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celestie0 · 3 months ago

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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

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artdcnaldson · 5 months ago

Note

ARARARRARARARRARA

HIS RACKET

stop. ✋. i am unable to control and contain myself. i need mean mean mean art to fuck pats sister with his racket after losing a match because she was distracting him. she was constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, short short skirt, flashing him her pretty panties. need him to taunt her and tell her how his racket barely fits in her tiny little virgin pussy :(((( but stuff her full of it anyway :((((( he really is doing anything to keep himself from putting his cock in her :(((( i need him i feel sick and horny. it's now his favorite racket and his lucky charm i'm dying

-🐞

RAHHHHHHHHH

Like god. Just thinking of you showing up to one of his matches in a little denim miniskirt and one of his Stanford tennis shirts you stole <3 you look so sweet, you cheer the loudest every time he manages to get a point.

He usually wouldn’t be able to see you very well from down on the court, but, god, you’re front row and he can see the flash of white panties beneath your skirt, the bounce of your tits when you excitedly cheer. And maybe you were earnestly cheering for him, you didn’t even realize what you were doing, but that brainless look you give him when he confronts you after the match just frustrates him even more.

“I’m sorry you lost, Art,” you say as you follow him inside his dorm like a lost puppy. The fact that he didn’t stop you was exciting, like maybe he as going to break finally, that he saw how much you cared. “But you looked so great out there. You should’ve won. I think the line judges totally fucked you ov—“

He has you pinned against the door and you go quiet. “I would’ve won,” he says firmly. “If you hadn’t been flashing your panties like a fucking groupie.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh… I didn’t mean to.” Which was a lie. Of course it fucking was.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes you fucking did. You’d do anything if it meant you’d have something filling your pussy.”

Something flashes in your eyes. Excitement? Shock?

His hand moves between your thighs, feeling the damp spot on your panties. “How long have you been wet?”

A shaky breath escapes you as his fingers press against the seam of your pussy, avoiding your clit with each pass. “Art—“ you whine, embarrassment dripping from your tone.

Why should you be embarrassed, though? You were the one slutting yourself out for his attention, weren’t you? Flashing your panties, throwing yourself at him at any chance. He’d done much worse to you, touched you in ways that were unforgivable. At least, they would be to Patrick.

It’s infuriating, that you have the audacity to act like some demure fucking virgin. Like you haven’t fucked yourself on his bed, haven’t gotten off to him degrading you and cumming down your throat.

But you don’t even have to answer. He knows that you’ve been soaked since the second you sat down in the stands, that your little body has been absolutely thrumming with need and want. That you’d dressed that way with the intentions of getting him so riled up he’d need to take it out on you.

And he would. He’d give you something to stuff you full, keep you satisfied.

“Lay down,” he says, and you obey so easily. You settle on top of his bed, chest heaving with anticipation. He slips your panties down your legs, he can practically smell your need. He wants to just bury his face between your thighs, lick at your core until your taste is all he knows. Make you cum again and again and again until your clit feels numb and you beg for him to stop. “You want me to fill you up, hm?”

You nod, irises practically swallowed by your lust-blown pupils. “Mhmm. Please, Art.”

A smile spreads across his lips. “Yeah? And you’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”

You nod, almost frantic. “Yes, anything.”

He wants to save the image of your expression in his memory forever. Your wide eyes, the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip. As he grabs a racket from his bag. It’s new, the handle freshly wrapped. You let out a soft noise, involuntary as you look at it. “Art—“

He tosses the racket a few times in his hand. “I thought you said anything?”

You make a face. “I don’t think it’ll fit. I’m a v—“

“A virgin,” he finishes for you, dripping condescension. “Sure, but I know your fingers aren’t cutting it when you fuck yourself. What do you use, huh? Did you and your little friends buy pink sparkly dildos at the mall?”

Your face burns and you look away. It’s too specific of a description, and you know he knows. That he’d snooped one of the times that he had to carry you back to your dorm and found your stash of toys and the fucking spank bank under your bed. Which was mortifying in and of itself— you had fucking clip outs of him from the campus newspaper and posters of the Men’s tennis team in there. You hated that he knew just how obsessed you were with him.

“It’ll fit,” he says. “I’ll even warm you up first. I’ll give you my fingers. I’m not that mean.”

Your tongue darts out, wets those pretty lips of yours. And you nod.

His finger slides in so easily that he almost moans. You’re so warm, so tight around him, slick and obscenely wet. One finger and you’re reduced to mewls and whines. Little pants of yes, so good, thank you, art art art.

Your body accommodates him so easy, opening up like a flower for him. A second finger plunges inside your cunt and your juices drip down his fingers, down your ass. You’re wetter than anyone he’s been with before. It’s not just that you’re a virgin— he’d fucked virgins before— it’s that you’re so fucking obsessed with him.

“You really are tight,” his voice comes out a little shaky, affected. How could it not when he has three fingers knuckle deep in your sweet, virgin pussy? When your walls clench and flutter around the intrusion, when you get wetter and wetter so his fingers squelch with each thrust in? “I don’t know if it’ll fit. But we’re gonna try, aren’t we?”

Yes, Yes, Yes. The response falls from your lips like prayer, like worship.

He waits until you’re all pliant and relaxed beneath him, moaning prettily. When your pussy feels supple and opens like it needs to take more. He grabs the racket and he almost backs out, almost stops himself, but you look at him with hunger and want. You need to impress him so badly— to accept whatever he gives him.

There’s a first time for everything. He tries his best to slick up the handle with lube, not that you’re lacking in that department. He watches your cunt pulse, your hole clenching as he practically jacks off the tennis racket. Oh, you want it so bad.

“Hold your legs up,” he instructs. You’re chewing on your lip as you do, tucking your hands beneath your knees, leaving your cunt exposed and glistening in the shitty light of his dorm room. “Relax. You wanted it, so lay there and take it.”

He presses the handle against your cunt, listens to the slightest intake of breath as it breaches your tight entrance, as your body stretches to accommodate it. It’s a stretch, god, it’s obscene. Your tiny little pussy wrapped around the handle like it’s a dick.

“Ah, f-fuck—“ You’re whimpering, crying for it, little feet kicking as he presses it in deeper. “Big— it’s big.”

He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, and you’ve pushed that limit many times before. He’s fantasized about it before, the idea of it. Of some faceless, nameless woman lying all spread out beneath him, crying out with pornstar moans while he fucks her with the handle of his racket after a game.

He blamed Patrick for that one. For planting that seed.

But now he has you. Lying beneath him with your face screwed up in pleasure, your mouth ajar as he pushes it deeper, deeper, deeper. “Tell me how it feels,” he goads once it’s fully sheathed inside of you.

It takes a moment for the question to register— he sees it in the lazy blink in your eyes, how they’re glassy when they meet his.

“Mmm… so— so full,” you moan. Your expression is akin to disappointment as he slowly withdraws the racket, only to push it back in. Your eyes roll back, toes curl and flex.

“You don’t feel gross? No shame at all?” He asks.

You should. You definitely should, but right then you can’t find it in yourself to. You shake your head. “I just— nghh— just want whatever you give me.”

God. You shouldn’t tell him that, shouldn’t willingly hand over that much power. His head swims with it.

“No fucking self respect” he mutters. “Jesus Christ. Such a fucking slut.”

But that just encourages you. “Just your slut, Art, all yours.”

God, you’re so fucking wet, dripping down to your asshole, down onto the sheets. He figures he could make you squirt, that you’d let him play with your pussy until you gushed like a fountain. He could probably do anything he wanted and you’d take it with a smile.

“You need t’ cum?”

You nod quickly, moaning. “Fuck— yeah, so bad, Art, so fucking bad.” Your cunt squeezes around the handle of the racket, like your body is trying to suck it deeper. “Touch me— touch me, I need—“

He knows what you need. And he shouldn’t. But what the fuck is he holding back for at this point? He moves his free hand to your clit, rubs in firm circles as he shallowly thrusts the racket.

The cries that escape you are like music to him, so delicious, so fucking debauched. Your feet kick pathetically, your back arches off the bed. It’s almost adorable.

“You have ten seconds before I stop,” he warns. You cry weakly, grind your hips up against the handle as he fucks you with it. He counts aloud, watches the way your breath heaves as you get closer. He can practically feel your racing heartbeat in your clit.

“C-cumming, cumming—“ you whine. He’s at two— your body is right on the edge, you want it so bad.

“Come on, give it to me,” his voice is low, rough with need. He meets your gaze, and he grins at how wrecked you are, how pathetic he can make you.

You cum just like that, leave a ring of cream at the top of the handle as he fucks you through it. He reduces you into weak moans, makes you go limp beneath him.

When he eases the handle out, he marvels at the sight of your pussy, smeared with arousal, swollen and open for him. He rubs his thumb against your clit and he watches your hole twitch for him, still wanting anything you can give.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He should have taken a picture.

#Art Donaldson x reader #Art Donaldson #Art Donaldson fanfic #Patrick’s sister au #🐞 anon #giving this one real tags bc it deserves it

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folklvrsworld · 1 year ago

Text

between the books ♡

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, kissing, swearing/cussing, slightly spying

summary: reader is doing assignments in the library when she feels a pair of eyes watching her, harry decided to distract her and get her mind off of school for a hot minute

song: collide - justin skye, tyga

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

Being a sixth year doesn't mean you can relax. Yes, we do have a lot more free time, but those free times are mostly used for doing homework, which the professors gave a lot, or studying for N.E.W.T. exams that we will have to do in our seventh year.

I was in the library, scribbling down answers for my defence against the dark arts homework, while constantly switching books. The library wasn't empty that day, but it wasn't full either. As I was writing, I felt like someone was watching me. I looked around, but no one was looking at my direction.

I shrugged it off and continued on what I was doing. I finally finished my homework and I closed the books, before putting them back in the right shelves. As I was returning the last book, I felt a presence behind me and before I could turn around, I felt someone kiss my neck.

"Harry..." I giggled quitely while turning around to see the raven haired boy standing in front of me.

"Took you long enough to notice me." he grinned and pecked my lips slowly.

I kissed him back and pulled away with a raised eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"I've been watching you for the past ten minutes, I thought you would notice me, but you were very focused on your homework." he chuckled, kissing me again.

"I knew I felt someone was watching me." I said in between kisses, "Now we really shouldn't make out here, I have homework to do."

He groaned, "Oh come on, it's time for you to have a little break. What d'you say?" he smiled while running his hands up and down my waist.

I gulped and stared at him in the eyes, he wasn't wrong, I do need a little break. I've been doing homework for the past three hours, my fingers were tired from writing, my brain was tired from thinking, I needed a distraction.

"Fine.." I finally said, earning a big grin from him before he pinned me to the bookshelf and kissed my neck, "W-Wait...Here?!"

He pulled away and shrugged, "Why not? If you're comfortable with it, of course."

I reminded myself that we were on the back of the library, the section where no one really comes to, so if we were to do it here, it would be somewhat safe. We just have to be quiet.

"Okay...We have to be quiet though."

He chuckled, "You mean you have to be quiet, princess." he smirked as his hand started to go under my skirt, "Let me take care of you, yeah? I know you're tired, you don't have to do anything."

His words gave me butterflies on my stomach. Sex with him was always either gentle and sweet, rough and kinky, or lusty and passionate. Him being cute and gentle was always my favorite one.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and stroked the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him, as our lips collided and moved in sync, his hand made its way to my underwear. He stroked my clit through the fabric making me gasp and have goosebumps from head to toe.

"Shh, relax. I'll be gentle." he muttered through the kiss as he felt the wetness on the underwear, he fiddled with the fabric at first, before slowly taking it off of me.

When it was off, he kept it in his pocket and started to trail his thumb over my clit. I shuddered at his touch and he did it over and over again, "Can you tell me what you want, princess?"

I nearly come undone hearing his words, but I managed to look him in the eyes while saying, "Touch me...Please, Harry..."

He smiled and pecked my lips before slowly entering a finger in, while still caressing my clit with his thumb. I held back a moan as I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip.

"Merlin, you're so wet." he groaned quitely as he went in and out with his finger, and not long after, he added a second finger.

I threw my head back to the bookshelf and couldn't help but let out a little gasp, he started moving faster and faster, it was getting really hard to hold back my moans. When he added a third finger, he knew I was about to moan, because he slammed his lips onto mine.

"F-Fuck..." I moaned quitely through the kiss, his fingers moving in and out frantically, I pulled away and gasped for air.

Suddenly, I felt the knot in my stomach forming, my body was starting to shake, I was close. Harry seemed to realize as he stopped for a second to rest his fingers before going in and out in a frantic pace, his thumb stroking my clit.

"Come for me, baby." he said while unbuttoning my shirt and squeezing my boobs gently.

Not wasting another moment, I bit back a moan as I felt my body completely let go. I let out little whimpers of pleasure as my body jerk and shake a little from the force of the orgasm. When I've relaxed, he gently pulled his fingers out and licked them clean.

"Good girl." he smiled at me and kissed me, letting me taste myself on his tongue, "Do you want more or was that enough for you, my love?"

I panted heavily, still recovering from the orgasm, and looked at him and his bulge. I knew I would have to really fight myself to not moan if we go further, but my body needed him. Badly.

"You deserve some too, Harry. Not just me." I smiled while fumbling with his pants, he raised an eyebrow before smirking lightly.

He understood what I wanted so he quickly took of his pants and underwear, while I completely took off my shirt, leaving me only in my skirt and bra. He picked me up and made me straddle him before taking one of my boobs into his mouth.

I moaned quitely as I tug his hair and let out a sigh of pleasure. He continued sucking on my breast while playing with the other one, before pulling away and looking at me in the eyes, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, Y/N."

My body instantly was filled with euphoria hearing that, my cheeks went red as I smiled at him and kissed him. He kissed me back with tongue as he gave his dick a few strokes before gently and slowly entering me.

"O-Oh, fuck...." I pulled away from the kiss and moaned, with our foreheads still touching.

He breathed heavily and continued to thrust himself deeper. When he's fully in me, he paused for a second to take a deep breath, before slowly moving in and out.

"H-Harry..." I rested my hand on his shoulder and clawed his back, we were only getting started and we were already such a moaning mess.

"Y-You feel so good, Merlin..." he moaned, squeezing my ass as he continued his rapid movement.

We were looking into each other's eyes as he moved in and out of me. Both of us sweating and breathing heavily, euphoria and pleasure feeling both our bodies. It wasn't until we heard someone talking that we knew someone was in the shelf next to ours.

"No, that's not the one I'm looking for. Maybe it's in the next shelf."

I widened my eyes and mouthed to Harry, "We're the next shelf!"

He was about to pull out of me but before he could do anything, another voice was heard, "Wait, here it is. Nevermind, we don't have to go to the other shelf, Celia. I got it."

We both took a deep breath of relief and waited for them to leave, when they did, he looked at me and smirked, "Now, where were we?" he started moving in and out of me again.

Not so long after, he thrusted deep inside me, hitting my g-spot. I had to bury my face on the crook of his neck to hold myself from screaming out of pleasure. I was in absolute bliss. His thrust became faster and harder by the second.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck baby..." I whimpered into his neck, my body jerking from the force of his thrust.

He stroked my back reassuringly and eagerly kissed my neck to calm me down, "Shh, I know, sweetheart. I know."

He started hitting my g-spot over and over again, my body was jerking and shaking from the amount of pleasure I was getting. Little gasps and moans coming out of my mouth, as I feel the knot on my stomach forming again.

"I-I'm close, Harry..." I gasped and my legs tightened the grip on his waist.

He nodded his head and groaned, while pulling away from my neck after successfully making a hickey there, "Me too. Oh fucking hell, love.."

His movement suddenly became fast and hard, he was trying to reach both of our orgasms. My mouth was hung open in a silent scream, he was gasping for air and watching me slowly come building up to my release.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

With his words, I come undone. I tried my best to moan quitely, as my body convulsed and my thighs shake. I saw stars and I couldn't feel anything else except for pleasure. I never wanted it to end. I was having uncontrollable spams. It was the hardest orgasm I've ever had.

A second after my release, he had his. He buried his face into my chest as he groaned and released inside me. I felt his hot liquid filling me up, making me shudder and jerk slightly. As we were both coming down from our high, he stroked my stomach gently to calm me down, and I stroked his hair.

When we both have relaxed, we looked at each other and couldn't help but smile. He pulled out of me slowly and set me down on my feet, I trembled but I quickly leaned against the shelf so I don't fall down.

"Did you enjoy it, my love?" he said out of breath, while moving a strand of hair from my face.

I nodded my head vigorously and chuckled, "Every second of it, darling." I smiled, "God, I really needed that. Homework has been stressing me out lately."

He smiled and kissed my forehead, "I noticed, princess." he took out my underwear from his pocket and gave it to me, "We should dress up before anyone sees us."

We quickly tidied ourselves up. We made ourselves look like we did not just fuck the shit out of each other as much as we could. I fixed him a bit and he did the same for me, before we both walk away from the shelf hand in hand.

I quickly gathered my stuff that was still on the table before walking out of the library with him, "That was one of the craziest things I've ever done."

He chuckled and shrugged, "Hey, everyone does crazy things from time to time. But you didn't regret it, did you?" he said as he put a bit of my hair at the front, to hide my hickey.

I smiled up at him and shook my head, "Not one bit, Harry."

#harry james potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter smut #harry potter #harry james potter x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

eros7hanatos · 9 months ago

Text

➽ Falling Grades

Professor!Dottore x Student!afab reader

Warnings: Teacher-student relationship, modern au, age gap, cockwarming, bribery, smut.

Word count: 1033

A/N: very heavily inspired by a character ai bot and another fic I read, the fic is by actuallysaiyan. She’s a goddess 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️.Even though I don’t play genshin anymore I’m on my knees for this man.

art creds: IllaOhara

You made a mistake when you decided to be distracted by your phone instead of listening to Dottore’s lecture. Preoccupied by your distraction, the professor’s hand hits your desk with a loud thud, causing you to jump.

“It seems my lecture on careless students wasn’t clear enough for you.” His voice sent chills down your spine. “Put the phone away.” He said, as he walked back to his desk to continue the lecture.

“And I expect to see you in my office after classes.”

Soon the day was coming to an end, all your classes being finished. You made your way to Dottore’s office, being located on the highest floor in the building. As you knocked on his office door you bit your lip and took a deep breath.

“Enter.” You pushed the door open, revealing the messy desk, covered in research papers and was that an ink spill? There were also multiple pictures and diagrams of the human body. Dottore was sitting on his chair, writing something on a piece of paper. “Do you know why I called you into my office, miss?” he asks, finally looking up from his papers. “Because I used my phone?” you answered. What else? He smiles, but it was quickly replaced with a stern and cold look on his face. “You’re partially correct.” he simply says as he then opens a drawer next to him, taking out a small stack of papers. He then takes the most top one, revealing it to you. You almost instantly recognize the paper. He slides you your latest test, the low score clearly written at the front of the paper before continuing to slide you other past tests, all low scores. You were clearly distracted by something too much to focus, your phone was only partially at fault. And Dottore knew that.

“Care to explain these?” You bit inside your mouth. “I’m so sorry. I…I had trouble with the material. I’ll do better next time, I promise.” You say as he lets out a sarcastic laugh, leaning back into his chair. “‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything. We should solve the cause of your dropping grades and I believe I know just what the problem is.” he gets up from his chair and walks towards you, towering over you. Your breath hitched, inhaling the expensive cologne he wore as his body was merely inches away from yours. Suddenly you felt small and trapped. Your heart rate increasing by the second. You weren’t really sure where this conversation was leading, but you really hoped that you wouldn’t have to repeat the year, or at worst, be expelled. You wanted to finish your degree, but who would’ve thought that one of your professors would be so goddamn sexy.

“I know I’m a distraction, miss. It’s written all over your face during my classes.” Dottore says, crossing his arms as he watches your expression turn frantic. “Professor Dottore, I-” you start, now worried that you might actually be expelled. “I didn’t mean to! I’ll…I’ll make it up!” you propose, quickly thinking of a way out. Dottore pauses for a moment, carefully considering your words before grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward. Causing you to nearly crash into his perfectly sculpted chest.You look up into his deep red eyes with pleading eyes.

“Seeing you’re so desperate, I have a few options for you.” His lips curve up into a small smirk as you look up at him with hope and desperation. You prepare yourself for what he’ll say next, but no matter how much preparation you had would make you prepared for this.

“You can either stay after classes every afternoon and study, along with a few other students. Learn a thing or two from your peers. Or,” he paused to give himself a smug grin, “You can sit on my cock while I tutor you myself.”

You swear you fainted for a second or two as soon as he finishes his sentence. He can’t actually be serious, can he? You look at him, cheeks flushed as he looks down and laughs at you once more, amused by the events unfolding in front of him. However you surprise him when you choose to sit on his cock.

And that’s how you ended up with his long length so deep inside you as he explains embryology to you. How ironic. Whenever you whined or tried to move he would slap your thigh and tell you to focus. “Do you understand?” he asks, after he finished his explanations. You slowly nod your head, squirming, causing him to harshly slap your thigh once more, the red spot on your thigh slowly growing in size and in shade. You whine out at the slap, trying to stay still but of no avail. “Do I have to remind you again that this is a punishment and not a prize?” You shake your head, keeping still as you grab the wooden desk in front of you, nails scraping on the wooden surface. You can’t help it. The way your cunt pulses around his length drives you crazy. It felt so good but so torturous without any movement.

Dottore, on the other hand, was entertained by your reactions. He never expected for you to accept his offer so quickly. He knew you had a crush on him but he’d never guess that you’d be so willing to go this far to have this sort of relationship with him. However, he couldn't deny the fact that having your wet, heat around his cock made him more motivated.

“That’s all for today.” he said, placing down the papers in his hands once he saw the time. It had already gotten quite late. “Today, you did good, amazing even. If this continues, you’ll improve to a B student in no time. And if you throw in a treat, I might consider bumping your grade up to even an A.” You whined as he thrusted up into you at the word ‘bumping’, your cunt convulsing around his cock once more.

How could you resist such a good offer?

#genshin smut #fatui harbringers #genshin impact smut #dottore #dottore smut #dottore x afab reader #il dottore

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ramp-it-up · 1 month ago

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Knock You Down: II

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky has to answer some hard questions on date #2.

This is a follow up to Part I

Word count: 3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Part III will be posted on Sunday, 10/13. I think it will be the final part. 😓

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, daydreams of: oral sex (f receiving), marking, edging, & overstimulation. High potential for phone sex? Narrowly missed masturbation; a pet name in google translate Romanian; voice kink; drunk messaging/calling; Bucky has you under surveillance; AAAAngst. The heat is ramping up, but still no sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———-

Bucky woke with his lips tingling for want of you.

After your first date, sleep had been elusive. His thoughts of you led to a physical condition that he was used to taking care of right away, one way or another.

He decided that only you could solve his problem.

You had him as hard as a rock and Bucky knew that your soft curves were both the culprit and the cure

In his dreams, he had been eating you out, the smell in his nostrils a mix the your natural scent and perfume on your wrist as he went down on you. He couldn’t actually taste you, but he just knew that you were delicious.

Knowing that he would be distracted all day, Bucky tried other means to work out his frustration. He got up, worked out, and concentrated on not being a simp.

Unsuccessful.

At the stroke of 8 am Bucky sent you a good morning text and inquiring about your sleep. He hoped that your dreams were as full of him as his were of you.

Bucky chuckled as he pressed send. Good morning texts were not in his repertoire, quite the opposite. He was a pro in dodging follow up texts from his conquests.

After 10 minutes, he put his phone down, because he realized he was staring at it waiting for your response. In the shower, the stream of cold water was meant to calm the lava in his veins at the thought of you still asleep in bed. He needed to stop thinking of waking you up with his head between your legs because then his erection would never go down.

Back in his bedroom, Bucky saw that you had responded. His heart was in his throat at just the notification of not just a text, but an image sent on his screen. He had to sit down.

I had sweet dreams.

Image sent from Y/N

The image was a pic of you in your bed, hair tied back and no makeup. The morning sunlight on your skin was everything and the soft smile on your face looked so kissable.

It appeared that you were wearing a tank top. He could see your neck and the tiniest bit of cleavage, but it was enough to have him raging hard again.

The highly rational urge to mark you up as a punishment for torturing him came to him like a bolt of lightning.

God, the thought of punishing, maybe edging you all day, or better yet, having you beg him to stop making you cum as he overstimulated you sent his hand to his dick under the towel, but his other hand was reaching for your contact.

He groaned when he realized what he was doing. One hand had to stop. He wasn’t going to do this.

Bucky unhanded himself and sighed as your phone rang, then his stomach dropped as he realized you probably wouldn’t pick up.

“Hullo? James?”

Your morning voice. The fantasy of how to wake you up took hold again.

“G-,” Bucky cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much.

“Good morning Frumoasă.”

Damn, his voice. Yeah. You had a voice kink. You felt the urge to ask for a picture of him.

And you knew where that would lead.

The rest of your day depended upon not revealing how much of a slut you were for him already, so you decided to crack a joke.

“Fumosa? What does that mean? You calling me fugly or something?”

Bucky laughed, and the sexual tension was broken. You were so fucking charming. He was definitely feeling you.

Bucky wanted to do so much more than to just be physical with you; he wanted to just be with you.

“Far from it, Y/N. Frumoasă means beautiful in Romanian. Ești foarte frumoasă. You are so beautiful.”

You could hear his smile as he replied.

“Hmmmm. Well. Good morning to you too, James. And thank you.”

Bucky smiled at his bedroom wall, reclining on his unmade bed, not caring that he would be late for work. But he was the boss, so it didn’t really matter. He wanted to hear that moan-hum thing you did again, so he repeated himself.

“Ești foarte frumoasă.”

You were shook. When Bucky spoke in Romanian, his voice lowered an octave or two. It left you squirming.

You stifled another moan and Bucky shifted, his towel moving again.

This phone call was getting dangerous.

“James…”

His heart beat double time when you said his name, as if you were asking for so much more than just his attention. One word from you and he would would make you see stars over the phone.

Damn, he was hard as a rock.

“Yes?”

The way his voice broke over that one little word left you speechless, trying to make a wise choice of words. Now was not the time for phone sex, no matter how much you wanted his voice to talk you through it. This man had you caught up, but you were trying to chill.

“See you in a few days.”

Bucky smiled again. You were constantly changing the game, a Queen to his Knight. But he was determined to capture you.

“See you in a few days frumoasă. I can’t wait. Have a great day.”

—

After that, you two stayed away from phone calls, subsisting on texts and anticipation for the next four days.

But you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Bucky, especially since Nat showed up at your favorite coffee shop that morning. She claimed that she lived nearby while hinting that Bucky liked you a lot. You just smiled and tried to be enigmatic, not the blushing schoolgirl that you felt inside.

Hungry for more pictures of you, Bucky followed you on Instagram. You didn’t habitually reveal a lot of skin, but what he could see of you made him want more.

You noticed his follow, (accompanied by several gossip rags) and took note as you blocked them and made your page private. James Barnes gave no fucks who knew about you. You smiled all day long at that knowledge.

On Wednesday, he noticed that you posted girl’s night out, apparently to celebrate your friend Sydney’s engagement.

You looked good, skin glowing, body giving, and those brown leather pants making him dizzy just by staring at them through a screen. He knew he’d be feral if he saw them in person.

Bucky fantasized all evening about you coming home to him that night.

When Bucky liked the post your heart rate increased and you felt like you were in a race.

“I’m winning!”

You whooped it up with your friends and ordered another bottle. That’s when you saw Sam out of the corner of your eye. You invited him over for drinks, much to the delight of your friends.

Your drunk text to Bucky when you got home and the following exchange had him grinning as he went to sleep that night. Friday evening would be interesting indeed.

You woke up Thursday morning, wondering why you had a picture of a shirtless Bucky Barnes as the lock screen on your phone.

Your eyes almost fell out of your head as you opened your messages and saw this exchange:

Hey James. I want to fuck your voice. Especially when you speak Romanian. 🫠

But I can’t fuck until date number 3 sooooo

*Voice memo from James

*Voice memo to James

Image sent from James

Thank you Daddy. 💋

You are welcome, Frumoasă. 😏

You threw your phone.

You called him Daddy????

And you told him about the three date rule.

You were out of control.

You immediately sent him another message.

Good Morning, James. I apologize for last night. Please, burn your phone and destroy all messages from me. Have a nice life. 🫣

Good morning, Frumoasă. Last night was harmless fun. 😉 Have a wonderful day. See you tomorrow evening.

You grinned because although you were embarrassed, he was right. And also because he was a chaotic, but harmless gentleman. He just gave you what you asked for and didn’t take advantage of the situation. And his left arm tattoo sleeve was sexy as fuck.

What a man.

——-

When Steve and Sam caught him staring your picture during an auction that morning, Bucky just grinned as his best friends razzed him. He realized that you were worth it as he serenely endured them busting his balls.

Later that day Sydney sent you some very interesting articles about Bucky Barnes and his business and called to check up on you. Your heart sank as you assured her that you were okay and thanked her for being a friend.

There was a different vibe for you now; James Barnes might not be the perfect guy. But you tried not to overreact.

Everything that was posted online wasn’t necessarily true.

You decided to exercise to clear your head, but lo and behold, when you looked to your left at SoulCycle, there was Steve Rogers, Bucky’s best friend. You managed to dodge a conversation by rushing off to work.

You were looking forward to your date, because James Barnes had a lot of explaining to do.

—----

When Bucky picked you up on Friday, you opened the door and quickly retreated to get your coat and purse as soon as he entered.

“Hello James,” you said from across your living room.

Buck couldn’t put his finger on what shifted, but something had. He raised his eyebrow at you as you stood out of his reach and he felt the chill in the air.

“Hello, Frumoasă.”

He didn’t hide his admiration at your dress as he bit his bottom lip, positive that he could probably just flip up the hem and slip his… Bucky forced his eyes back to yours.

Damn, he looked good in the brown suit and black crew neck shirt. His eyes were everything on those colors. You noticed him checking you out and you looked down at your mustard dress.

“I hope this is okay. I wore this to work. Got out a little later than I expected. Billie, my assistant, and I were setting up for the opening tomorrow.”

Bucky smiled.

“You look amazing. And I can’t wait to see the exhibit.”

You cleared your throat.

“About that. Are you sure you want to come?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you.

“...Yes. We agreed when I conceded to your price on Monday. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing, we’ll talk about it later. Are you ready to go?”

Bucky let you have whatever space you were needing at the moment.

“Lead the way.”

You chose the venue of this second date, a Harlem Renaissance exhibit in the eponymous borough. Bucky remained the perfect gentleman, taking your hand as he helped you into the car, but keeping his distance as you rode uptown.

If it were not for his all consuming stares and the desire in his eyes, you would think he wasn’t attracted to you. But you couldn’t let your libido have you make a terrible decision. You were deep in thought the entire ride to Harlem.

—---

You were in awe of the exhibit as much Bucky was in awe of you. You caught him admiring you instead of the art more than once, but you just smiled and launched into a conversation about the pieces, discussing the merits of the exhibit.

“That’s very astute. So good. Beautiful and smart.”

Bucky’s proximity to you during your banter was not helping your resolve. His voice in your ear cooing praises was making you weak. But you had to be strong. When he took your hand again as you walked to dinner on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, the thousand butterflies which had taken residence in your stomach on Monday afternoon fluttered their wings.

Damn. He had you down bad.

After you were seated, Bucky tried to break down the wall that you’d seemed to throw up between you.

“Alright, Frumoasă. Tell me. What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours? You’ve been in your head all night.”

You looked around, trying to avoid those perceptive blue eyes of his, and noticed that the rooftop terrace seemed to be deserted except for the two of you. You had been so caught up in your inner turmoil that you hadn’t noticed the surroundings.

“James…”

He was staring at you again, mouth open, and that tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yes, Frumoasă…”

“Did.. did you reserve this rooftop just for us?”

Bucky smiled and leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. He took a sip of wine before he answered.

“I may have called in a favor of the owner.”

“It’s Friday night! That is quite the feat.”

“Someone as striking as you deserves to be surrounded by beauty. Always.”

You shook your head at him.

“I’m serious James. I’m not your type. We come from two different worlds. You can have anyone you’d want. What would you want with me?”

Bucky sobered up, sensing your anxiety. He moved his chair closer to yours.

“I never make a promise that I can’t keep. And I don’t string women along. I try to make sure that everyone knows what it is with every encounter. Most women know that what happens is a one time thing.”

He stared at you with the ocean depths that were his eyes.

“And I hope you understand that you are not most women. Remember what I said Monday night?”

You nodded, remembering the rush of feelings and wild thoughts.

“That was the first of many dates. I haven’t been on a second date in… I honestly don’t know how long.”

You digested what he was saying, really wanting to like him, and more. But you had to clear the elephant from the room.

“Speaking of honesty. What do you really do for a living, James?”

Bucky looked at you strangely.

“What do you mean? I-”

“James. You have one chance to tell me the truth.”

Bucky digested the look on your face; he knew you were serious.

“It seems that you have read some things. Or someone has said something to you.”

You shrugged and said, “Both.”

You were anxious and relieved that he didn’t insist on the lie.

“Okay. Then.”

He sighed and looked at you carefully with those eyes, giving you a minute. After he told you the truth, there would be no going back.

“I’ll give you the cliff notes version:

When we moved to America when I was 10, my dad Jimmy fell into the family business, which was crime. He always expected me to take it over, training me from a young kid. Steve and I grew up together. Nat and Sam came along later. I dove in deep as soon as I was old enough and brought them with me, thinking that's what I wanted."

Bucky shook his head at his own miscalculation.

"It took five years to realize that it was no way to live. When my father died seven years ago, I could finally see a way out. I started the art business because it really is what I love, and I can divest myself of any connection to illegality be completely legitimate in a little over three more years.”

You sat back and crossed your arms. His explanation was too neat and tidy.

“You have a timeline to be done with crime?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but yes. I had a ten year and a five year plan. I’m working the plan with the help of my friends. And I’m doing it for them as much as for me. And if I'm thinking about a future with someone...."

Bucky reached over and took your hand as he stared at you.

"I'd be doing it for my own family as well."

You wanted to melt, but remained strong, pulling your hand from his.

“So you’re saying you aren’t a dangerous man? That I won’t be putting my reputation, my employment, and my life on the line by dating you?”

Bucky sat back as you posed your questions. He had never had to consider them before. He had never ‘dated’ anyone before. He just got what he wanted and they were safe because he never saw them again.

But now that what he wanted was you, and for far more than a one night stand, he was terrified.

“Y/N. I told you. I won’t lie to you. Yes. I am still a dangerous man. And yes, being associated with me can be dangerous. But I want you, Frumoasă. And I will stop at nothing to protect you."

You saw the ferocity of his emotions and you thought of all of them these past few days.

“Nat, Sam, and Steve. Those weren’t coincidences. Were they?”

Bucky gave you a wry smile and dropped his gaze. His voice got soft, as if he were chastened.

“No. They weren’t coincidences.”

Suddenly, you felt stifled, that there was no air avaiable. Even though you were outside.

“I- I need to think. I want to go home.”

“Come. I’ll take you.”

You rose and stepped away from Bucky.

“No. I need some space. I‘ll call a rideshare…”

“Nonsense. Nico is outside. He will take you. I can call Steve to pick me up.”

You looked up into Bucky's sad eyes.

“O-Okay.”

You fought the urge to bury yourself in his arms, and in a few minutes, Bucky put you in the car and you were rolling toward Brooklyn before you realized it.

——-

It wasn’t until you were in your tank top and sweats on your couch having made your head hurt with all of the thoughts for an hour, when you realized you never ate dinner and were starving.

You sighed and picked up your phone.

In just about another hour, your favorite takeout was on its way, comfort for a tumultuous evening. When you answered your door, your stomach flipped at the delivery person clad in white t-shirt, grey sweats, and a backwards ball cap.

You smiled at Bucky.

He grinned back.

“So. Is this date number three, orrrrr?…”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“You can drop the food off in my kitchen. This way, James.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, the heat in your gaze unmistakable.

Bucky smiled and thanked the heavens as he followed the sway of your hips into your home.

——-

Please let me know if you like it! 😊

Next part here.

#ramp-it-up falloween 24 #falloween #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #seb stan #sebastian stan #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #art dealer!Bucky Barnes #mob boss!bucky Barnes #Art dealer! Bucky Barnes #mob boss! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut

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fushigowo · 5 days ago

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𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊, 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓 | 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

⇢ ˗ˏˋ PAIRING: skater!getou x fem!reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SYNOPSIS: parties are out of your comfort zone, but when your friends dragged you to come with them at a frat party, you stumbled across getou suguru—the man who has been eyeing you since your first day on campus.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS: public sex, exbihitionism, fingering, wall sex, doggy, oral sex, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, size kink, multiple orgasms soft to mean dom suguru, suguru wears a lot of rings

⇢ ˗ˏˋ NOTES: WE ARE SO BACK (I DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS)

Getou Suguru is usually uninterested when it comes to women asking him out. He is always nonchalant and doesn’t give any fucks whenever someone is showing interest in him. Sure, he fucks around but that would just be a quick fuck to satisfy himself and nothing more. He wasn’t interested in anyone because they weren’t you.

Getou Suguru usually fucks around with other women, only because he imagines them as you. Suguru can get any woman he wants, but when it comes to you? Oh, you were hard to get, alright. And that—Suguru thinks—is quite a challenge for him. Unlike other women whom Suguru usually sees at the pit or frat parties, you couldn't be found at either of them. So, Suguru decided to know where your usual spots are on campus. In his defense, he wasn't stalking you. He only wanted to hang out and try to find a way to talk to you.

What Suguru thinks makes you stand out from the crowd is your aura. Whenever he saw you hanging out with your friends, you were always the soft-spoken one. Suguru likes how vibrant and soft you are. You don't give a single fuck about what other people say about you being fake because you’re always so nice, even to people who hate you.

Your sense of style is also a plus for Suguru. You always wear shades of pink, usually the lighter ones and always have those cute, little ribbons on—whether it is on your hair or your top or your tights or your shoes. While you wear those pink, vibrant colors, Suguru wears the complete opposite. He usually wears heavy colors, mostly black and a lot of accessories, which are rings. Aside from Suguru’s hobby of skating, he also plays as lead guitarist in a band in his free time when he’s not busy with academics. You, however, usually spend your time taking walks in parks and going to art museums when not busy with your studies. Suguru knows that your major is associated with art. Not to be a creep, but because of Suguru’s deep admiration for you, he came to realize that your program is Fine Arts, majoring in painting.

Right now, Suguru’s eyeing you from across the library as he finishes studying and taking notes. He wasn’t supposed to take two hours in the library, but because you were here, it was such a distraction for him. He finally snapped back to his senses when your friend came crashing into your peaceful time. Suguru went back to studying and finally left with his notebooks and book in his hands before taking one last glance at you, ignoring your friend’s presence.

“Hey,” your friend greeted you and sat beside you. You closed your notebook and looked at her with a smile, asking what was her business with you. “Do you have any deadlines this weekend? Y'know, you’re always busy with your plates and canvases and shit. You can have fun with us this Saturday.”

“And what kind of fun am I getting myself into, Mei Mei?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Just some frat party—”

“No.”

“Come on, babe. Just one time.” she pleads.

“You know parties are out of my comfort zone,” you replied. “I’m just not comfortable being in one.”

“Just one time, please? Utahime, Shoko, and I will keep you company. Besides, you might meet someone there.” she winked.

Giving up your defenses, you take a deep sigh in defeat before saying, “I’ll think about it, Mei Mei.”

Your friend, to her excitement, accidentally squealed in the library, which made you wince in embarrassment. Sometimes you don’t know why you’re associated with your friends. Mei Mei, the gambler. Shoko, the smoker. Utahime, the violent one. Well, what can you say? They’re your friends, you support them no matter what. Later that night, you were doing your makeup when your friends came crashing into your dorm. The good thing is that your roommate wasn’t there with you. Otherwise, she would complain again about how annoying your friends are. You can’t blame her though. You definitely understand her. After one last look at your outfit in the mirror, your friends finally dragged you out of your dorm.

As your friends walk you to the venue of the party, you can already hear the loud, thunderous music echoing from the distance accompanied by the overlapping voices of dozens of people enjoying and having fun at the party. You weren’t even in front of the doorstep yet you already want to ditch your friends and go back to your dorm and have a peaceful night for yourself.

The frat house was huge, almost as huge as a manor house, having three stories. Its walls are made with brick walls covered in off-white paint, with the front of the house having a banner with the name of the frat. You don’t even have to guess that the house was packed, because it already was.

“Come on, babe. It’ll be fun.” Mei Mei whispered to you and didn’t even give you time to protest when she came dragging you inside.

The inside of the house was even messier than you pictured in your head. The music was even louder than outside. It had your ears ringing because of how loud it was. People were all scattered across the house; playing ping pong tables or something, dancing in the living room, drinking and making out in every corner, playing seven minutes in heaven, dancing, partying, all that stuff.

You wanted to stick with your friends, but Mei Mei and Shoko went their separate ways, and Utahime was nowhere to be found, which you guessed already ditched the party. When you decide to ditch your friends as well, you come walking towards the front door until someone blocks you from your way.

“Uhm, excuse me,” you muttered.

“Never seen you here before, cutie. Want a drink?” The man who offered you a drink was a white-haired man with cerulean blue eyes accompanied by his pale ivory skin and huge, and you mean, huge, tall, and muscular build.

“Oh, yeah—uhm, sure.” You couldn’t say no. The man, then, handed you a cup of beer and offered you a seat somewhere in the house. It was pretty calm where you’re at. Just a bunch of college people, talking and playing games and socializing in general.

“What’s your name? We’ve been throwing a lot of parties since our freshman year here,” he says. “So many familiar faces, but you’re someone who I saw just now. Oh, I’m Satoru, by the way. Gojo Satoru.” he smiled at you, making you smile back.

You told your name to him and answered that your friends only dragged you here and that you don’t really do well when it comes to parties. You didn’t tell him the part that you just hate crowded and loud places.

“I see,” he said. “Well, I hope you’re having a great time.”

“Not really.” you chuckled bitterly. “I don’t know where my friends are and I have no idea who you guys are.”

“Why don’t you join us then?” someone from across your seat asked.

Your eyes met with black-colored ones. He has a small smile plastered on his pinkish, thin lips. His hair is long and lustrous, tied in a half-bun. Same with Gojo, he is tall and muscular as well, given that his wide, black tank top is showing his muscles and even his chest. What intrigued you the most is his clothing. He wears all black clothes, his pants filled with accessories, such as chains and belts with creative designs. He also wears a lot of piercings on his ears and his fingers are filled with silver rings. You thought that Gojo is handsome and all, but this man is gorgeous. You didn’t even realize that you were staring at him for a while now when Gojo snapped his fingers in front of your face, taking you back to your senses.

“You’re staring at him too much, angel. You’re making me jealous.” Gojo jokes.

“Fuck off, Satoru.” The man scolded the white-haired man before looking at you again. “We’re gonna play something. Wanna join?”

“Sure. What is it?” you asked.

“Seven minutes in heaven, as usual.” Gojo rolled his eyes.

You didn’t say anything and decided to join and all the participants in the game sat down on the floor in a circle.

While the game is on-going—with other people being locked in the closet—your eyes are stuck on the black-haired man. He is talking to one of his fratmates, which you had guessed. Something about him that makes you squirm on your seat. You kept observing how good-looking he is and how he talks in such a soft-spoken way with other people and he always has a nice look on his face, even when not talking. At least that’s what you think.

You were silently hoping that the two of you would be locked in the closet together, with privacy in the dark. And when that happens, there’s a high possibility that you could feel his touch on your skin or even his lips meeting yours while his hands are traveling around your body, making their way down on your—

“Oops! Get in the closet, Suguru!" Gojo yelled at one of the participants but you were too busy fantasizing about Gojo's friend.

Suddenly, you were then guided to walk towards the closet with the person you were paired up with already inside it. Now, you’re locked inside a dark, chilly closet with someone you don’t even know by name or by face because the closet was too dark for you to make up the features of the person you were with.

“Uhm…” you mumbled, not knowing what to say. “Where… oh—I'm sorry.” you apologized when your hand hit something hard. It was his chest. His chest is hard as fuck.

“It’s okay.” he chuckled. “Didn’t even hurt, princess.”

“I didn’t expect to play this again in college,” you mumbled. “The last time I played this, I was in high school when I had my first kiss. It was not good at all.”

The man chuckled again, this time much louder than before. “Was he not a good kisser?”

“Definitely not. He was awful, and I’m being too nice with the word awful.” you said in disgust. “It was such a horrible seven minutes in heaven.”

“Someone needs to teach him how to kiss. Besides, it’s embarrassing being a horrible kisser when kissing someone so pretty.”

“How do you know I’m pretty?”

“I just know,” he mumbled. “Want me to make this a wonderful seven minutes in heaven for you?”

“How?” you asked.

“Come closer,” he whispered, which you did.

His touch made you startled on your feet, making him chuckle under his breath. His hand, then, started to caress the back of your head and feel your hair.

“Relax, sweetheart.” he said those words that can make you imagine a smile on his lips.

His hands are taking their time exploring your body, making their way down to your waist then up to your spine that sends you shivers on your back then down to your waist again. The man’s touch was warm and needy as if he wants to explore every inch of your body right here, right now. He was not shy to let his hands travel beneath the fabric of your shirt and even your mini-skirt.

You didn’t even notice that you were already leaning so close to him, that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead, sending shivers down your spine. Your hands are resting on his chest while one of his is caressing your ass. The other starts making its way to your chin, guiding you to look up at him despite not seeing his face due to the darkness of the closet.

The closeness of his warm breath made contact with your lips and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours. At first it was a gentle, passionate kiss, slowly turning into a hungry one, filled with desire and lust. His hand on your chin then held your cheek.

The way he guided you up against the wall was dominant yet gentle and careful at the same time. His kisses became hungrier as his tongue snaked its way inside of your mouth, meeting your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan against his kisses that your hands made their way up to his hair. You didn’t even notice the long length of it and his half-bun up because you were so intoxicated by his lips and kisses.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, right before kissing your neck while his hands waste no time in lowering down your panties.

You’re breathing so heavily, your nails are digging against his back. You let out a yelp when you feel his fingers touch your folds, making him chuckle at your reaction. You just know that he licked his fingers before inserting two of it inside you.

“Oh, shit,” you moaned before covering your mouth.

“Nah, don’t even bother doing that,” he whispered. “Let them hear. They know damn well what we’re doing here anyway, so don’t even bother covering your noises.”

You nodded before taking off your hand from your mouth.

“That's a good girl.” you heard him whisper right in your ear.

You feel his fingers speed up inside you, making you squirm under his grasp. You tried your best not to let out a yelp or anything louder than the soft moans and whimpers that only he could hear despite telling you to let them hear. The mere thought of everyone outside this closet hearing you moan out loud is out of the question.

When you feel his strong arms wrap around your legs to carry you against the wall and straddle him on his waist, you cover your mouth instantly as his fingers continue to play with your cunt. One hand is covering your mouth while the other is gripping the shirt on his back. The faster he plunges his fingers inside you, the louder you can hear the wetness emanating from your pussy.

“Mmmph! Mmmh…” you tried your best to stop yourself from being heard outside the closet. And yet, it was harder for you to do so as you feel yourself getting closer. You had the courage to take your hand off your mouth and whisper—or whimper, rather—to the man fingerfucking you inside a closet. “I’m—I’m gonna cum. I’m so close—Mmmph!”

“Yeah? Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Cum on my fingers then, come on.” you can imagine a smirk on his face as he says those words with amusement.

Your breathing became heavier, the air between the two of you grew hotter as you're getting nearer and nearer to cumming.

You felt his warm tongue lick down on your neck towards your collarbone, leaving hickeys and bites to your skin.

Your toes started curling as you close your eyes tightly, that you were sure you were about to see stars as you get closer.

“Oh, fuck, yes—”

Then, with one last thrust of his fingers, just when you were about to reach your climax, the two of you heard a loud knock on the wooden door of the closet, making him curse under his breath.

“Hey, it’s been ten minutes, love birds! Go get yourself a room!” You and the man heard Gojo’s voice shout from outside.

What a cunt, you thought.

“I’m gonna kill him after this.” The man whispered as the both of you settle yourselves down. “Wanna get out of this party?” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah. I might need more of that.” you chuckled.

The two of you are sweating so hard after a heated makeout session inside the closet. You were sure that your hair and makeup is all messy as well as your dress so you would have to retouch yourself before getting out of this party with this man. You still have no idea who this was, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You just needed to let out your frustration after getting cockblocked by Gojo.

“Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says.

With that, he opened the closet door, already seeing dozens of eyeballs staring at the two of you, knowing damn well what the both of you did there. Some were blushing and flustered, while most were cheering for the man and you, and others were drunk as hell.

You feel yourself getting flustered and your cheeks heating up because of the embarrassment. You had never done it before where other people could hear you. Well, maybe others did hear you before, but then again, you weren’t aware of them listening.

“Hey, fuck you, Satoru!”

You eyed the man you were with inside the closet and when you saw who he was, your eyes flew wide open in shock, almost feeling your jaw drop when you saw his long, raven hair tied in a half-bun. You were just fantasizing about him earlier and now, you made out with him inside a dark, cramped closet.

“Calm down, man!” Gojo was being headlocked by a man named ‘Suguru’. You heard from Gojo.

Getou Suguru.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Suguru took your hand and walked towards the door of the frat house. Before Suguru could get out, he picked up his skateboard that was leaning against the wall. Just when the two of you were about to head out, he threw one last middle finger towards Gojo with a smirk on his face.

“God, I hate him.” he chuckled as he shook his head, his hand still in yours while the other held his skateboard.

You let out a quiet laugh before asking where the two or you are going. He said he knows a quiet spot where he usually hangs out.

An empty skate park beside an abandoned store. It was empty and quiet, only the crickets can be heard, considering that it's two minutes 'till three in the morning. There were few light posts surrounding the park, showing some graffiti on the concrete.

“Do you skate?” he asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Truth be told, Suguru’s heart was beating so fast when he realized that it was you who he had kissed and fingerfucked inside a closet. The last time he saw you, he was just fantasizing what it was like to touch you, to kiss you, and now, he did. And when he did, god, he felt as if he could never kiss anyone else after getting the chance to kiss you. Suguru, being true to his intentions, doesn’t want to kiss anyone else after that.

You chuckled before replying, “Do I look like the type of woman who skates?” you pointed to yourself, especially to your outfit. You were wearing pink high heels and stockings with ribbons, of course.

“Could be. Who knows? Maybe you do.” he smiles before gesturing to you to come closer to him. “Come here. I’ll teach you.”

“In heels?” you almost gasped.

“Yeah, come on, princess.” he motioned you to stand on his skate while he holds your arms to help you maintain your balance as you stare at your feet on top of the board. “See? You’re already doing so good.” he praised, making you smile at him.

“I'm barely moving, Suguru."

“You’re getting the hang of it—”

Suguru’s words were cut off by the sudden fast motion of the board, which caused you to lose your balance and almost fall on the concrete, head first. Thankfully, Suguru’s arms never let go of you, giving him the chance to catch you.

“Easy, princess. I got you.” he smiles and then gives you a peck on the lips, making you awestruck.

“Oh, you’re so sly, Getou Suguru,” you mumbled before kissing him back. Suguru, on the other hand, never hesitated.

The kiss between the two of you began to deepen. His arms that were holding your body are now pulling your waist closer to his, the other, traveling on your back. The feeling of kissing the woman that Suguru admired for years now had never felt so euphoric. It was as if he would never have the urge to kiss another woman again except you. Your lips could never compare to the ones he had kissed before, and even those thoughts were suddenly pushed out of Suguru’s memory as he focuses on the sweet taste of your lips.

“Mmm… I want more… I want more, Suguru.” you moaned in between kisses.

“Yeah? You want more, princess?” Suguru whispered in your ear, his hot breath against your skin sends shivers on your spine, making you cross your legs in need.

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed.

“Come on.” Suguru took your hand and led you to the back of the abandoned store covered by the large bushes.

“Wait, Suguru. Here?” you looked up at him, unsure of the place.

“Is there a problem?”

“What if somebody sees?” you asked.

“Then we’ll give them a good show.” he smirked before pressing his lips against yours again, making you lean back on the wall.

Your arms snaked up Suguru’s nape, pulling him closer to your kisses. His lips began to lower down your jaw, to your neck down to your collarbone. When Suguru reached your pink shirt, he looked at you, as if asking permission to lift your shirt up. You nodded, and the man didn’t hesitate to do so, showing your laced bra. Instead of taking the clasps off, Suguru only lifted your bra as well, exposing your tits and nipples.

“So pretty,” he mumbled before sucking on your nipples, letting his tongue swirl while his hand is massaging the other. Meanwhile, his other hand is rubbing on your soaked panties, making you moan lightly under your breath.

“Mmm… Suguru… feels so good,” you mumbled in between your heavy breaths as Suguru continued to toy with your wet pussy while he took his time playing with your hard nipples.

Suguru’s kisses began moving down again, kissing your stomach until his face meets your pussy. He took one last glance at you before hooking your panties, as if he was asking permission to remove them. You didn’t hesitate to nod your head while the man quickly slid your panties down, not wasting a single second.

“She’s so wet for me, princess.” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but release a sudden yelp when you felt Suguru’s tongue on your folds.

Oh, fuck. He has a fucking tongue piercing.

It was as if your entire body shook because of the sudden cold that you felt through your pussy. Suguru’s tongue piercing keeps touching your folds as he continues to eat you out as if you’re the last thing he’s ever going to eat.

“Oh, shit… feels so good, Suguru. Sooo good,” you moaned. The back of your head touches the wall while your hands grip Suguru’s long hair, messing up his man bun.

Suguru couldn’t care less about him eating you out loud and continued to devour your wet pussy. The loud slurping and sucking noises that his mouth and tongue makes filled the supposedly quiet ambiance. The vibrations of Suguru’s moans caused your pussy to ache even more while your moans became louder and louder, that your mind completely forgot that you’re being eaten out in public.

“Shit, you taste so fucking good. Can’t get enough of you, princess.” he chuckled and continued to lap your folds.

When Suguru said he can’t get enough of you, he fucking means it. Suguru hooks one of your legs to his shoulders while his hands travel to your lower back to push your hips even closer to his mouth.

“Oh, my fucking god, Suguru!” you moaned while your hands gripped his hair tighter when you feel yourself getting closer to cumming.

“You gonna cum, princess? Yeah, cum for me, cum for me. Come on, cum on my tongue,” he mumbled in between sucking your clit and licking your pussy aggressively.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna cum, Suguru, I’m—shit!” your breathing became heavier while Suguru became even more aggressive with the way he eats you out. The slurping, sucking, and squelching noises became louder as he pushed your hips harder to him.

Your grip on Suguru’s hair became even tighter. Your legs begin to shake, eyes feel as if they’re traveling at the back of your head, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer that your toes start to curl.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum, fuck! Suguru!”

You tried your best to muffle your loud moans by covering your mouth when you felt yourself cumming on Suguru’s tongue. That was the first and only time you came so hard that you swore you saw stars.

“Ah, so fucking good,” Suguru mumbled and took one last lick on your pussy before standing up to meet your face. He didn’t hesitate to kiss you to let you taste yourself. “Good thing there’s no Satoru to cockblock us.” he chuckled before kissing you again.

“We’re not done, are we?” you asked and looked up at him.

“Do you seriously think we are? No fucking way, princess,” he whispered before telling you to turn back. You did what he asked and pressed your palms on the wall. “You’re on the pill, right?” he asked, to which you nodded as your reply.

Suguru smirked behind you before gently lifting your skirt. You bite your lips as you hear him unbuckling his belt. The man didn’t waste any time to pull his cock out, now leaking with pre-cum. A smirk curls up his lips as he watches you looking behind your shoulder. One of his hands is holding your hips, guiding you closer to him while the other is holding his cock.

“Think you can take all of this, princess?” he smirked as he rubbed the length of his cock on your wet slit, making you moan under your breath. You couldn’t help but release a whimper instead of answering his question, and to Suguru, that was all he wanted to hear and nothing more.

Suguru released a sharp breath as he pushed his thick cock inside of you. Series of curses and moans came out of Suguru’s mouth when he felt your hot insides and how tight you are around his cock. His hand came to grip your hair, pulling your face closer to him and making you arch your back even more while he looked down at you.

“You’re so fucking tight around me, shit.” he moaned before kissing you. The two of you shared moans in between kisses as Suguru pushed even deeper inside you, making your legs shake. You couldn’t help but release a yelp from your lips when Suguru suddenly thrusted inside of you.

“Nghh… so deep, Suguru. It’s so—ah—deep, oh, my fucking god,” you moaned.

Suguru lets out a chuckle before looking down on his cock not even fully inside you yet. “You’re not even taking all of it yet, sweetie. Just a bit more, ‘kay? Think you can take all of it for me?” he asked, pulling you closer to him, causing you to arch your back.

“Mmm-hmm. Give it to me, please. I need it, Suguru, please,” you begged, almost teary-eyed while you looked up at him.

He’s not even pushing all of his cock inside you and yet you already feel so full. That’s how big Suguru is.

With one last thrust, Suguru pushed his hips even harder and deeper inside you, making him moan and release a sharp breath at how deep he is. He can almost feel his eyes rolling at the back of his head because of how good you feel, how tight you are around him, and how pretty you look while you take all of him.

Your legs continue to shake while you try not to show your teary-eyes to Suguru because of how deep he is that you can feel the head of his cock hitting your cervix. You looked over your shoulder when Suguru released soft chuckles before saying: “Such a good girl, taking it all for me. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m your good girl, Suguru,” you whimpered as you looked up at him with teary eyes. Well, he makes you look up at him.

Suguru took one last kiss from you before thrusting his hips while his hand holds yours and the other grips your hair that is causing you to arch your back. The squelching noises and his balls hitting the back of your cunt was accompanied by your moans and heavy breaths filled the air of the scene.

Your moans became louder and louder as Suguru’s thrust became faster and deeper, hitting your cervix, which made your legs quiver and your eyes to almost roll back again because of how good Suguru is fucking you. You couldn’t care less about how loud you’re becoming and how intense Suguru’s thrusts are, that anyone who stumbled across the park would hear the two of you. Anything other than Suguru’s cock going in and out of you was out of your mind since it was the only thing that you could think of—that is, if you could still think.

“Hah, ah, shit! Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he moaned as he looked down on your teary, submissive eyes. “I could fuck you all night and—shit—and still can’t get enough of you.”

Suguru’s pace became faster, his balls hitting your cunt became louder as well as your moans. Your legs quivered more when you feel yourself getting closer to cumming again.

You couldn’t think straight anymore when Suguru suddenly let go of your hair and held both of your arms back. Loud moans and whimpers released from your mouth as you feel yourself seeing stars again and your toes starting to curl once more. The fast pace of Suguru’s thrusts made your body move back and forth as well as your head. The hair that you took so long to style was now ruffled and messy and your makeup that took you forever to put was now being washed away from your eyes when tears started traveling down your cheeks.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Suguru! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum, please, please, please! I’m so close, so close.” you whimpered, almost cried out loud, making Suguru smirk behind you, his moans and groans became louder when he felt himself getting closer to cumming too.

“Yeah? Beg for me, beg for me, slut. You’re so fucking dirty—ah, shit, letting me fuck you in public.” he chuckled in a saccharine tone.

Suguru’s sudden change of tone from sweet and caring like earlier was now replaced with a saccharine, almost mean demeanor, which caused your pussy to tighten around his length. Suguru couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when he felt your cunt tighten around him.

“Did you just fucking tighten around me? You like being called that, huh, slut?” Suguru released one of your arm from his grip and pinched your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker up while you look up at him. Seeing your teary eyes and messy makeup made Suguru hornier yet he can’t let himself cum yet.

“Mmmph… ‘Guru, ‘m so close, please,” you plead.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Not yet,” he whispered before pulling out of you, making you whimper and cry at his sudden action.

You couldn’t help but whine your frustrations out. You were so close and yet Suguru decided to tease you and toy with you by edging you when he pulled his cock out. Just when you are about to feel yourself cumming again, that’s when he decided to be a complete jerk and make you beg and cry for him. But that doesn’t mean that you didn’t like what he’s doing right now.

Suguru made you face him again, which you did. He lifted both of your legs up and carried you in his arms while your back was against the wall. Both of your legs are at the sides of his hips while his arms are under your legs, carrying it to position you up. You circled your arms around his neck while Suguru positioned his cock inside of you again, making you look down and whimper at the sight of your pussy taking all of him again.

“Wanna see you cum, princess. Sorry about that.” he chuckled.

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you whispered with a soft smile.

Suguru started to thrust his hips again, creating squelching noises again accompanied by the moans and heavy breaths of the two of you. You tried your best to hold on to Suguru, not minding the hard wall hitting your back.

You were never one to be too intimate with someone when having sex like couples do, such as staring into each other’s eyes and kissing while doing it. You find it too intimate to be doing those things with someone that you don’t have any intention of being involved with. But when it comes to Suguru, it was as if it’s natural for you to do such things with him. The two of you couldn’t help but to stare into each other’s eyes and kiss deeply as he thrusts his cock inside of you.

“So good, Suguru, feels so good.” you whimpered. “Wanna cum so bad, please. Please let me cum, Suguru.” you begged.

“Yeah? Let’s make you cum then, princess.”

Suguru’s pace became faster, hitting your cervix once again, making you cry and bury your face on his neck. His breaths became heavier, louder when he felt himself getting closer to cumming and this time, he’s not going to hold back.

“Oh, shit, fuck, yes. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, baby—so close, pleasepleaseplease.” you cried, making you hold your head back and hit the wall as you feel yourself seeing stars again.

“Cum on my cock, baby. That’s it, come on. Cum for me, cum for me, cum for me.”

With one last thrust of Suguru’s hips, you felt yourself cumming again, gushing around Suguru’s cock that almost made your eyes roll at the back of your head and your toes to curl, legs caging Suguru’s hips, making him release his cum inside you. His cum made you feel so full and hot inside. Making sure that none of his cum is wasted, Suguru thrusts his hips a few times, deep and hard.

Suguru smiled at you before pressing his lips on yours once more. The two of you shared a deep, intimate kiss before he pulled himself out of your pussy, making you whimper one last time. Suguru took the initiative to pull your panties back up and tidy up your clothes. He clasped your bra and rolled your top down as well as your skirt. Suguru used his dark-colored shirt to wipe your now-messy makeup and comb your hair using his fingers.

“There, all done, princess.” he smiled and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“Sure, Suguru.” you smiled.

Just when the two of you are about to kiss again, you are interrupted by the loud ringing of Suguru’s phone. He took his phone out to see the caller ID, making him raise an eyebrow and shake his head, which caused you to ask who it was. Suguru didn’t say anything and just answered the phone.

“Hey, man! Where the fuck are you? Utahime is yelling at me, saying that I let you kidnap her friend.”

You couldn’t help but face-palm and shook your head once again. You took Suguru’s phone from his hand and said, “Tell her I just had the best sex of my life.”

With that, you ended the call.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou smut #getou suguru smut #getou x reader #getou x you #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n

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cuubism · 1 year ago

Text

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

#this is SO silly #hob is literally the most average guy and dream is salivating with lust and completely ferally obsessed with him #it's mutual tho dream is literally a gremlin and hob is like 😍 wow he's beautiful he's like an angel #and then they lived happily ever after #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #sex scene between these two would be funny as fuck i think hob would touch dream once and he would come instantly and maybe also faint

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flippinpancakes64 · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! i love your works!💗 btw can i request headcanons of Cullens on reader’s birthday?💗

The Cullens on your Birthday

I love this request!!! I don’t really have anything else to say here so we’ll just get right to it

Also I saw Deadpool and Wolverine today and oh my fucking god i couldn’t contain myself every time Hugh Jackman came on screen

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He tries to do whatever you want to do

Your favorite restaurant, your favorite place to visit, your favorite movies

But if Alice wants to throw a party then that’s just what’s gonna happen

He wants to spend all of his money on you

If you let him, he will

But he mostly tries to get you a sentimental gift

Something that will mean something to you rather than just being expensive

Not to say that sentimental thing WONT be expensive because it definitely will

What can I say

He loves to spoil the people he loves

Gift giving is his love language for sure

He just wants this day to be completely about you

Cause he loves you ❤️

Alice:

She does NOT play around

The biggest party this town has seen ever

If you let her, she will invite everyone that lives within a 20 mile radius

And on the invite it said that everyone has to bring a gift

She wants to make this a completely memorable night

Basically the whole week of your birthday is all about you

You guys take the week off of school

She gets you on a plane or a boat and takes you to wherever you want to go

All-expenses paid vacation

On the actual day of your birthday, she brings you back home to where the party is

You have so many gifts that you actually don’t know what to do with them

Like, you do not have room for all of this shit in your house

She doesn’t care

She makes sure that the day is COMPLETELY about you

It doesn’t matter who it is, if they’re causing a scene at your party they are escorted out immediately

It could literally be the Pope and she would boot him to the curb

Jasper:

He’s very lowkey

He doesn’t want you to feel overwhelmed

And if you’re anything like him, you do not want to be the center of attention at all

So he opts for something smaller and more intimate

He takes you to the movies, your favorite restaurant, and an art museum

Just a day out basically

Wherever you want to go, he’s your personal chauffeur

Once he takes you home, he gives you just one small present

It will be something very meaningful and heartfelt

He just wants this to be special and completely about you

Just you

No other distractions or people

Does his best to discourage Alice from throwing a huge party

Especially if you express that you don’t want one

Or even if you do want one but not like a huge event

Rosalie:

She’s really good at finding a happy medium

Right between too big of a party and too small of one

She makes you take the day off of school

And then she does everything that you’ve ever asked of her

Want to go to Build a Bear? Done

Want to go skydiving? Done

Want to watch a movie? Done

Literally anything and she’ll do it

After your day of fun, she brings you back to the Cullen house for a party

All of your family (that you like) is there, along with the Cullens

Her gift to you would be some kind of jewelry

A ring, a necklace, a bracelet, whatever you wear most often

It has both yours and Rosalie’s birth stones embedded in it

So cute

Emmett:

This man goes all out

He sets up an elaborate surprise party (with Alice’s help)

He would do one of those treasure hunt things for your birthday

It would start in your room when you wake up

A note would be on your dresser saying to go one place, that place would have another note to go somewhere else, you know what I mean

Along the way, all of these spots have a little present for you too

A small trinket, a gift card, just little stuff

It would end up with you in some random field where all of your friends and family are there waiting

He’s so proud of himself

And if you love it, then he’s even happier

His big gift to you would be something super expensive

Think a Mercedes

Esme:

She’s another party thrower

She’s super excited to be able to host a party after having a basically empty house for so long

Alice gets to help, of course

It would be incomplete without her

She spends the whole day baking and cooking for all of the guests

She invited so many people

All of your friends and family, along with any friends that the Cullen kids have made, and any coworkers that Carlisle wants

This is a full house

And she loves it

But she makes sure to never stray from your side for the whole night

The whole place is filled with your favorite everything

Food, music, cake, color, decorations, everything

Yes there was a dress code

Yes everyone had to wear your favorite color

Her gift would be something handmade

A shirt or a blanket or something like that

Something that took her literal months to make

Carlisle:

This guy is also a bit more on the lowkey side

He doesn’t want to throw a huge party

If that’s what you want, then he will gladly ask Alice for help

But if it was just left to him, it would be much more romantic

Reservations to the nicest restaurant in town, a romantic boat ride, and ending the night with just the two of you

If he was able to get the week off of work, then he doesn’t hesitate to take you to Isle Esme

Special occasions call for special destinations

His gift to you would be huge

Like I’m talking maybe even an island for yourself

Or a yacht

Or a jet

Whatever you choose

Vampire! Bella:

We know that she’s not a party person

But I feel like she is a birthday person

She was just a bit pissy about hers in the movies/books because she was getting older

But now it’s not a problem for her

She’s still not gonna be one to throw a huge party though

She keeps it small

Prefers to just stay home

Not really a gift-giving type

Don’t get me wrong though she does get you something

But think something handmade

Like a beaded bracelet or necklace that she made herself

It’s a lot more sentimental

188 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 4 months ago

Text

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Gen Words: 2.8K~ Summary: Not too long after making peace with Homeworld and sparking the start of Era 3, Steven wakes up one morning to discover some... notable changes about himself.

AKA: The one where Steven finally hits his growth-spurt. All at once. Because of course the half-Gem kid could never experience such a human thing like puberty in a "normal" way.

[Part 1 of 2]

Just a few seconds later, knuckles rap against the door in answer to his perturbed cry.

“Yo Steve-o, that you in there?” Amethyst calls.

“Y-yeah?” he stammers. His brows threading inwards, he delicately runs his fingers over the ridge upon his throat, very much thrown off by the distinctly lower tenor of the sound coming from his own mouth. He swallows hard, pushing himself to speak again. Come on Steven, he berates himself, think of something lighthearted. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. No need to completely freak out over this yet. “Who else would I be? It’s not like the whole town uses this bathroom…”

“I mean, I do sometimes. For fun.”

“Okay, fair point, but—”

“Dude, what’s wrong with your voice? Are you like, sick or somethin’?“

“No, it’s just—”

He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out all the nebulous, spinning distractions of his mind and the world beyond. Deep breath. It’s okay. Tons of things about his form may be entirely different right now, but like… he seems fine. Right?? Nothing about his body feels tangibly wrong like it did when he willfully stretched himself out on his 14th birthday, or when he changed all his fingers into cats, or when he lost all control of his aging and morphed into an anciently old man and almost died, it’s just…

New.

New and wholly unfamiliar.

So what now? How can he bravely move forward with all this? What does he need to know?

“Have, uh… have you ever shapeshifted by accident in your sleep?”

“Not that I‘m aware of,” she says, and he can practically hear the shrug in her tone. “Shapeshifting is a conscious thing you do. It’s a choice, y’know? It doesn’t just happen.”

A good long moment passes as he drinks this information in. He runs his hand through the short curls at the back of his neck as he stands there in the pair of too-small banana yellow pajamas he fit in just fine last night, musing.

“Huh… I guess that makes things pretty simple, then.”

“What d’ya’—”

“Amethyst, I think I’m finally older,” he says, still absolutely mystified by this prospect as he gawks at himself in the mirror.

She gives a fond laugh. “Ch’a, right? You get older everyday, bud. Wild.”

“No, I mean I’m actually, physically older! Look!”

Steven whirls around and swings the bathroom door wide open to show her. Amethyst’s jaw drops.

“Whoa—! Dude!”

Chuckling nervously, he steps a few feet out, wriggling his bare toes against the wood floor. “I know, right?”

“What the heck, you weren’t kidding!” Before he can even move to say anything else, she spins on her heels and cups her mouth with her hands, hollering towards the temple door. “HEY, PEARL! GARNET! You gotta get out here and see this!”

His brows shoot towards his hairline, his heart hammering in his chest all the while at the thought of all the dumb show-and-tell he’s gonna have to deal with now. “Aww, come on, did you really have to—”

“Amethyst!” Pearl cries, scrambling through the still opening gap in the doorway with Garnet striding mere steps behind. She summons her spear from her gem and swings it to fighting stance with an artful flourish. “What happened? Where’s the threat? What do you need us for??”

Steven darts towards them, hands held up in a placating plea.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! There’s no danger! We’re fine. I just—”

“Oh, my stars—!” she gasps, allowing her spear to dissipate in a glittery flicker of light. “You’ve grown!”

“Nice look, Steven,” Garnet nods, a supportive smile gracing her lips.

“And you’re sure this is real this time? You’re not—?”

“No, no, I’m not stretching myself out, I promise. I just woke up like this.”

“B-but—” Pearl taps her fingers against her chin, appearing thoroughly puzzled— “I thought humans were supposed to age gradually, not all at once.”

Steven’s shoulders slump. “Well… that’s what I assumed too, but—”

“Come, sit with me,” Garnet says, walking around the warp pad to enter the living room. She sets herself down on the couch, patting the cushion in open invitation.

With a heavy, far too weary for his age sigh, Steven shoves his hands in the pockets of his too-small banana pajamas and plods his way over. The rest of the Gems follow suit. He settles himself right next to Garnet, with Pearl perched opposite to her and Amethyst happily lounging on the floor, leaning on the coffee table with her elbows.

“Steven’s aging hasn’t aligned with the norms of humanity for a very long time,” she observes, a glint of morning sun that’s beaming through the window catching on the edge on the edge of her star shaped visor. Then, turning to him: “I’m curious why you think this is.”

He hums, considering all the chaotic happenings of the past few years. Despite the rare query she poses, he gets the sense that… in her vast wisdom… she already knows the answer. Or at least, a small sum of it. It should be noted that her future vision— as far-reaching as it otherwise is with the vast possibilities of existence— can’t ever touch any knowledge that she won’t be conscious for or present to receive, let alone retroactively scry into the past.

(And honestly? Thank goodness for that.)

“I’m not sure,” he says, a half-lie.

He can think of one reason he might’ve started aging again. Though, it’s not something he’s ready to talk to the Gems about yet. It’s… far too delicate a topic to risk bringing up so soon after the start of peaceful Era 3. But after spending a whole childhood being constantly compared to and mistaken as various versions of his mom… let’s just say, having his gem torn from his body and getting to see it reform into a version of himself (and not her) was simultaneously the worst and the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. While undeniably traumatic, this experience served as the ultimate proof that he doesn’t have to waste another second of his existence chewing away at some burgeoning identity crisis, that he can live his life however he wants. As Steven. Not as Rose, or Pink Diamond, just… Steven.

He’s not exactly sure how all this mental weirdness translates into him staying stuck looking like a little kid for like… six or so years, but after he returned home from his latest escapade on Homeworld, he could sense that— despite all the messed up stuff he and Connie went through— his spirit was lighter, somehow.

So maybe, he thinks, he simply had to peel away at all the damaged layers of his identity to ready himself to move on to the next stage of his life. Maybe he had to stare death in the eye and pass through the heart of the storm in spite of all these hardships before he could piece the foundational truths of his story back together and learn to finally live again.

To start shifting his hopeful gaze towards the dawn of their bright, sunny future…

“I mean, I always kinda thought he stopped aging because we never did,” Amethyst says then, laying her cheek on the table. “Like, it happened around the time you moved in with us, yeah?”

He purses his lips, scanning his memory. “Uh… I think so? It might have been a year before. Two, even. But I was definitely hanging out with y’all a lot by then.”

She leans over and playfully slugs him in the arm.

“See, there you go! You always wanted to be just like us when you were a kid, so much that you even wore that same ol’ star shirt every day to match ours, ha! You must’ve wanted to be a Gem so badly that you subconsciously stopped becoming older at all.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid theory, Amethyst,” Pearl chimes in. “Good thinking!”

“We have seen you shift your form in response to your perception of others around you,” Garnet says with a nod. “This has caused you to temporarily age and shapeshift in the past, but for you to age in a stable way now, your perception of self must have stabilized, too. I’m very happy for you, Steven.”

She tousles his mess of curls with her gold ringed hand, a welcome little offering of affection that he eagerly leans into.

And then, out of nowhere, Amethyst starts cackling.

“Dude,” she blurts out between her peels of laughter, nudging his foot with her elbow, “I just realized— Greg’s gonna totally lose his shit when he sees this…”

Pearl’s expression scrunches inwards with prickly displeasure. “Language!”

“What, it’s true!”

He waves Amethyst’s comment off. “Pshhh, my dad’s seen way weirder,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, did I ever tell y’guys how the cat fingers incident ended?”

“No!” the quartz exclaims with intensive fervor, and leans forward in anticipation. “Gimme the juicy deets, m’man!”

Garnet adjusts her visor then, her features falling into a dutiful line. “Speaking of Greg… story time can wait until later. Steven— if you want to see your father this morning, you need to head over there now… or there’s a good chance he’ll fall back asleep until one and you’ll miss your window.”

Amethyst’s lips fall into a pout as she slumps back against the foot of the couch, her arms crossed. “Awww, phooey. Spoil sport.”

He swallows a grimace as he internalizes Garnet’s prediction. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s become a bad habit for his old man lately, staying up super late and then sleeping in almost half the day on weekends. Ever since he received that ten million dollar residues check it’s nothing that can hinder his financials anymore, thank goodness, but then again…

“Yeah… I should probably go make sure he wakes up,” he mutters, pushing his tired body off his seat. “I’ll need his help finding new clothes, anyways.”

The second he’s up and moving again, Amethyst darts around him and snatches his spot with such swift and viscous drive that one might believe this ploy were her sole quest and purpose in life. She stretches out against the seat back with a big, dramatic yawn, crossing her arms behind her head as she speaks.

“It’s too bad you can’t just… I dunno… summon whatever clothes you want out of light, like us. That’s like the biggest bummer of humanity, if you ask me.”

“And when do you ever experiment with your outfit enough to have a strong opinion about this?” Pearl prods, crossing her arms. “It took you almost a decade to fix that asymmetrical shoulder strap.”

“Well, P… I like to think of myself as a Gem who would experiment with my outfit. One day. If I’m ever really, really bored. Consider it an Era 3 aspiration.”

Steven rocks back and forth on his heels, absentmindedly fiddling with the fraying bottom hem of his pajama top.

“Okay, uh… well, I’m gonna dress to leave now, so—”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

“Send a text if you need anything!” Pearl says with a casual wave.

“And don’t forget…” Garnet begins, the ellipses in her tone practically visible with the naked eye.

He pauses in his dutiful march to the stairs— (a somewhat unsteady march… as it turns out, shooting up about a foot and a half in height overnight tends to impact one’s sense of balance for the worst, go figure)— turning back to intercept whatever life advice or future vision she’s prepared for him this time.

She grins, flashing him a quick heart with her hands instead. “We love you!”

Steven trudges across the hot sands to his dad’s car wash sans his favorite flip flops, trying his very darnedest to wipe away the developing grimace on his face all the while.

A small segment of him felt overjoyed when he first saw his reflection this morning, eager to look his age and finally grow up alongside his human friends. But after struggling to find anything that fits him even halfway right in his wardrobe, his good mood has rapidly spoiled. There’s a decent few reasons for this.

Reason number one: his old sandals are at least two sizes too small. His heels stick out over the end now, and the plastic thong digs into his toes something terrible. He literally can’t wear them without giving himself blisters. Ergo, his bare feet right now.

Reason number two: none of his jeans sit right around the waist anymore, plus they make him look like he’s waiting for a flood. (Though thankfully, he found a stretchy blue skirt buried in one of his drawers that will do the trick for now.)

And perhaps worst of all… reason number three: with his newly increased height, every single one of his treasured star shirts have been turned into ill-fitting crop tops, putting his gem on full display. He’s not against the concept of a crop top, but it sure ain’t a look he’s passionate about for everyday wear. It just feels… too exposing. Like, what about winter?? He can’t bear his whole midriff in winter, he’d freeze, and like… get hypothermia, or something. And not only that, but the longer he’s awake this morning the more an inescapable, thrumming ache starts to settle within the deepest core of his body, like even his bones themselves— the stubborn things— dare to object to this abrupt growth spurt.

Just… ugh. What an annoying hassle all these changes bring.

“Stupid shirt,” he grouses, tugging at the too-tight collar, “stupid sandals, stupid Gem puberty! Why, oh why can’t I ever go through human stuff normally?”

His bare foot catches upon a sizable stone hidden amongst the beach. On any other day he would’ve successfully broken his fall, stumbling forwards a few awkward steps before regaining his balance and continuing on his way. But with his body now so different, and his center of gravity entirely off from what he’s used to, he head plants straight into the ground.

Wow, he thinks, spitting sand out of his mouth and pushing himself back to his feet. How elegant. Truly the shining paragon of coordination and grace.

Thank goodness no one was watching. Next time he’ll just have to remember to float.

He arrives at his dad’s van with no further incident. The rear doors are— following Garnet’s prediction- cracked open. Dad’s awake, at least for now.

“Daaaaaaaad,” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. “A really, really weird thing happened, and I kinda need your help!”

A few spare seconds pass, seconds filled with the rustles of shifting blankets, the sound of a book being shut closed, and his dad’s low murmurs. The doors swing wide, though not as wide as Dad’s eyes when they wander around their bright, sunny surroundings and eventually land square on him and his new look.

“Wh— Steven, holy smokes! Look at you!”

With an awkward chuckle, he scratches away at an itch at the nape of his neck. “Heh heh, I know, right?”

“You’re almost as tall as your old man! When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“Some point last night, I guess,” he shrugs. “I just woke up like this. But Dad—” he clings onto his arm with mounting desperation— “I need your help to find some new shirts. Don’t you have like… whole boxes of your old tour merch stashed away somewhere? I don’t wanna have to get rid of my star, I just— I just need a bigger size, or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dad muses, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?”

“But if any of it’s still around, then it’s probably in Amethyst’s room. All of the stuff from the storage unit ended up with her, remember?”

“Oh…” he says, brows furrowed, not quite able to parse this fact within his memory yet. And then…

Ugh. That’s right.

Two New Years’ ago. The huge mess of crates and mattresses and long forgotten belongings. All that ridiculous Little Butler nonsense. Amethyst’s fight with Dad.

“Oh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. “Right. Well, then let’s go find it!”

“R- right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I need new clothes, and you could see if there’s any old junk in there you might want to keep!”

With that, he grabs his dad’s hand and yanks him along, spirit filled with renewed purpose and vigor.

“And you’re sure you need my help for this?” Dad asks, lagging a step or two behind him as they march back across the beach together. “The Gems, they… well, they don’t usually want me going into the temple—”

“Oh, Amethyst will be fine,” he says with a wave of his palm. “She never cares when I go in there to check out her trash piles. ‘Sides, I need your help to find the right box! I have no idea what your old band stuff was stashed in.”

His dad flashes a tight smile, the sort he always serves up when he’s nervous, but also too timid to tell him that he’s nervous.

“Well… if you think she’ll allow it…” he relents, and picks up his pace to match his.

[End Part 1... more to be shared later.]

#i finished the art for this finally so y'all get a lil comic/fic exclusive until i can finish up the rest of it to post to AO3 #still trying to decide if i want to split this up or post it as one huge chapter anyways #su #steven universe #amethyst #garnet #pearl #greg universe #su fanart #su fanfic #my art stuff #my writing stuff #i've been working on and off on this short comic since december lol #and i've had pieces of this fic wip since 2019

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