#you're killin me smalls

[fandom-hoarder]

"Dubcon! because there's alcohol involved but i do my best to make it clear everyone is on board" stahhhhhp you're ruining iiitttt😭

[jasonsthunderthighs]

will I president of these united states,?

[natalieironside]

I'm so fucking good at stocking vendor inventories

[kef-meister]

Me, trying to figure out where Metroid Prime 4 sits in the timeline:

[jackals-ships]

saw an edit of the solas veilguard scene but to take me back to eden and hey. HEY-

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Me to my dash: "Where'd you go? I miss you so."

My dash: *Currently experiencing an error*

Me: 🥺🥺😭😭😭

[gojos-thot-patrol]

This is the only valid response to this post LMAOOO

“That’s not gonna fit,” you blurted out without thinking.

“Well that's rather flattering of you.” Nanami admitted.

top ten interactions I have ever written.

[munsster]

sharing a bed (trope bingo)

A/N: i could melt (pun not intended. you’ll see) this trope is literally my fav, all my fics would be about it if i could… (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're cold, Bucky's a living heater. Need I say more? 1.2k words

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, sharing a bed, cuddling, nervous/borderline horny Bucky, pet names (doll, sweetheart)

You should have made this decision before your fingertips went numb. November in a northern motel room found you freezing. In basketball shorts and a crewneck, no less. You should have been in California by now, but Bucky has been dragging his feet since Maine. Though, he does drive more than half the time, so it's a sacrifice you had been willing to take.

There's no snow on the ground, but you can feel the beginnings of it on the damp pavement. Your socks are soaked through, and you cringe making a mental note to burn them. You cross your arms over your chest and tuck your fingers under your armpits, jaw clacking as you shiver. The heater in your room scuttled hurriedly to a wheezing stop five minutes after whacking it alive.

Now you're shifting from left to right outside Bucky's door with your blood about to run purple. He hollered something through the door when you knocked the second time. It was either a it's unlocked or a don't come in and you don't trust your hearing enough to distinguish between the two at midnight.

"Bucky," you whine, resting your forehead just below the peephole and trying to shake the low beating sound from your ears. You lift your head. Footsteps then a rattling chain, and he whips the door open.

"Why are you up?"

"What?" How could he be annoyed right now when you're freezing your ass off and you can practically feel the heat rolling out of his room in waves. "I'm cold."

"Well... what am I supposed to do about that?"

You roll your eyes and glare up at him. You could swear he's doing it on purpose. You could swear he's making mental bets just to play with you. Right now he's betting all his cash on who'll crack first. His bet's on you. It always is.

"James, I swear to fucking God—I will walk back to Brooklyn if you don't—"

"Jesus, don't have an aneurism, doll. Come in," he mumbles. You follow him into the little square motel room: one bed, one table, half a bathroom. Plus a TV that only plays soaps and, half the time, crackles with static. The door shuts, and you sigh. You're swaddled by heat; the blood gushes back into the tip of your nose. You can feel your joints again.

"Take this." He tosses a coat at you. At you. It's heavy and green and thick. It's army grade. "Put it on." So you put it on and zip it up. He chuckles at the sight of you because the jacket is massive: down to your knees, quarter-foot past your fingertips. It dwarfs you. It's incredible.

"I feel like a gym teacher."

"What?"

"It's a... mm… nevermind," you hum, "'M tired." Your eyes sink shut, and he watches you from the bed, entertained by your sleep-standing act. For a second, he thinks you're actually gonna fall asleep like that. But then your eyes snap wide open and he looks away.

Bucky shuffles under the sheets, and you watch him curiously through the window of the coat's hood. You suppose you'd missed the fact that he's wearing only boxers, completely shirtless with his cropped hair messily flared around his head. You start to sweat.

He looks up when you whine. "What now?"

"... It's hot."

"You're killin' me, doll."

"I know, I'm sorry," you huff, hands fiddling the flannel insides of the hot jacket sleeves. He watches you struggle to glance at the floor and becomes flush with pity for you. He sighs.

"Alright, hon, take that off and c'mere. We'll get you warm, hmm? Come here."

You flail your arm before latching onto the metal zipper tab and tugging it down with a hissing bzzzz. Bucky watches you relax and let the coat slump to the floor before you peel your socks off and toss them in the small metal trashcan by the door. You pad your way to the empty side of the bed and pat the moth-eaten comforter a few times, smoothing your hand over the soft cotton.

"Don't be shy now. I probably won't bite," he teases.

"You piss me off, Barnes."

"Oh, feel free to freeze your ass off in your room, sweetheart. I'm doin' you a favor."

You harrumph and swing your legs onto the mattress, sliding yourself under the sheets and tucking the blankets under your chin. You face the door, and Bucky settles in beside you, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between you. He faces the wall.

"Night, Bucky."

"Goodnight."

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, and you don't know when Bucky got so close. Or when you turned around. What you do know is that Bucky runs red hot in the middle of the night. Or maybe all the time, but you've never been skin-to-skin in the day. Hell could freeze over and Bucky would still be an inferno.

Sometime between two and three, you tossed around and ended up facing him as he crept closer unconsciously. His hands felt empty in dreams about dancing, so he reached into the darkness and tucked his fingers into the crooks of your knees to draw you into his warm body. On instinct—and because you're still in need of thawing—you curl into him and let your heart beat comfortably alongside his.

Bucky's a talker. He's a vocal sleeper. Good thing his deal was talking. Becca got saddled with sleep walking, and he remembers Ma asking him to install an extra lock high up to keep her from wandering out at twilight. Again. They'd found her mumbling at a brick wall half a block away one night and decided it was for the best.

Now he's rambling on about goats, describing their rough coats as he nuzzles into your navel. His palm spread over your back, he keeps you close, taut to every bit of his body, your leg draped over his waist.

He moans. Loud. And you shift in your sleep, fingers moving to cup the back of his head, brushing through his soft hair. His scalp is hot, and you sigh lazily as you melt further into his tight skin and smooth muscle. If either of you had woken up, it would've been a bloodbath. But for now, it's peaceful, and a dove coos from a lamppost outside.

A couple of times, you open your eyes but find yourself so disoriented, you can't bother to assume it's anymore than a dream and pass out again. At the crack of dawn, Bucky's lashes flutter open, and each of his veins flows with new life and the rising sun. It takes a second for him to realize he's breathing in the warmth of your skin. And he doesn't hate it.

He falls back asleep.

In the morning, you're both too busy adjusting to central standard time to register that you'd been pressed up close and personal all night. Too busy to acknowledge the comfort you both found in each others arms. And hands.

Over breakfast at the twenty-four-hour diner, he smiles meekly, and you blink down at your short stack like nothing happened. Like nothing ever will.

marvel masterlist

[miguel-owhora]

thinking about the little silly ask i sent @thegnomelord, so have this small drabble while i wait for my food to come :3

CW: 18+ , crack treated seriously , monster!reader , himan!ghost , monsterfucker!ghost , implied size difference , anal sex , implied belly bulge , alien bodily anatomy , a little au , not beta read

FEMS, MINORS, EMPTY BLOGS DNF.

Simon can't breathe. Not in the, 'I'm being buried alive' type of way, no, that's a different feeling he wouldn't wish on his worst enemies, and just the thought of having dirt clogging his nostrils and pressing down on his body nearly has him tapping out—no. This type of suffocating is good; it nips at Simon's body and makes the world around him hazy, in a way he imagines weed to feel.

Half his body is hoisted over a counter, your larger body pressing up against his back. You're heavier than he is, larger, with a body that's not quite Human—which isn't all that different to the other passengers on the spaceship. Something about diversity and being a collection of different intergalactic species.

A set of your arms grip at his waist, another hand gripping his thigh and holding it up, blunt claws digging into his flesh, the other playing with his cock and effectively blocking it from being crushed against the counter. The position gives you easier access to his hole, making you thrust your cock deeper into his hole.

A particular thrust against his prostate has him groaning, ripping him out of his thoughts and clenching around your cock. He tries not to think about how weird it looks, how tentacle-like and bioluminescent it looks, how... non-Human it is. Not when you let out a garbled sound that's a mixture of a gibberish series of clicks and a croaky moan that's a little too guttural.

"You're killin' me, Si'," You groan, slumping your weight against him, grinning when Simon grunts from the sudden weight. It only drives your cock deeper, and Simon sucks in a sharp breath when he swears he can feel you in his stomach.

"Fuckin' hell, you heavy bitch." He growls, trying to ignore how he feels a low rumble vibrate somewhere from your chest, feels you shudder with amusement. He hates how he doesn't have to even look at you to know how you're feeling, just based on your body language. You nuzzle the back of his nape, slick and smooth scales making him shudder almost uncomfortably, before he feels you bite into the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

He nearly shouts when you suddenly pick up the pace, gripping him tightly as you jackhammer into him. But all Simon can do is moan. Loud and whorish for the entire crew to hear. His cock jerks against your hand, a familiar sensation building up fom the repeated pounding against his prostate.

"Shite!" He moans, ragged and gruff, clawing desperately at the wall as his legs tremble. His orgasm crashes unexpectedly, a string of gargled Human curses slipping from his mouth as he clenched around your cock and cums all over his stomach and your hand. His body shudders through it, legs giving little jerks and twitches. Spit dribbles down his chin, mouth hanging open as low, ragged groans slip out. He feels sweaty, the spare closet far too small to fit both Human and alien.

And speaking of alien...

Simon's eyes blink open when he feels something just... pop inside his ass. It's not a big thing, more like popping those jelly candies he's seen Americans eat before. It's small, almost subtle, and Simon has an inkling suspicion it's something about you and your weird alien body when you grind into him, slowly and deeply, as you ride out your orgasm.

After a couple of heartbeats, when only your soft pants and the even softer subtle whir of the mechanics of the ship, Simon speaks. He doesn't look at you, instead narrows his eyes at the wall, as if to test you.

"[Name]," Simon begins, voice back to its normal tone and volume, as if he wasn't just fucked. "What was that?"

Your body doesn't react, but you do slowly begin to pull out. "What was what?"

Simon rolls his eyes and glances over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing at you. "You know what."

You're grinning, slit eyes watching him. Your stupid whiskers twitch with amusement—and there goes Simon knowing how you're feeling solely on your body language, fucking Christ—and your too sharp teeth glint with spit.

"Don't worry about it, Si," You purr, and with a slick pop, you pull out. Both Human and alien groan simultaneously, with the man wincing as he felt your cum slip out of his loose and puffy hole.

Simon glances down at your cock, and catches a glimpse of it sheathing just as you begin to pull up your suit. The Human huffs and glances down, and Simon nearly gawks at the sight, eyes widening.

"Why the fawk is your cum glowing?!" Simon's voice is higher than normal, filled with surprise.

Neon cum, a cyan color, dribbles out of his ass, dripping down to his inner thighs. It glows, as bioluminescent as the tentacle dick hiding within your sheath, a more slimier and slicker substance than Human cum.

"Simon, Simon, Simon," You gave his ass a nice squeeze, and retracted your claw when he smacked you away. You grinned, sharp teeth flashing in a wide grin, unnatural and too wide. Your voice is a low purr, smooth and slick, deceitful in every way.

"Don't worry about it."

[roturo]

SATORU'S MASTERLIST

♡ - PUBLIC FAVORITE ★ - PERSONAL FAVORITE

GOJO SATORU WHO'S... MASTERLIST.

#PEACHES.

#COOL WITH YOU. ★

#BITE ME.

#EUNOIA.

#HOOTERS MAKE YOU HAPPIER!.

#READER WITH SMALL & BIG BOOBS. ★

#FREAKY GOJO X SHY!READER

#BRAT. ♡

#HOW THEY FUCK YOU IN PUBLIC. ♡

#KILLIN' ME GOOD. ★★

#LOOKING FOR A RIDE?.

#BACK FOR MORE.

#YOU KNOW HOW I LIKE IT GIRL... IN 3D.

#CHASING THAT FEELING.

#RED LIGHTS.

#OH, SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN? ♡ ★

#SACRIFICE.

#WATCH IT. ♡★★

#SHE'S BACK. ♡ ★★

#I ALWAYS COME BACK.

#7 NUTS IN NOVEMBER. ★

#CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI.

#FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND LITTLE SISTER. ★

#FALSE GOD.

#DASH.

#MINI SKIRT.

#HOW SWEET IT TASTES?

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Phoenix:...So I hear Rooster's banned you from going to baseball games with him from now on. Hangman: Well, apparently continuously yelling "YOU'RE KILLIN' ME SMALLS!" at every batter that strikes out is not appreciated by people sitting around you who have never seen "The Sandlot." Phoenix: And the people who have...? Hangman: Yeah, they didn't like it either. Baseball fans are mean. Phoenix:...You just really don't like going to baseball games do you? Hangman: ..... Hangman: I TRIED, but it's SO boring, oh my God...!

[thvkei]

baji loves when he can see himself inside you.

# tw // belly bulging, creampie.

"oh, fuck..." baji groans, hot breath pawing your features as he towers over your bare body. calloused fingers brush against your lower tummy, caressing the bulge which nestled prettily in your womb. "ya feel that, baby? so fuckin' deep inside you."

all you can do is nod quickly, muttering small 'uhuh's as you place your hand over his. he tries to shush any whines the best way he can—by smashing a sloppy and too-heavy kiss against your already tender and swollen lips, body bending down to claim every warbled noise tumbling forth from your mouth.

"pussy's suckin' me in... fuck, ease up, baby." baji groans, russet eyes scrunching in pleasure at the constant sensation of your squishy walls hugging him so tight. "y're killin' me here." he hisses before thrusting into you again, and you can feel his cock piston in and out of you as he continues his thrusts—the pleasure overwhelming your senses and making you cream around him.

despite how cruel it is, he can't stop. he won't—even as pathetic whines and whimpers continue to seep from your bruised lips as he pounds your drooling cunt until it's pulsing around him with a heartbeat of its own divinity.

the sight's too beautiful to pass up; he considers the mere thought a treason in itself. the arch of your little womb, so full and swollen with his love, disappearing and reappearing with every short, quick thrust of his strong hips. so no, he can't stop, not until you're spraying your juices all over his honeyed abdomen and clawing at his wrists, letting out clumsy yells of, 't'much, kei!!', and, 'c-cummin' again!!'

and he'd all but smirk, 'jus' one more, baby. feels so fuckin' good,' just moments before he creampies your tiny hole and stuffs you full of his babies until they're spilling out of you in thickly oozing pearly globs.

© thvkei 2023 | likes and reblogs r alwys appreciated! ૮꒰ ྀི◜๑◝ ꒱ა

[natalieironside]

I walked through the city and saw everyone--men, women, normal people, and children--all hard at work laying bricks. They were working furiously mixing clay, firing bricks, mixing mortar, laying bricks and building....something. I couldn't see what it was from the street because it was so massive as to obscure itself, towering over all of us like the carcass of some dead god. I saw workers mixing mortar run out of water and solemnly draw lots to see who would have their throat slit to finish the mix with their blood.

"Hey, buddy," I said to a worker passing by, "what are y'all workin on here?"

"Dunno," he said with a shrug.

"Why work so hard, then?"

He shrugged again before returning to the endless, backbreaking work.

Everybody I spoke to who claimed to know what the monolith was or why they were building it said something different. Most people had no idea, knew they had no idea, and didn't particularly care. Everyone agreed that it was necessary, that the terrible sacrifice couldn't possibly be avoided, and it would all be worth it in the end.

I had to know, so I left the city and climbed to the top of the mountain for a better view. And I saw it. Towering over the city two miles high was a brick red cock and balls shooting a stream of brick red cum into the heavens, surrounded by letters a quarter mile high that said "ME WGEN....TFW WHEN.....ME WHEGN UR MOM"

[tacticaldiary]

Gentle Hands

Request: Hey there! I love your writing so much and I was wondering if you could have some Johnny MacTavish brainrot with me. Johnny comes home from a looooong deployment and he wants to do nothing but collapse on the bed or couch. Until he sees our dear reader, cuddled up in their bed with one of his shirts on a pillow she’s cuddling. He can smell his cologne on the fabric and…whatever happens after that is up to you!

Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Genre: Fluff (You deserve it after the marathon of angst I've been feeding you)

"You're sore?" She asks, taking a second to look him over slowly, and goddamn if it doesn't make him shiver.

"Nothing a few days with my girl won't fix." He says, trying to lean up again, groaning when she leans back out of reach. "Bonnie, your killin' me-"

A/N: The way I scrambled to write this the second I could, there's always time for Soap brainrot in this household

Masterlist

Sometimes he thinks the pinging of bullets ricocheting off of metal follows him out of the battlefield. It's the only explanation for the ever present tension in his shoulder after a long gruelling mission.

Soap sighs, stretching out a shoulder while he digs his house keys out from his duffel bag. The keys feel cool and foreign against his fingers as he clumsily slots them in a turns the lock.

It's been nine weeks since he's unlocked his front door.

Haphazardly pushing off his shoes in the entryway, he throws his bag onto the floor and peers farther into the house. Despite his exhaustion, a smile finds itself on his face at the prospect of seeing her again.

God, he misses her. It was difficult to contact anyone outside of his team when on a mission, even moreso when they were black. The fear of their lines being tapped and tracked is very real, and Soap would rather wait a few weeks to see her than compromise her safety and theirs by allowing himself one fleeting moment with her.

"Bonnie? You there?" He calls out, stepping into the kitchen. Empty. He fights the urge to collapse onto the couch when he checks the living room, the lack of sleep catching up on him.

He's surprised he's still standing, honestly. The OP he'd been on had been in a far mountain range, a lot of trekking and camping out in the middle of a humid, highly vegetated area. Visibility had been rough and they'd taken turns sleeping a couple of hours before they continues trekking towards the enemy safehouse they were aiming to ambush.

He hadn't been able to sleep on the chopper back either, buzzing with the knowledge that he'd finally see her again after months and months.

A damn real bed seemed like heaven after resting on a rough muddy floor for weeks.  

It was the middle of the day, but she was nowhere in the house. Not in her favourite armchair by the fireplace, nor in the garage or any of the bathrooms. He frowns a little. She could be out, then?

It's not until Soap pushes open the door to their bedroom that the next call of her name dies in his throat immediately.

His hand slips off the doorknob, hangs by his side as he takes in the sight, a soft grin on his lips.

There she was, sound asleep, arms cuddled around a pillow that had one of his t-shirts stretched around it. She looked so peaceful, face half obscured by the way she'd nuzzled into the fabric.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he tries to make minimal noise as he shucks off his shirt and sits on the bed next to her.

Huffing under his breath, he gently tugs the pillow out of her grasp, slides in next to her, adjusting himself until her face is tucked into his neck, not any different from how she was with that pillow.

As if on instinct, her body relaxes, sinking into him and curling closer.

Bliss.

Utter bliss.

A deep, satisfied rumble in his chest as he relaxes, holding the woman he loves so much in their room, their bed, with clean sheets and a heart full of love, is what prompts her to wake up.

With a small groan, she makes a move to pull what she thinks is her pillow closer, but what she grabs isn't a feather-filled soft cushion.

Hard muscle meets her palm, strong and familiar.

"Pawin' at me already, hen?" The deep, tired voice in her ear has a pleased shiver running down her spine, and her eyes fluttering open quickly. "I barely made it through the door."

"Johnny?" She mumbles, eyes widening as the hand around her waist tightens in response. "Johnny!" She pushes herself up on her knees in surprise.

Sure enough, laying right in front of her was the man in the flesh, smiling up lazily, satisfied with her reaction. With a happy squeal, she lunges forward, hugging him tightly. She giggles when he catches her by the waist, sighing into her shoulder and clutching her body to his tightly.

He lets her straddle his waist, looking down at him like she couldn't quite believe it. Her hands roam over his chest as if to assure herself that he was there, actually under her, that he was home.

They lock eyes for a moment, and neither of them knows who moves first but they pull each other into a hard kiss, moving against each other with a practiced familiar ease.

"Missed you," She mumbles against his lips as he runs a hand through her hair. He hums, lets her pull away and cup his jaw. "Missed you so damn much, Johnny."

"I know, baby. Seem like ya had my spot covered though." He grins teasingly, stroking her hair and nodding to the shirt-clad pillow on the ground.

The way she goes red is adorable.

"I told you I missed you." She mumbles. "It just...it still smelled like you, helps me when I miss you more than usual, you know?" She admits. A small pang of sadness hits him at the knowledge that she missed him enough to resort to this...makeshift Soap?

"I missed you too. This is one hell of a welcome." He smiles up at her, squeezing her waist.

She shakes her head but can't chase away the smile on her face. He was home. Johnny, her Johnny.

"Stay around and there'll be much more of that." She teases.

"Minx." He groans, propping himself up on his elbows to bring her into another kiss. As he's doing so, the ache in his shoulder tightens and he winces, a movement not missed by her. She stops him with a hand on his chest.

"You're sore?" She asks, taking a second to look him over slowly, and goddamn if it doesn't make him shiver.

"Nothing a few days with my girl won't fix." He says, trying to lean up again, groaning when she leans back out of reach. "Bonnie, your killin' me-"

"You look like shit, Johnny." She says bluntly, watching him pause to gape at her in mock offense. "You need to rest tonight, okay? Let me take care of you." Much to his dismay, she slides off of him, prods at his shoulder ordering him to flip over.

Too tired to argue, he turns onto his stomach with minimal protest.

Soap truthfully does look like hell; tired, dark circles lining his eyes, but the desire to have her close in any way he can clouds any and all other thoughts. "You know I love ya on top of me, but might I ask what you're doing?"

Johnny presses his cheek to the cool pillow to glance over at her curiously. He watches her straddle his back, her weight tearing a small sigh out of him, his aching muscles relaxing under the soothing weight.

"Nine weeks haven't taken your voice away yet, I see." She rolls her eyes, hands travelling up his bare back to his shoulders. Her eyes linger on those strong muscles she's felt countless times under her hands, her nails, her mouth...

"It takes more than that. Besides, ya love my voice-" She chooses that moment to press into one of the tight knots in his back, red flushing up her neck at the deep, surprised groan Johnny cuts his sentence off with. His head drops into the pillow, his back going up and down with a deep breath.  

Love his voice she does. She certainly does.

Her hands knead at the tension in his back, his shoulders, working out the knots built from weeks of stress.

Here. This moment right here. It makes the weeks of loneliness worth it. Days spent without him, waking up to an empty cold bed with only the remnants of his belongings scattered around the house to occupy her thoughts. It was all worth it when she got to feel the warm press of his skin against hers, when she got to welcome him back like this and spend the rest of her days with him.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they claim.

Her lips press gentle kisses down his spine as she works, soft presses that convey more love than she could ever verbalise.

"I fucking love you." He breathes. Goosebumps flash across his skin when she smiles, kissing the back of his neck. It warms her from the inside out.

"I love you too." She responds quietly, resuming her work. She kisses every mark, every freckle, and blemish, replacing every memory of harsh shoves and painful encounters with a gentle, loving touch. It reminds him that through the horrors he saw every time he strapped his gear on, there would always be people as good as her in the world. Untouched by darkness and willing to love someone like him, someone with so much damn blood on his hands.

Seemingly satisfied by her assurance, he relaxes, relishing the press of her hands against him. The room falls into a comfortable silence, mostly because he's too tired and blissed out to fill it with his usual chatter. A couple of minutes later, he's putty under her hands, languid and relaxed, his shoulders devoid of the tension he came in with.

It's only when his back rises and falls, deep and steady that she slides off of him.

He's fallen asleep, she notes with a smile. At ease, he's a sight to behold. She pulls the warm blanket over both their forms, shuffling close to him.

Johnny's arm comes around her, pulling her close instinctually. His soft mumble is incoherent.

He sought out her nearness, even when unconscious.

The press of his body is familiar, so achingly familiar. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lull her to sleep, comfortable and relieved.

She drifts off knowing that the next time she woke up it would be in his arms. Loved, protected, and cherished.  

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Comment and Like!

(15/07/2023)

[talaok]

Hi, babes!!! I don't know if you're going to see this request hahaha but if you know the trend in tiktok where the girl is describing on how she got a brazillian wax with a man, I don't know how joel would react thru a video with reader. Thank youu, I always adore your stories!

a/n: Ok, I had no idea this was a thing but I did a little research for you babe and I gotta say that shit's funny. anyway here is how I think no-outbreak!Joel would react.

"hi babe" you kissed him as you got in his truck

"so how did it go?"

You had to stifle a smile as you got ready.

"it hurt, but not as much as I thought it would" you explained "Although I think mainly it was because the guy was very good, he was obviously an expert"

and there it was.

Either Joel had had a heart attack or he was having trouble processing your words.

And again, you bit your tongue trying not to laugh.

"Guy?"

"What?" you pretended not to understand

"you said the guy was good."

"yeah, that's what I said baby" you nodded, "he was just very gentle and everything"

"I'm sorry you mean a guy waxed you down there?"

"yeah, what about it?"

"a guy!?"

You let out a small laugh "Yes baby, a guy" you mimicked his comically panicked tone.

"I-" his wide eyes examined you, as if he could find some answers on your body.

"what, are you jealous?" you teased, smirking

"I mean I think I have a right to be... what kind of salon is his?"

"It's a salon like every other" you spoke softly, stroking his cheek as you admired his pretty brown eyes widen more and more

"How did he look?"

You giggled "I mean... good, I guess"

"you guess? Babygirl you're killin' me here" he sighed

"Babe, what's the big deal it's just his job"

"The big deal it's that he saw what only I'm supposed to see"

You snorted "Yeah but he just saw" 

"he better" he cocked an eyebrow, trying to look threatening and failing miserably.

"I'm taking you home right now" He started the car

"why? we were supposed to go out to dinner"

"change of plans sweetheart, I think you need a little reminder of what's mine"

You rolled your eyes as your lips drew a smile

"settle down cowboy," you pecked his cheek and trailed your mouth up to his ear "Not for another 24 hours"

"goddamnit doll, I don't think I've ever hated another guy more"

[gothic-thoughts]

A Kiss Before I Go

(a remaster for the girlies)

Satoru Gojo x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Ex-friends2lovers, Deputy!Reader, Cowboy!Gojo

CW: she/her pronouns, reader gets shot, gojo a rich bounty hunter, a lil angsty

TW: blood mention, passing out, shooting/killing mention

Word Count: 1154 (give or take)

"Ya really came all this way to find lil' ol' me...?"

I look up to see Gojo Satoru standing on the second-floor balcony with his revolver pointed back at mine. Despite the black bandana over his eyes, I could tell by that smirk that he looked down on me in amusement as I stumbled into his house.

"That's sweet~" He finished, "Ya really that desperate for my attention, (Y/n)?"

"You killed the mayor!"

"Aht, aht, don't gimme that. Ya know I don't just go on killin' folk; I was paid, he was a criminal. Simple as that."

"So how come other folks are dead?"

"Cuz they got in the way of my work and I happened to have 5 bullets left." 

"Well, I'm here finishin' up my work so you're under arrest."

"And what if I don't wanna?"

"Then..." I stumble a little, "Then I'd have to kill ya."

"Kill me? Really now, ain't that bordering on vigilante territory? Not gon' lie, I'm kinda hurt, thought we were thick as thieves."

"I don't give a rat's ass h-how close we were. Put ya hands up and walk down those steps real slow like and maybe I'll visit ya in jail."

"Were?"

"Were."

He scoffs, loosening his grip on his gun.

"I had to kill him with no witnesses or I don't get paid."

"W-well I guess it's too bad ya got one. Now, reach for the sky and walk down the steps. I'm t-takin'...."

Gojo pauses and presses his pelvis to the wooden railing to lean over the balcony. He squints.

"You bleedin' already?" He chuckled, "I ain't even shoot you yet."

I look down just in time to see a couple droplets of blood fall from my hip and crash into the small puddle of previous drops made on his old wooden flooring.

"What the fuck, you okay?" He asked, straightening up, "That amount of blood ain't nothin' to sneeze at... y'sure y'alright?"

"Don't act like ya care." I pant.

"(Y/n), did you ride all this way wit'--"

Everything became fuzzy and��the next thing I knew, the back of my head stung with pain and I was now staring at his high ceiling. Rapid steps echoed around me and all I had to do was blink before seeing Satoru kneeling beside me and quickly lifting my shirt to see the hole where the blood was pooling out. He muttered curses to himself.

"Who did this to ya?" 

"L-leave me alone."

"Shut up and tell me who did this."

"C-cops."

"The fuck they shoot ya for?!"

"I was the only one holdin' gun in the crowd... They thought I killed 'im."

His face contorted into shock as he took out a different black bandana from his pocket and pressed it into my wound.

"Why the hell do you have a second bandana?" My voice strains as the pain grows slightly more intense.

"Case I get mine ripped inna bar fight. Now hush, I'mma getcha back to town, 'kay?"

"Think I'd rather die, actually."

"What, ya still don't trust me~?"

"You the reason I'm shot, Satoru. And I was here to arrest you."

"Well since y'already blamin' me, I'll tell ya old friends ya made a valiant effort before I shot ya."

He starts to help me up, slinging my arm over his opposite shoulder as he helps me outside to horse and carriage. I stared at it but despite my pained, glazed-over eyes, I was in shock.

"You tellin' me... you a bounty hunter but got a carriage 'stead of just a horse?"

"I got horses too, I just cain't help it if I'm a lil' high-maintence." He laughs, "And lucky for you, my driver ain't here; so you get to have the pleasure of me takin' the reins." He winks.

"If I wanted to die, I woulda just stayed on ya living room floor."

"Oh shut up and c'mon."

Satoru helped me climb onto the carriage floor, and I didn't even bother pulling myself onto the seat since the pain was so bad. As soon he closes the door, I roll onto my back with tears stinging my eyes. My head rolled to the side as the horse's galloping fell deaf on my ears as I felt the bullethole gush more blood.

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"Gojo!"

"Huh, what!?"

I looked at his panicked face before looking to the other side of my bed to see a tray of bloody cotton balls on a medical cart. Satoru walks towards the bed and I shift towards him and immediately stop and wince at the feeling of tight pulling at my side.

"Hey, hey." He soothed, resting his hand on my knee, "There's stitches in there, so relax."

"What?"

"You in the hospital, 'member?"

I punch him across the face to which he jerks his head from it. He smiles smugly, as he rubs his jaw.

"I shoulda shot you on sight."

"Right, yeah-yeah, 'course, keep that energy for after you recover. We'll can continue this lil' meet up somewhere else."

Satoru cupped my face in his hand and pulled me into a deep kiss, almost like he missed me. I try to keep my eyes open in surprise only to slowly succumb to the passion. But as they start to close, his lips are torn from mine with a smug chuckle.

"Been waitin' on that for a while." He smirks, "And that's the only thing that's gonna keep me goin' 'til we meet again."

"If we meet again, I'mma kill you where you stand!"

"Like I'd let you do that..." He places another peck on my lips, "Besides, I just gave you some incentive not to."

"Wait, what--"

"Don'tchu die on me now, officer."

He tips his hat and jogs out of the room. He didn't kiss me like he missed me, he kissed like he was going to. 

"Gojo!"

I painfully stand up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and use the iron headboard to help me stand. I hold my side and limp after him into the brightly lit hospital corridor only to see nurses and patients calmly walking the corridor as if nothing happened.

"Ma'am, please. Ma'am!" A nurse worried, "Those stitches need to heal."

"Where did he go? He ran out of my room!"

"Where did who go?"

"Gojo? Satoru Gojo?!"

"The... bounty hunter...?"

I roll my eyes, "Yeah-yeah, he was in my room and just ran out! You tellin' me you ain't seen 'im?"

"Ma'am, you ain't had any visitors since you were admitted."

"Riddle me this; who emitted me then?"

The nurse grabs and reads a chart, "Says here, your brother did."

"Wha-- and you believed 'im!?"

"Had no choice... Fella insisted he write it himself."

She showed me the sign-in sheet, pointing at the bottom, to see he wrote my name for the patient's column and then literally wrote "her brother" in the admittees column. I scoff and curse under my breath, half pissed off yet half impressed. That bastard brought me here, then snuck back hours later for a fuckin' kiss. But thinking about them again, almost makes me feel better about potentially losing my job.

"You seen what he looked like though, right...?"

"Tall fella, all black get-up...hat hid his face and hair though."

I groan. "'Course it did..."