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saetoru · 7 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss.

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer.

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length.

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod.

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better.

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly.

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby.

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose.

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma.

the way the world works.

the way you and satoru work.

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base.

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants.

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.”

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear.

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off��a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him.

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind.

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face.

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity.

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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doobea · 4 months

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YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.

tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat

MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST

contents: fem!reader, spoiled rich boy!gojo, acts like an ass to everyone but hopelessly falls in love with you at first sight, feels like a really bad hallmark movie, mentions of wealth class differences, reader isn't a tsundere - she's just indifferent for the most part and introverted word count: 7.5K (idk i will uh make the fics shorter in the future) a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! idk if this is what you wanted but hopefully you like it!! :3 everyone also give a round of applause to @popponn for beta reading this big mess LMAO

Satoru Gojo has a lot of expectations, but this certainly isn’t one of them.

He isn’t particularly excited about spending a week away from his big city penthouse to be rotting in a small town motel in the middle of nowhere but, his father, CEO of Gojo Corporations, heavily insisted that he ‘needs this’ and that ‘it’ll be good for the company’ — whatever that means. Satoru is confident that his father thinks he’s incapable of running the family business after last month’s run with the paparazzi and his third fling of the month. It wasn’t his fault that they got caught doing drugs at one of Zenin's parties, everyone else was doing the same thing, it just so happened that the cameras were only focusing on him.

Well, that’s what he gets for signing up to be the son of one of the richest men on Earth.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he recalls his father slamming his fist down at the desk before throwing a bottle of Henessy at the wall. “I don’t want this company to go bankrupt just because I have a son who only thinks with his dick.”

Ouch… but he’s not wrong about that.

So now Satoru finds himself driving up a winding road somewhere very deep in the mountains. Exactly five hours away from the city. And, for the past three hours, all he’s been seeing are miles and miles of pine trees, sheets of snow, and — he had recently learned this from Suguru — sugar shacks. Apparently when you’re out over a hundred miles into wilderness territory these sap houses are littered everywhere. The fact that Satoru is beginning to count more shacks than designer cars on the road is really starting to get to him.

“This whole thing is so fucking stupid,” Satoru has also been talking to himself throughout the journey in order to not lose his mind. “He could’ve just sent me door to door caroling instead of whatever this is.” Satoru doesn’t know how to sing well, but he does know all the lyrics to ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ and that usually gets him all the tips. He wonders if he can manage to make a small side hustle when he starts wasting his week here.

He takes a sharp turn up around the hill before finally recognizing a big red sign with the name ‘Mistle Town’ as seen on the postcard his dad left him before leaving. It takes him another five minutes of driving through said small town, which is quite literally something out of one of those really bad holiday movies that his mom would force him to watch when he was little, before arriving at the inn. Upon arriving, Satoru is noticeably disappointed at the lack of valet assistance and, the size and design of the inn, is rather lackluster.

First, it just looks like a regular white farmhouse. Maybe having a max of ten rooms, none of them being penthouse sized, Satoru assumes. There are a couple of flowerbeds out front, all covered in a couple of inches of snow, and there’s subtle signs of holiday decor slowly bleeding its way outside. He sees someone dressed in an oversized puffer by the entrance, arms occupied with red tinsel and large white ornaments, and figures that the first nice thing he’ll do is to help out a random stranger — just to prove something to his dad.

Satoru parks his Rolls Royce in a spot furthest away from everyone else in the parking lot and sends a ‘im alive and well’ text to Suguru, because he’s very much so going to be in frequent contact with him for the remainder of the trip, before heading up.

“Need a hand?” He points out the obvious but still manages to throw a smile as if he’s already fixed the situation unfolding in front of him.

Satoru’s presence seems to pull you from your busy trance. You wiped your body around, nearly smacking the damn tinsel in his face, and made a small surprised noise.

“I’ve got it,” you muffle out and he looks entirely unconvinced but, whatever, he tried anyway.

Satoru gives you a few encouraging pats on the back before heading inside, failing to realize his strength and causing you to lose your balance, making a few ornaments tumble to the ground. Thank god they’re all plastic though.

He pretends to not hear you yelling after him as he enters the double doors, immediately greeted by the scent of roasted coffee beans and leather. It’s the precious hour in the morning where nobody comes by, right after the cleaning staff had just finished vacuuming, when he struts in. He immediately spots someone vaguely familiar by the front desk. Long black hair, a red poofy bow tie in the back, and a distinctive scar across her face. The woman isn’t working alone, a man with another facial marking is next to her, brewing two cups of coffee by the espresso machine.

Satoru looks at the woman again and outwardly smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Ugh,” Utahime’s composure immediately falters at the sound of his voice, not that it’s a big shock. “Helping the family business, what else?” she throws back with a certain sharpness to her tone, and waves off the casual talk. “Have you even mentally prepared yourself for what you’re getting into?”

Satoru simply shrugs and saunters over to a nearby seat by the counter. “Nah, honestly just planning to fuck around till I get back.”

Utahime flushes a little, though it’s mainly from frustration. “Satoru Gojo, you really are—”

“Utahime,” the man next to her speaks, handing her a cup of coffee, and slides Satoru a freshly brewed one, too. “I can explain the details to him, if you would like?”

The older female rubs the bridge of her nose and exhales a long, overdue sigh. “Please do, Choso.”

“Yeah,” Satoru leans into the counter, lips pointed down at this new face. “Please, do tell.”

“You’re basically our little Santa helper.” A new voice rings out from behind him. It spooks Satoru from his seat and he whips his head around to be met with your narrow eyes.

“Huh?”

“Also think of this as an unpaid internship.” You start laughing when he gags on his own saliva at your statement. “Okay, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Satoru swallows. “U-Unpaid…?”

Now it’s Utahime’s turn to speak, she huffs and tosses a couple of stockings into his arms. “Your father sent us a lengthy email a few days prior regarding your bratty behavior. So, of course, we came prepared.”

“Prepared…?” He feels the fabric in his hands and whines at the grainy texture. This is so not 100% real wool.

If Satoru thought he had any chance of actually taking over his father’s company, because he knows the difference between supply and demand, he’s wrong.

Customer service is not his forte. He’s always thrown emails and sponsorship paperwork at his many assistants, and Satoru doesn’t even know his own email log-in password. So, when you walked up to him first thing the next morning with a brown apron, the inn’s logo large and embroidered in the center, telling him how to function all these coffee machines that he’s seen behind hundreds of counters, it invoked some fear into his already wrecked nerves. Plus, no one dared to warn him about the clientele during a holiday rush.

“I want a venti peppermint frappe with two pumps of chocolate, three pumps of hazelnut, replace it with almond milk, one shot of espresso, and top it off with a drizzle of caramel on top.”

He slumps against the counter. “You sure you want all of that?”

“Can I please get a half dozen sfogliatella and a cannoli?

He starts picking at his cuticles and sneers. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

“My change is supposed to be five dollars, you only gave me three back?”

Satoru groans. “You’re trying to scam me, aren’t you?”

By the end of his four hour shift, Satoru feels like he’s just done more charity work than he’s ever done in his life — actually, maybe this could also be comparable to the time where he did the ribbon cutting ceremony at Chanel; gotta support small businesses, right?

“Gojo.” You’re seated across from him behind the counter, arms crossed and pursed lips.

He barely spares you a glance as he idly plays whatever shitty mobile game that’s number one on the app store. “Mhm? What is it?” He clearly knows you’re upset, your voice practically screams ‘I will end you’ in the most monotonous way possible. But can you blame him? Of all places, Satoru does not want to spend his winter break here.

You jerk your head to the side, fingers rhythmically tapping away on the counter, clearly unimpressed. “It hasn’t even been a full day and you’ve managed to piss off every single customer.”

Satoru expression shifts, brow creasing, and sighs, grabbing a handful of mint chocolate from the freebie candy jar by the register. “Don’t be dramatic,” he rolls his eyes and shoves three pieces in his mouth before jabbing a finger at a young man. “I didn’t piss him off!”

You glower, cheeks slightly puffed out. “That’s Yuuji and he’s practically a family friend and Choso’s little brother, so he doesn’t count,” you explain before adding, “Plus, he’s literally nice to everyone. You’re not special.”

And for a second, Satoru considered arguing that fact. Having been born into wealth, granted whatever wish he wanted, his butlers and maids are always on speed dial, that’s the lifestyle he’s used to. Placed on this tiny rock called Earth just to take over it one day, is what his father used to always say to him. But how can he, Satoru Gojo, take over when he’s stuck working a minimum — scratch that, unpaid — wage job as punishment?

Instead of fighting, Satoru slumps against the counter and pouts, like a little kid who just got their toy taken away. You and your sister Utahime have a clear advantage over him, by somehow being close, yet distant, friends to his family. Maybe karma is real.

“I’m putting you on ski lessons later.”

Satoru’s ears perk at this. “Oh, so I get some employee benefits, right?”

You roll your eyes, digging deep in your pockets to pull out a sheet with his name next to a list of others. “Wrong. You’re in charge of teaching five year olds how to ski.”

“Huh?”

Somehow that sounds even worse than being a barista. Kinda.

By the end of his first day of unemployment, Satoru tries to convince himself that a full change of scenery is nice. Well, he has to convince himself, otherwise he’s stuck dreading each coming day for the rest of the week.

“Tired yet, Gojo?”

You flop down on a spare armchair in his room, squishing his Canada Goose jacket underneath. He’s too tired to yell at you to get off and tumbles onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge, letting out a loud groan when his face immediately makes contact with the rough wooly blanket. Surprisingly to him, everything just feels so comfortable that the quality of the products doesn’t even cross his mind.

Sure, the air in the room is a bit musty, and he can feel his cheeks flaring up from the sudden change in temperature and the dull aching nag in his legs from demonstrating ski tricks to toddlers, but there’s an odd sense of fulfillment swelling in his chest just about now. He almost suggests taking over Choso’s lesson but, according to the hotel pamphlet, there’s going to be an ice fishing tournament tomorrow and he kinda wants to check that out, too.

“Exhausted,” he mumbles into the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Satoru wiggles his body around for a few moments before slipping out of his snow boots and stares out the window, noticing flickering green and purple lights in the night sky. “Woah, are those…?”

He hears you laugh beside him. “Yeah, northern lights. We see them all the time during the winter.”

“Only seen them bitches in ‘Polar Express’.” Satoru finds himself saying whatever’s on his mind right now, his brain too whipped out to control his mouth. “You guys are lucky to see this every night.”

“I know you’re all pooped out from today but,” he feels the mattress dip by the edge and your fingers poking at his thighs. “Did you wanna head up to the balcony and watch them for a bit?” you say this experimentally, waiting for his reaction.

Satoru might be a stranger to most natural phenomenons, having to zone out all the time whenever he did go on family vacations to a fancy national park when he was younger. Though, during the short time of spending his time here, it makes him think about packing up and leaving behind the fast paced city life for a bit of natural beauty and brightness.

“Carry me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re like a giant.”

He manages to gather some energy to sit up on his elbows. “You should at least have some form of hospitality to a family friend, you know?”

You eye him for a long moment, and then finally huff, breaking the contact to kick your feet into the festive carpeted floor. “Alright, just don’t lean your whole body weight on me.”

“Wouldn’t count on that.”

Both of you end up tumbling onto the balcony rails around one in the morning. As expected, Satoru couldn’t keep to his promise, throwing his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders, and whining the whole way up the stairs. It’s not his fault that the inn didn’t have an elevator installed. In all, it’s not a bad day — a bad night, even.

You straighten him against the railing before throwing a blanket over him. The fabric is thick and heavy, and Satoru forgets the ache in his limbs as he watches the way your eyes focus, eyebrows knitted, when you’re making sure he stays bundled up against the winter air. Once upon a time, Satoru never would’ve thought he would actually enjoy being in the company of someone who’s actively trying to teach him a lesson.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, almost like a reminder that you need to breathe, and pull away from him once he’s wrapped tightly like a swaddled baby.

You both sit in silence for a moment, and Satoru feels the urge to fill all that silence. He supposes maybe that’s why most people find him so annoying. He never really shuts up, always wants to add the last comment to everything. Though, with the help of Suguru by his side, it’s gotten slightly easier and bearable for others but, when his head is big and full of loud thoughts, it’s so hard trying to calm the buzzing noise in his head and —

“Gojo, look,” your pointer finger darts at the illuminated skyline in the distance and he snaps his head, following the trail, before gasping.

He feels your other hand tugging at the blanket when he finally makes out two faint bright lights in the distance. You squirm slightly next to him, to the point where your shoulders touch, and Satoru finally breathes, because suddenly, there’s heat rushing in. The loud, rough winds around him seem to die down and he’s aware of the slightly gazed expression on your face as you look into the far distance.

“Did you make a wish?” he finds himself whispering.

You grin. “Yeah, gonna make you work here for eternity,” you reply back in good natured spirit.

Something stirs inside Satoru. Something important. Well, Satoru-level important, so in the grand scheme of things, not very — but still. He unravels parts of his blanket and throws it over your head, making sure that it messes up your hair, and laughs when you throw him another pout.

“Did you make a wish?” you adjust the blanket so it covers your shoulders, moving a little closer to him, avoiding the cool breeze.

Satoru nods but presses a finger to his lips. “Not telling, though. Might not come true if I do.”

“Oh, shoot. Maybe I should’ve kept mine a secret then.”

He rolls his eyes and nudges your waist with an elbow. “You will definitely not see me here again.”

Satoru realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it might not be the bad kind of different.

Over the course of the next few days, he’s practically glued to your side as you’re showing him all things related to hospitality that his father tried to drill into him when he was a pre-teen. Obviously, it didn’t work at the time. Satoru’s known for being defiant just because he wanted to, and eventually his father stopped with the after school etiquette lessons. You, on the other hand, unfortunately have him tied around your fingers.

“You need to tidy up the edges more, Gojo.”

“There’s barely a wrinkle in these sheets!” He points at the bed sheet on the mattress, the one that he’d been working on for the last ten minutes in vain while you stood next to him with slightly concerned eyes. It’s a room service type of lesson today and, even though Satoru has never made his own bed before, he’s positive that he didn’t leave behind any smudges that might catch anyone’s eye.

“Did you check tuck in the sides? Or are you trying to get off easy for today?” You say, there’s a mild accusation in your tone when you speak, smiling as you step aside.

And, despite the warm smile, Satoru frowns a little, because guess who forgot to tuck in the sides?

When Satoru ducks his head around the mattress and sees a good loose chunk of the sheets hanging off and groans when you’re right. “It’s not my fault that they’ve made them so big for no reason,” he replies, somewhat embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.

You roll your eyes and stick a tongue out. “You’re getting the hang of it though, maybe even faster than Yuuji when he first offered to help.”

He flushes at the unexpected praise and quickly fixes the sheets, turning his whole entire body away from your sight. “Better than Yuuji, right?”

“Oh? So, you only work better with compliments, Gojo?” You sound amused, as if a lightbulb just popped on top of your head.

Satoru flattens out the bed once more, strangely now feeling satisfied with the final outcome before turning around, sticking out a tongue of his own. “Only if it’s from you,” he answers, honestly.

You laugh, and hopefully it’s not at him. “I thought you would be more annoying to deal with.”

“So, I’m just regular amounts of annoying?” He points out, with a fake frown, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the sheet.

You turn your gaze, seemingly in deep thought, before responding with a small shrug and grin. “Possibly a perfect amount of annoying.”

Satoru feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, again. “Well, of course, it’s the perfect amount because I’m perfect,” he replies, instantly, but suddenly he’s shy and feels the need to go to the next room to fix their stupid sheets before he combusts in front of you.

“Gojo,” you say, almost hesitantly.

He swallows and rubs the back of his neck, wiping off evidence of his sweaty palms. “Yeah?”

“You missed a spot,” and your pointer fingers direct at the far right corner of the bed frame. He must’ve pulled the sides too hard and it caused the other side to flip over. Ugh, he’s not cut out for this at all.

“I’m… uh, still better than Yuuji, right?”

“Mhm, getting there, Gojo.”

By day four, Satoru has surprisingly adjusted to the rules and responsibilities. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten him mildly well behaved, Suguru is a bit surprised by the daily updates being less… aggressive and whiny. What started as long vent paragraphs about the lack of heated flooring and needy customers, soon turned into photo albums of kids face planting into the snow and unconsented selfies with you in the background. Satoru absolutely makes sure you end up looking the worst out of the two because he’s gotta let his best friend know who’s the prettiest and he’s definitely racking up a blackmail album of all of your worst moments in case anything happens in the future.

It’s closing time and he just got back from the reindeer shed out in the back, covered head to toe in all things hay and snow. First things first, and no one bothered to tell him, but reindeers smell bad. Like, really bad. Especially at the end of the day, where their pens are covered in shit and countless carrots and apple bits from the little kids overfeeding them. Satoru is vaguely aware of the fact that he smells, just like he’s vaguely aware that the hotel lobby is oddly quiet from the usual banter between you and the usual workers.

Utahime and Choso are sitting by the cafe bar, seemingly deep in conversation about ordering more supplies for next week. Satoru thinks about interrupting their session with probably an unrelated dumb question, but the idea dies when Utahime notices his presence and motions him to come over.

“You stink,” Satoru casts a half-glare at Utahime and begins picking out some of the scattered hay pieces stuck to his sweater.

“For the record, I became good friends with Rudolph and Vixen today,” he grumbles back and Choso throws him a pat on the back.

“Hey, I don’t mind your stink, by the way. Smells kinda nice,” Choso offers up, but Satoru only shoots him a very unhappy look.

“If you think I smell nice then I’m really worried about what you think smells bad,” then he turns over to Utahime again, who’s engrossed in whatever is on her clipboard right now. “So, what did you need from me?”

“My sister,” she starts and taps away at the clipboard before handing it over to him. It’s pages upon pages of invoices from the past month. “Could you hand this to her? She should be in the back.”

“You treating me like an errand boy?”

Utahime scoffs. “What? Don’t wanna see her?”

“No, I do,” he responds, a bit too fast for his own liking, and straightens out. “Uh, is that all?” Satoru hopes his face doesn’t betray how much he’s a bit excited to interact with you, given that today was a full day out in the trenches, and he absolutely needs to hear you say his name at least twice a day in order to have a good night’s sleep.

Choso is trying really hard not to laugh, and Satoru takes it as a sign that he currently has a cheesy smile on his face — go figure. “One of the corner rooms upstairs requested a weighted blanket, mind also doing that too?”

There’s a certain relief that floods through Satoru and he thinks maybe he can take on a few more tasks for the night if that means spending a little more time with you, even if his body is screaming that he needs to take a two hour long shower.

“Hey,” he starts to say when he rounds the corner, “Where’d you put those weighted blankets again?”

Satoru expected to walk in on you neck-deep in paperwork. You’ve mentioned earlier in the week that this year would be the busiest and there’s a bunch of stuff due. Something about end of the year tax returns and inventory counts, it all goes out his ear but he remembers something similar that his father told him in a prior conversation. He thinks he could probably help you figure out some of it, but that might be a bit much.

What he walks in on, thought, is you sitting in your little makeshift office. You’re on your laptop, the screen’s tilted just right enough that he gets a glimpse of what you’re looking at. You’re looking at flights and hotels, even got a whole spreadsheet on the second monitor. From what he’s seen of you so far, you didn’t come off as the type to talk about your future that much.

His voice catches you by surprise and your expression flickers from something vaguely focused to embarrassment real quick. You hastily close out the tabs and go back to the hotel’s homepage.

“What is it, Gojo?” And there’s this awkward, oddly frantic moment of you fumbling around with the keyboard and mouse, like a teenage boy who’s just got caught looking at porn.

“Ah,” Satoru thinks seeing your flustered side is rather adorable, to say the least. “You tryin’ to plan a vacation or something?” He struts over to your desk, placing a firm hand onto the back of the chair, and there’s this smile on his face that just screams ‘gotcha’.

Your face scrunches up but it’s not out of annoyance. “Kinda?”

Even with a grumpy look, it’s a good look on you. Makes you kinda dark, brooding, and beautiful, and it turns your eyes into dark storm clouds, or some other weird, waxy poetic shit that Satoru can’t figure out the words to. Either way, Satoru thinks you look cute and can’t stop noticing your little facial movements. You’re more expressive than you would probably imagine.

“Ooh, where to?”

You sigh and start playing with your thumbs. “Malaysia. My friend told me great things about it and I’ve been meaning to go for a while now but time and money are always iffy.”

“Makes sense, I can imagine that being an inn assistant doesn’t pay all the bills.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. You huff and glare, an icy-death glare, at him. If looks could kill, Satoru is sure that he’ll be six feet underground by now.

“Weighted blankets are on the second floor closet by the laundry room,” you answer his initial question curtly before shutting the laptop. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“It was just a question,” he mumbles slowly, and maybe even a little dangerously. “If money’s an issue—”

“Gojo.” Your voice is fixed and rigid, one that leaves absolutely no room for debate. “Your dad was right about you; you always just fall back to your fame and wealth.”

As you’re busy staring, Satoru realizes that you’re kinda being a total ass to him right now.

“That’s not fair,” his voice is rising and can’t seem to put a stop to the words spilling out. “Don’t bring my dad into this conversation.”

“Or what? You can go back to your privileged life anytime you want. This is just a field trip for you while others actually have to try hard and make a living.” You spit out.

“No one forced you to become an inn worker, you know? If you’re so worried about money then you could’ve just found another high paying job.” Satoru wrinkles his nose and his volume continues to rise.

You immediately offer him a dark glare and it comes off in a cut-throat way that shuts Satoru up mid thought. The rest of his counters die in his throat when you start making hand gestures at the office exit and he gets the hint: ‘leave before I lose my shit’ is the calling he sees.

And it works, because he finds his tone shifting a little, awkwardly kicking the floor and backing off. “Whatever…”

That was last night and, by now, Satoru is realizing that he’s kind of a giant asshole and the guilt is slowly eating away at him. Was he always like this? It couldn’t have been — he’s only met you a few days ago, and this is only meant to be a quick, ‘vacational’, getaway. Sure he might be a bit selfish and a dick, but he had been able to function perfectly fine before all of this, hadn’t he?

Satoru’s not really sure.

It’s noon, and he’s lying in bed. Choso had asked him to cover his shift at the cafe, and he’d agreed, readily, even though it’s supposed to be his day off, because you’re working. Choso had texted him, though, saying that you had simply said you’d work the entire shift by yourself.

Of course. It’s absolutely not funny anymore.

Satoru sighs. He’s going to apologize, that’s for sure. It wounds some of his pride, yeah, but whatever, this tension between you guys, though, isn’t worth it. He finds himself wasting his entire morning away rotting in bed. There are things that he could be doing, that he looks forward to, like feeding the reindeers or demonstrating basic ski moves to little kids. Choso and Yuuji totally got him addicted to yelling out ‘pizza’ and ‘french fry’ at every chance he gets. They also got him addicted to a shitty relationship forum they both browse, but somehow the idea of reading other people’s relationship drama, when he’s facing drama of his own, is kinda mentally exhausting.

On second thought, maybe he should post on that forum, actually.

It might not be such a bad idea.

Or maybe he could reach out to Suguru and ask how to apologize?

His best friend is a bit more grounded and attuned with other people’s feelings compared to him, afterall. Satoru’s not good at this stuff and he’s always just cut others off whenever they do argue, but this feels different. And, well, for the first time in forever, Satoru is desperate.

“I fucked up big time and I need to apologize, help me out here?”

Suguru scoffs over the line. “Wow, what happened to saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Hi, hello. How are you? How do I make a sincere apology?”

“I’m good, thank you. Now, for your request, depends on how big the fuck up is.”

He bites his tongue, finding the right words to essentially not sound like a huge dick but, no matter how he wants to rephrase it, the outcome is the same. “I might’ve implied that she’s poor and needs someone to take care of her?” It sounds so stupid, so mean, and so degrading now that he’s saying it out loud.

He hears Suguru sucking in his teeth and sighs. After a couple of pauses, his best friend finally speaks. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

Satoru frowns. “Okay, yeah, it is,” and he sits up in his bed when a snowball makes an impact against the window. It’s Utahime. And, currently, she’s throwing him the nastiest glare that a woman has ever given him in his life. “Um, I’ll call you back, buddy…”

“What? I haven’t given you—”

“Don’t have time for unwarranted advice right now.”

“You called me!”

“Bye!” Satoru ends the call before shuffling towards the window, swallowing a hard lump, and inches the glass panel just small enough for him to hear coherently and not big enough for her to punt him across the face. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

But Utahime is in an obvious shitty mood and Satoru’s lack of charming antics aren’t going to work this time. “I’m going to apologize, I promise,” he tries to insist.

“This is all your fault,” she immediately gets to the point and it makes him shrink back just a tiny bit. He’s starting to see that the bluntness runs in the family. “Just get your ass to work.”

“But my shift doesn’t start till—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Utahime starts to form an even bigger snowball and raises it to the window panel. “Ass out of bed, now.”

Okay, so as much as Satoru had tried to tell himself that this week wouldn’t be bad, it’s really starting to get fucking awful.

Everyone’s in a shit mood. Yuuji tries to crack some jokes but the usual crowd isn’t having it. You’ve been throwing Satoru dirty looks while working behind the cafe counter together and he’s been put on drink duty — which is his worst nightmare — while you’re attending to the customers because you’re young and cute enough for them to be nice to you. Satoru has spilled hot coffee and chocolate on himself like four times so far, and the shift just started. He’s terrified that the rest of this week is going to be like this.

“Can we talk?” Satoru whisper shouts over the espresso machine.

He sees your shoulders tensing up but immediately relaxes them afterwards. “Did you hear something, Yuuji?”

The boy looks up from the bar counter, it’s his day off and he’s catching up on some homework, but the seemingly growing tension that’s unfolding in front of him is making it painfully hard for him to focus on anything engineering related. Yuuji scratches the back of his neck before darting his eyes back and forth between the two of you. Normally, he would be the voice of reason, but Satoru doesn’t blame him when he shakes his head.

“N-Nah, must’ve been the wind or something...”

Great, he’s been reduced to an air draft.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you agree without missing a beat. As the next customer in line spends an eternity holding everyone up, debating whether to get the seasonal muffin or french toast to go with their drink, you continue, “Thought I heard a rotten brat for a second.”

He absolutely doesn’t expect the harsh insult. Satoru widens his eyes at the outburst and there’s a small pause, the silence ticking in between everyone, and he’s sure that you’re glaring him down somewhere in a small reflection on the counter.

Satoru debates whether to call out your name and shake some sense into you, but Yuuji quickly swallows and makes a motion with his hands to his throat, a universal signal saying — ‘I wouldn’t test the waters, if I were you’.

And, after the customer finally decides that they didn’t want any pastries with their coffee order, you finish the transaction before announcing that you’re going on a small fifteen minute break to “stretch”. Though, anyone could see that you’re planning to cool off before you manage to actually blow up in Satoru’s face.

“How the hell am I going to talk to her?” he groans to Yuuji once you’re finally away. He’s managing the cash register and, surprisingly, finishes taking the remaining orders quite smoothly compared to his first day. At least he can pat himself on the back for this.

“You’ve really pissed her off, dude,” Yuuji replies and Satoru just rolls his eyes because that’s all he’s been hearing from everyone else all day today. “You should talk to her when she’s not… charged up.”

“Way to point out the obvious.” Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji is a bit oblivious. How is he doing so well as a mechanical engineering major?

Yuuji makes an audible ‘pop’ and whistles. “What did you even say to her?”

Satoru groans into his hands. “Did she not tell you?”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly in a chippy mood to talk about anything this morning — outside of work, that is.”

“Here’s a little TLDR version: might’ve said something classist.”

“Might’ve?”

“Okay, definitely said something classist.”

“Then…” Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. “Y’know, whenever me and Megumi fight, I always invite him out to the movies to try and cheer him up. Might not be applicable to you but…”

Satoru blinks. “Are you suggesting a date would help?”

“Maybe not a date—”

“No, I’m sorry for calling you dumb, you’re so right—a nice date might work!”

“You never called me dumb, though?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, kiddo.”

Satoru unravels the ribbon on his apron and throws it in Yuuji’s general direction, not caring if he tossed the stained uniform directly in his face. He hops the counter and pats the younger male on the shoulder, flashing him a genuine smile because, hey, maybe Yuuji actually is smarter than he looks.

“Gonna totally invite you to the wedding.”

It’s no secret that Satoru Gojo hasn’t been on a proper date in a pathetically long time.

He has swiped right on a number of highly influential celebrities and figures on dating apps before. Matched with nearly all of them. Gone on…maybe a lot of first dates with not a lot of second dates coming right after. Who cares though, everyone’s just there for the photos and followers anyway. Satoru knows that he’s attractive and that he personally loves big, lavish dates but, at this point, he knows you enough to understand you absolutely hate big gestures.

After a short winded conversation with Suguru and Utahime, separately, Satoru has concluded on not buying you first class tickets to Malaysia.

“Are you trying to get her to hate your guts?” Was the general consensus of the conversation with said people.

So, what’s the next best option if he can’t fly you out to Malaysia? The answer is pretty simple — bring Malaysia to Mistle Town. And no, he’s not going to be relying on his black card for anything, even though the back of his mind is telling him otherwise.

Choso blinks several times at Satoru’s printed out proposal. The colorful letters and Google image photos of beaches and coconuts slapped poorly onto the document screams back at Choso and Yuuji, bright and early on Christmas Eve.

It’s unusual for Satoru to be bouncing excitedly in place for someone other than himself. So this catches everyone off guard.

Yuuji whispers something intangible to Choso, but Satoru is able to make it out as, “Do we even have coconuts here?”

To which Choso replies, “It’s winter, so I don’t think so.”

And Yuuji moves onto the next question in queue, “What should we do about the lack of palm trees?”

A patient sigh from Choso, “We could always trim the pine trees outside?” He lamely suggests.

“It’s a good idea, no?” Satoru jumps right back in, completely missing the flat vibe from the brothers. He frowns. “Why are you guys giving me that look?”

And, like his best friend and your sister, the brothers throw him a confused head tilt.

“Well,” Yuuji weakly starts, “Your plan ‘Project: Bring Malaysia here in hopes of Y/N falling in love with me’ doesn’t really sound that great… even on paper.”

Satoru grins, fully expecting that to be the response. “I’ll order the things, don’t worry about it. I just need to borrow your lungs for this project.”

Yuuji scratches his cheek in confusion, laughing nervously again. “Our lungs…?” he echos.

“How long do I have to keep this dumb blindfold on, Choso?”

“U-Um,” Choso shoots Satoru a brow as he carefully guides you through the hotel lobby.

It’s currently decked out from head to toe in all things yellow, green, and pink beach themed inflatables. Choso and Yuuji reminded Satoru last night that maybe two flamingos would’ve been enough to get the message across, but seeing that he ordered a whole colony? Yeah, he’s sending the rich boy prayers as he reels you in further, avoiding collision with the colorful balloons and seven-foot tall palm trees, too.

“Choso?”

He squeezes your shoulders when Satoru shoots him a thumbs up. “Ten seconds.”

Satoru quietly walks over to both of you, tip toeing so the sounds of his loafers are minimized against the flooring. Once he’s inches away, Choso retreats off into a different room, mouthing to him words of final encouragement, which Satoru gladly took.

You appear restless under the blindfold. “I swear to god, if I take it off and there’s a giant pile of reindeer shit in the middle of the lobby I will actually kill somebody—”

And Satoru quietly debates whether or not he wants to keep you like this for a little while before revealing the big surprise. Seeing you flustered and confused is a very cute look on you, after all. But, he’s gotten you this far and it would absolutely kill him to leave you on such a bad notice. It’s now early evening, and the sun’s just starting to set enough that the golden rays illuminate your features from this angle. It takes Satoru back to his first private meeting with you on the balcony and he remembers why he’s even doing this in the first place.

Carefully and slowly, he slips down the blindfold and softly calls out your name. “Hey, take a look around you.”

Your eyes are blown wide when you see his face. Anger and frustration dissipate from your face when you soon realize that Satoru carries a soft expression. He watches as the emotions wash off as quickly as they came. Then, you finally take a look around your surroundings and gasp. “You—You did all of this for me?”

Satoru tenses a little, a bit on the edge. “You want the short or long answer?”

You don’t notice because you’re too preoccupied with the numerous fake flamingos around you. “On second thought, maybe no answer would also work.”

He laughs at this, slightly, before turning shy again. He feels silly, ashamed, and it makes his cheeks flush. “I wanted to say sorry again for what I said earlier.”

“You finally want to talk about it?”

He looks at your idle hands and then back to your face. When he sees that you don't move them away as he inches closer, he takes both of them into his palms, giving them a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I was a big idiot and I thought I was trying to help in the beginning but I just sounded—no, I am—a giant ass.” Satoru concludes.

The atmosphere grows quiet and heavy again. The air humid and thick despite the opened windows and you’re looking at him. Then, there are tiny little smiles that break out on your face, like freckles and stars in the sky.

“You’re such a pillow princess,” and he outright blushes ten shades darker at the nickname, “you’re lucky you’re cute.” Coming from you, that’s as good as a love confession.

I like you, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. He really likes you and doesn’t want to fuck this up.

But, everyone knows that Satoru Gojo is a child at heart.

Satoru doesn’t know who gives in first; realistically, it might’ve been one of those stupid, rare, impossible moments where it’s completely shared. Suddenly the gaudy blow up palm trees and inflatable pool blur from his vision and he feels the world roaring around him when your palms rest on his cheeks. He ducks his head down but you’re the one who closes the distance between.

You taste like strawberries and lavender, smell like warm cocoa, and feel softer than any sherpa blanket he’s had. Satoru closes his eyes and his vision goes white, his hands shakily snake around your waist, pressing you hard against his chest as if you might disappear at any moment. Satoru sighs into the kiss, it feels pleasantly warm, that throb in his chest, it’s a slow, steady thrum of simmering desire and comfort. He’s pretty sure he’s adding way too much tongue, the drool and saliva that comes dripping between you two will be uncomfortable soon, but for now, it adds to the blissed out, satisfaction you’re both basking in.

Finally, you pull away, shortening yourself a good several inches from planting the rest of your feet on the ground. Your eyes are glossed over, watery and looking at him without vexation. “You’re something else.” You say, but there’s no bite.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a moment. He’s too focused on the feeling of your warm fingers sprawled all over his heating face. Too focused on the dull pulse of both nervousness and infatuation slowly spreading through his body because you’re giving him that look. This all feels romantic and stupid, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, again.” The words are quiet, hesitant, and Satoru almost regrets them the moment he speaks.

You shift around a little, now dancing on the balls of your feet, but the grasp you have on his cheeks is still relatively firm, even applying a bit of more pressure as if it’s your way of showing reassurance. You tip your head; your eyes are so vivid and bright, it sends a shiver down Satoru’s spine. In this moment, he remembers every single thing between them in shocking detail — the awkwardness, the tension, the frustration, the dumb banters, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed.

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a private city tour,” you laugh. “And come back to work with us again next year.”

Satoru offers a small smile. “Unpaid?”

“Will you say no if it is?”

He hugs you tighter, a chuckle bubbles in his throat. “I don’t think I can say no because it’s you.”

Though, while some might think that Satoru is the real loser here for being whipped so hard over a small town girl, you know that deep down the real loser is you. Because you managed to have the son of a CEO wrapped around your fingers and now you will never know peace again. But you’re not really complaining; instead, you’re working even harder to save just enough to eventually see your dream destination while Satoru whines and sends an ungodly amount of selfies everyday when he’s back home. And you won’t allow yourself to get snappy because, well, you’re very much head over heels for him, too.

#event: i got my eyes on youೄྀ࿐ˊˎ #doobea writing #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x female reader

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andypantsx3 · 1 month

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contents: general bakugou x princess reader; 1.1k, fem reader. lowkey dedicated to the loml @ofmermaidstories even tho there's e2l undertones.

thinking about being a princess forced into a political marriage. your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry.

already several of the more prominent families are forming factions; those with eligible sons are desperately trying to engineer opportunities for themselves, those without are amassing foot soldiers and weapons.

you cannot stand any of the pompous, greedy, egocentric princelings put forth by the noble families; men who care nothing for the country or its people, men with no thought for policy or justice—men who would gorge themselves on wine and women as the country crumbled at their feet.

even with a husband, there is no guarantee against a coup, not unless your husband is formidable enough to suppress one.

there is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne, one man with a head for strategy, a sense of duty, and a reputation strong enough to suppress the growing threat of political discord.

you find general bakugou katsuki in his quarters in the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep for your nerves.

"princess," he rasps, opening the door in nothing but his breeches. your face burns as you're confronted with the sight of a man's naked chest, miles of bare skin, golden in the glow of the torch lights.

"general," you say, resolutely raising your eyes to his face. there is no time to dance around the issue. "i need you to marry me."

bakugou's blonde hair is bed-rumpled, his manner sleep-soft, though his gaze is sharp. he watches you for a long moment before answering.

"'s an awful unromantic proposal," he says, an eyebrow raising.

despite his honorability, he's always had a way of grating on your nerves, and he knows it. you can't stop the reflexive scowl that paints your mouth, nor the irritability that seeps into your tone.

"i am being serious," you say, crossing your arms.

bakugou's eyes follow the movement. you are suddenly all too aware that you've marched through the castle halls in nothing but your night rail, too overcome with the thought of what must be done to pay the appropriate attention to your wardrobe.

"what, you lookin' to consummate it now?" he asks, gaze almost burning through the thin cotton of your shift.

your ears go hot. "can you stop being the most obnoxious man on earth for one moment."

bakugou leans an arm against his open door, bicep flexing with the movement. you try valiantly not to notice the way the shadows pool in the divots of his muscle, the way his trousers sit against the plane of his toned stomach.

"if you want me to say yes, you're gonna need to be a little nicer, princess," he says, mouth flicking into an awful little smirk.

"general—bakugou," you hiss. "do you want to watch the country you've spent years defending dissolve into nothing at the hands of these narcissistic, coddled fools?"

"rich words for a princess," bakugou says, his voice nearly a growl in the dim.

you are aware that you are sheltered as a royal. you are aware you are soft and naive. but you are educated, you are strong-willed, and you care. you may not be a son to your father, but you know you know have studied harder than any man on your father's court. you want to do your best for this country.

"do not mock me," you command.

bakugou's scarlet gaze trails over you, hot and liquid in the flickering torchlight.

"no? then what d'you want me to do to you?" he asks.

you fight down the furious flush of humiliation. "i want you," you repeat through gritted teeth, "to marry me."

bakugou's golden eyelashes dip as his gaze slides back over your crossed arms, then lower, all the way down to your bare toes. you feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutiny, even more knowing you are already at his mercy.

"you're serious," he rasps, eyes cutting back to yours.

"unfortunately," you grit out.

that draws another flicker of a smirk out of him. "and y'came running down here at midnight in your little nightdress because you were too scared you'd chicken out, is that it?"

that is absolutely it, and you hate that he knows it.

"will you marry me or not?" you demand, even your nose feeling hot now. "i don't know what my nightdress has to do with the question!"

"your nightdress is gonna have a lot to do with it if i say yes, angel," bakugou says.

you hate him. maybe it's better to just let the country fall to ruin, let some jumped up coalition of families amass power and overwhelm bakugou and his soldiers. with any luck maybe they will stab him.

you'll have to come up with another plan.

"fine," you hiss, turning on your heel. "message received."

but a hot hand closes on your arm before you can take another step, yanking you back to him. you stumble, barely catching yourself before bashing your nose into his chest.

"you know what you're asking for?" bakugou demands, leaning in to look into your face. "you know this wouldn't be easy."

"i know," you say begrudgingly. "but you are the country's best option—my best option. none of the men put forth are acceptable."

"don't like pretty boys, princess?" bakugou asks.

"you're plenty pretty," you bite out before you can think. horror overwhelms you when bakugou's smirk grows wider, a sharp white knife in the dark.

"think i'm pretty huh?" he says, his tone gloating.

"i think that you are awful and maybe i'd rather take my chances with a coup," you growl, trying to pry your arm from his grip.

but bakugou's hold tightens for a moment, and he leans down, close enough that his breath ghosts over the collar of your night rail.

"then if you're sure this is what you want, princess, you can have it," bakugou says. his thumb smoothes over the skin of your arm for just a moment, soft and feather light before he lets you go.

you step out of his reach, skin tingling, face flaming. there's no reason to delay, then. "fine, we're agreed. i'll see you in the morning. we'll announce it then."

you spin on your heel, bakugou's grunt of acceptance following you as turn back down the hall.

"see you in the morning, angel," he drawls, suddenly all agreement.

he may be the general between the two of you, but you know when it's time for a strategic retreat. you ignore his response and flee—your ears burning all the way to your chambers.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #character: bakugou katsuki

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eccentricwritingbaby · 17 days

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baby finn series, house divided

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series list - bedtime stories - sneaking onto stream - babysitting and date nights

summary - yours and lando’s little boy has decided to become a fan of a different team, leading lando into a little spiral

masterlist

finn norris, yours and landos bubbly pride and joy, was turning three this sunday - subjecting his birthday to a race day. finn had obviously grown up along the track with his dad and all his colleagues and friends which led him to adore and fall in love with the sport that is formula one - scaring the living daylights out of you in his passionate displays of love for the dangerous activity at such a young age. not only was finn bouncing off the walls when lando informed him of where his birthday would be held, he was jumping, shaking and yelling with excitement as the race track was his favorite place on earth.

“finn, baby, calm down,” you chuckled while giving lando a glance. you both were sat on the couch with your son in front of you in order to tell him the wonderful news. now your adorable little almost three year old was racing around screaming with joy.

lando let out a laugh as well and reached for his son, “if you’re excited about spending your birthday on the track you’ll also be very excited about my other surprise for you,” finn looked up at his father with those same crystal blue eyes and whispered as if it was to himself, “anotha’ supwise?” lando and you share another small laugh at his wonder as he proceeds to get your son his gift. you take this moment to sweep up your still giggly son into your lap and give him a few quick kisses to the top of his head. those delicious baby laughs were all you heard as you felt his face snuggle further into your arms. lando returns as swiftly as he left, yet this time he appears with a large box in his arms. your boy wiggles in your hold until you release him to crawl towards his father. once settled on your husband's lap, lando begins to aid him in opening the bright papaya colored box, leading to your understanding of the exact contents in seconds. lando was always getting sent items from fans that were miniature, or receiving pint-sized merch from mclaren all for his mini me which both of you just doted over. once the wrapping paper and tissue paper were thrown enough around your living room, finn finally poked his head into the box and came out with a frown.

“you don’t like it, bud?” lando softly questions while his eyebrows begin to furrow. “‘s not wed, dada,” your son responds as he eyes his father, confusion listed on all of your faces.

“baby, why would you want your outfit to be red for your birthday? don’t you want to cheer on daddy?” you attempt to understand the little boy by posing the questions but he simply just whips his head around to you even more confused.

“i cheer dada in wed!” his eyes begin to gloss over and you can already feel a temper tantrum about to stir, yet one look over to lando and you understand that both your boys may need a minute to cool down.

“okay finn, why don’t you pick out what you want to bring on the trip? i’ll be right in to help baby,” you reply cautiously as you lift him out of lando’s arms, around the forgotten papaya box, and in the direction of his room.

“otay, momma!” finn shouts as his little legs attempt to quickly take him into his room down the hall. once the tiny steps disappear, you turn to look at your other baby.lando sits on the couch with a blank stare as his hands ring together in front of him.

“he wants to support ferrari, love. not his own father,” lando’s head falls as he speaks and you land on the couch cushion next to him, beginning to run your hand up and down his back. even though finn was born while you both were young and unsure of how to raise a child together, since you were children yourselves, lando was consistently one of the best fathers you had seen. he let the third driver take his seat for a month and a half in order to be a dedicated father and bond accordingly with your son. he doted over you and your needs no matter what the cost or occasion. and overall he cherished approval, whether it be in the bedroom, the track, or parenthood. lando is confident, yes, but he will always want the confirmation that he is doing his best, and that his best is enough - which it is always more than. therefore, you could tell that his son not wanting to support his team, and by partisan him, has led him to conclude that he is not a good racer, role model, or father - and you needed to stop those lies from invading his head.

“lando, he’s two - almost three, he probably just likes the color and wants to wear it,” you reply to his heart heavy confession.

“no he wants to support his uncle carlos, who has been winning and been on all the podiums - oh except for when he was in the hospital having a surgery,” the ending of his small reply held a bitter tone which you knew was not jealousy. lando and carlos are especially close, he is beyond happy and proud of his friend who he knows deserves his winnings, but you could understand the envy appearing when his son is preferring him over his dad.

“lando, it doesn’t matter what team he wants to support, that is your son. and he worships the ground you walk on. trust me. i am with him all the time,” you continue with a chuckle and a funnier tone as you begin to recite the words your son always speaks to you, “it’s always, ‘when’s dada coming home?’ ‘i want dada to tuck me into bed’ ‘can i drive like dada when im older’ and so on. lando, he loves you - you know that. don’t make this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. he is three, his intentions are pure,” as you end your speech, lando begins to raise his head looking into your eyes.

“i know, love. it just sucks i guess,” he lets out a quick sigh along with a shrug and meets your eyes again, “you’re still wearing papaya, right?” slight anxiety in his higher pitched question and you begin to laugh, “yes, love, i will always be in your color,” you reply as he hums and leans into your embrace, reaching down to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. just as you pull apart you can hear the quick little pitter patter of feet running down the hallway your little boy emits, trailing behind him is his bluey mini suitcase overflowing with toys and games.

“i all pack!” he squeals in excitement as he races over to you and your husband. lando drops down onto your floor, finn running right into his embrace, followed by a fit of giggles.

“let’s see what you packed, buddy,” your husband replies as he ruffles around finns baby curls. finn then claps a bit until he’s situated on the floor in front of the suitcase. he begins pulling out his items and reciting them to both of you and you respond in a chorus of “ooh’s” and “aah’s”.

race day -

as lando struts down the makeshift runway that is the entrance to the paddock, you follow behind a little further as to not draw too much attention to your little son. even though finn had grown up around the paddock, both lando and you are still not fully comfortable with the cameras and attention specifically around your son. therefore, any precaution - even the slightest - to not have him overly immersed in the media you both will take. lando is simply sporting his mclaren team gear, you in a light and well-fit sundress that lando emphasized in the morning you look ‘absolutely ravishing, my darling” and your birthday boy, well, he has arrived in a bright red ‘sainz55’ ferrari shirt as well as a bright and wide smile - something your husband couldn’t even be mad at if he tried, as your son’s smile that bright on his birthday was worth any sort of bruise to the ego. once well inside the paddock, finn begins to wiggle and squirm in your arms wanting to be let down which could only mean one thing.

“UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS!” he begins to cry as you put him on the ground and he takes off towards him.

“FINN! SLOW DOWN!” your husband cries after him as he picks up a jogging pace after his overenthused son. carlos’ head whips around at the voice of his favorite little man as he begins to crouch down and brace for impact with his arms held wide. the little ball of red soon collides with his newfound favorite driver and the two begin to laugh as they hold each other. once you and lando catch up to the pair you can hear the adorable conversation at play.

“i wear wed fo’ you, uncle los!” finn sings happily while prancing around in front of carlos. the spanish driver, still crouched at your son's level, chuckles in admiration as he stares at the boy in front of him, “i think red is your color, pequeño,”

“it is! it is!” finn replies once again jumping around in full excitement.

“i also think it is somebody’s birthday,” carlos says holding a sly grin while staring at the little lando in front of him.

“ME! it’s mine!” your boy continues to jump.

“i think special birthday boys get to sit in their favorite uncles car?” carlos feigns innocence in the question as he looks at lando who holds a grin on his face. finn looks at his father for permission with a slight doe-eyed expression and lando gives him a simple nod before finn and carlos quickly disappear to the ferrari garage.

“i am very proud of you, love. you’ve got a good brave face,” you say quietly to your husband as he reaches down to pull you into a kiss.

“you know why i’m smiling, baby?” lando doesn’t wait for you to answer the rhetorical, “because we just gained a free babysitter for about an hour,” he kisses you again, this time with more urgency as he continues, dropping an octave, “and i’ve got an empty drivers room just waiting for us,” one more kiss and he’s already pulling you into the direction of the mclaren garage with you jogging quickly behind him in a fit of giggles.

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kiirschtein-archive · 1 year

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⋆ 「 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 (𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐦𝐨𝐦. 」 ⋆

feat. — toji fushiguro x f!reader, kid!megumi

word count. — 1.4k

content. — sfw, non-sorcerer au, established relationship (marriage), mostly just fluffy domestic stuff, reader is addressed as ‘mom/mama/mommy,’ toji’s kind of a bad parent but he’s working on it, brief mention of toji smoking (cigarettes), overprotective!toji, very minor suggestive themes (from toji 🙄 he’s a walking cw/tw)

notes. — idk. this has been incessantly on my brain pretty much from the moment i woke up today, even to the point where i was writing half of this at the laundromat lmao. mother’s day yesterday had me feeling some type of way, so here have some fun headcanons from a strange eldest daughter!!!! (i might end up doing a set of these for gojo x reader too 🤔)

⋆ 「 — he’s not your biological son, but you’ve been around since you started seeing toji when megumi was still a baby. but now, a few years later, you might as well be his real mother. you certainly act like it and feel like it, so toji gladly initiates the conversation about official adoption. it just makes sense. you eventually explain the situation to megumi as best as you can simply so that he doesn't grow up thinking he was lied to or anything of the sort, but as far as he's concerned, you're his mom whether it's by blood or not.

⋆ 「 — and oh, megumi’s a mama’s boy. i imagine he’s just a little bit of a healthier kid vs. canon given the better family situation, but he’s still always a bit of a grumpy baby, appreciating his autonomy and trying to be as self-sufficient and mature as he can be. but he’ll most certainly run to you when he needs help, is truly hurt, or just needing a bit of comfort. you’ve always treated him so softly and kindly with understanding, so he honestly feels more comfortable coming to you most of the time instead of his dad.

⋆ 「 — he likes the way you organize the bookshelf in his room or fold and sort his clothes in special little ways. he gets upset any time toji tries to put a book back in the wrong place or can’t figure out where his damn socks are. gumi will scowl and say, “that’s not where it goes.” or go deadpan and be like, “mom always keeps the socks in the bottom drawer.” disappointed that his father can’t even remember. toji just grumbles and says, “your mama’s gonna ruin you.”

⋆ 「 — has called you 'mom' basically since he was old enough, but don't let him fool you. megumi will drop the big boy act and come out with 'mama' or 'mommy' when something's wrong or he's really excited. he'll come to you with quiet tears and sniffles, a little ashamed that he's crying, but present to you a scraped elbow, "mama... it hurts." you clean up the scrape and explain to him the little medical details in a somewhat understandable way to help him focus on something besides the pain, and you tell him that it'll be okay, and that it's alright to cry. or on the flip-side, you and toji take him to the zoo, little gumi on his dad's shoulders, and he gasps and points excitedly, "look, mommy! look at the big elephant!" and it feels incredible to see him be so spirited.

⋆ 「 — along the lines of the art from this post and the thought i had about it earlier, just imagine that you're at some event (maybe like a birthday party or something), and toji's been hauling megumi around. they're both so over it at this point and are like 'please get me out of this' so as soon as toji walks past the obnoxious inflatable bouncy house, he smirks and just YEETS that kid inside without a second thought. after regaining his breath, megumi just looks at his father with the most EVIL little scowl as other kids bounce around him with smiles. by the look on that child's face you could've swore that his father had just done him the ultimate betrayal.

so gumi slides out and hurriedly makes his way over to where you're sitting off to the side, quietly climbing into your lap for a little bit of solace. he wiggles in close to your chest and you tuck him under your chin with a ‘come here, sweetpea,’ rocking slowly and humming something soft because he always seems to like it when you do.

toji comes over and you look at him through narrowed eyes. "kids are supposed to like shit like that," he says.

"you know he likes when things are more quiet," you respond, and toji rolls his eyes at how you seemingly spoil your son.

"just thought it might be good for him to try and get along with the other brats." toji tries to cover up the fact that he tossed his kid for the sheer personal enjoyment of it.

you huff in disbelief. "oh, like you get along so well with everyone?"

he scoffs and moves in behind you, leaning down to place a kiss on your neck. "i get along with you," he says almost suggestively.

you just keep stroking megumi's hair and give the top of his head a gentle kiss. "yeah, well not today," you say, shooting a smug, resolute smile towards your husband, ultimately taking his son's side.

⋆ 「 — outside of his alone time, megumi would honestly much rather be with you instead of other children. toji thinks it's probably unhealthy and you're inclined to agree, but you also don't want to force megumi into situations that will just make him miserable. so, when appropriate, you don't mind at all pacing around with him in your arms or have him walk next to you (maybe holding your hand if he’s not in a ‘big boy’ mood), teaching him about the things you see in the woods, the park, or even the museum. when toji's not away working, he'll join too because it admittedly makes his heart feel soft to watch you two together. it always has, because you've been doing this with megumi since he was a baby. it never gets old. if it wasn't already so difficult trying to figure out how to do things right by his son, he'd want you to give him even more babies.

⋆ 「 — megumi likes doing things with his dad sometimes too, though. toji tries his best to do it right and watch both his mouth and his temper. you like seeing them getting along, even if it's just quietly watching tv or a movie (probably a cartoon where toji gets kind of into and will ask the occasional question like "why does that one stupid chick keep doing that?" and megumi just shrugs like, "i dunno. she is pretty dumb.") or playing ball outside because gumi's starting to show some athleticism. but you have to remind toji that he can't always be so rough or competitive with games because megumi is literally a child.

⋆ 「 — toji can also be way too overprotective of you two at times. you'll be out and about and he'll just be wearing such an intimidating expression as he walks behind you both, on the lookout for anyone who might want to cause trouble or take the wrong sort of glance at his wife. he'll even snap at people for walking too close or like cutting in line or something petty, and you have to tell him stop acting like an attack dog and looking like the grim reaper because dear god you're literally just having lunch at the park. even at his age, megumi's just eating his ice cream and looking at his dad with his little baby deadpan expression and thinking "this man really needs to take a chill pill." other times he can be more relaxed, however, obviously confident in his ability to protect you. it depends on his mood. but that still doesn’t stop him from being embarrassing and going off on people in public if something happens.

⋆ 「 — you also know all of gumi’s favorite meals and snacks. it’s yet another one of those things where, if his dad does it wrong, megumi expresses a disappointment beyond his years. toji will be making and packing his son’s school lunch just as instructed by the notes you gave him, but it’s by no means as neat and meticulous as when you do it. toji’s got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth with furrowed, concentrating brows, his free hand shakily reaching for a cup of fresh coffee, and megumi’s standing there with his little backpack, criticizing his father the entire time. “mom doesn’t do it like that,” he says.

“well mom ain’t here right now. and it doesn’t matter how the sandwich is cut, is still tastes the damn same.”

gumi doesn’t even physically react, still wearing the same neutral expression, just waiting for his dad to hurry up. “mom says you shouldn’t smoke. and she also says not to use bad words.”

toji scoffs and then smirks. “well mommy uses all sorts of bad words you don’t even know about when her and daddy have play time.”

megumi’s already almost late for school and can barely feel his feet from how tight his dad tied his shoelaces. he also asks you later about “play time,” and you want to absolutely murder your husband over it.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #c. — toji fushiguro #hc. — toji fushiguro #fluff. — toji fushiguro #c. — megumi fushiguro #hc. — megumi fushiguro #fluff. — megumi fushiguro #my writing.

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treecove · 2 months

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hot take? but i think people (esp ppl who are white) need to care abt the neglect wyll gets for MORE than just romance reasons

yes the fact that his romance is lacking compared to the others is bad

but seeing so many of u only care abt the shipper content and not the fact that he is literally the son of the duke of the gate and yet his involvement in the main story is still utterly minimal, and he doesnt even have his own full quest any more nor does he get the ability to really stand up to his abuser/slaver like astarion and even karlach do. the fact that mizora is given actual plot armor with 'zariel's protection' and they patched out being able to petrify her ect- when even gale can become a god stick it to mystra. and they even gave laezel more agency- but not wyll? not even when confronting his own father?

all of this and i STILL only see wyllxtav this and shipper headcanons that, and not yknow. actual discussions of him as a character.

like it's gross. it's starting to look like all ppl care abt at this point is how wyll can be grafted onto your character and have him as an accessory. if all you ever talk abt or think abt when it comes to wyll is how he is with your tav/durge, then you dont love wyll, you just love him as a prop. and that's just as fucking racist.

#bg3 #* i think the only ppl i dont see treating him like this are largely black bloggers #and a handful of other bloggers of color

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shaisuki · 2 months

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SON, YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS CUTE. MIND IF I HAVE A TASTE?

FUSHIGURO TOJI X MEGUMI'S CHUBBY GIRLFRIEND READER

content warnings ─── noncon, drugging, reader is megumi's girlfriend, voyeurism, forced orgasm, thigh fucking, brief daddy kink, somnophilia, pussy eating, megumi and reader in 20s, toji in his 40s.

ᝰ synopsis.ᐟ: in which toji couldn't help but to steal a taste of his son's girlfriend. hope he doesn't find out. poor megumi.

“—gumi... oh fuck...”

he can hear your filthy moans leaking through the crack of his son's bedroom door followed by the breathless whispers and the sound of bed creaking under the weight of you two. he listened for a brief moment before going to his kitchen.

opening the refrigerator and grabbing a water bottle and twisting its cap off then taking a swig from it. toji chuckles at the "study session" you both were doing. ahh, kids these days and his thought goes to you. his son's girlfriend.

he still remembers how you came into his life. his son introducing him to you as a friend but by the looks it's more than of it and you were the first to never ogle at him like he was a piece of meat. there's nothing such as lingering stares, the batting of eyelashes and the seductive voice trying to get him — only a quick bow and an introduction of your name and that's all.

and toji did like that however megumi made clear you were off limits. his son could be so possessive and protective over you and who can blame him — sweet, little like you doesn't know the dangers that lurks at every corner including him and toji has the tendency to fuck who will give him the slightest of interest including you but it still doesn't happen. keeping him at arm's length and that's fine with him — he says but nothing's fine with it.

it is not his business to pry the people his son is dating, he's no different from it. jumping from woman to woman after his wife passed away. he got needs. anyways, his son is old enough to do whatever he pleases and dating is no exception from it and looking at you, his son's relationship with you — it's looking good.

closing back the fridge, in the corner of his sight. he caught the familiar spiky tuft of a hair belonging to his son and you by his side. raising a brow at you two. megumi only gave his father a side glance before escorting you to the door to accompany you in safely going back to your place.

“uhm, thank you for letting me stay fushiguro-san.” you say to him, bowing quickly before following megumi. he only looks at you longer — too close for comfort and noticing his father's gaze at you. megumi glares at the man and toji almost barked a laugh at his son.

don't worry, megumi. i ain't touching your girlfriend but only if she wants too. he wants to say at megumi. their relationship already estranged. well, who could blame his son he wasn't the best of fathers.

then after that, you both were off. the slam of the door being closed briefly echoes in the room and then toji was left on his own. settled in the couch and the television playing his horse races.

“pretty please?” you bat your pretty lashes at him. your eyes getting rounder and wider staring at him with doe eyes of yours and toji isn't so weak at them but gives in. your palms pressed in his chest while your slick covered cunt brushing at his hardened length. “hasn't my boy been treating you well?” he asks. his emerald green eyes similar to his son glints. “no, that's why need you to take care of me.” holding his cheek and leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and then to his jaw and then to his lips. “please, daddy~” you begged in a cute voice that leaves the older in front of you smirking. “if that's my pretty baby wants.” the scar in the corner of his mouth twitching. large palms holding your wide hips slithering to grip your butt cheeks. not breaking eye contact and watch your expression change. chuckling at already your cock drunk face when he plunges his cock inside you. “ah~ yes!” you moaned out. holding his shoulder for balance before shaking your hips to get the best use of your boyfriend's dad cock.

“you're a disgusting one, aren't you?” he mused. cocking his head to examine your once innocent face turning into one of a whore. “moaning like a bitch after taking my cock....is my son really not that good at pleasing you, huh?” a playful chuckle leaving his lips. “nuh uh but not enough, ohh~” kissing his jaw and toji grabs your nape. pulling you into a bruising kiss. his other hand holding your plush waist in tight grip before thrusting his cock violently to your cunt. “oh god, yes! more, more, more!” you screamed pressing your chest against his. your nipples rubbing his pectoral muscles. your cunt spasming around his lenght and your orgasm coming through. “to...oh... ji...mmmm” you moaned out. repeating his name over and over as your orgasm builds up in the pit of your stomach threatening to explode at any given moment and toji, oh he's getting close as well. you got the perfect pussy for him. such a shame his son can't please this slutty pussy of yours. there's a pause in between his growls. fixated on your face turning into an expression of a cock drunk slut while you moan his name. “toji! toji! toji—”

“toji-san?”

the call of his name brought your boyfriend's dad to his not so innocent daydreams. standing in front of him was his son's girlfriend whom he can't stop fucking with his eyes and it didn't get better when you're standing in his doorway with your collarbones displayed in front of him and his sight gets lower he sees the soft swell of your chest and curse the choice of your outfit. a fucking sundress that he's close to nutting in his pants.

“first name basis are we now, sweetheart?” he teases despite the smoldering look he had on you. his sight flicks in to your face. “uhm, sorry for calling you like that.” you apologized. “there's nothing sorry about that, sweetheart.” the nickname you are being called takes you back. your feet taps continuously. a nervous habit you developed. megumi's dad isn't someone you are comfortable with. it doesn't mean you disrespect him but more like you were just intimidated by his father with his muscular build, the scar in his lips moving and his attitude. anyways, you were being polite to him.

“need anything if you're here.” his eyebrows raised at you and the scar in his lips twitch. his body blocking the door. leaning on the door frame posture relaxed and that smug smirk painted in his face.

“i—”

“who's that?” megumi's voice interrupted you. toji glanced behind him and scowled before turning into a neutral expression. moving to reveal you and megumi's stoic features softened.

“just the right time. come.” he said walking towards you and ignoring his father. it was your cue to follow him. “excuse me, toji-san.” bowing your head slightly before discarding your shoes to follow megumi.

toji's sight follows you. pressing a kiss to his son's cheek and returning it by patting your head and kisses your forehead. your cheeks warming up and megumi glances at his father. his scowl deepening and megumi glares at him before taking you to his bedroom.

that little brat. toji thinks but what about it. he was supposedly to support his son's partner not lusting over you but he's a man and it's unfortunate for you for someone like him to take interest.

he slumps in his couch with a groan. annoyed by this carnal urge to just jump on you and make you cum multiple times. he would be better than his son. you will truly be pleased by him. toji plays with his bangs moving it upward to fully see the ceiling above him and ponder about stuff, to you. getting childish of taking his son's happiness for him but how could he resist you. the more you try to pull away from him the more he wishes to get closer to you. you seem to be wary about him and toji can't blame you but that what makes it sweeter. ripe for the picking. always been attracted with the innocent ones and you were not so innocent than you think.

you would be incredibly suited for him. sucking him dry and warming his cock while you sit prettily in his lap watching those races. if he wins he'll fuck you nice and good and if he loses he'll fuck you hard and deny you of release endlessly.

the sound of door opening followed by voices perks him up. “don't you want me to accompany you?” your voice worried and megumi is quick to assure you. “i'll be quick. i'm just picking up the work what kamo finished. wait for me here.” megumi said. quickly to diminish any further worries you have for him. a ghost of a smile in his face before heading to the door.

deciding you can't comeback to his room. you settled in the couch. observing the man in the other couch who's focused with whatever's the television playing and you remained quiet before pulling out your phone to entertain yourself and ignore the awkwardness in the air with your boyfriend's father.

toji stands up making his way to the kitchen but before that he stands behind where you are seated. “what you want to drink, sweetheart?” he offers. the deep rumble of his voice startling you that you almost jumped from your seat.

“water would be fine, sir.” you politely replied and your phone dings. alarming you of a message and toji gets a glimpse of the message.

megumi: i apologize, got dragged by itadori. i'll be back in an hour.

you frown before typing a quick reply and toji continued his way to the kitchen. taking a can of beer in his fridge and pouring you a glass of water. whistling casually as he easily crushed the white, little, round shaped pills before mixing it to your drink. his eyes boring holes in the glass as the pills turned powdered mixes in the water. he grabs the glass and handed it to you.

“here you go, sweetheart.” you naively accepts the glass of water cause it's just water right. a regular water used for drinking.

toji settles in the couch. popping the beer can before taking a swig. discreetly taking a glance at you and following your move. he watches you put your cellphone before taking a sip and then another sip and bingo. placing the glass in the coffee table. watch as you blink. sleepiness taking over you with a confused look in your face and then you were passed out on his couch. sleeping soundly without a cry. finally, toji thought as his plans came into fruition.

toji ignores the television playing. standing up to examine your sleeping figure. you won't make a peep at your current situation. “come on now, sleeping beauty.” he coos. scooping you up in his arms. the back of your knees hooked in his arm while the other supports your back.

“there we go.” he mutters. peering at you through his bangs and toji couldn't deny how pretty you look in his arms. your soft features only for him to ogle at. toji never expected he would be attracted to you despite your heavier physique and being his son's girlfriend. toji would never in a million years would go someone for like you but his son got a good taste in choosing partners in which he took the liberty of pleasing them in bed. they showed interest first, he just returned the favor. to you he needs to work and it's not you'll find out.

he kicks the door open and closes it with his foot before placing you to his bed. he sits beside you. his added weight made the bed creak slightly. admiring your features and running his knuckles in your face. starting from your forehead and then to the side of your face and your round cheek and his thumb swiping your soft lips. such tenderness present in his touches if only it was for his good intentions but toji have so much stored for you.

toji realizing for a minute that the gesture he just had done to you wasn't even bestowed to his wife and only you had experienced such softness in him. that still wouldn't justify what he is about to do with you.

he leans down. the proximity of his face and yours are closer. his breath fanning to your cheek. moving to your neck while he kiss that tender spot he knew that you would like and so he was rewarded a soft sigh in response and a sly smirk graced toji's lips.

so you like that, eh. he moves towards to your pulse point. nose brushing and pressing another kiss again. licking on the tender spot and another soft moan emits from your lips and toji wonders if you can make the same noise again if his lips would kiss your other parts...

the time didn't bother him when he slowly undresses you. beginning to lower the straps of your sundress and pulling it down in your chest area until you were bare in front of him minus your underwear. your bra holding your soft breasts and that cute panties you're wearing is already damp.

he began to kiss your chest, his lips stopping in your stomach to nibble the flesh there. sucking and trapping it between his teeth before reaching to your fat mound. his breathing getting shallow, once he smells you. almost drooling at the sight of your pussy lips inviting him to take a taste. he presses his nose to your pussy still protected by your panties.

the sudden contact made your body involuntarily jump and toji had to hold your thick thighs to stop your drugged body to stop squirming.

his eyes almost roll when his brain registered the scent of your pussy. inhaling your scent through the pesky fabric and toji moves your panties aside. admiring your fat pussy and he can see the cute clit of yours throb and slick is already dripping from your aching hole.

he raises your thigh to place in his shoulder. rubbing the soft flesh in his cheek and bestowing a chaste kiss to it before sucking the flesh. careful not to leave any marks that will reveal of the unwanted deed he had done. you remain still. motionless aside from the sudden jerk of your body responding to his physical exertions to your body.

“you're dripping wet for me, darling.”he mutters. his eyes half-lidded and a nonchalant chuckle spills in his lips. staring at your fat pussy waiting to be taken care by him.

“now, now. daddy's taking care of you.” he says. pulling your panties down and putting it aside. spreading your pussy lips before taking a lick. toji groans at your taste. “no wonder that brat's pussydrunk.” diving back again to your slick cunt getting wetter the more his tongue flicks up and down. catching the wetness with his tongue and although involuntarily your body began to react with his licks.

toji buries his face in between your legs deeper. wanting to get more of that goodness being produced by your sweet cunt. if he'd known sooner, he would have taken you away from his son and make you his. warms his bed and your mouth ready for fucking and this fat pussy of yours, wet and warm to nest his cock inside you.

you remain asleep. your chest fluttering in response to the pleasure of your cunt being licked. it's almost making out with your pussy from how toji frantically catches the drops of your arousal. the translucent wetness settling in his tongue that will sure linger in his mouth for days.

your boyfriend's father begin to ponder. how long it has been since he'd gone down on someone. clearly, it was that long that he can't even remember and you coming to the pictures and with the opportunity of being able to taste you. it tells him to get back at it with an exception. you're the only one who can receive it. such a shame you're sedated. he's quite curious of what sounds you can produce from him fucking your brains out. you're not the screamer, he knows that. it's not the first time he had catched you and his son being frisky but he's sure he can bring the noises you never knew existed.

your legs shakes in his shoulders, a sign of your impending orgasm and your wetness in his tongue increasing that he had to swallow and slurp that goodness coming from you. his tongue flicking back and forth to your folds and sucking your cute little clit. he proves that he still is the expert of making someone cum with his tongue and he's not rusty like he thinks he is.

“good girl.” he praises you as he detaches his mouth to your fat cunt. licking his lips to brush the remnants of your cum that is coating his lips.

his emerald eyes staring at your body. asleep and snoring softly. your chest getting back to it's regular rhythm after being bestowed by an orgasm that a father could give to his son's girlfriend.

he contemplates for a bit if he should fuck you but what about when you wake up. he's sure there would be the familiar sting in between your legs and he doesn't know if you have his son the consent of allowing him to touch you while asleep. that would be a problem. should he use your mouth? ah, clearly not. his sight darts to your thighs and it's going to be good like your hole. that's settled then.

he hoists your legs up. grabbing your ankles as he leaves a trail of kisses in your chunky calves. he's already rock hard and his cock is uncomfortably pressing in his boxers. he tugs his pants down followed by his boxers. his burly cock slapping in his abdomen. its tip red and angry. pre-cum already beading in the tip and toji groans. spitting in his palm to lubricate your thighs before putting his cock in.

“needs to get your thighs lubricated, princess.” the rough and calloused texture of his palm rubbing through your inner thighs. after getting your thighs wet and lubricated. he slowly slides his cock and there's a deep rumble coming from his throat similar to a growl.

“s—shit!” he curses out. feeling the sparks of desire moving upwards to his cock and to the pit of his stomach. if your thick thighs is already this good, how could it be much better if he's going to fuck your pussy. he keeps your thighs together. slowly thrusting his burly cock between your creamy thighs. reveling in the softness of your flesh and how his cock is being squeezed by this heavenly goodness. he should steal you from megumi now. he could sacrifice his relationship with his son for this body of yours.

fuck!

he promised to himself that he would not leave any evidence of your body being touched by him, however his resolve dissolves as the minute goes by. what once and steady pace he's going now isn't going to cut it.

he hugs your legs. his hips speeding up to slam his cock to your thighs faster. he's going rougher and deeper that his balls slaps to the back of your thighs. his muscular thighs also adding the obscene sound of skin being slapped together. the sound echoing in his bedroom and he's sure it can be heard outside. he didn't care though. he's close. ready to burst his seed at any moment.

his semen trickling down your thighs as it's being milked everytime it disappears in between your thighs. although he's working through his orgasm, toji is mesmerized from how your body moves. imitating his thrusts as your body jiggles. the layers of stomach are turning into ripples as his rough thrusts turns to be harsher than the last. you're still sleeping soundly though.

his hips stutter, before slamming with a brutal strength. growling as he released buckets of cums in your thighs. spilling in your thighs and watch droplets of his cum stain your dress and decorating your round stomach. that was fucking intense. the best of thigh fucking he ever experienced and he can't wait to pound your poor, fat pussy until you cry.

he puts your legs down and he takes a moment to memorize your every inch of your body until his gaze landed in your face. he's glad you didn't wake up or else there would be trouble. he fixes himself before going to his bedstand. grabbing the box of tissues and wiping your thighs clean and to your stomach. what a waste. he thinks to himself. he could be pablo picasso or some shit from how he painted your body with his cum.

he tugs the hem of your dress and puts your panty. pressing a kiss to your fat mound and with that he carries you back to the couch and pretends he didn't taste and fucked his son's girlfriend's thighs.

just as he's about to settle in his couch. the door swung open. his brat, bored as ever in his expression. softening as his gaze meeting his girlfriend sleeping on the couch.

he ignores his son and pretends he's focused on the television while takes a drink from his beer like he didn't experienced the best sex of his life although it's just your thighs. it won't be too long before he can bed you. he just have to be patient for now.

you wake up to the scent of megumi's cologne. your head on his lap as you clear the fog in your head. blinking softly as you adjust your sight to your surroundings.

“megumi?” your boyfriend hums. caressing your cheek and the first thing you noticed when you moved is how your thighs felt sticky. you're confused did megumi touched you while you're asleep in his dad's couch?

“did you—” megumi's brows furrows in confusion and seeing the look in his face. you shaked your head. “nevermind.”

“you fell asleep.” megumi commented. “i don't remember falling asleep.” you shrugged as you eyed the glass of water resting in the coffee table.

“stay the night.” he muttered and you nod. sitting up to get closer to him and megumi wraps around your soft middle. almost sitting in his lap before pressing a kiss to his cheek. your boyfriend returning it to your forehead. not minding that his father is only a few seats apart.

he wouldn't admit it but seeing you lovey-dovey and shit with his son, he's jealous. what is he? a fucking teenager? it almost puts a damp in his mood but who cares he almost fucked his son's girlfriend and won't be too long before he can do it again minus the sedatives. get a taste of his cock and you're leaving his son in a heartbeat despite the loyalty shit you have for him.

glancing, a smirk dances in his lips. he just have to wait again to get a taste of you again.

a good father he is.

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