogs & comments always appreciated <3

[rafeandonlyrafe]

separate lines

words: 600 (+ three images)

warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy

“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”

“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.

“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.

“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-

“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”

you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.

you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.

“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”

“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.

“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”

“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”

“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.

“y/n!” wheezie squeals.

“wheezie, my girl!”

--

--

“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.

“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.

“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.

“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”

rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.

“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.

“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.

“love you more.”

--

--

“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to. 

most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.

“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”

“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.

“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”

“baby, ill stay on all night.”

--

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[coryndoll]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): cuteness, lore, kisses

authors note: SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE but eeee we get a clear hint that y/n lived in figure 8 back home with rafe !! also in this au, rafe and y/n are aged down to 18-19 while everyone back home in obx are still 16

++ also sorry !! if u havent been added to the tag list yet ( even though uve asked ) its mostly been because i cant tag u. idk why tumblr isnt letting me but ill try to tag in comments for anyone who cant be tagged in my posts !!

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

rafe had agreed to join you at the dining hall for breakfast alone to talk about last night. you’ve felt guilty since you read his message, but at the same time the sight of rafe going upstairs with that girl has you upset. you’re conflicted. you barely got any sleep last night because of it.

“i miss the waffles i’d have back home,” rafe was telling you as the two of you enter the dining hall and head straight for the food. “now it’s just sad.”

you look over at the waffle station that’s accompanied by a line of students. it’s usually this way and you can tell he means he doesn’t eat waffles anymore because of it.

“is there usually not a line leading to breakfast cooked by the private chef in your abundance of a home?” you ask him, and you approach the bagels to toast one.

“jealous?” rafe puzzles, to which you raise your eyebrows at.

“never that,” you say with a shake of your head, and you lean against the counter.

once you’ve collected all that you want to eat, you lead rafe to an empty table. the hall is loud and active, but you do your best to find something in a corner where there’s the least amount of people. you set your food down before settling down simultaneously.

“sorry for telling you to get out last night,” you start with, and you watch as rafe prepares his food. “i didn’t see your text ‘til after you fell asleep so . . . just wanted to talk today and hear you out.”

“thanks,” rafe mutters as he grabs his cup of juice, taking a gulp of it before placing it back where it was. he leans forward, crossing his arms on top of the table. “i’m assuming you saw that girl.”

“right.”

“that was . . . someone i talked to when i first got here,” he tells you, using his hands slightly to explain himself. “i met a girl the first day i was moving into my dorm. we talked for maybe like . . . a week, and then classes started and i just found other hobbies.”

you pick at your eggs. “do you mean hookups?” you ask him, and without having to look at him, you can tell he’s grimacing.

“we never even made things official but i guess she was hoping that to happen. haven’t given her a single thought since the first day of school but she caught me at the party,” he continues, and you lean back in your chair. “honestly when she brought me upstairs she was just yelling at me the whole time. i don’t know if you heard—”

“the music was loud rafe, no one heard you, i’m sure,” you tell him.

he gives you a slight glare for interrupting him. “whatever. i told her what she was saying was bullshit and she got mad at me,” he says. “i thought i should’ve told you ‘cause i . . . i don’t know. enzo and lara know about her but you don’t. didn’t want you to think i was just gonna have sex with some random girl.”

“you can do what you want rafe, it’s not like it’s any of my business if you choose to do something like that,” you say. he stares at you in silence and it’s a little concerning. you can’t read the expression at all. “but thanks for telling me anyway.”

“yeah,” rafe murmurs as, just on time, lorenzo and elara approach the table once they find you two there. you send them a smile as they come over, but rafe is still staring at you, guilt still glinting in his eye, “anytime.”

“how does morrison explore the concept of memory and its effects on identity in ‘beloved’?” you read a question to one of your assignments out loud. you’re sitting in rafe and lorenzo’s dorm with the two boys, all spread out across the room.

with an uneasy look on his face, rafe scratches the back of his head, “i don’t fuckin’ know.”

“maybe we should take a break,” you suggest, to which the boys agree to immediately. you lift your ipad off your lap and settle it down on the spot on the floor beside you, and you lay down. “i could go for some . . . something to drink maybe.”

“café?” lorenzo asks and you hum in approval. he checks his phone for the time, “i could dr . . . oh shit. no, i have to meet up with lara like now. i can’t make it guys. sorry.”

he gets up to grab his bag, and you look over to rafe to see if he’s still okay with going. it’s only five. you doubt he has anything else planned today.

rafe gets up from his bed. “i’ll drive,” he volunteers.

“let me go change first,” you say as you grab your slippers and leave to your dorm since it’s cold out. “bye lorenzo!”

“bye y/n!” you hear him call from his dorm as you slip into yours, throwing on a hoodie and changing your bottoms to wear some sweats, then pull your sneakers on. you put your hair up before heading outside where rafe is already waiting.

he’s fiddling with his keys when he spots you, and he points behind him, “let’s go.”

you follow rafe out of the dorm building and to the parking lot to find his car. this is your first time being inside. you slide into the passengers seat quietly and put on your seatbelt. within moments, rafe backs up out of his spot and drives you two out of the lot.

“thank you,” rafe says to the cashier after your order is complete and paid for, thanks to rafe. you turn around and head for the first table you see, but rafe seems to find more interest at the table in the very back corner against the window. you have no choice but to follow him.

you settle down in the chair and pull your phone out of your pocket, just to check any and all texts from family. you look like a fool as you keep checking the message app and your lockscreen notification for something, anything. rafe can tell you’re just trying to fill the void.

“remember that time when we were kids and they were hosting that charity gala,” rafe begins to recall, and your gaze slowly falls on him. “there was that ballroom dance and our parents paired us up.”

“you stepped on my foot,” you remind him.

“you were so serious trying to dance while hobbling around on one foot,” he returns, and the memory of 6-year-old you makes you smile softly. “the step was an accident by the way. i didn’t know my lefts from my rights . . . or— or remember the school play we did in 5th grade? where i was the prince and you wore a dress?”

you deadpan. “‘cause i was the princess,” you say, then shake your head. “i remember you forgot your line and i had to tell you what it was.”

“i thought you were so annoying for that,” rafe’s words causes you to laugh, and he grinned from ear to ear. “like i told my sister how much of a know-it-all you were. you showed me up in our play.”

“i remember summer camp,” you add on to the list of memories.

for a moment rafe has to think about it. “what?” he says, a little confused. “when?”

“the first year we went,” you say like it’s obvious. “the tug-of-war had me on edge for months.”

“oh!” rafe laughs when he realizes what you’re talking about. “yeah you were talking all that shit, then you guys lost and you accused us of cheating.”

“‘cause you probably were,” you play along with the bit that you’re still mad, and thankfully rafe sees right through it because he laughs again. “i couldn’t stand even looking at you after that ‘cause i felt so humiliated.”

he shrugs, “don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“shut up,” you say, kicking at his leg gently. he only smiles as his name gets called out at the front. you get up and follow rafe to the counter where he checks for both of your drinks, handing you yours, and then grabbing two straws.

rafe bites the paper open and pulls the straw out of it, then sticks it in his cup. “come on, i got something to show you,” he says with a wink, and he leads you outside quickly.

after driving just ten minutes and damn near finishing both of your drinks in the process, rafe leads you out to stairs that lead down.

from the car already, you can see a bunch of string fairy lights that go from tree to tree. it leads down a path to walk on but on one of the sides, past the concrete shoulder of the sidewalk there’s the ocean.

it’s getting darker and the blues from the sky and water just look so perfect.

“it’s beautiful out here,” you say with furrowed brows, surprised that you’ve never seen this before. “we’re just ten minutes from campus?”

“that’s what i said,” rafe agrees with you, and you laugh as you lean into him for a moment. your gaze falls upon the few people walking in either direction down the path, most are families though. you can’t help but think of yours.

you’re hoping to plan a day where your family comes down here though. it’s been in the works. so far it’s just been facetimes when everyone’s free but seeing them would feel so nice. they would love a place like this too, you’re sure of.

rafe has bitten down on his straw but he’s looking forward around the area as the two of you walk. “i spy with my little eye . . .” he trails off, and before he continues, you erupt in a laugh. “something green.”

your smile fades when he says this. that’s the worst color he could’ve picked for this game.

“oh, i wonder,” you say, sarcasm laced through your voice as you look around, pretending to think about it. “the grass. the trees. my drink.”

“you can’t go three times,” he tells you before you guess your fourth. you continue to walk beside him, taking in the fresh air. “it was your drink.”

“who could’ve guessed?”

“can you just shut up?”

soon it’s been an hour of roaming the city, with the both of you giggling and exploring your new home some more. you’re sitting on a park bench staring at the water when you and rafe walk all the way back to where you were before.

you’ve leaned your head against his shoulder as you chew on your straw, even though you’ve already finished your drink.

“did you and enzo meet just from being roommates?” you ask him after a bit of silence, and you lay your head on him a different way to look at him a bit. or try to. all you can see is his jaw and cheek. “is that how you met lara?”

he thinks about it for a moment. “yeah that’s how we met. i didn’t even wanna have a roommate but you know . . . and enzo’s a great guy. he’s never really left my side even when i told him to go away. he met lara at some party in august or something.”

“that’s cute,” you mumble, lowering your head to position it where it was before, and you stare at the water. “they’re really cute. when i met enzo it was like i couldn’t even tell he had a girl like that. but when i met lara for the first time it all just made sense.”

“they’re each others best friends,” he confirms, and it brings a smile on your face as you pull your straw away and gaze down at it. “do you miss home?”

“like every day,” you answer honestly. “every second of every hour of every day, probably ‘til i graduate and probably ‘til i die.”

“you’re not moving back home after college?” rafe asks you, and you shrug.

“was never really in my books to go back home. after i committed to this university i just assumed i’d . . . i don’t know, find a home here,” you say. “your sisters were pretty cool though.”

“you’re too old to be sarah or wheezie’s friend,” rafe says with a light scoff.

you scoff back and sit up, looking at him. “you’re friends with people like topper,” you tell him since he can’t be the one to talk. “isn’t he sarah’s age?”

“please,” rafe mutters as he averts his gaze elsewhere, “he was always just trying to get in my good graces ‘cause he likes her. or loves her. whatever.”

“they’re dating now, no?”

“before,” he says. “think she’s with that pogue now. john b.”

“pogue,” you repeat, scrunching your nose. “you can’t use that word anymore. we aren’t back home.”

“it describes him perfectly,” he says in an ‘as a matter of fact’ tone, before murmuring under his breath, “among other things.”

“they’re just kids. leave them be,” you say, and you lay back down to lean your head on his shoulder again, getting comfortable. “i’m really glad you got accepted into the same college as me, rafe.”

these words come in just a bit above a whisper, though he hears you perfectly, and it comes to a bit of a shock for him. he looks down at you quietly, before carefully moving his arm that has been resting on top of the bench to pull you in for a hug.

“me too,” he mumbles.

you get up again and lock eyes with the boy immediately. you can see him underneath the lamp post lights perfectly, just at the right darkness but just at the right brightness.

your gaze flickers down to his lips and back up to his eyes. out of impulse, you consider what feels like the craziest decision to make in that moment and lean in, but what surprises you is rafe takes advantage of the opportunity.

his hand comes up to hold the side of your face as he pulls you in, and your lips press together. it’s not a soft kiss, it’s not a gentle kiss. it’s a desperate, hungry kiss filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back.

you’re kissing like you’ve been starved of oxygen and the other is the only one who can provide it. his lips move urgently against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. he doesn’t care about anything else in the world at this moment, just you and this kiss.

when rafe pulls his head back to see your eyes, he feels like he fucked up. he stares right at you, and your thoughts seem to be going behind his eyes. he starts to pull away, about to apologize, “fuck, sorry y/n, i didn’t—”

“just shut up,” you murmur before grabbing his collar and pulling him back in for another kiss. he moans softly when you do, his hands gripping your waist tighter. he loves the feeling of your lips against his, it’s almost unbearable.

his second kiss is just as desperate as the first, but this time he tries to slow it down a bit. he breaks the kiss to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. “y/n . . .” he begins, his voice shaky. “you have no idea long how i’ve been wanting to do that.”

“kept me waiting long enough,” you say as you stare deep into his eyes with a soft smile, and rafe shakes his head as he grabs your jaw and guides you to his lips again.

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa @lifeofleasaasa @ilyrafe @mkiverd @wxn-drlst @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @thepopcultureaddict @mounthings @mfcouture @ijustwanttoreadlols @karmasloverrr @lilithblackkk @drewsdirtyslut @rafesno1bae

[irisintheafterglow]

Lavender Haze (pro!bakugo katsuki x you)

summary: your relationship with dynamight had just gone public, and you need a little verbal affirmation that you two will make it out okay

word count: 1k

cw/tags: very mild angst/comfort, mostly just affectionate katsuki fluff, swearing/profanity wouldn't be a bakugo fic without it, suggestive if you squint, reader is also a pro hero, pet names (babe, stupid, dumbass)

note: i love writing stubborn katsuki banter with an equally stubborn reader who's just used to his antics. domestic katsuki just makes me adhfsjfdfjsgjk, yk? enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!!

You heard the key turn in the door down the hallway and finally put down your phone after scrolling through Twitter for hours. They’d been particularly ruthless today, ripping into your relationship and theorizing that he didn’t even love you. The room was dark and the thought of faking sleep crossed your mind, but you knew he’d sense you were still awake. So, you wait for him to slip off his gauntlets and tug off his boots and find you in your shared bedroom. 

“Babe?”

“Here, Kats.” He lays down beside you, and you’re so mentally exhausted that you don’t even scold him for slipping into bed dirty from patrol. You let him pull you into his arms and inhale deeply against his chest.

“Why are you still awake?”

“Was waiting for you to come home.”

“Bullshit. You fall asleep hours before I’m off shift.”

“Maybe tonight’s just different, then.”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s different?” 

“Do I need to?”

“Yeah, you’re starting to worry me.” 

“I’m just… scared.” His body tenses around you, scarlet eyes searching your face with concern. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“Nothing happened, not yet, at least. I’m just…”

He thinks for a moment, and you can’t help but stare in wonder at how beautiful he is when the gears in his brain turn. “They’re getting to you again.”

“How did you know?” Of course, he figured it out; he always seemed to be able to know exactly what you were thinking and verbalize it in a way that you couldn’t. 

“Because I love you, stupid, and I know your mind like it was my own.”

“They just, they think I’m using you, Kats, or that I don’t love you, or that this is all a PR stunt by my agency–” Your voice starts to shake on its own, and you push back against the frustration welling up in your eyes. 

“Your manager isn’t smart enough to do that.” A finger comes down to brush a stray hair from your face as you glare up at him. He’d been wanting you to hire a new manager for months or simply merge with his agency, but you wanted the social media firestorm to die down first before any big public moves. 

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

“What? You know I’m right.”

“Not the point.”

“You need to stop reading through Twitter, baby. You really trust some assholes on the Internet over the man of your dreams?” He smirks down at you and draws spirals on your shoulder with his fingers, leaving tingling sensations in their wake. He knew just how to make you feel better, and it was one of your favorite things about him. The way he balanced crude humor with reassurances that you needed and small acts of affection distracted your brain from spiraling any further.  

“Okay, man of my dreams, I get it. Could you just say it?” He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip absentmindedly. 

“Say what?”

“You know, the thing. Please.”

“Oh, right.” Understanding washed over his face, and you caught a little bit of underlying impatience that made you feel a little guilty for asking. 

“Did you forget?”

“Of course not. I just wish I didn’t have to keep telling you that I’m not going to leave you because of some fuckfaces on the Internet making up rumors. I trust you, you trust me, and no one else’s bullshit matters.” He shrugs a toned shoulder and returns to dragging his fingers over your body, running his hands in the creases and dips that he’s memorized on you. 

You roll your eyes. His encouragement was effective, but you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the expletives thrown into this round of verbal affirmation. “That’s more aggressive than last time, Kats.”

“It’s an upgrade,” he grins, gently squeezing the flesh around your hips. He got more handsy when he was deliriously satisfied, not that you were complaining. “Next time you get anxious that I’d do something stupid like break up with you, I’m gonna tell Shoto to buy Twitter and ban you from it.” 

“Bold of you to assume he would listen to anything you say.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know where he and his entire family lives,” he whispers innocently, pressing his lips to your forehead. His fingers brush up and down the sides of your neck and shoulders, sending chills running through your limbs. 

“Kats–”

“I’m kidding…” He drawls and flashes a cruel grin. “Kinda.” 

“Okay, high school asshole Katsuki, get out of my bed and shower. You’re all sweaty and sticky and yuck.” You push against his chest to no avail. 

He pouts, grabbing hold of your wrists and having you pinned against your bed in one fluid motion. “I thought you loved it when I was sweaty and sticky and yuck.” Strands of blonde hair fall onto his forehead and brush against yours as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. He’d never looked so beautiful.

“Not when I’m trying to sleep.”

He pulls back abruptly, looking at you skeptically. “You weren’t trying to sleep shit, babe.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does spiraling over idiots on a stupid fucking bird app.” Fortunately, your body’s awareness of Katsuki’s hands had put the hate tweets you read in the furthest corner of your mind.

“You made your point, like, three points ago.”

His head dips back down to kiss a trail down your collarbone. “Yeah, but sometimes your dumb ass doesn’t listen.”

“You can’t resist this dumb ass.”

He bites down gently where your shoulder meets your neck and you jump, his chuckle buzzing against your skin. “Nope. It’s a plague.” Any more of his body on yours was set to be a disaster, so you attempt to halt his advances before you’re further entangled with each other. 

“Take a shower, Kats.”

He leaves one more chaste kiss on your nose. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You sigh and wait for him to release your wrists, but he gives you a pointed look like you’d responded incorrectly. 

“I. Love. You.” God, he’s such a brat. 

You press a kiss up to his forehead and he closes his eyes in contentment. “I love you more.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[mysouleaten]

ITS GOING TO GET COLD..

PLATONIC! izana & kakucho x PARENTAL! reader

summary ... izana and kakucho make a promise to their mother, promising to come back home safe and well... one of them didn't get to fulfill that promise

warnings ... angst, hurt/no comfort, izana being soft before his death, death, author's second time writing angst.. aaand its not proofread

three shots.

three shots to the chest izana kurokawa took for kakucho

blood was pushed out of his mouth as it leaked down his chin and down his throat

but even while izana was slowly dying from blood loss he moved his eyes to look at kakucho who was leaning over his body

"im..sorry kakucho.. but- ..but I don't think ill make it home.. for mom"

kakucho's eyes widened with tears and izana calling their adoptive parent 'mom' for the first time... he just wished it was under better circumstances

he izana coughs "can..you make it home for me?.. tell ma I love her.. that I've always loved her.."

"izana- yes- please stop taking.. you can tell her that yourself!" kakucho stumbles over his words

"hey..you two, come back home ok? promise me you'll only come back with few injuries" [name] their legal adoptive parent asked with a quiet voice

she stood by the front door of izana's and kakucho's childhood house

izana looked over his shoulder and smiled "don't worry, we'll be fine, no one is going to beat us"

kakucho nodded, agreeing with izana

they both gave their parent a warm hug izana departed to his bike first while kakucho stayed behind

"kakucho, please keep each other safe, ok? I don't want any calls from the hospital!" she chuckles

kakucho just laughs a little "don't worry mom, we promised, didn't we? we'll be back home soon!"

kakucho turned around to leave the porch and got on his own motorbike and waved to his mother while izana smiled softly at her before they drove off together

"oh please be safe.. I love you two so much I couldn't bear losing you two.."

izana looks up at mikey "my mother.. real mother, she's home alone.., can... you keep her safe for me alongside kakucho..?"

mikey stood silent and kakucho's tears started to build up more "izana! don't say that! we promised we'd come home together...i promised her t-that!.."

"y..yeah we did, huh?.. shes probably already made lunch for us..

but it's going to get cold.."

kakucho couldn't bring himself to knock on the door

he stood there for what seems like forever.. the words that izana spoke replaying in his mind like a broken record..

"she made lunch for us.."

"it's going to.. get cold"

"tell..mom I love her form.. me"

"..keep her safe"

"don't let her cry..."

don't let her cry? how was he going to do that? he knew the minute he uttered the words of izana's death.. she was going to break down

he finnly opened the front door and entered the home

it was dark. he closed the door behind him and looked around, on the left side of the room the kitchen table had lunch that their mother made for them but it got...cold

she probably was waiting for so long for them to get back.. like they always did.. together

he then looked to the right and saw the TV on, and a figure peacefully sleeping on the couch

he slowly walked around the couch, kakucho stood in front of his parent and gently shook her shoulder and she woke up

slowly blinking away the sleep and looking up at kakucho with a hopeful smile but then it turned into a light frown and she looked around

she was looking for her oldest son..

"wheres.. izana?"

kakucho sucked in a sharp breath "h-he didn't make it mom...."

nothing could have prepared him for the violent sob that left his and izana's mother that night..

taglist ... @coryfromtokyo

hahah im still really rusty at writing angst :)

I SWEAR IF THIS DOESN'T SHOW UP IN THE TAGS ILL GO NUTS

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: happy sunday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stop in the openness of the library. Just ahead is the long counter that arcs in front of the windows that look into an office space lined with desks. There are monitors facing away from you, those meant for the librarians and their assistants, and along the far edge, a sign denotes the stations meant for self-checkout.  

You always thought of coming down but never found the energy. Besides, you wouldn’t want to borrow books that could be ruined at home. Beyond that, venturing into public has never been a simple task for you. You go for biweekly trips to spend the food credits on groceries and that’s about it. 

Your eyes skitter around frantically. You hear the babble of children in the kids’ section with its bright colourful chairs and couches and a table of toys for the tots. You quickly surpass it and wander into the stretch of tables and chairs by the reference section. You put your bag down on a chair and sit next to it, folding your hands on the table then pulling them back into your lap. 

You look over at the wall of tall windows that look out into a narrow strip of foliage. The brick walls are covered in thickly woven vines and birds flit in and out of the leaves. It’s pretty. You feel entirely out of place here. 

You check the time on your digital watch. Almost ten. You can at least tick the early box, even though you might fall short of everything else.  

You twiddle your fingers and keep your head down. Your toes tap in your sneakers and you fidget as the time ticks on. What if he doesn’t come? What if you’re not worth it? Should you check your email? 

As you reach your bag, a figure approaches the table from the other side. You retract your arm and peer up at the man as he sets a leather briefcase on the wooden surface. Professor Smith nods at you and greets you by name. You feel like you should stand to greet him. 

He offers his hand as you struggle to get to your feet. You tremble as you hesitantly accept the gesture. You don’t touch people and they certainly don’t touch you. It’s only a handshake. His grasp is firm and his skin slightly rough. Your hand feels weak and tiny in his confident grip. 

He let you go as your fingers tingle, “good morning.” 

“Morning, Professor, er, sir,” you stutter dumbly. 

“Please,” he pulls out the chair on his side and you lower yourself back to the seat. “How are you today?” 

“Mm, okay...” you swallow dryly, “er... you?” 

You almost cringe. It must be rude to forget that. You’re not so use to interaction and you’re certain it shows. 

You cross your arms over the table as his cheeks twitch and he smooths back his blond hair, “good, good,” he answers in his edged accent, “lovely sunshine today.” 

“Erm, yeah, uh...” you don’t know what to say or do. 

You close your eyes and reproach yourself. You must look totally lost. You drag your bag into your lap and unzip it. You take out your notebook and fish around for the chewed bic pen. You flip back the cover and flutter the pages, looking for a blank one. Your conscious of every single move you make as you feel his gaze on you. 

“Right, so, I suppose you’re eager to be done with it,” he begins, “was their particular activities you found challenging? Maybe a formula in particular--” 

“No, I... I think I got it but...” you twirl the pen and try to look at him. You get as far as the knot of his tie, the rest of it tucked beneath a sweater that seems rather much given the weather. “I just... fell behind. I’m s-sorry.” 

“Well, that’s fine. It happens. So, if you can do the work, I can wait on it,” he assures you. “I’m not here to reprimands, that hardly fruitful for either of us. I want us to come to an accord. Let agree on a course of action.” 

“Oh, alright,” you answer stuntedly, “well, I guess if I start Coursebook Four tonight I could have it done by—by Monday?” 

“That’s a good first step,” he encourages as he pushes his glasses up his nose, drawing your eyes up to his. They are icy blue but not cold. “I like it. Setting your own goals. I find for some, it’s more effective than tossing a bunch of dates at them.” 

“Thanks, professor, I... I really appreciate you... doing this,” you can’t help the shame that seeps into your voice. He pities you, you know it. You can see it in his face so you put your focus back to the table. 

“Mm, given your...situation I think it’s understandable,” he says, “not easy to work in a racket.” 

“Professor,” you put your hand to your forehead, dipping your head to hide behind it. 

“Very concerning to hear,” he says, “and to think of a young woman in that environment.” 

“Just my mom and her boyfriend. They don’t bother me.” 

“Seems they do with all that yelling.” 

“I-- I guess but—I—I need to use the bathroom,” you stand up and sway, “sorry.” 

"As you will," he allows lightly, "I'll be here." 

He sits back and checks his watch. It's much nicer than your plastic casio. You nod and sidle out from between the chair and the table. You shuffle away, only looking for a sign as you come out next to the front counter. You have to turn back to get to the bathrooms, your clueless meandering adding to the heat in your cheeks. 

You lock yourself in a stall and try to muster the strength to come back out. Why did you come here? You feel so much worse sitting across from that man. Look at him. How could he not judge you?  

You take and breath and try to shake away the anxiety. Someone else comes in and you make yourself leave. You wash your hands and steel yourself for another delve into the general public. You emerge and stop before the room of tables. 

Professor Smith sits patiently across from your things. You round the table and close your notebook, sliding the pen back in the spiral. You chew your lip and slide it into your bag. 

“I will have Assignment Four done like I said,” you speak barely above a whisper. 

“Sounds great,” he stands as well, “I must thank you for going to the trouble of meeting me here today. I do find virtual appointments hardly have the same... effect. Might I buy you a coffee for the inconvenience?” 

“A coffee? I... no, that’s--” 

“Or a tea?” He suggests. 

“Professor, um, no, that’s okay.” 

“I insist,” he says, “I saw a cafe on my way in. Just on the corner.” 

“I didn’t... bring my wallet.” 

“As I said, my treat,” he intones, “don’t worry, we won’t be talking business.” 

“Erm,” you sniff and slant your mouth one way then the other, “well, I...” you hate to keep saying no, it’s starting to feel rude. “Sure, er, okay, thanks.” 

“My pleasure,” he gestures you ahead of him, “ladies first.” 

You sling your bag on your shoulder and step past the table. You cross the library floor and tread by the curved counter. As you come to the doors, he quickly gets ahead of you and pushes the door open, holding it for you. He’s polite, almost to a stifling degree. 

The sunshine you casts a yellow haze, warming the dark fabric of your hoodie. You descend the steps and he catches up to you, keeping pace as he stays at your side. He points you to the left, “this way.” 

You obey and feel the brush of his sleeve against yours. Pedestrians across the street seem to stare at you. No doubt they can see how you don’t belong with that man. Him in his prim outfit; his sweater pulled over a tidy collared-shirt and tie, and his glasses denoting and air of professionality. But you, in your wrinkled hoodie and jeans, must make a paltry contrast to the man. 

“Right ahead,” he nudges the back of your arm gently before you can veer in the wrong direction, “would you like to sit outside? It’s beautiful out and I see a free table.” 

“Er, if you like,” you shrug and cross your arms, “you really don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he assures as you come up to the patio area before the corner cafe, “please, you find a table and I’ll go inside. What would you like?” 

You stop just beside the short wooden fencing that block off the seating area. Tea is usually cheaper. You’d rather not stretch his pity past a few dollars. 

“Black tea.” 

“Milk?” He asks. 

“No, thanks.” 

“Sugar?” He arches a brow. 

“Just tea.” 

“Ah, got it,” he dips his chin, “I will return. Please, have a seat.” 

He turns on his heel and as he struts up to the front door, you search the patio. You find a table for two near the wall. You won’t be centre stage there. You put your bag under the chair and sit with your back to the street. 

What are you doing? You could leave now. You could just go home. You came to talk about your schoolwork. So why are you here getting tea with this man? You need to go home and get started on it. You hang your head and lean back in the chair, arms folded as you gnaw your chapped lip. 

The voices of the patrons around you buzz in the air. You catch snippets of conversations; excitement over a date they just had, or complaints about their work life, and even the low murmurs of intimate partners cooing at each other. Life is all around you, happening to other people but you remain in your corner. 

You wince as Professor Smith returns. He places a porcelain cup before you. One you can’t just run off with. He sits across from you as you look up. 

“Thank you, sir,” you utter as you sit up. 

“Not at all,” he blows over his mug, a dark coffee with a thin layer of foam around the sides. You can smell it. “I do get curious,” he sets the steaming cup own, “about my students. Teaching from a screen can be rather disconnecting. I meet all sorts in my work but you... I didn’t see your name in the introductory forum.” 

You look evasively at the brick wall. You untangle your arms and pinch the tag of the tea bag dangling over the brim. You shrug. 

“I must’ve forgot to post.” 

“Ah, never to worry, I won’t dock marks for it,” he kids, “so, you live with your mother.” 

You nod and your eyes drop to the table. 

“She must be proud.” 

You tear the tag from the string and it recoils and falls into the tea. 

“Proud?” 

“Yes, well, you’re going to school. It’s not nothing.” 

“Yeah, but...” it goes without saying; you’re not doing very well. 

“Like I said, you’ve shown you can do the work, so do it,” he intones. 

“I know.” 

“What made you choose this program?” 

“I don’t... know.” 

“Well, you seem to have a natural affinity for numbers. Did anyone ever mention it?” 

“I guess,” you lift the cup by the handle and blow over the top. You cautiously taste it and burn yourself nonetheless. You put it back down and cover your singed lip, the tip of your tongue pulsing. 

“You alright?” He asks. 

You nod furiously. 

“Mm, well, I must admit, I am rather bad at subterfuge. This is a bad ploy,” he sits back, one hand on the table as he taps his index against his thumb, “I’d rather you take your time with the tea and not only for the sake of your tongue. I... hoped to keep you busy so that you needn’t return home so quickly. To that.” 

“That?” 

“What I overheard,” he says. 

“Oh, I told you--” 

“It may be usual for you but it doesn’t make it any safer,” he interjects. “I don’t know if you saw the email but I sent some resource you might look into. Grants. Some for housing. You could extricate yourself. You should.” 

You’re breathless. It’s humiliating. How pathetic you must be in his eyes. 

“I didn’t come to embarrass you,” he leans forward and slides his hand across the table. 

You turn your head and gulp, the lump in your throat suffocating. Your nose tingles as your face scalds. You shudder and push your shoulders up. 

“You’re a bright young woman, I only thought I might...” he struggles to find words, “well, I did not begin as a professor. I did not even start as some high and above pupil. No, I was a miserable lad. Barely made it through my first year but... all I’m saying is I might not have been where you are, but I get it.” 

Your lashes flutter as you fight back tears. You’re so tired of crying. You’re exhausted of feeling this way. No matter what you do or where you are, you just feel like you don’t belong. 

You look at your watch, “I’ll have to go soon.” You won’t even come up with a lie. You need to go before you break down completely. 

He sighs, “right.” 

[cur-sedd]

𝘌𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

here is a late christmas present. uhm ngl i was half alive writing this so if it doesnt make sense im sorry ㅠㅠ uhmm! yeah i tried smth new with the whole getting eaten out and fingering shit saurr bare with me 😭 idk if i wanna do vampire!txt or some soobie smut next rahh. i'll figure it out. MDNI!! NSFW content below ╰┈➤ hard dom (?) hyuka x fem!reader, hair tugging, getting eaten out-ovbi, fingering (bc i have an obsession), hints at over stimulation, begging, edging, not proof read, i think thats it, lmk if i missed anything

You gripped Hyuka’s hair as he made laps on your cunt. His perfect nose, stimulating your clit in ways you couldn't do yourself. You legs shook as you felt another orgasm make its way. You whine softly, pulling his hair more. Once you did so, Hyuka pulled his head back. “Baby, i told you to stop pulling my hair.” His voice echoed through the heated room as you huffed slightly. Great. Its been the third time Kai has done this to you. Its not your fault you cant keep your hands to yourself. You took your legs off of your boyfriend’s shoulders with a small click of your tongue. Kai continued to hold your legs up, admiring the mess he has made out of you.

You let out a sigh opening you mouth to counter back only for strings of curses to come right out. Hyuka harshly pumped his fingers in and out of your swollen cunt as you cried out. Your body shook slightly as you bit your lower lip, trying to stifle those angelic sounds “Let it out baby or i’ll stop.” Kai spat out softly, His hands started to slow down so you quickly spoke, brows pinched up slightly. “No- no please dont- mmph, dont stop.” You mumbled. A small smirk appeared on Hyuka's lips. It was strange how deceiving he was. Its like he has two different sides. He is so sweet, affectionate with you when he is around others. Going as far to play with your clothes, even pepper small kisses on your neck. But when he is the one begging you to go home with him because he got hard and needs you to satisfy him, he just completely switches up! Manhandling you, turning and throwing you around when he wants. Holding your arm up when he fucks you senseless.

The pace of Kai’s fingers only went quicker the louder you moaned. Your back arched as you jumbled your words of  “right there” “so good” and “gonna cum” along with a bunch of curses. You moved your body back slightly but Hyuka quickly pulled you back onto his fingers. “ ‘s too much baby-” You grunted softly, squeezing your eyes shut as he went at an unforgiving pace. You could barely even speak at this point with the amount of pleasure and overstimulation literally ruining you. Kai didnt respond to your words as he abused your cunt. You went from cursing to begging him to let you cum just once more like you didnt cum a few moments ago. And finally, he agreed. You slowly came down from your high as you chested heaved in and out heavily. Your shirt lifted right about your breasts from Kai’s earlier teasing. Suddenly, you felt a warm tongue clean you up at your core. You slowly shook your head with a slight furrow to your brows, giving Kai a playful glare. “Mm? It was only prep anyways baby! We haven't even started yet.” Kai chuckled softly, lifting his head from in between your legs, flashing his iconic smile.

Were you tired? Hell yes, but where you gonna stop him from making you feel so right? Nuh uh. He needed you so bad, and he knows you need him too. ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა

a/n: this was inspired by the answer the one and only @dearlyjun (sorry for the tag 😭) gave me when i sent her an ask a bit ago so hope yall like it 💞

[drivinmeinsane]

Snow ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Four ※ Sierra Six / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: You expected a quiet night in, but that changes when you follow a trail into the trees.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Pre-relationship, Treatment of injuries, Caretaking

※ Word count: 1920

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Of course you notice that the log basket by the fireplace is empty when you’re already sprawled out on the couch, remote in hand, Christmas tree plugged in, and fully prepared to settle in for the night. You grumble as you get up and pull on your boots and your coat. Grabbing your flashlight, you open the back door and step out into the cold. You’re nearly to the shed when the beam of light picks up something unusual in its field. You come to a complete stop and examine the ground with a growing sense of horror.

The snow is churned up, something had clearly come through here recently enough. Probably within the past hour or so while you had been snugly tucked into your remotely located home. You can make out footprints. Human, likely belonging to a tall male judging from the size and the distance apart. They’re messy like the maker had been stumbling along. Your flashlight picks up dark blotches on the white. Blood. You look up, frantically scanning your surroundings for a sign of who might have left this path across your yard. There’s nothing other than the trail that leads off into the woods. 

You silently backtrack to your home to grab the hunting rifle leaning against the wall in the coat closet, an assurance for living out in the middle of nowhere in the wooded hills. Feeling like a side character in a cheaply stereotypical horror movie, you go back outside to follow the trail. Flashlight off now that you’re in pursuit. You desperately want to nope out of the situation, but there is no one else around for miles to handle this. You push follow the path into the thicket. There’s a shape huddled at the base of a tree not far into the brush. 

The moonlight is blocked by the branches, so you resignedly turn your flashlight on to illuminate the figure. It reveals a man dressed in bloodstained street clothes. He’s slumped forward so you can’t see his face, but his jeans are covered in a mixture of blood and snow. Some of the blood is glossy, fresh, but most of it is frozen. He is only wearing a thin windbreaker for warmth. There’s a gun resting on his lap. His fingers are slack around it, not even holding onto the weapon. They look waxy and stiff. Only his labored breathing lets you know that he’s alive. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t respond to your slightly hesitant yell so you nudge his foot with the tip of your boot and try again, louder. “Hey!”

No movement, or any awareness of you at all. He just continues breathing like each exhale might be his last. Emergency services are at least forty-five minutes away, if they are even able to get through the snow at all tonight. 

Gritting your teeth, you inch forward to kick the man’s outstretched leg. “Hey!”

That finally gets a response. The stranger groans and lifts his head up. He squints against the bright light you have pointed at his face and raises a shaky hand to block it. You shift so you’re pointing the rifle at him in case he gets it in his head to make any sudden movements. 

“Put your other hand up too,” you order him. He complies, leaving the handgun on his lap. You can barely hear your voice over the pounding of your own heart. “What are you doing out here? You’re on my land.”

His mouth works a couple of times before he’s able to speak. When he does, his voice is hoarse. “Sorry. I got turned around.”

“Yeah? Why are you so messed up if you just ‘got turned around’?”

“Had to jump out of a moving car. The people I was with didn’t appreciate that much.” He sounds so serious that you raise your eyebrows in disbelief. 

“Are you going to be trouble for me?”

“Probably not.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.” His answer is immediate, out of his mouth before your question has the chance to linger in the air.

Against your better judgment, you take his word at face value and tuck your rifle under your arm, pointed away at him. His handgun gets stowed in your waistband before you help him to his feet and sling his arm over your shoulder. The arm not occupied by your own gun gets wrapped around him. Your knees nearly buckle under the weight of him. It’s slow going to your back door. He seems to be intermittently losing consciousness. On the second of the three steps leading to the small porch, his foot drags and slips out from under him. He nearly takes the both of you down. 

“C’mon,” you grit out and bodily haul him up the final stair.

The stranger slumps in your hold as you get the door open and all but drag him into your kitchen. He comes to enough to stagger through to the living room. You more or less drop him onto the couch. He sags limply into the cushions like a puppet with its strings severed.

“Can I call for medical help or do you need me to try to do a patch job?”

“Please don’t call anyone. I’ll be fine.”

You exhale hard, nerves jangling. Patch job it is. “Sit tight.” 

Leaving him alone and dripping melting snow all over your couch, you gather a couple towels and the medical kit that you keep well stocked for emergencies. He is exactly as you left him when you come back in the room laden down like a pack pony. You put the supplies on the seat next to him. 

“What’s your name?”

“Six.”

You want to comment on how that’s obviously not a real name, but you bite your tongue and swallow the words down. It’s not your business. Keeping him from dying on your couch is your business. 

Without any further preamble, you wrestle him out of his wet clothing, leaving him in just the underwear you don’t dare to touch. Once he is stripped naked, you start examining his body to find the source of the blood. You find it immediately, but your eyes can’t help but take in the rest of him. Six, as he calls himself, is muscular, but you knew that from how heavy he was over your shoulder and in the circle of his arm, but it’s the expanse of his injuries that is more notable. It’s unsettling. He’s marked with old scars and fresher ones that are still uncomfortably raw and pink. You don’t think you want to know what this strange man does for a living. It looks as though several people have tried to kill him over the years, admittedly with limited success if his presence in your home is any indication.

Ignoring the rest of his body, you focus on the sizable gash in his size. A bullet must have burned its way across his side at a close range judging from the singeing around the edges of the wound. It’s still sluggishly bleeding, but it’s thankfully shallow enough to not be fatal in the short term. You wet a piece of gauze with disinfectant and press it against the wound. Six does not so much as flinch. He looks resigned to the pain when you glance at his face to gauge his reaction. You pinch the sides of the injury together and secure it with several meticulously placed butterfly bandages to keep it closed. Holding a thick gauze pad on the wound with your hand, you wind vet wrap around his abdomen to hold it in place. It should serve to put pressure on it to restrict the chance of bleeding and further trauma to the sight.

You’re relieved to discover that the rest of his injuries are minor in comparison. He has a slightly sprained wrist that you stabilize with more vet wrap. Unfortunately, he is covered in scrapes and abrasions. All you can do for them is to put a large band-aid on the worst of the road rash. It’s next to a tattoo that says something in Greek. Your stranger appears to be more well-versed in literature than you might have expected, not just a thug despite the obviously prison quality tattoos. 

Injuries aside, the man feels concerningly cold due to the exposure to the freezing temperatures and not insignificant blood loss. You realize that if you had been more prepared and hadn’t needed to restock your log barrel, he would have likely succumbed to the elements right outside of your home. The thought of finding his body in the morning makes you shiver reflexively. You push that line of thinking aside and pick up one of the towels. You hold it in both hands and rub his extremities in between your cloth covered palms, trying to encourage circulation back into his body. It works. His fingers lose their waxy appearance and his body temperature seems to level back out. He starts shivering, a good sign that means there is no more need to worry about hypothermia. You take the fresher towel and dry his sodden hair before wiping his torso clean. His shivering gradually subsides as you work. He’s dozing off, breath whistling through his nose. Some of the tension has left his face. 

Once you’re finished with him, you finally fetch the logs from the shed. On your way, you take the time to disturb the tracks. Even though it’s still snowing, you do not want to take the chance that they will be discernible by a hostile party. Knowing that you will be cleaning up anyway after you put your unexpected guest to bed, you don’t take any great pains to avoid tracking more snow into the house. 

You drop your armful of logs into the basket and put a couple of them into the fireplace. They should last a while. You approach the couch, catching Six awake but not alert. He’s staring blankly at your Christmas tree, seemingly captivated by it. His eyes redirect unsteadily to you when you’re close enough to touch him. The man squints like he’s having a hard time seeing through his exhaustion.

“You an angel?”

You almost laugh, but he sounds so tired and so sincere. “No,” you tell him gently. He mumbles something unintelligible in response.

Crouching at his side, you take hold of his legs and guide him until he’s laying down, curled on his non-injured side on the cushions. Six manages to lift his head enough for you to shove a decorative pillow under it. His eyes slip closed when you cover him with the throw blankets that you always keep in the living room. You practically tuck him in. Just before you withdraw, you impulsively smooth his hair back and press a kiss to his forehead. Something in your heart tells you that he could use the comforting gesture. 

You pull away, satisfied that he’ll make it through the night and that you will be able to get some food into him in the morning. Just as you turn to leave to start cleaning up the mess that has been left in the wake of his arrival, you’re brought to a halt. Six’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist just long enough to make you pause before he lets go. 

“Thank you,” he says, muffled against the pillow.

Your face softens and you feel the corners of your lips rise in a smile. “You’re welcome."

[notiddygothgf]

4. Taste Like Nicotine

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Go back to Himeno. ❞ ❝ No. That's not what you want. ❞

★ c.w.: suggestive themes, drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HELLO AGAIN MY POOKIE DOOKIES!! IM BACK AGAIN. bc i have nothing better to do atm and i wanted to give yall a lil sum sum before i moved away to uni. please excuse the pacing of this chapter -- this fanfic was supposed to be a oneshot and uh... now its 160 pages in google docs LMFAOOA.. things get spicy in this chapterrr! so yeah anyway, you know the drill, keep me entertained -- keep your funny little comments coming, I absolutely love reading them. You guys motivate me to keep going! Love yall

★ w.c.;4.1k

shameless ; chapter index

THE OFFICE WAS QUIET, the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds that broke the silence. You were alone, finishing up some last-minute paperwork after hours. The mission had gone surprisingly well—no casualties, a rare feat in your line of work. The team had even managed to kill a large Devil containing a piece of Gun Devil Flesh, a significant victory. Yet, instead of joining the others to celebrate, you had chosen to stay behind. Partly to avoid any awkward encounters with Himeno, but mostly because you felt restless, unable to shake off the events of the past few days.

As you finished up the last of your reports, you glanced at the new message on your phone.

HIMENO| you didn't come tonight.

Typing...

YOU

| I didn't think you'd wanna see me after the stunt I pulled.

HIMENO| I dont, but I wanted u to know that everyone is talking abt u

YOU

| ??

| wym

HIMENO

| your shadow didn't come tonight, either.

Typing...

YOU| look, himeno, ive actually been wanting to talk to you about that

| would you be able to meet up and talk it out?

HIMENO| id rather not honestly.

| ur a grown woman and i cant stop u from doing what u want

| but just know that people in pb. safety talk

| dont mess up a relationship with a perfectly good man for aki

| u should leave him for someone who can actually give him what he needs

YOU| I understand that I've hurt you, Himeno, and I'm sorry

| I have no intentions of being with Aki.

HIMENO| good

| dont get him mixed up in ur fucked up marriage

|  he doesnt deserve that.

You sighed, pocketing your phone. There were certain battles you simply couldn't win. This would undoubtedly be one of them.

It was late, and you knew you should head home. You gathered your things and made your way down the dimly lit hallways, your footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

As you passed the breakroom, you heard voices. One familiar voice, more specifically.

You slowed your pace, not wanting to intrude but curious enough to catch a snippet of the conversation. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see two figures inside.

"You look desperate, dude," the unknown person said, barely audible. "It's not attractive."

"I'm becoming ridiculous," Captain Hayakawa said, his voice low and strained. "I'm losing hope."

"Hope of what? Convincing a married woman to break her vows?" the other person retorted, a hint of incredulity in his tone.

Are they talking about me? You asked. You knew the answer. You simply did not want to confront it.

Hayakawa sighed. "I thought she would call me by now," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your stomach churn uncomfortably. "I just... there was something there."

There was a pause, then the other person sighed, his voice softening. "God, you are ridiculous." After a moment, he added, almost reluctantly, "Shit, sorry, man. I know you like her."

"No, you're right," He replied, a note of resignation following his words. "She doesn't want to speak to me. I'm driving myself crazy waiting for someone who's never gonna call."

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, guilt and confusion swirling together. You hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but now you couldn't just walk away without feeling a pang of something—regret, perhaps? The slip of paper with his number, still in your possession, weighed heavily in your mind. You had been avoiding the situation, avoiding him, and now it was clear how much it had affected him.

Aki's words echoed in your ears as you stood frozen in the hallway.

He was right; you hadn't called him. You hadn't even acknowledged the note, too caught up in your own turmoil and guilt to consider his feelings. Now, hearing him speak so openly, you felt a rush of emotions—sympathy, guilt, confusion. There had been a moment between you, an undeniable spark, but you had chosen to ignore it, to pretend it didn't exist.

When would it all come crashing down – your efforts? This whole situation?

The conversation in the breakroom continued, but you couldn't listen any longer. You turned away, your heart pounding. As you made your way to the exit, you couldn't help but replay Aki's words in your mind.

He had been waiting for you, hoping you would reach out, and now he was losing hope. Fuck.

He had been waiting for me.

The idea thrilled you, for some strange reason. Maybe because you hadn't felt desired like this in years – it made your head spin. But another part of you was terrified—of what it might mean, of the complications it would bring, of the impact on your marriage.

You couldn't help yourself. You did what you always did. You ran away from him.

You knew you couldn't avoid him forever, but for now, you needed time to think. .

7:45 PM

Typing... 

Hey. |

Typing...

Hello, |

Typing...

How are you? |

Typing...

Hey. They're taking me out for drinks tn as a sendoff party. I think you should be there.

SENT.

YOU | Hey. They're taking me out for drinks tn as a sendoff party.

I think you should be there.

| At the Sip-n-savor in downtown Tokyo

Seen 8:00 PM .

The night went on without a flaw. The atmosphere was infectious, and you had been trying to let loose, drink in hand, as you chatted and danced with the others. But as the night wore on, a sense of unease settled in. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the memories of the overheard conversation in the breakroom, or maybe it was the subtle disappointment that someone hadn't shown up.

Excusing yourself, you made your way to the bathroom. The mirror reflected your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged makeup. You sighed, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on your face. As you washed your hands, you found yourself thinking about Aki.

Despite everything, a depraved part of you had hoped to see him tonight. You had been both relieved and disappointed when he hadn't shown up—relieved because it meant avoiding an awkward conversation, disappointed because you had been... well, actually looking forward to seeing him.

As you touched up your makeup, you couldn't help but reflect on your own conflicted feelings. You were married, committed, and yet, Aki had stirred something in you that you simply couldn't stand to ignore. It was confusing, disorienting. You weren't sure what you felt more strongly: guilt for being drawn to him or frustration that you couldn't just let it go.

"Ugh," You groaned, pressing your forehead against the sink. "'M g'nna be sick."

Feeling a bit lightheaded from the drinks, you decided to step outside for some fresh air. You left the bathroom and – completely drunk – maneuvered through the crowds to the nearest door.

The cool night breeze was a welcome relief against your warm skin, and you leaned against the balcony railing, taking deep breaths. The city lights twinkled below, and you watched them in a daze, trying to steady your thoughts.

That's when you saw him.

Aki was just entering the party, his sharp suit and dark hair making him stand out immediately. You felt your heart skip a beat. Then another. He was killing you.

He came, you thought, a strange mix of emotions flooding you. Relief, excitement, and that persistent undercurrent of guilt all tangled together.

He spotted you almost immediately and made his way over. As he approached, you couldn't help but think how painfully gorgeous he looked, the dim lighting casting a soft glow on his features. In that moment, he seemed almost like a knight in shining armor, a figure out of place in the lively, chaotic setting of the bar.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, a balm to your nerves.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, a slight concern in his tone. "You're not cold?"

He always seemed to be worried about you and the weather. Still, the chill felt nice against your hot skin, oddly enough.

I missed you, you didn't say. You didn't even think about it. You knew that in a day you would be back on the train and all of this would just be a bad dream, anyway.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "No, I just needed some air. It's a bit stuffy in there."

Aki didn't respond immediately, and when you turned your head up to look at him, his expression was unreadable. The noise from inside the bar seemed distant, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in that moment. You felt a tug in your chest, a pull towards him that you couldn't explain, couldn't deny.

"Did you pregame the bar, or something?" You laughed quietly. It felt nice, being able to pretend nothing had ever happened between the two of you and just... enjoy each other's company. "You smell like beer."

"I was having a few drinks with my roommate before you texted me," He answered. Then, looking out onto the street, he added, "He told me I shouldn't come tonight. Said you're driving me crazy."

"So, why are you here, then?" You asked.

He looked at you. "I think you know why I'm here."

There was a brief silence, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes lingered on you, soft but searching. It was the same look he had given you in the seminar, the museum, everywhere else, and it stirred something deep inside you.

You hated the way he made you feel.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked you. His voice was as deep and rich as ever, and you had about half a mind to take him up on the offer.

You shivered. You knew it wasn't from the cold air. It was him – the smell of him, his cologne, the distinct scent of nicotine that let you know he had just finished smoking a cigarette. It was an aroma so unique to him that you had grown to like it.

You were looking at his lips before you knew it, giving way to a craving you couldn't explain, "I'll try a cigarette, if you have any."

He smiled softly, reaching into his pocket and flipping open a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He placed a cancer stick between your lips, and you felt a part of you die a little. He struck the wheel of the lighter, bringing the cigarette to life.

You coughed so hard that you nearly hacked up a lung. It had been years since your last cigarette.

Hayakawa stepped behind you, cupping a hand around your elbow, sliding it up your arm, your wrist, your fingers before he plucked the cigarette from your digits.

"First time?" He asked, warm voice hot against your neck.

"Wanted to give it a try," You shrugged. You didn't know what, exactly, had gotten into you. It seemed that with every sip of liquor you took lately, you crept closer and closer back to your old self. The sort of liquid courage that made people make very bad decisions. "Sorry. I'm a little," You waved your hands around yourself, trying to gesture 'drunk' without actually saying it.

"How brave of you," He murmured, pulling a hit from your cigarette and exhaling. He was the picture of sin – face flushed with alcohol, messy bangs, pink lips wrapped around a cancer stick. He was so pretty it hurt.

"I'll try it again when I'm sober," You offered.

"When?" He asked, breathing smoke out into the air. "Where?"

As persistent as always, you thought. Still, you didn't necessarily mind the attention anymore. You told yourself that it didn't matter – you would be out of here soon anyway, and everything would be far behind you before you knew it.

"Why is it that every time I'm inebriated... God tests me by throwing you in my way?" You laughed, Truly, you wished you had considered the implications of your words a little more before you had said them. "Just as I thought your manners had improved since the party. You behaved badly, then. You know that? Very badly," you hiccuped. "You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing– hic–throwing yourself at a married woman like that."

He didn't acknowledge your drunken ramblings, and he also didn't deny the fact that he had been doing exactly that – throwing himself at a married woman.

"Hardly my fault," He breathed out. "I just can't seem to resist you."

"Don't worry," You replied, eyeing him up dubiously as he pulled another hit from what was left of your cigarette. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Won't have to worry about resisting me after that."

"I know," He answered back. "Selfishly enough, I spent the last few hours wishing your train got delayed one more day, or something like that," He exhaled, then snuffed his cigarette out on the balcony, "Still, I'm glad I could see you before you went home."

"I wish I could say the same about you," You replied before you could stop the words from coming out.

He poked his tongue through the inside of his cheek, retorting, "You're gonna sit here and act like you didn't invite me? Like your eyes didn't light up like a child when you saw me pull up?" He turned around, commanding even more of your attention, standing at least a foot and a half taller than you. "You wanted me to come tonight."

It was true. That's the worst part. Everything he said was the truth.

"So that I could say goodbye," You said with remarkable finality, "I'm leaving after this."

You hadn't originally planned on leaving so soon, of course, but you wanted to get the hell out of here before you made another bad decision.

"Already?" He asked.

"You're the one who ran late," You replied. "This ends tonight. I'm going to say bye to everyone else, then I'll be gone."

With that being said, you made your way back to the door. You would go inside, bid everyone farewell, collect your belongings, and then–

He called your name before you could go back inside. You froze in place.

"Am I misreading the signals?" He asked.

You sighed, turning around one last time to clear the air, "This has to stop, Aki. You make me feel like... like I'm guilty of something."

He implored you, "What do you want me to do?"

"Go back to Himeno," You answered, a biting undertone seeping through your words. You were undeniably bitter about the whole situation, and under any other circumstances, you would have tried to be a good sport, but...

Himeno's words were a heavy weight on your heart.

'Don't mess up a relationship with a perfectly good man for Aki.'

'You should leave him for someone who can actually give him what he needs."

You could never be what Aki wanted. He wanted all of you – not just a week of you, clearly. You were married, and you couldn't let all of that go over a guy you'd been toeing the line with for what seemed like ages.

He was a young man. The fact of the matter was that you were a grown woman. A married one.

"She's a sweet, kind woman," You continued. You felt like you were going to be sick just being near him. Unknowingly, tears began to prickle at the corners of your eyes. "Go back and beg her to forgive you. Go be with someone who wants to be with you. Who can be with you."

"No," He answered simply. There was an intensity in his eyes that frightened you, like he would die without you, as he continued, "That's not what you want. I think we both know that. I refused a mission in Hiroshima to stay here with you. I planned to let go of another one in Beijing," He swallowed, "I can change my mind, and you'll never see me again."

"If you have any consideration for me," Your voice was a shuddering whisper, like someone could walk out any minute and hear the two of you going back and forth. "Any semblance– a shrivel of compassion, you'll give me back my peace."

He shook his head, "I can't. You know I can't. You've consumed every inch of my peace, every inch of my mind. How can I give you your peace?"

Fair point.

You had nothing to say to him. So, silently, your vision blurred with tears, you glared at him. Glared and frowned like that would make you believe he was the sole contributor to this issue. Then, again, you turned on your heel and went for the door. You entered the bar quickly.

He followed not too long after you, "I'll go to Beijing, then."

"No." You said. Your teary-eyed fury caught the eyes of more than a few confused bar patrons. "I don't want you to go."

Everyone was looking at you. Seriously, everyone. Your old coworkers, the bartenders, everybody.

You swallowed down your pride, bowing down before them all. "Good night, everyone," You said. You plucked your purse and your jacket off of the barstool. "Thank you for everything. I'm leaving."

Ignoring the confused looks and hushed whispers from the patrons, you exited the bar, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. The rain had started to fall, a soft drizzle quickly turning into a steady downpour. You barely noticed, too wrapped up in the turmoil inside your head. The cold, wet sensation of the rain soaked through your clothes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You just needed to get away, to clear your mind.

But of course, Aki followed after you. You could hear him calling your name, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. You quickened your pace, almost running, your heels splashing through puddles as you made your way down the block. His footsteps pounded behind you, matching your speed. You couldn't escape him, couldn't outrun him.

Finally, he caught up to you, grabbing your arm to stop you. "Wait, can we please talk?" he pleaded, his voice breathless and desperate.

You turned to face him, rain pouring down around you both. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his suit jacket soaked through. The intensity in his eyes matched the storm, a fierce determination that made your heart ache. You met his gaze begrudgingly, not wanting to deal with this, not wanting to deal with him.

"Have I really been imagining all of this?" He asked. He sounded broken. "Is it really all in my head? Tell me if it's a lie. Tell me to leave you alone. Tell me you mean it—all of it," he paused, taking a shuddering breath. "Or tell me the truth."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation crashing down on you. "I don't know how to feel, Aki," you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm trying to be good, but you just keep fucking—popping up everywhere. And you say these pretty things to me, and," You choked back a sob, struggling to find the right words. "I can't help myself around you."

"Running from your problems won't make me go away," he said, stepping forward to put his hands gently on your waist.

There was a long pause as you stood there in the rain, staring at each other. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you. The storm, the bar, everything else was just a blur. You were tired—tired of running, tired of the confusion, tired of pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

He added, "You can't run from your feelings."

This time, it was his eyes that dropped to your lips. His tongue darted out to dampen his own, and then his eyes flicked up to your face. When he spoke, his voice was huskier than before, as if it had been tainted by an emotion that hadn't been there before. Was it lust? Passion? Whatever it was, you wanted more of it.

Your eyes widened. Your mouth had run dry. You didn't know what to say. Even being like this right now -- as close as you were, -- was against your wedding vows. This was wrong, and you couldn't do that to your own husband.

Your own husband who loved you so dearly.

Your own husband who left you hanging so many nights on end.

Your own husband, who acted as if he couldn't care if you lived or died.

As if he had sensed your train of thought wandering, Aki placed two fingers beneath your chin, lifting your face up until he was the captor of all of your attention. Him and him alone. Not your husband, but him.

"I could treat you like a princess," His eyes wandered down to your lips again, but this time there was an unspoken hunger within them. "All you have to do is ask, and I'm yours. I already am."

And, God, what a fool you had been in uttering the words, "Don't toy with my emotions. You don't want me."

He paused, awaiting something, anything. His eyes pleaded with your own, luring you in with promises of pleasure and happiness. Gently, he grabbed your hand, placing it over his breast, right above his heart.

"I want you so badly it hurts," He breathed, "For a night, for a day, for a week..." Aki closed the gap between the two of you – brought your faces closer together. Closer, until you could feel the warmth of his calm breath fanning out against your cheek. Closer, until he uttered, "As long as you'll let me have you."

"Aki, I can't-...." You paused. Yet, still, you never moved. Your body betrayed your words, dilated pupils and trembling hands giving way to your internal dilemma. "This is wrong. You know I can't do this."

You were being a hypocrite. You knew you were. One spare glance down at the placement of your hands on his chest -- one over his breast and one looped around his tie -- and you knew he could tell you were only putting up a front.

"I know," he murmured softly, words practically dying beneath the volume of the rain, "But I can't stop thinking about you."

You folded. Your eyes dropped down to his lips one last time, and that's when you knew he had already won.

Fuck it.

"Fuck you," you muttered, feeling a surge of reckless abandon.

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips against his in a desperate, frenzied kiss. It was messy and wet, your tears mixing with the rain, your hands tangling in his hair as his arms finally wrapped around you.

The kiss was filled with all the pent-up emotions, the longing, the frustration, the desire. It was passion, it was anger – it was tongue and teeth and lips smearing your lipstick over the lower half of your face. It was two black holes finally colliding after circling around each other far too long.

"I can't make sense of it. I want... you," you sighed, pulling away, voice trembling, "I don't know what any of this means anymore. I don't know what to think."

"Then don't," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. He tasted like cigarette smoke, beer and mint gum – a flavor so utterly addicting that you couldn't seem to get enough of it. "Don't think. Let me take you back to your room."

You hesitated, the reality of the situation hitting you. This was crossing a line, a line you couldn't uncross. But as you looked into his eyes, saw the same turmoil reflected back at you, you felt your resolve crumble.

You were tired of pretending.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. It was a final, resigned acceptance, the last nail in the coffin of your restraint.

You were tired of running from the inevitable.

a/n: dont hate me. LMFAOAOAOOAOA. i had to! i absolutely loved writing this chapter and i loved writing tipsy obsessed aki. i headcannon that he's a touchy needy bf and no one can tell me otherwise. i think you all know what happens next. im not sayin nothin tho. hehe. ANYWAYYYYY LMK WHAT YALL THOUGHTTTTT i look forward to hearing it!!! lmk what yall wanna see in the next few chapters/over the course of the story. and if youve already watched anna karenina (or read, in which case... how...) shhhhhh youve seen nothing. muah! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[layanomaly]

Okay- so I feel like im a bit calm (definitely real) after yesterdays finale to properly make a statement about it

And I really want to put a few of these points out there while the tags are still trending and while I still have time cuz now that AAA I finally over I really need to focus on my studies which is gonna be hard…..but yeah it is what it is

And honestly 

Look idc what anyone says anymore

Yes there were some loose ends and a whole lot of questions

And I get that a lot of people were upset…..believe me I was too and still am

But I wanna be a voice of positivity

cuz I feel like whatever plot wholes they left 

Like jac said were there for US to interpret

Or as my delusional ass is telling me maybe theyre setting up for another season???

And yes for those of you whore saying that we shouldn’t be the ones to figure theyre story out YOURE RIGHT, I AGREE WE SHOULDNT

But at the end of the day it still was a marvel show

And Whatever it was 

It was an amazing experience

Yes we had our highs and lows 

And Looking back on Agatha’s story, yes I do feel a mix of admiration and frustration. There was so much potential in exploring her relationship with Rio and the complex layers of her own journey, which felt overshadowed in the end. At times, the focus on Agatha's role as a mother felt like it could have been handled differently and Instead of fully delving into Agatha’s growth, her story was ultimately used to elevate Billy’s arc, leaving her character, her grief, and her love for Rio without the closure they deserved.

That being said 

Again while it's fair to wish for a bit more closure for characters like Agatha, Rio, Jen, and Alice,

I truly do think jac schaeffer is a genius

like for a really long time i used to think that we were reading too deep into scenes and that they arent actually that deep and we’re just being delusional

But watching, reading interviews of her 

Finding out that as a matter of fact it actually IS that deep

And that everything means something and nothing is unintensional

just hearing her talk about the characters she writes is such a fulfilling feeling you have no idea

its the way she understands those characters and portrays their trauma….She really cares for themm 

she does her research and makes sure she understand her characters and the lore

unlike *cough michael waldron cough* 

Who couldnt even be bothered enough to watch a show which was an indefinitely important arc for one of the characters he was assigned to write for a movie 

Its just-

Look all im tryna say is

Shes a master in her craft and no one does it like her 

despite everything she provided us with two of MARVELs best shows up to date and no one can tell me other wise

Cuz While the narrative pivot left parts of Agatha’s story untold, Schaeffer's dedication to character depth shows her commitment to storytelling which you can really see in the way she talks about those characters

again while I wasnt satisfied with the finale its her dedication to understanding these characters, down to the smallest detail means so much to me. 

Cuz it’s not just about the story—she collaborates with her actors to bring out the arcs they envision which makes it even more special

And It’s truly disappointing that Marvel didn’t fully capitalize on the opportunity to explore Agatha’s own arc in its entirety, especially with such a capable writer at the helm. 

Still, I’m hopeful that future stories will revisit and give the characters like Agatha and Rio the focus they deserve

And i reallyyy hope they sign jac up as a writer for future projects

Cuz ultimately, I think her approach to these characters makes her one of the standout storytellers in Marvel right now, and I’m excited to see what she does next with all the new responses from the fandom 

I hope you guys get what im trying to say

Anyways to conclude my thoughts

Whatever it was

I truly did love this show

And ill really miss coming back home on Thursdays to watch the new episodes drop

[ashoss]

stephanie & bruce fic recs

for @peachie-wren13 :DD

Permutations & Hinterlands - cabezas_de_vaca

steph & bruce

7.5k words, 1 chapter

summary:

She and Bruce are complicated (not bad complicated, not wrong complicated, just complicated, because he isn’t her father and will never be her father and yet he sort of also is) but he cares. It gets lost sometimes, under the demands of Gotham, but it’s there.

And so, she just asks him. “Do you want to go to Colorado with me?”

Or: Bruce, Steph, and a road trip

* heed the tags !! angsty

dont wanna long post this so more under the cut :)

sweet child o’ mine - Nokomis

steph & bruce, steph & alfred

4,4k words, 1 chapter

Summary:

Steph said cheerfully, “Bruce, from now on, consider yourself in possession of one Steph-mom.”

“Absolutely not,” Bruce said.

Steph took a bite of her cake, undeterred.

A Softer Gotham - Hinn_Raven (series)

steph & bruce, time travel

12.2k words, 3 works

summary: One night makes all the difference. Especially a night when Stephanie Brown, in the wrong dimension, interferes in a mugging.

though your eyes will need some time to adjust - popsunner

steph & bruce

4.4k words, 1 chapter

summary:

“I think…” Stephanie takes a deep breath, “I think I’m bad.”

“I don’t.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“I am Batman.”

Stephanie snorts, “Yeah, you are… but what if I’m still bad?”

“Then I forgive you.” _______

Or: Stephanie and Bruce, figuring it out

Tuck Me In - OberonBronze

bruce & his kids (big on jason, but it does have cute scene w the other ones esp steph)

14.1k words, 1 chapter

summary:

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

Galas Suck - dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi)

steph & bruce

1.9k words, 1 chapter

summary:

When she doesn’t respond, he looks down to her face, finding her staring in the direction of the doors they came in through. “Something on your mind?”

He’s really asking, why did you come and get me? If it’s just nerves, she would’ve been better off with one of the others. No, it must be something else.

Steph blinks, turning her gaze upwards. Never one to back down, she meets his eyes long enough for him to see she’s not in any distress, at least. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Everything. Nothing.”

------------

Written for the Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking 2019, for the prompt "Wayne Gala"

the early robin gets the worm - deargalileo

bruce & his kids

7k words, 1 chapter

summary:

bruce loves all of his children equally. its just when he has to wake them up, that there's an issue.

aka; the five times bruce tries to wake up his kids, and the one time that he doesn't.

DON’T YOU CRY, DRY YOUR EYES. - orpheusaki

steph & bruce

4.8k words, 1 chapter

summary:

After inhaling her food before Bruce's even halfway through his vanilla milkshake, Stephanie seems to have sobered up a little. She's looking less green, and more like she's trying to develop x-ray vision and look into Bruce's soul.

Or maybe she's still drunk, because she very suddenly and very bluntly tells him, "I used to wish you were my dad," drowning her chips into a little pot of ketchup.

Bruce pauses. He slowly drops the chicken nugget he was about to put in his mouth — since now is probably not the time to complain about how the nuggets are a little dry today.

(Bruce Wayne is not Stephanie Brown's father, not at all.)

*tbh anything by orpheusaki is gonna be an amazing read, ive loved all the fics ive read by them <333

Have I Told You About Minnie? - Hinn_Raven

steph & bruce, bruce & his kids

4.6k words, 1 chapter

summary:

After you’ve known Matches Malone long enough, you get used to him telling you about his kids. Not that his kids know about it.

too young to be taken seriously, too old to believe all this hypocrisy - Hinn_Raven

steph & jason & bruce

5.7k words, 1 chapter

summary:

When Crystal Brown goes into rehab, leaving Stephanie in the sole custody of her father, Steph decides to run away from home, and meets Jason Todd, who decides that she is the best little sister ever.

or:

"the dark knight is beaten up by children on the anniversary of his parents death... tragic"

theres not a lot of steph and bruce fics and it makes me sad :((

btw i have a google doc with a shitttttt ton of fics lol. its some recs ive been asked for so hope yall enjoy :)

[cloveroctobers]

FAR FETCHED — Roman Reigns [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: Idk I didn’t expect Roman to beat everyone else but it was close and I’m not mad about it lol! Y’all been waiting on a part 2 from me since that one thing I wrote back in May and this unfortunately is not that lmao…I had a title picked out and everything and even started writing but its just not working for me! Which is why I always say I don’t do part two’s! Still hope you guys like this little spooky piece though! 🧡

S/N & WARNINGS: also inspired by my old fav show—charmed, which I’m binge watching during this lovely season! I was more of a charmed girlie while the rest were Buffy girls 🤷🏽‍♀️ + dark! Roman & themes + language ofc! Also the fact that this is dropping a little before October??? Originally y’all weren’t getting this until Tuesday but…I had time okay! Also I apologize if the bit of Samoan I used is incorrect!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: Prompt #644: “Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” - “Babe, I’m a demon. What do you expect me to do?”

O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤

Being involved with a demon was many things but it’s not like you could have done much to hide it. Not when the upside was slowly getting used to all sorts of creatures—other than human—that came out to play on this side of town whenever they felt like it. And certainly not when many knew your man as Thee Roman Reigns, chief of the underworld. Well it was speculated and those that knew that rumor…were not wrong! You knew him as his human name, actually held him as he died some years ago as Joe Anoaʻi and come back as Roman. “Joe,” was what he wanted you to call him since that’s what you once knew, although that part of him was killed by the hands of his human mother.

Yeah…it’s as fucked up as it sounds but you both dealt with it in your own ways. Roman claimed that joe was still in there, that he felt most like what he once was when he’s with you. His parents lied about his true identity for years and sure his father did some things that were questionable but Joe never would have thought that his father’s species was also running through his blood as well. Joe can say that he didn’t blame his mother for being upset about it all but he was her son, he didn’t ask to be this way.

It was something she deeply regretted, coming from a family of Italian hunters apparently—something she thought would never kick in or even trained to have the skill. Hunters (besides the cops) weren’t as common in this side of town but the world shifted when she tried to kill her son. Once Joe found out what he was considering that he was brought back to life in the underworld…he had to have that difficult conversation with his father, his siblings, and various of family members…which meant the world as he once knew it…changed drastically.

Joe never thought hell was the place for him…so he didn’t spend much time there…(in simplest terms, yes the underworld was a part of hell but apparently there was even a lower level and that’s where the worse of the worse took place and where Joe had to do things he would never tell you about) only when he had to handle business. One thing Joe and Roman had in common? Was handling shit.

He especially loved you calling him by his birth name when you screamed out his name, officially joining the mile high club on your way back home. (On the upside, since you were very much human!) Half of the time he came up from the underworld on business, October and May happened to be his most busiest of months up here but figured you could use a trip away from daily life, which you had no problem tagging along to feel the Florida air and see the palm trees.

The vacation glow was one of many glows, Joe enjoyed to see on you but knew once you got back to life in town, your stress levels would be back on high. You were more paranoid with life here since you had all sorts of feds and hunters questioning you about your involvement with Joe. They knew he was supposed to be dead, had his family under careful watch, even had a warrant out for his father’s arrest—it was a shame on their part—not having a inside person in the underworld who could inform them that Mr. Anoaʻi already unfortunately passed on, soul and all.

Sika was always on their radar for as long as you’ve known Joe, along with his uncle Afa. Those brothers had no problem raising hell—no pun intended—on the upside but to them it was all in good fun. Never would you have guessed that it had to do with what they truly were. There were many secrets in this city, sure there were a few museums that told the history of this town but most locals deemed it as myths and to boost its appeal. It was more of a village back then before transforming to its now busy city life centuries later.

The pests and hunters best bet was you, knowing your history together and how you were the one who tried to hold onto Joe as he clung to life. They loved bringing that traumatic memory up and even suspected that you managed to take his body from the morgue. Sometimes it was a little funny, which you learned to see the humor in as time went on and Joe came back into your life. Laughter was one of the main things that kept you sane to be honest! They just didn’t get it, they didn’t have the power—no fed or Hunter did—to take Joe down.

“Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” You scowled after tossing the front door back to your Victorian that you inherited from your late grandmother.

Joe causally strolled into the house as if the both of you weren’t drenched from the autumn rain. Slamming the door behind him, you then used the wallpaper covered wall for support while you began to pluck off your heels.

“Babe, I’m a demon.” Joe replied with his hands clasped in front of him, “What do you expect me to do?”

You scoffed, hanging your damp rain coat up and placing your bag on the side table, “you’re half,” you argued before stomping towards the kitchen, “which means you’re not a hundred percent evil and he was just some kid—

“Fuck all that, he was trying to flirt with what’s mine as if he doesn’t know who I am. So? I showed him exactly who I am.” Joe answered as he pulled back one of the island chairs to sit in comfortably.

Pulling out the jug of leftover cider you spin back to face the bearded man, “He didn’t know any better and you could have sent him into cardiac arrest with what you pulled. Not only that?! What if he would have called it in and we got swarmed by the cops?”

Joe laughed with his shoulders, “I pretty much got most of these businesses on lock. The gyms arent my only holy grails but you shouldn’t worry so much…because if you are…maybe you should take the move to Florida where you’ll be better protected.”

Majority of his family (and yours) was still there so it only made sense to him.

It was a conversation as old as time. Once you came to terms with Roman actually being alive and being what he is, which also took lots of processing, he immediately wanted you to leave this town. He knew the small amount of family that was still here, about an hour away, can handle themselves but you were mostly out here on your own. The feds already tried to take his mother before he made the decision to bring her to the underworld himself. It wasn’t something his father ever wanted but Roman had a choice to make and he still protected his own. He didn’t like you questioning him about having his mother “locked up” in his own prison but he preferred to have her under his own care than waiting for a death sentence by those only trying to expose them all.

The only thing he shared was that she did ask about you as much as you did of her.

“Who’s going to protect that kid?” You question around the rim glass while Joe sends you a blank look.

Joe thought it was all fun and games to scare the mess out—what you keep calling—the harmless college kid. Yes he was a little too touchy and overly friendly as your server but most people didn’t try Joe regardless of what they knew of him and solely just off appearance. You weren’t picking sides like Joe tried to throw at you in the passenger side on the way back home, you just didn’t let the kid’s flirtations get to you. You knew your man was getting aggravated the more his eyes focused on the kid touching your shoulder and his jaw tightened.

You weren’t sure who you should have felt more sorry for, that almost broken plate Roman was cutting into or what the kid was about to experience.

The specs of sea foam that swirled in place of Joe’s usual brown should have been enough of a giveaway but you tried to ease his frustrations with your hand placed in his instead. The last straw was when the kid asked what you two were getting into after dinner—it was more directed at you mind you—as if you didn’t just get in from a flight. So what did Joe do?

Let the monster out.

His eyes were what changed first, from dark brown to that bright sea hue. It was always insane work watching it change right in front of you, how the hue almost swirled like a used paint brush being dipped in water. You let go of his hand while his nostrils flared, quickly grabbing the utensils out of the way while he sharply set his eyes on the young man that stood closer to you. Your mouth opened ready to warn the server that you were ready for the check but a deep haunting tone commanded the young man to look Roman’s way.

That’s when you heard the sickening cracking of Roman’s skull splitting down the middle and you quickly closed your eyes and turned your attention elsewhere as Roman was on demon time.

“Maybe you should go and marry him since you’re still worried about him.”

Your brows raised at the jab as you set the cup back on the island, “you know what, maybe I should since the asshole I’m looking at, that I’ve been dating for years won’t give me that type of commitment.”

He knows he shouldn’t have said that, his hand going out to grab your wrist as you’re ready to exit the kitchen and get away from him. Joe’s been working your nerves but not the good kind lately. This was also a conversation that’s been had plenty of times, back when he was a football player, you had to deal with all sorts of women throwing themselves at him, which fed his ego but he always reassured you that they weren’t what he needed or wanted.

That was back when you were just friends. Friends that looked at each other with such adoration and would do anything to make each other happy. It wasn’t much longer after that he asked you to be his forever and that’s what it felt like. You just didn’t have the legal papers and Joe’s always knew how much a union that special mattered to you. He respected it then and thought about it himself, even got input from those closest to him but as he embraced this new life, the rules changed.

They always did.

“You know I love you more than anything right?”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start that shit with me tonight, Joseph. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Oh, it’s Joseph now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like that?”

“Yup, it’s like that.” You stated, which made Joe huff and get to his feet while still holding onto your wrist.

His hold moved to grab both sides of your neck, tilting your head to meet his stare, the darkest of brown but with the right amount of warmth in the center, just for you.

“…it would make me the happiest man alive—well—

He chuckled while you lightly shake your head in his hands, “I told you it would complicate things for the both of us because we would automatically have to clear it with the underworld and I don’t want to put you through that.”

What was there to clear when he was the number one ruler? You didn’t get it and he kept leaving you in the dark about it. You knew when Joe was hiding something from you.

“Right…it’s feeling like that’s what you’ve been doing lately since you found out what you truly are. Telling me instead of discussing it with me.” You inform, “I understand that you’re the man in charge down there but why would we have to go through all that when I know you still have some sort of pull here too. We could always elope?”

That still included paper work and he was supposed to be a dead man…who still lurked in the shadows from time to time and could never be found when he wasn’t hiding by the feds or hunters.

“There’s nothing wrong with that but I know that’s not the kind of wedding you dreamed of.” Joe says to you gently, “…and I wish I could give that to you. What we have now is genuine, always will be…going forth with that step could potentially ruin everything. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Your blood felt like it was inside of a kettle, whistling and boiling away. Sure there were things you could never understand about the underworld, not even google could tell you the real deal and you knew a few witches in town but you weren’t sure how much you truly wanted to know anyway! However, ever since Joe became Roman and the chief, things were starting to feel further from your grasp.

“You keep telling me a whole lotta nothing, Joseph.” You try to look away but Joe’s not having that.

He nudged your face with his thumbs back to meet his eyes but he can tell you’re upset, “hey, don’t get snappy over something you don’t get. You’re the best thing that’s ever been in my life and I would be a dumbass to not want that on paper. I just need you to trust that if I can find a way to make this work, without us both getting hurt…I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You repeated, “without us getting hurt?” Followed by a frown, “do you mean that literally?”

This was the most he hinted about marriage in the underworld. Usually he would do his best to dodge it, which actually hurt your feelings sometimes. Why wouldn’t he want to marry you?

Little did you know it wasn’t like that at all.

“I said too much—

“Joe!” You call his name as he steps back from you and it’s your turn to get in his space.

He puts his back to you, pushing the chair back in and starts pulling off his suit jacket, revealing a sleeveless black t-shirt underneath. He always ran hot, especially with his new transformation.

“What aren’t you telling me? I mean I’m not jumping through hoops to be the queen of the damned or anything and none of those other demonic bitches better not be either—

Joe feels his lips quirk up in his amusement as he chuckles, glancing at you over his shoulder, “rings of fire are a thing there but I already told you, nobody compares.”

Tilting your head to the side you reply, “So…there are bitches down there that I need to press?”

Joe laughs, “…Who?”

“I know that’s right because I’ll dig my way there if I have to.”

“Now who’s doing the most, huh?”

You flick your hair behind your shoulder with a roll of your eyes. It’s not like you blamed Roman for acting that way, there were things you didn’t understand as a mortal and half of the time you didn’t want to, you just wanted him to be careful and to keep loving you. Sika’s actions caught up to him in the end once he fled back to the underworld after what his wife pulled. At least you weren’t splitting yourself in half or releasing parasites from your face to get others to back off…even if you had that ability you don’t think you would have pulled that shit, especially if people were looking for you.

Joe’s pulling you back into his arms again, lips pressing to your forehead as he rubs your back. Being in his arms was the best place you could ever be but part of you was beginning to feel: if you had to be in the underworld to be his wife, you’d consider it. No matter how much it hurt, you’d do it all for Joe.

Which is why you pushed that thought alone to the back of your mind, knowing you were about to get his bloodline involved to get some answers as you pulled Joe towards the stairs.

“Oh I get to stay tonight? No banishing me?” Joe teased as you start going up the stairs with his fingers interlaced with yours.

You scoff followed by a big yawn, “don’t push me,” you joke, “it’s a new night and the flight is actually catching up to me so I need my body pillow.”

As you got to the second level of the home, joe is squeezing you again from behind, his lips pressing a kiss in the bare space between your neck and shoulder. “Alright, I’ll allow you taking advantage of my body slide since I love you so much and wouldn’t want to give it to anybody else, even when you’re the biggest brat I know.”

He using a free hand to give your backside a nice slap, loving how it bounced back just for him. He licks his lips at the sight while you playfully elbow him the closer you get to your bedroom.

“Ou te alofa ia te oe ma loʻu loto atoa ma loʻu agaga.” You say to him as you turn to him in the doorway of your bedroom and you knew by Joe’s pretty grin that he always appreciated you using his native tongue.

Your arms go up and around his neck when he leans to place his lips right on yours, soft lips always so gentle at first but firm enough to let you know his intentions of love, his beard pricked your face, noses brushed against each other, with his scent smothering you just the way you liked it while you breathed him in, and his hands went to your hips before he leads you into the room for the night.

And as he lays with you on his chest wide awake in the dark of the rainy nightfall, peacefully listening to the sound of you breathing, he knows just how much you love him and that’s what terrifies him the most, now knowing at what cost.

Joe wouldn’t allow you to give up your soul to the underworld in order to be his eternal wife, it was only a matter of time for himself considering this is partly what he was meant to be but Roman?

Was another story.

That was a internal battle within itself.

O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤ O⸝⸝⸝)-⃝⃤

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[gay4harm]

Chicago girl

pairing: Riri x reader

song inspo: Chicago boy

request from @sillykamtothejam

taglist: @uhwhatsay, @nyairah, @ddb667, @timeya, @typeamaterialgirl, @playhousedistee, @callmewifey, @jordisblogg, @belli-3, @tishlvr, @s0lam33y interact with this post to be added

A/N: I feel so bad for the person that requested this because it was so long ago, I am so sorry stink but here it is now and I hope you and everyone else enjoys :). Anywayyyss lets get it this story.

Spring break

A time away from the hour long lectures and dick professors

You decided to go and spend some time with your family during your time off instead of partying with friends or spending your time sleeping.

As you arrived in the city of Chicago in the morning, you drive to your childhood home via taxi and as you get there you see your family, old friends and everyone else you grew up with.

three days before you had to leave one of the worse things that could happen

happened

you got sick, sore throat

you could tell it was getting worse by the second

you ask your mom for some sore throat medicine, none.

so you take it upon yourself to go get some Licolas from your local CVS.

as you get their you find them but as your walking around a few isle you see someone.

she was checking out a bottle of whipped cream, as you got closer, you realize just how fine she is.

Damn

you couldn't help but notice her soft chiseled jawline, plump lips and long faux locs that were loosely wrapped up in a bun letting a few strands fall down. She sported baggy sweatpants and hoodie that hide her figure but even then you could tell she was short and petite. you wondered if she could handle you.

a tall stallion with a fat ass and big titties that sat perfectly and a pretty face to match.

all your thoughts about her went straight to your brain all the way down to your cunt that was growing wetter by the second to the thought of her.

you would have just walked up to her if it wasn't for your shorts and oversized tee, your undone face that still looked pretty without and your hair that was undone and fizzy, a complete mess.

but you really didn't care, so

you walk around trying to get her attention. you make an effort to bend down slowly showing off your ass as you look down at whatever items that sat lowly on shelfs, but whatever you tried it didn't work she was to caught up in her phone so you give up and just as your about to walk to cash register, you stop

what were you doing?

you knew that if you wanted something you always got it. a little minor setback wasn't gonna stop you and if anything you hadn't even begin to really try yet.

"hi I'm y/n"

she looks up from her phone,

finally

"oh hi I'm Riri, can I help you?"

"um yea I was you over there and I just couldn't help but notice you, I thought I might just try and talk to you"

you talk with your low sweet voice with bedroom eyes as you make an effort to glance at her lips every once in a while. even making eye contact of course.

as you look at her you see a flip switch in her head, as if she knew exactly what was going on in your head.

you two talk for a minute.

mainly just regular small talk, you guys tell each other why you were in Chicago and a little about your families.

"so your on spring break right?"

"yea just came out to see my family its been a but hard having to leave them, ya' know"

"yeah I get it, I almost cried when my parents left me at campus"

you both share a laugh until your eyes set on the can of whipped cream still in her hand.

"soo what'd you come here for? I'm guessing for that whipped cream"

"oh nah i- I was just looking"

you raise your eyebrow up before speaking.

"okk is that all?" you ask curiously

"well I mean yea I just saw you and got to thinkin"

you pause

so does she as she realized what she said

"whats that supposed to mean?"

"no! i- I didn't mean it in that way. it just kind of happened"

"well what were you thinking about?"

"nothing don't worry, I just saw you over there. couldn't help but realize how fine you were."

"well thank you but you've spiked my interest. what were you thinkin bout"

Riri didn't say anything but a jumble of words, stuttering and spaced out.

you laugh, it's clear she was nervous and you were getting a real kick out of it.

"I'm just messing with you, you don't have to tell me. if anything I get it"

"really?"

"yea I mean I'd be lying if I said I wasn't doing the same thing"

"oh"

it seemed as if Riri was relieved, as if knowing you had the same impure thoughts gave her solidarity that she wasn't a total creep.

"so you don't mind?"

"nope" Riri let's outa deep breath before you speak again

"well..."

she looks up at you with a raised eyebrow

"I'd only mind if you weren't to do anything, I'd be a shame to let those thoughts go to waste plus I'm interested in what your thinking"

"oh... I"

Riri was surprised, she definitely didn't think you'd say that.

"why don't I give you my number and we try to meet up before the both of us go our separate ways."

"that... that sounds fine, yeah"

she gives you her your phone, you input it and hand it back to her.

"text me, ok?"

"yea definitely"

you walk away, pay for your stuff and leave.

in the span of the next two days you spend them getting better.

it wasn't until the day before you had to leave that Riri finally texted you.

hey

this is riri btw

you race to text her back

hey, how you been??

alr, hbu

better now that I'm talkin to you:)

you two talk for a bit, just small stuff until you suggested something

I leave tomorrow so I was wondering if you wanna link today

it takes a minute for Riri to text back but you wait

yea that's cool,where you wanna meet??

you give her a time and place and as soon as you put your phone down your jumping in the shower to get ready, luckily none of your family were home. they went out, you only didn't go 'cause you played the sick card hoping Riri would text you.

an hour passed and by now your clean and ready. you hear a knock at the door.

you rush to answer it, knowing its Riri.

"hey you look nice"

Riri was wearing a simple hoodie and basketball shorts, and damn did it work for her. Not to mention the backpack slung on her shoulder that made your cunt jump

you sported shorts and a tank top, your tummy out, boobs basically spilling out your bra, ass barely covered with the peice of cloth you called shorts.

Riri took a moment to admire your body, face, the way you looked at her, with those low alluring eyes as if you wanted to fuck her right there in the door.

"are you gonna come in?

she looks up from your breast

"yea"

she steps in and the both of you walk into your childhood bedroom.

"here you can sit, get comfortable"

you both sit on your bed and just as your about to reach for the remote to fill the air, riri skips pass all that as she grabs your jaw and kisses you.

something slow, heated and sloppy.

She uses her hand to caress up and down your body, yours travel up inside her hoodie gripping her small breast.

she pushes you so your now laying down with her on top.

you two continue to eat each other's faces off with passion, her hands getting lower and lower until she reaches the band of your shorts. she reaches in and feels how wet your pussy is.

she pulls down your shorts surprised to see that you didn't have any panties on.

"damn ma, this all for me?"

she pulls down your shorts surprised to see that you didn't have on any underwear.

you don't give her any words just a small whine telling her to hurry up and fuck you.

she runs her finger up your slit until she reaches your clit making you jump at the sudden content.

she begins to rub slow, tight circles on the budding set of nerves, you let out a low moan as she smears your wetness around.

she makes a routine out of rubbing circles on your clit then traveling down to your hole as she pumps in and out of you a few times, then she repeats the cycle until your a whimper mess, squirming under her.

"pleasepleaseplease riri stop playin"

"you want me to stop ma?"

"n-no I... I want you to make me c-cum please"

you practically were crying as she continues to tease you, she leans down to kiss and suck on your neck, making sure to leave marks.

"you want me to make you cum right?"

"yes please"

"why should I? huh? when all you been doing is teasing me?"

"w-what? I- I didn't mean to-"

riri cuts you off by picking you up and turning you so your now face down ass up, she was stronger than she seemed.

she begins to pump her fingers in and out of you with speed, she takes her other hand and begins to rub fast circles on your clit, you could feel yourself about to reach that edge until she removes her fingers and replaces them with her warm wet tongue. she eats out your pussy as if your were her last meal, savoring your sweet, juicy taste. she moans out by it which sends vibration to your cunt.

your loud pornographic moans and whimpers along with the wet sounds of her eating you out fill the room.

the scene was like something out of a porno, you could feel your stomach begin to tighten and your legs began to shake.

"ahh fuckfuckfuck, baby...baby I'm cumming! I'm cumming"

even with the warning riri didn't expect you to squirt on her face and the bed, completely drenching everything. you scream out loud enough that you're sure the neighbors could hear and once your done releasing your liquids out, you fall over completely exhausted by the most earth shattering orgasm you've had.

you sit for a couple minutes to catch your breath, riri waited, rubbing small soothing circles on your thigh to calm you down.

once you look at her with lidded eyes she speaks up.

"you good?"

you shake your head yes as you sit up a bit on your headboard.

"you think you got at least one more in you?"

you look at Riri as she gets up to get her backpack that was thrown in a corner of the room

she pulled out a strap that was 8inches long, about the size of your forearm and glowing?

the size and girth nearly made your eyes pop out their sockets and you grew wetter by the sight.

she takes off her shorts and hoodie and begins to attach the harness and the dildo that went with it. she walks over to you, as she climbs on the bed mischievous grin that went with it.

riri notices your concerned expression as she asked you wants wrong.

"nothing I'm just not sure it'll fit."

riri, amused by your hesitation has a smirk plastered on her face.

"your a big girl, I'm sure you can handle it, right pretty?"

you smile softly at the pet name as you shake your head, as if that was confirmation riri grabs the faux dick and begins to slowly stroke it up and down, her head falls back as she lets out a low groan. you didn't understand how it was giving her such pleasure, maybe she was just trying to put on a show for you.

it wasn't until she opens her eyes and looks at you grinning.

"it's made out of vibranium, after a few test I was able to make it so that I could feel whatever you have to give me."

"so what? it's like a real dick?"

"if that's the way you wanna look at it, i guess.... open your legs"

you do as she says, revealing your dripping cunt.

she takes the tip, rubbing it along your slit. you buck up your hips desperately as you whine.

"damn ma, be patient. I'm not going anywhere"

"please riri"

the sound of your voice saying her name, desperate like a whore made riri wanna fuck you so bad, so in one swift move she flips you back on all fours pushing your back to create the perfect arch.

with no warning, no signal, she just straight started pounding into you, not even letting you adjust to the size as she gripped your waist. You screamed out her name, your hand gripping the bed sheets while she absolutely destroyed you.

"f- fuck riri, oh my g-godd. I can't baby please"

"please what? you want me to stop or sum?"

"n-no just slow the fuck down, fuck!" you yell out the last part of your sentence, instead of slowing down she goes in deeper, harder and faster until she found your g shot making you scream out.

you were slobbing and crying as she continues to abuse your swollen, puffy pussy.

with a few more thrust and her fingers rubbing your clit you cum all over her dick.

but riri wasn't done, she hadn't come yet and not to mention she wanted to pull more out of you.

so she continues to fuck you a little slower, still deep and still hitting that one spongy spot that had you moaning out like a pornstar.

riri could feel it and so could you.

she thrusted into you one last time, her hips stuttering as she cums with a low moan and your name, soon after you feel the band in your stomach snap as you squirt for the third time.

fast forward to the next day, you and riri had cleaned each other up, she left and you both had gotten ready to leave to get back to college.

upon arrival, back to the stressful college life you found yourself in a different class, differential equations.

you get to class and the first thing you see in the front row is Riri motherfucking Williams who once she saw your surprised expression gave you a smirk and wink before turning back to her phone.

this was gonna be a lot more different than you thought.

she's done, this took me way too long man.

hope we like her

remember feedback is always appreciated :)