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fanaticsnail · 2 months

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You're The Cure

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 4,300+

Synopsis: Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

Themes: Pollen!Law x afab!reader, dubcon, desperate Law, Smut, mdni, NSFW, 18+ content, solo Law, edging, premature ejaculation, creampie, fluff

Notes: This little fic was brought to you by an incredibly recent ask that took control of my laptop. @sweetly-sicken, thank you for your ask - I hope you enjoy. @sordidmusings, @feral-artistry come get your man. He needs help (and thank you both for your help and your ears today while I wrote it).

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @sexc-snail

Hunched over the desk in the greenhouse aboard the Polar Tang, Trafalgar D Water-Law scrunched his eyes tightly shut and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. His body was alight with a foreign passion he had never seen make it's equal. His clothes scratched and ignited his skin, the material of his heavy jacket weighing down his torso under the thick shroud of gray.

Peeling his hat from his body and tearing at the iron zipper of his coat, his body began moving on instinct alone. His mind was screaming at him for his appalling behavior as his hands scorched hot trails along the glistening skin on his stomach. Sweat poured from his temples, his lips parting and huffing as his hands moved at a will of their own below the waistband of his pants.

As his right hand gripped his achingly hard cock, he viciously began pistonning it within his fist, writhing and thrusting within it to match his brutal pace. His left hand snaked its way up his chest, pinching and circling the peaked bud of his right nipple as he mewled in desperation. He felt the approach of an impending orgasm stampede him towards release, the relief of the finish line almost within sight as he continued abusing his shiny knob and pummeling his shaft.

Just as he felt his body begin to tip its way over the edge, it fell away just as hastily. Panic wrote itself over his face: his eyes wide, his mouth agape with a thin trail saliva trickling down his chin in stringy strands.

“No, no, no, no,” he begged, pleading at his body to respond to the stimuli, picking up the pace and attempted to seek out his impending eruption for the second time, “No-... f-fuck-... Please.”

Choking his shaft, a momentary clarity sifted in his mind as his eyes snapped to the single, innocent, pale flower poking out of an unsuspecting, ceramic pot. The top of the flowers danced within the aura of the puffs of breath he was panting, the yellow hue of pollen tinting the air with a tang on his tongue and a burn in his nose.

“It’s that f-fucking flower, isn't i-it?” he chastised himself in a harsh whisper, laying his right hand flat over the desk as he thrust into his vice-like grip, “F-Fuck, it's the f-flower. Fuck.”

The sweetness of his release was once again in sight as he scrunched his eyes tightly shut. He released his nipple from his fingers, gripping the steel rim of the desk as he continued to writhe into his fist.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh sh-shit,” he choked on his words, desperately chasing an end that only rewarded him by sprinting away from within his reaching grasp. Again, the panic seared through his mind as he doubled down on his efforts, “No, no, no, no-o!”

Without any further thoughts about his elusive orgasm, he immediately elevated his left hand and splayed out his fingers. He growled out a desperate roar, his ink-tainted digits shaking as he attempted to activate his devil-fruit ability to expel the pollen like a foul demon from claiming his soul.

“R-Room- Ah fuck!” he exclaimed, his body immediately flopping over the desk as his body doubled its efforts against his iron-will. The intensity of the spouted dust increased it's crippling hold over his body, burrowing down deeper into every aspect of his body.

“Sh-Sh-... Sh-...” he arched his back, his brows knit in a tight furrowed concentration. Glancing at the flower once more, a pool of saliva began spilling over his bottom lip as sweat poured from his temple, “Sh-Shambles- AH NO!”

His cock danced with unresolved release, twitching within his fist as the intensity of his desire amplified. The devil-fruit abilities were doused by the fiery spray of the pollen in his respiratory system and blood stream. His body was not responding to his commands to expel it from himself by the supernatural means, nor the natural.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, falling back into the chair behind him and gyrating his hips rhythmically upwards to continue to match the pace of his pistoning fist.

As a final ditch effort to release himself from not only this spell, but to force himself to cum into his fist, he attempted to activate his Haki. Scrunching his eyes shut tightly before opening them once activated, the sparks of energy he intended on seeking fogged his mind with too frantic a stimuli.

Suddenly, he was aware of every white-hot wave of lust coursing through his veins. Everything ignited into a bright wave of light, his eyes not able to adjust to the flashes of the augmented hue. He shook his head, immediately shaking off the use of Haki from his widening eyes.

“H-Help,” he choked out a whimpered whisper, “I n-need help.” He mewled out a keening sob, desperately chasing his high within his right palm. He thrust his left hand into his hair, balling the sweat-damp strands into his fist and cried out for his release.

The bob in his thigh, the lightning bliss within reach again within the coiling band in his abdomen, everything was right there. Right there, until it wasn't.

“C’mon, Law!” He roared at himself, chasing his high. He focussed his ministrations on his frenulum, pinching and flicking his hand over the tight band of flesh, “You can do this. Gotta keep strong for the team. C-Can’t lettem’ know. You're better than th-this.”

He whined as his left hand once again chased the channels of his inked art up his chest, swirling his nipples beneath his calloused fingertips.

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cried in desperation, his cock refusing to spill over even the smallest amount of precum over the slit, no relief in his release being welcomed into his hand, “Why can't I do this? I-I need-... Shit-... I need-... Mmmfph-... I need help.”

“Anyone seen our captain?” You asked the crew gathered in the communal dining space. Downturned lips, shrugs and soft shakes of the heads from your crewmates unified in their puzzlement.

“Why? What's going on?” Bepo asked, his pale fur reflecting the buzzing illumines of the artificial light.

“Oh, he said he had something for me, is all,” you smiled at Bepo, clapping your hand over his shoulder with a polite smile, “Something about a flower he picked up from that strange port earlier today. Wanted me to have a look, see if I could extract anything of it.”

Bepo let out a small squeak of joy, stifling further joy from fleeing from his lips by clapping his paw over his muzzle. He sought out the corners of your face, gauging your emotions responding to a gift from the captain. You shook your head at the large, fuzzy bear with a small smirk.

“That kinda makes sense,” Penguin smirked up at you, shoveling his food into his lips and chomping down on the crunchy texture, “Seeing as though you're the herbal remedy spooky witch, and all. He's likely in your office, maybe even the greenhouse.”

“Herbalist, Pen,” you corrected him with a soft smirk and the shake of your head, “I didn't go to study permaculture, horticulture, botanical remedies alongside my bloody medical degree for you to refer to me as ‘herbal remedy spooky witch'.”

Cackles erupted from the table around you, your own chuckle joining with the crew as you rose to your feet. Discarding the contents from your tray, you then placed the empty tray atop the metal shelf for the cleaning crew to easily manage.

“Alright, family,” you called to your crewmen with a smile, “I'm off to take a look at that flower. I'll see you all for dinner later.”

“Bye, spooky witch,” Penguin chuckled at you, “Don't forget your broom on the way out.”

“Penguin!” Bepo scolded your hat-wearing crewman, prompting you to laugh in response. Shaking your head, you approached Penguin from behind, leaning down to lean into his ear with utter seriousness.

“Be sure not to test this witch’s patience,” you smirked, purring into his ear in a sultry whisper. Penguin's blood ran cold, feeling the warm heat cascading from your body as your cool breath met with the shell of his ear, “Or I may curse you with something as sinister as impotence.”

You laughed to yourself, turning and exiting the dining room to make your way towards your office. Noticing a dim light beneath the door, you cocked your head to the side as you narrowed your eyes.

A small wave of tinted dust swirled beneath the door, your eyes widening at the hue of the pollen particles. You immediately reached into your boiler suit, seeking out your personal mushi-shell and raising it to your lips.

“Bepo, you there?” You called to your fuzz-covered crewmate, “Important, honey. You there?” your snail jumped, Bepo’s voice expelling from the box with a hasty confirmation of, “I'm here, what's going on?”

“I need you to open the vents in the greenhouse and pump the room with clean air,” you ordered him, reaching for the door of your office and knocking on the cloudy glass of the window.

Rough panting, cursing and growling echoed from a masculine voice from within the room, your heartbeat increasing the longer you were standing outside the door. You had read about this pollen, recognised the hue immediately beneath the crack in the door, and you knew almost exactly what sight was going to meet with your eyes as soon as you turned the door handle.

“Bepo, did you flush the room?” You hastily hissed into the shell, a curt, “yes!” was confirmed in response.

“Good job, sweety,” you praised him, before knitting your brows up in concern with a very cautious question, “Bepo?”

“Yes, Herbalist?” Bepo asked into the shell, “Is there anything else I can do for you? You sound kinda panicked.”

“I just-... I don't know how to put it plainer than this at the moment…” You trailed off, unsure of how to pose this question without further questions being asked of yourself, “...You're the captain's closest confidant, Bepo. Do you know if he's taken a lover aboard the ship? Anyone he fancies that might reciprocate his-... Uhh-... Affections?”

A lull in the crackle prompted your heart to skip a few beats, patiently waiting for Bepo to answer your question. You were likely certain there were a few, including yourself, that took a shine to the broody and serious captain that manned the Heart-Pirates. You were aware of the cure for this disease he'd likely inflicted on himself, truly desiring to give him the treatment he'd actually consent to adhere to.

This was pollen from the pale-lust plant, a plant that only the smallest amount of dust could amplify and magnify the sexual experience of the person who inhales it. It was usually manufactured into perfumes and body oils for those who wanted to ‘spice up’ their love lives. And your Captain had likely doused himself in it.

“I'm not sure if it's my place to say, but from your tone of panic…” the shell muttered in Bepo’s calming cadence after several moments of silence, “...H-He hasn't ever thought about buying anyone aside you a gift at port before. A-And he really thought you'd like that flower he brought back for you.”

“Okay, Bepo,” you managed to choke out a small squeaked order, “I need you to block off all access to the botanical bay for the rest of the day. Captain's orders, okay? You're in charge.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need help-?” He questioned over the shell, you halting his voice by speaking over him.

“-The captain is likely experiencing some systemic shock at the moment,” you confessed, adjusting your uniform at your neck in an attempt to stifle your blush, “Judging from the hue of the dust, it's likely the plant he brought back had an effect that I doubt he would've prepared himself for.” You bit your lip, truly concerned for Law's wellbeing within your office, “I need you to take charge until either I, or Captain Law, tell you otherwise. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

“Aye, sir,” Bepo’s practiced reply barked into the speaker, you could almost visualize the salute on the other side of the transponder.

“Good boy,” you praised him, your hand moving down to the door handle and beginning to turn it, “I'm going to be out of contact for a while. I might still make it to dinner, but if I can't - please save me and the captain a plate!”

“Aye, sir!” he uttered again into the speaker, with a final, “Good luck with the captain!” Clicking aside the portable transponder, you thrust it into your pocket and shook aside your nerves.

Hastily, you flung wide the door, turning immediately upon entering and facing the door as you clicked it locked behind you. As soon as you entered the space, the sounds of rough slapping of hands meeting skin, huffs of exasperated panting, groans and pleads falling from your captain's panicked lips alongside his panting mewls of pleasure flung themselves loudly and carelessly into the air.

“Captain,” you whispered, your hands holding firm to the cloudy glass of your office door, “I know you're likely out of your own mind right now, but I'm going to tell you this anyway-.”

“-Fuck, what's happening to me? T-Tell me, please. Know I'm h-here. My h-head is here, I-I just-... ngmmh-...” he whined for you, the taste of your name tainting his tongue with desire and lust, “...don't judge me, please. I don't want this to change the image of myself in your head.”

Anticipation and a shameful wave of desire spread itself through your chest and ignited a throbbing need for your captain in your core. You knew this wouldn't be happening without this douse of pollen coursing through his veins, the raw need to chase his ecstacy within his fist behind you.

“All th-this because I wanted t’get you a-... f-fucking gift t’ court you-...” Law confessed with a whispered hiss, his eyes raking over your body with lust and need, “...M’guessing this's from that f-fucking flower I got for you. Is-s there a cure?”

A gasp flew from your lips at his confession, prompting you to almost glance over your shoulder at him. Deciding to give your captain a further shroud of decency, you halted your movement and chose your next words carefully.

“There's no cure I can manufacture here, Sir,” you whisper over your shoulder, “But there is one that I know of-.”

“-F-Fuck, please get it. Whatever it is. Get the fucking cure before I lose the final bit of control I h-have,” he roared your name, barking his orders as the skid of the iron legs of the chair backwards, raking against the steel floor. You jumped in shock, the shifting of material scattering prompted you to become more aware of his feral urges further.

Just as you began to turn your body to face your captain, two inked hands slammed against your own on the cloudy glass, prying them apart with a vice-like grip. Fingers laced between yours, his face fell in the crook of your shoulder as he deeply inhaled the scent of your perfume. He groaned at the feeling of his bare cock grinding in between the divet in your ass above your boiler suit, a shocked gasp fell from your lips in response.

“Fuck you smell good,” he moaned, his lips latching on your pulse as his tongue swirled against you, “Taste even fucking better.” You whined as his teeth sunk into your neck, his rhythmic grinding not easing against your clothed flesh.

His mind was hazy, his body was reacting to every subtle change in your voice and wavering breaths. As soon as you entered the room, it took all of his strength and will to not enter a state of frenzy and fuck into you with the deep ferocity of a wild beast. He owed you better than that. He wanted you to want him too, and if that meant holding onto his sanity by tooth and nail: so be it.

“Captain-,” you gasped as his right hand left yours to paw at the front zipper of your jumpsuit.

“-Law,” he growled his correction at you, “It’s Law, or anything other than my title or ‘sir’. Y-You-... fuck, sweetheart-... I n-need you. Please let me? Let me have you? Please?”

Slotting his hand over your chest, his fingers eagerly sought your left breast beneath the cup of your uniformed lingerie. He hastily rolled the peaked nub within his thumb, index and middle fingers; a cry of pleasure emanating from your throat as you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

“We can talk about it later,” he whispered into your ear, pinching at your nipple as he bit your earlobe, “Know that I wanted you before all this-... F-fuck-...but I need you now.”

He hastily turned you in his arms, splitting the top part of your boiler suit back and shedding it from your body as he claimed your lips beneath his. Allowing his primal desires to take the reins, he continued breaking you out of your clothes to match his own nudity: pinning you against the door with his rutting hips.

“What do I need to do? Tell me,” he moaned into your skin, his teeth catching on your own as you reciprocated his touch, “Guide me, my north star. Show me wh-what I gotta do.”

“Law,” you moaned for him, his body immediately pulling to you like iron to a magnet. Shedding the last of your clothes over your ankles, he used his feet to kick off your shoes. Cupping your thighs, he hoisted you into the air and hooked your knees over his hips.

“My north star,” he moaned into your skin, his lips clinging to every amount of flesh exposed to him, “You're the cure. You're the cure, aren't you? My body is telling me you are.” You moaned for him as he carried you over to your desk, lying you on the cool surface and hovering over your body.

“Anyone can be the cure for this, Law,” you confessed to him in a whimpering whisper, “It's the joining of bodies together that ends the torment. It's not me-.”

“-It is you,” he growled at you, hovering his lips just above yours and shaking from the amount of stress he placed himself under by holding back, “It's only ever been you. I need you. Better yet…” he lines his cock up with your glistening opening, the tip rubbing against your core prompting a small sob to exit from his lips.

“...I crave you,” his arms shook beneath his weight, the sheen of sweat pooling from his temple beneath his only hair down to his whiskered chin, “Always wanted you. Let me have you. Please say you'll let me have you.”

“You have me,” you confessed, tracing your arms over his quivering forearms down to his hips, clawing him to draw him nearer. Guiding his cock within your entrance, you angle his hips as his brow sets deep within its furrow.

“I feel like I'm gonna explode,” he confessed in a strangled whisper, “I-I’m sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” you soothed him with your calming voice, your thumbs pressing circular motions against his hip bones as he slid his cock to the hilt within you, “Use me, it's okay.”

As soon as the length of Law's cock slid to the back of your walls, he entered into a bliss he never would've imagined. His vision struck white, electricity sparking the flames of his encumbering lust as he shot you deep with spurts of his sticky cum.

Barely having time to adjust to his size, he was already crying out for you. He immediately burst with his passionate release painting your gummy walls white, praising you for your gift to him while sobbing in deep pleas of anguish.

“Fuck, I'm c-cumming. I'm f-fucking cumming. I'm already-...” He mewled your name, huffing as he barely began moving within you, “...I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I-... hhah, fuck-... I'm sorry-... nngh- s-so good.”

You pawed at his ass, clutching onto his checks and held him deep within you, hips flush with your own. The twitches of his muscles all rippled with the expulsion of the final waves of his cum deep within you.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated in a whisper, alongside chanting your name like a prayer, “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, love, I know,” you hushed him, his body collapsing atop your own and caging you beneath him on your desk. You drew your hands up to his damp hair, fingers brushing away the strands and cradling him close.

Finally collecting his breath, his heartbeat slowing to a more forgiving beat, he refused to tear his face away from the crease of your neck and shoulder. Embarrassment at, not only, the hasty release of his cum within you had a red hue illuminating Law’s face. He was also appalled at the fact his surprise gift for you was a toxic aphrodisiac, one he fell within the snare of with no known cure.

“Law, look at me,” you cooed down at him, prompting him to nuzzle his pouting face deeper into your skin. You tried your best to stifle your giggle to no avail - your laughter aimed at his utter childishness.

“Law,” you chastised him, angling the heels of your palms down to collect his cheeks, “C’mon, love. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours. Look at me.”

He huffed out a breath of exasperation, finally tearing his face away from your shoulder and bringing his pouty face up to meet yours. His eyebrows were knit in a single point in the middle of his face, his eyes wide and filled with shame.

“I'm sorry, herbalist,” he acknowledged your formal rank, his cock still deeply held within you, “I am better than this. I-I promise I'm better than this.” You arched a single brow up with your growing smirk.

“Herbalist?” you parroted back at him, brushing your nose against his, “What happened to my name, or ‘my North Star’? I quite liked that one,” his blush deepened, the dark dusting of vibrant red cascading over his nose, cheeks and tips of his ears.

“Well, what happened to ‘love’, huh? Where'd that go?” he quipped back at you, gliding his reducing cock out of your walls, releasing the floodgates of his excessive load of cum expelling from your pussy. He shifted himself away, glancing down at the expulsion of his cum dripping onto your office floor.

“Fuck,” he shuddered out in a small whispered groan, “That was a bit more than I thought there would be. Room…” he extended his left hand upwards, the spatter on the floor and still within you vanishing with a further utterance of, “...Shambles.”

A small splash of water fell onto the floor, and a small spurt against your groin. You shot Law a quizzical look, prompting a smirk to rise on his cheeks.

“I tried washing my face in your sink as soon as I got a waft of the flower dust in my face,” he shrugged before nodding his head over to your herbalist station, “Water was still in it.”

Smiling, you leant up with your elbows behind your back, looking at the man who was priorly all consumed with feral lust. He looked accusingly at the pale flower in the small pot beside your naturopathic remedial herbs, eyes narrowed and lip snarling.

“It's the last time I'm buying you a fucking plant,” he muttered, turning to meet his eyes with yours, “Without checking with you first, of course,” he reached down with his right hand, smiling as you accepted his hand, “I want to buy you all the plants you could ever want,” he aided you to rise to your feet, guiding your hands to lace behind his neck.

“Thank you, love,” you smiled at him, prompting his eyes to crease with his own joy at the return of your name for him.

“Anything for my north star,” he pressed a gentle kiss atop your head, “My guiding light,” his lips trailed down to brush against the apple of your cheek, “My pretty map spiriting me home to hold you in my arms again,” he snaked his forearms around your waist, his smiling lips collecting yours beneath his.

Parting your lips, he angled his head to the side and pressed several waves of passionate caresses against your mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, dipping his knees to elevate you within the air, his smile widening at the small squeak of surprise you released from your mouth to his.

He placed you onto the floor again, chasing your retreating lips as you arched your back to press your exposed chest against his. The warmth of your skin spread from your body onto his, the heat radiating from his body engulfing your own with a warm infusion of radiant bliss.

“You absolute sappy romantic,” you teased him as you broke from the kiss shared with him, “Didn't know you had all that in you. You must really like me.”

Scoffing back his laughter at your taunt, he squeezed your body against his. You laughed at his playful expression, leaning up to press a small kiss against his whiskered chin.

“Alright. Fuck you, you brat,” he laughed, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous grin, “I was gonna let you top me, use me to get your own release from me, but now- ohhhh, now,” he shuddered a sinister whisper down at you, “Now you're gonna get it.”

“I'm absolutely shaking,” you taunted him further, your teeth nipping at his jaw, “Shaking, quivering and cowering.”

“Not now, you're not,” he growled at you, lifting you within his arms and hooking your knees over his hips once more, “But you fucking will be when I'm done with you.”

#one piece #x reader #op law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water-law #law x reader #law smut #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader

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seiwas · 10 months

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₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love.

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it.

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can.

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to.

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly.

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away.

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking.

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how.

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit.

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5.

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie.

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it.

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately.

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him.

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze.

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.”

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon).

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term).

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back?

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky.

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him.

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his.

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge.

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today.

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.”

You hum in response. He does make a point.

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?”

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace.

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder.

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki.

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same.

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to.

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning.

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of.

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you.

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue.

“Are you okay?”

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed.

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes.

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely.

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little.

“Well, maybe I can suggest—”

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.”

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading.

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?”

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you.

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care.

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint.

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god?

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way.

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide.

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.”

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own.

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it.

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning.

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way.

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room.

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you.

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.”

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you.

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all.

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books.

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake.

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why.

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs.

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk.

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in.

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table.

You break the silence.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly.

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way.

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame?

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets.

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively.

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken.

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache.

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway.

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.”

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not.

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast.

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now.

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart.

“I can’t.” he speaks softly.

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky.

You think you want to cry.

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair.

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees.

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway.

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence.

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor.

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail.

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him.

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile.

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love.

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are.

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips.

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others.

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.”

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have.

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time.

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more.

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink.

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely.

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace.

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day).

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee.

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry.

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?”

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk.

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already.

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar.

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous.

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you.

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be.

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise.

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then.

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open.

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat.

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think.

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug.

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing.

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his.

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever.

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you.

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response.

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly.

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand.

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick.

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket).

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles.

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite.

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful.

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows.

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?”

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it.

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right?

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee.

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.”

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long.

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching.

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips.

So you wait.

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there.

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can.

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more).

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch.

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is.

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed?

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how.

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle.

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru.

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different.

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move.

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone.

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork).

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends.

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head.

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours.

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still.

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it.

But it doesn’t come.

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office.

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little.

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this.

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again.

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday.

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself.

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does?

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away.

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again.

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always.

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours.

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose.

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true.

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips.

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same.

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red.

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door.

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really.

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #oh my god i cant believe i finished this !!!!!!!#its a big one ... jhbfhsdbfja woops #shoutout to niku for being so supportive !!!#col

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444forestfairy · 13 days

Text

pick a snail pancake 🐌🥞

pick a snail pancake for an oracle card message on what is coming into your life slow and sweet! - something that’s been a long time coming but will pay off big

snail one 🌀

if you’ve been working on something with a group of people wether it’s a group project at work or a collaboration with friends I see that all the pieces will be coming together in a way that you’ll be happy with. I see you feeling strong and abundant. if you’ve been looking for someone to fill a certain roll or help you in some way the universe will be putting them in your path! extras- taurus season, something related to STEM, new piercings, puzzles, art/music, october, january.

snail two 🫐

immediately 3 cards jumped out- “lay a solid foundation”, “be fearless and bold”, and “a rebirth has assured” pile two this is definitely a message that your life is changing for the better. I see you’ve been working on yourself/your self concept for so long and it’s finally becoming comfortable and natural- your new normal is feeling good. you’ve been doing the hard work and the universe sees. your stepping into a confident energy that feels like a breath of fresh air. you feel rejuvenated because so much has been detoxed form your life. death and rebirth. extras- june, april, may, berries, planting flowers/gardening, scorpio.

snail three 🐌

wow you literally got the card turtle spirit that says “slow and steady wins the race”!!! how fitting is that. you also got turn knowledge into wisdom and trust in divine detours. If you’ve been working on something for a long time that’s requiring you to learn new things maybe you’re in school, maybe you got a new job or started a new business, i’m even seeing maybe you recently became a parent! could be a pet parent or a human parent, anyway trust in the time that it’s taking, trust you’re not falling behind or doing something wrong. literally trust the process. you’re on exactly the path you’re supposed to be on. I feel an extreme sense of calm and I feel like this is what the universe is asking you to embody as you move through this journey. you can do this and there’s no need to put too much pressure on yourself! extras- dogs and reptiles, eggs/something being born or hatched literally or metaphorically.

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summerssover · 2 months

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i feel like you would absolutely kill cheerleader girlfriend and dom jock matt (i love your writing and account 🤍)

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 ⊹ ִֶָ ❲ 𝘫𝘰𝘤𝘬!𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭❳

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, its senior night for you and matt and he looks a little too good for you to handle

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, suggestive content, language

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, jock!matt x cheerleader!reader, matt x poc!reader, established relationship

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙖𝙥𝙨!

i’m literally half asleep right now but i hope you like this. thank you pooks in my inbox it’s always open so send requests yall 🩷

▐ ❝𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐘𝐎𝐔❞

𓏲 🎀🍦 𓂃 ✦ 🪩

you felt like your were going to faint. you knew matt was a whore for attention when it came to his sport, but tonight he was outdoing himself. the stands were packed with family, some faculty of the school, and fellow classmates, an alarming amount of them drooling over your boyfriend as well as his brother.

you stood on the side lines cheering the lacrosse team on as they were about to win their last game of the season. you’d been fucking up on cheers all night due to the entertainment running up and down the field. something had to be in the air because there was no way he had you gagged this bad (😝)

matt was a rough player. the way he would harshly shove his opponents out of the way for the ball to land perfectly in his racket or when he would dodge and trip the other players, making them fall to the ground all while successfully making a goal gave him such a rush and all of the supporters in the stans that cheered his name stroked his ego but the true prize he had his mind set on was you. he couldn’t wait to get this over with and hear you screaming his name. that was the only thing that could top the feeling that he was feeling now.

the team now took a time out while you entertained the crowd by being tossed and spun around in the air, smiling and waving to everyone in the stans. matt rested around the sidelines, focusing on regulating his heart rate and getting some air. he took off his gloves and helmet with ease then ran his fingers through his hair, his chest moving up and down from his heavy breathing, and to add the cherry on top, matt lifted up his long sleeve shirt revealing his small waist and snail trail that weirdly resembled an arrow or maybe it was just you. either way it went he was such a slut.

your eyes scanned the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time, looking for who was just as mesmerized as you until you felt a light push to your shoulder, bringing back to reality.

“yn, you okay girl?”

you turned to look at one of your teammates before realizing you were just standing on the sidelines looking off into space. your cheeks start to warm up with a faint hue of red. “my man looks so good tonight” you brought your hands to your cheeks as you danced in place a little.

you and your teammate turned to face the other side of the field one more time only to see matt already grinning at you while he put his gloves back on.

“ouu, girl you better lock him up” she laughed out and leaned into you, expecting you to join in but you gave her a quick side eye before continuing. you were used to those type of comments all day at school and would go crazy if you made a big deal about every one.

the sound of loud buzzing rung letting everyone know that it was now halftime. you and two of your friends on the team made your way to the concessions and ordered two packs of skittles and a blue and white powerade.

before you went back to the sidelines you handed your stuff to one of your friends and met matt in the middle. you could see him leaning against the brick wall, waiting patiently to spend just a little time with you.

grabbing his hand and jerking him to face you, you scold, “what are you trying to do?”

matt looks down at you in confusion and pulls you into his chest with his free hand. “yea, thank you for noticing how hard i’m working baby, i do it for you” he tease and rocks you guys in place.

you playfully push away from him and shrike, “you actually smell so foul right now, matt”

he begins to laugh and you turned you face up even more while holding your hand up to his chest. “that’s not fucking funny, you need to do something about that”

“well it’s not like i’m in the middle of a game or anything”

you giggled like a little girl, it didn’t matter how long yall’ve know each, he’s never failed to get you all railed up and insides fluttering. it was just an affect he’s always had on you. “shut up, but i am really impressed with you, you’re playing really good tonight” you compliment before planting a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth.

matt couldn’t help but grin, he strived for your approval and to know that he’s your number one brings him so much joy. “thank you” he giggled out as well.

“who are you showing off for?” you question in a playful manner. there was only one right answer anyways you just wanted to hear him say it.

matt smacks his teeth before responding, “you’re crazy to even think that i’m worrying about anyone but you. i see you over there, short ass skirt” he muttered the last part while his hands moved lower, lifting the ruffles of your skirt up and grabbing a hand full of ass underneath.

you shared one passion filled kiss before he broke away. “d’you get my snacks babe?”

you chuckled as you nodded your head “yea, i got em’ right before coming over here”

“alright thank you, love you, i gotta’ go”

he grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in for a sloppy, wet kiss. the type of kiss that always resulted in you laying on his bed, spread wide open.

matt disconnected your lips, still holding your neck in his hand, he whispered, “my parents are here, unroll your fucking skirt” before jogging into the distance.

he left you speechless, knees surely buckling under you at any moment with a damp patch only growing in your panties by the second and a little embarrassed. you didn’t even want to finish the night out, the only thing on your mind was tearing the jersey clean off of his back.

you looked at your phone, responding to texts about where you were as you squeezed your legs together to stop your pussy from throbbing.

matt didn’t fail to send you little smirks and glares when he passed you on the field and when he could he would use his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face more often just to fuck with you.

finally came the end of forth quarter. chris scored the winning goal with an assist from matt and now it was time to present the seniors to the crowd. the list of names dragged on till you finally heard the ref call matt’s and chris’ name.

you loudly cheer and clapped with the rest of the crowd and managed to snap a few pictures of matt as he wore the cutest girn on his face with an arm wrapped around his moms shoulder. once the sports photographers were done snapping their pictures matt parted ways with parents and made his way down the field towards you.

you stood waiting from him to say whatever it was that would pop into his head but instead he deadpanned to you then briefly pointed to the path you normally took to get to the locker room without being questioned.

one of matt’s teammates talked your head off as you leaned against the brick wall, waiting for him to change into his clothes. you began to get impatient and hot again and this guy couldn’t get the hint that you were not up to converse. your mind was too busy being consumed with thoughts of matt throwing you around and having his way with you.

“so can i get your snap?” the guy brought you out your head before you blinked back at the phone in your face.

“sorry, what?”

before the boy had anytime to repeat himself, matt had appeared as if he was summoned at the moment and threw an arm over you shoulder. “you’re good, bro” matt waved him off before continuing to his car.

“was that a fun conversation?” he asked teasingly and brung his face closer to yours. “you gonna’ get him to fuck you tonight, baby?”

you rolled your eyes and chuckled, “please, matt i don’t even know what he was talking about, you were all i could think of” you sweet talked him and pulled him in for a kiss by the cheeks. matt was the first to pull away.

“you’ll be saying please alright” he grinned down at you then connected your lips again. by now you two were standing on the passenger side of the car, just chatting.

“why are you in such a grumpy mood right now, big matt won the game”

matt shook his head at your attempt to distract him. “first of all big matt is fucking insane, don’t ever say it again and it might be cause i could see your whole ass from across the field” he emphasized.

you only rolled your eyes and went to wrap your arms around matt’s neck. “you’re so dramatic.. d’you know that? let’s just focus on getting home so we can celebrate your win, i’m so proud of you”

matt huffed as he opened the passenger door and waited for you to get in. the door shut loudly as you smoothed out your skirt and matt putt his bag in the back seat before hopping in the front and starting the car. as soon as you heard the rev of the engine you attached your phone to the aux a play you and matt’s playlist.

matt turned the a/c on, needing a relief from the humidity of the late spring air. matt began to pull out of the parking lot after the sound of both seat belt clicking.

the car ride was filled with a comfortable silence. you watched matt as he concentrated on the road with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. he looked so good in the dim light and you loved the veins flexing in his arm from how tight he was gripping the steering wheel. it reminded you how his muscles would flex when he would move his fingers in and out of you to chase your high or when he squeezed his hands around your neck. you were so wet right now and the heat was getting unbearable.

you leaned back in the seat and spread your legs just a little. “baby can we hurry it up, i don’t know how long i can wait”

“just be patient, well be there in a bit” matt patted your thigh and put a heavier foot to the gas. he didn’t want to admit it but he’s was getting restless too and the way we’re squirming around in the seat didn’t make it any better.

you pushed your curls to the back of your head as you slumped down and pulled the short uniform all the way up to your waist. “i can’t wait anymore, please matt”

matt glanced over to you and a smirk grew on his face before looking back at the road. he grazed his finger over the now completely soaked underwear with his eyes still on the road. “please what?”

“please help me baby” your legs were spread out in the passenger seat at this point and matt stretched your panties to the side, a ripping sound could be heard in the process but there’s no way you could care at a time like this.

he used his thumb to play with your clit for a while and you let out soft moans but what you wanted was to feel full. you bucked your hips up at his hands letting him know that you wanted more as you approached a red light.

matt slowed down the car behind another one before putting the gear in park and turning his full attention to your leaking hole. he leaned over to spit on your pussy and his to fingers followed, now buried inside of you.

“ughh, shit matt” you noisily moaned, raising your legs in the air.

he brung the hand that was once on the wheel to your left knee to hold it in place while he drilled deep and fast into your tight entrance. his long fingers started to squeeze through your walls due to your excessive clenching around him, making a creamy white mess all over you and his fingers.

“yea, open that shit up princess” matt muttered and gazed at you. you were about to let out yet another moan before a car’s horn cut you off.

“oh shit” he shifted back in his seat and put the car back into drive without disconnecting his fingers from your cunt. you wrapped your arms around the head of the seat and whined as the cream continued to spill out of you.

“oh my, you’re so good”

your legs began to shake once matt’s soft palm rubs over your clit and his fingers still did it’s job of pumping and even twisting inside of you so well. your hand flew down to his to squeeze his wrist.

“right there, right there” your dragged out your words as they turned into incomprehensible screams. your juices squirted out onto the dashboard and windshield while your back arched off the seat.

he talked you through your high, “you got it baby, that’s all you”

you hummed at the overpowering sensation. your body couldn’t stop shaking and matt could’ve sworn he’s bitten a whole in his lip.

“holy shit baby” matt’s mouth flew open at the sight before him, your just squirted all over his car and your pussy over flowed with cum.

“sorry, i’ll clean it up” you sheepishly smiled and closed your legs as your tried to catch your breath.

you guys came to another red light, allowing matt to reach behind your seat to get a clean towel he had laying around to wipe you off.

“don’t apologize sweetheart, that was fucking beautiful”

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!- @worldlxvlys @ariieeesworld @muwapsturniolo @esioleren @sturn59 @maryx2xx (comment to be in the taglist!!!)

#˖ ࣪ 🥭⋆˚࿔ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #x black reader #chris sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #summersover #black writers #matt sturniolo #nathan doe x reader #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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superhaught · 2 months

Text

Just Seven Minutes

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Warnings: explicit smut (18+ MDNI)

Word Count: 3300, Part 1/?

Part 2

Reader and Leighton are paired up for a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven at a Theta party.

Explicit Content Below! Read at your discretion.

You made the mistake of watching from within the crowd. You should have known better. A frat party, a lockable storage closet, and liquor did not mix well.

Your stomach dropped when the shirtless fraternity brother pointed directly at you, “You. Come on.”

“No, no… I’m just watching…” you protested.

“Them's the rules, pal. If you watch, you are liable to participate.” Suddenly, people were pressing on your back and pushing you forward until you stumbled into the center of the circle with him. He looked at you, “alright, what are you into?”

“What?”

“Boys? Girls? Both? Anyone? Come on, what are you into?”

“Oh…” you could feel yourself shaking, your palms getting clammy, “girls…” you answered.

The guy caught a glimpse of a blonde head trying to escape the crowd of onlookers. He pounced on the opportunity, “Ah, not so fast, Murray. I pick you.”

Your stomach dropped further. Murray? Murray?

You were frozen. There was a slight scuffle amongst the people surrounding the blonde. You think you heard someone tell her, “it’ll be fine.” Then she was pushed into the center just as you were.

Leighton Murray. Rich. Brilliant. Popular. Stunning. Recently out as a lesbian among the student body. Recently out of not one, but two committed relationships. Likely only here because her roommates made her.

You knew these things about her partially by way of the Essex grapevine, and partially also because you had been nursing a painful crush on her since Freshman fall.

She didn’t make eye contact with you, so you resorted to looking at the floor and praying for a sudden meteor strike in Vermont.

The frat bro began, “Alright, you know the deal. Seven minutes in the closet, no less. What you do in there is your business. The timer will go off at seven minutes but no one will make you come out until one of you knocks. And the necessary disclaimer, we can hear everything and that’s what makes it fun for us. Now, you both have the option to agree or to chug the cup.” He gestured in reference to a full red solo cup sat upon a table in front of you. It was filled with mystery liquid, a combination of the participants' drinks. You can’t imagine that anyone in their right mind would choose to chug.

The brother turned to you, “okay, closet or chug? What’ll it be?”

You took a deep breath, “closet.”

“Hell yeah!” He grabbed your wrist and held your arm up in the air like a champion wrestler and the crowd joined in on cheering. Then, he faced Leighton, “and you? Closet or chug?”

Leighton rolled her eyes, “closet.”

The cheers became nearly deafening as the man lifted Leighton’s hand into the air as well and then you were both quickly ushered into the closet, the door locked behind you.

It was a ridiculously stupid game. You shouldn’t have even been entertaining it by standing in the crowd. You shouldn’t have even come to this party. The only people who enjoyed this were the ones tipsy enough to find it funny, or horny enough to use it as an opportunity. If the crowd outside didn’t hear anything worthwhile happening, they’d shout through the door to stress you out and be disappointed if you left the closet without having done anything. If they did hear a show, though… they’d cheer for you upon your exit and everyone would be talking about it for weeks.

You stepped toward the back wall of the closet and slumped against it, sighing, but not wanting to be the first to speak.

Leighton kept a respectful distance from you and just glanced around the dingy closet with a look of disgust on her face. She wasn’t looking at you with disgust. Well, she wasn’t looking at you at all. But then you realized that you were looking at her and you quickly averted your gaze.

Time seemed to move at a snail's pace. Neither Leighton or you wanted to say or do anything, apparently. You quickly resigned yourself to the fact that you would spend the next seven minutes locked in a closet with a woman who you were deeply attracted to without a word shared between you.

To your shock, she broke the silence, “you’re in my calc class, right?”

You looked up at her and almost choked when you tried to respond. You cleared your throat and tried to play it off, “Yeah, I am.”

She nodded, “thought so. I’ve noticed you before.” You hoped that she couldn’t hear your heart pounding.

“I… I’ve noticed you, too.”

She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder playfully, “hard not to. I’m amazing.”

That. That is what gets you everytime. She was amazing and she knew it and that was so fucking hot to you. You had to bite your lip to silence yourself.

She continued, “for the record, I think this whole situation is bullshit.”

“Uh, me too.” You agreed.

The blonde lazily examined her manicured nails as she spoke, “with that being said, I would rather make the most of it than not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we could ya know, see what happens…”

Your jaw dropped, “wait… are you saying that we should… what? Make out?”

“Well, do you want to?”

Your head was spinning. Of course you wanted to. But now she was standing right there and you couldn’t make yourself speak.

She shook her head, “nevermind… forget it.” She moved to take a step away from you and all you could think to do was to reach out for her. You gently grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

“Wait,” you began, “I didn’t say ‘no’...”

She turned and looked at you, actually meeting your eyes for the first time. She was anxious, too. You could see it now. You dropped her wrist.

“Leighton…” her name tasted so sweet on your tongue, “I… I won’t kiss you… unless I know that you really want it…”

You watched as her eyes flitted down to your lips then back, “I want it… I want you… does that answer your question?”

This had to be a dream. You were certain of it. But then, it was only just a dream and nothing bad could happen from kissing Leighton Murray in your dreams.

“It does…” you respond.

Leighton stepped a little closer to you. Your shoulder blades pressed against the wall behind you. She leaned in, her lips suddenly only a couple inches from yours. She locked her gorgeous blue eyes on yours, waiting. She wanted you to go for it.

You whisper shakily, “you’re sure?”

The corner of her mouth raised into a cheeky smile and she nodded emphatically.

Between your blood pounding in your ears from the anticipation, people outside of the closet cheering lewdly, and the tickle of her warm breath on your chin, you couldn’t think anymore.

You snake a hand to the back of her neck and twine your fingers into her soft, blonde hair as you make the move to pull her in the rest of the way and close the distance. You hear her breath hitch as your lips connect, and the two of you quickly find a comfortable position for your bodies to be in. You bring your other hand to the small of her back, holding her over her blouse. She leans her weight onto you as she drapes her arms around your shoulders and buries her fingers into your hair.

You exchange a few tender kisses as you shift to cradle the side of her face in your hand and kiss her softly. Feather light brushes of your sensitive skin against one another as you pull her just a little closer by her waist. But the softness isn’t enough and soon, all you can feel is heat and you begin to deepen the kiss. Your lips part and you lightly graze your tongue against her bottom lip. She shudders and allows you entry, meeting your tongue with hers in a short-lived fight for power that she quickly cedes.

You let out a moan from your throat that she only echoes. She presses herself against you more forcefully and kisses you harder and you match her at every step. Everything felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t help it, you had to pull back for a second to catch your breath. Your chest heaved and you opened your eyes to find hers.

“Fuck…” she whispered.

You caress your thumb over her cheek and stare incredulously at her, “do you… want to keep going?”

She chuckled lightly, a genuine smile forming on her face, “I do… Do you?”

You nod, “yes… God, you’re so hot.”

She smirked and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, coming at you with passion that made you melt. She let her hands roam your body now and you could feel her happily learning the feel of your skin and muscles beneath your clothes.

You want her without any shame now. Nothing mattered other than the gorgeous blonde and her pleasure. You grab ahold of her hips and back her up toward a low shelf in the closet. A simple swipe of your arm knocks everything off the shelf and then you lift her onto it and step in between her legs.

She gasps in surprise but responds quickly by wrapping her legs around your hips and you keep kissing her desperately. Leighton moans and pulls you even closer to her by grabbing your ass. Her hips start to rock, seeking any amount of friction she can get by grinding against you.

You groan and match the movement of her hips. You come away from her lips and start kissing along her jawline and down the side of her neck. Your thumb tilts her head by moving her chin and you apply pressure with your tongue to the sensitive spots that make her squirm, then nip at the tender skin with your teeth.

She holds you by the hair at the nape of your neck and sighs as she tilts her head back and away, giving you even more access to her. Her back arches and your arm moves to support her back and you slide your hand under her shirt and touch her skin. You faintly hear the seven minute timer outside of the closet go off but you’ve no intention of stopping now.

You glance at her blissed out face and breathe, “you’re so fucking gorgeous,” as you kiss around her throat and give your attention to the other side of her neck, pulling her hair lightly to move her head in tandem with you.

Her continued sounds in reaction to you are heavenly. Her little gasps and whimpers drown out the sound outside of the little closet and she becomes your whole world. She squeezes your back and digs her nails into you, desperate for more of you. She tries to say so with words, “I need… I… need…”

“I can keep going…” your press another kiss onto her neck and then her collarbone.

“Please…” she gasps.

You bring your lips closer to her ear and whisper your desire, “I want to go down on you, Leighton…”

You feel her body react to your words as a wave of arousal washes over her.

“Oh… god,” Leighton moans, “holy shit…”

“Do you want that?” You kiss along the edges of her ear, touching your lips to the hidden spots along her hairline.

“Yes… yes… please…”

“Yes? You’re sure?”

“Yes!” she bucks her hips against you out of desperation and whimpers, “please…”

You smile and return to her lips, kissing her hungrily as you slide your hands around to her waist and push her shirt up, exploring her skin. Your touch sends shivers through her body and raises goosebumps. She kisses you back with fervor but then lets out a quiet whine when you pull away to begin traveling elsewhere. Her disappointment is quickly eased as you start kissing down the front of her body and lower yourself to your knees between her legs.

You lift up her shirt as you descend and start pressing kisses directly onto the skin of her abdomen. She giggles lightly from the faint tickle of your movements and you smirk as you teasingly continue for a second longer.

She looks down at you with flushed cheeks. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and you take a moment to really admire her in this state. She licks her pink, swollen lips and runs a hand through her hair to push it back out of her face. Her legs shake just ever so slightly. She’s incredible.

You breathe her name again, savoring it, “Leighton…”

You reach out and tuck some of her hair behind her ear and then trail those fingers down the center of her body till they reach the button of her jeans.

You look up at her wordlessly and she nods her head. You undo the button and the zipper and start to ease her jeans down her legs as she lifts her butt off the shelf for a second to help you. Your eyes follow the denim as it slides down her thighs but then you see the lacey, pink panties she’s wearing and your heart skips a beat. You moan at the sight and she smiles. She grabs a hold of your hair again and makes you look back at her face, “like what you see?”

You bite your lower lip and nod, wide eyes staring at her.

“Finish taking them off…”

You grab the waistband of her underwear and pull them down, too, until her legs are free of the clothing and you drop the fabric onto the ground beside you.

You adjust your position so that you’re perched on your knees right between her legs and you start to plant gentle kisses on her inner thighs.

She keeps her fingers in your hair but leans her head back as you kiss her and sighs happily.

You grab ahold of her thighs and pull her a little bit more forward, til she’s perched on the edge of the shelf, and then you finally press your face in between her legs and give her your mouth.

She moans and immediately starts to rock against you, matching your movements. You open your eyes and look up at her with a sly grin on your face as you drag your tongue through her slick and then start to focus on her clit.

“Oh…” she breathes, “fuck… that’s so good…” she meets your eyes and lets out a desperate groan.

You keep going and can tell how pent up the blonde is. She holds onto your hair with one hand and white knuckles the edge of the shelf with the other, her ankles crossed behind your back.

This act of having needy, fiery, semi-public sex is so vulgar and so hot. You can’t fathom how this is even real. How are you going down on Leighton Murray in a frat house closet right now?

You felt like you could get off without her even touching you. Her taste, her breathy moans, her grinding motions against your mouth were more than enough.

She throws her head back, “fuck fuck… I need more… fingers….please…”

You nod your head slightly and shift your hand at her request, slowly sliding your middle finger inside while licking her clit rhythmically.

She takes your finger with a moan and then you effortlessly slide your ring finger in, too. You curl them and press the pads of your fingers against that ultra-sensitive spot and she starts to clench around you.

You time the movements of your fingers and tongue expertly and you can feel her climb to her peak quickly, “fuuck… ohmygod I’m so fucking close don’t stop don’t sop!”

She holds onto your head for dear life and you maintain your pace and then she finally releases, coming onto your fingers hard. Her entire body tenses, muscles shaking from holding herself in a precarious position. She moans loudly, head falling back against the wall behind her. You don’t quite reach an orgasm of your own but you feel pure bliss at giving her that strong of a reaction.

Her eyes shut and her face softens to a weak smile as you clean her up with your tongue and suck your fingers clean while you stand back up.

You step in between her legs again and reach out to embrace her. She accepts the contact, wrapping her arms around your chest and leaning her head on your shoulder. The affection you feel for her is easy to come by and you can’t help but send up a silent prayer that this won’t be a one time thing.

Your hand holds the back of her head as she leans on you and you caress your thumb over her soft hair. She lets out a happy hum and squeezes you a little.

“Wow…” she breathes.

“Mhmm…” you agree, “you’re incredible.”

“Me?’ She laughs, “I didn’t do anything!”

“You don’t have to.” You don’t hesitate to press a tender kiss to the top of her head and rub soft circles onto her back.

“You’re sweet…” she smiles, looking up to meet your eyes, “and freakishly good at that…”

You laugh and shake your head, feeling your cheeks flush.

“You must have a lot of practice.”

“Then you’ll be shocked to find out that I really don’t…”

She raises an eyebrow in doubt, “no way. I don’t believe you.”

You shrug your shoulders, “believe it or not, it’s the truth.”

She shakes her head, incredulous, and tucks her head back against your shoulder. You hear her take a deep breath in through her nose and nuzzle into you a bit. It makes you smile and feel butterflies in your stomach. You wordlessly return the gesture by taking a deep breath against her hair, closing your eyes and letting her undoubtedly expensive conditioner flood your senses. She smells like good espresso and silk.

“We uh… should probably get out of here, huh?” you ask.

She groans, “god… don’t remind me that I have to face everyone out there.”

“At least, it will be a disgustingly positive reaction…” you grimace at the thought, “if it helps, I will definitely stick with you for as long as you want me to.”

She nods, “I’d like that, thanks.”

You bend down slightly and grab her discarded clothes and pass them to her. Leighton smiles gratefully and shakily gets down from the weirdly convenient shelf and holds onto your bicep for balance as she gets back into her underwear and jeans.

When standing normally, she’s back to being a few inches taller than you. She looks down to meet your eyes as she buttons her pants and tucks her shirt back in. You’re gently holding her waist and getting totally lost in her brilliant blue eyes.

She flips her hair over her shoulder and rests her hands on your shoulders as she leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your lips connect and the tenderness of it surprises you in a good way. You cradle her jaw in your hand again and rub your thumb along her cheek, kissing her a few more times.

She pulls away and smiles, “you’ve made my night.”

“I’m glad,” you reply, “you made mine, too.”

You take another few moments to gather yourselves and then you brace yourself for the reaction from the crowd as you knock on the closet door to be let out.

Next Chapter

#leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #slocg #leighton murray fanfiction #leighton murray smut #smut #smut with plot #18+ content #18+ mdni #mdni #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing

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theres-a-body-here · 8 months

Text

Scumtober- Day 10 (Knotting)

Legoshi x Male!reader

If someone had told you at the beginning of your relationship with Legoshi that he would be the one to initiate sex, you probably would have laughed in their face.

So imagine your surprise when, after a particularly amazing date, Legoshi proposed that the two of you have sex the next night.

You didn't know what to expect. You're a virgin and as far as you know, he was too. To be honest, you were scared. You took enough biology to know that wolf knot plus a human ass would definitely mean pain. That's not even taking into consideration that Legoshi was way taller than wolves of his own species.

But you had time to prepare, so you did.

You followed every tutorial on Furrchan and Beastube, especially that one gay dude who Nair'd his ass on video and posted it onto the site. He seemed like the expert to go to. You went out shopping and frantically bought everything you might need for such a challenge. Lube, condoms, douche, and information pamphlets went into your cart.

You currently sat on Legoshi's bed bunk, waiting for him to arrive. You had showered, cleaned yourself out, and even used the shampoo that Legoshi liked. Everything had to go perfectly. You even had some soft music playing through a small speaker.

As you waited anxiously, the atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation. Every sound that echoed down the hallway amplified your heartbeat just a little more, making each moment feel like an eternity.

Finally, after what felt like hours, there was a gentle knock on the door followed by its slow creak open. In walked Legosi, looking quite flustered as nervously walked over and sat on the bed with you.

"So…uhh," You muttered, not sure how to initiate sex. You were in the dark about these kinds of things.

At your hesitation, Legoshi's eyes darted around nervously before returning to meet yours halfway. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as he tried to find the words within him. His cheeks flushed under his fur even deeper at his own embarrassment.

Finally, he managed to squeak out softly, "Um... do you want me to undress first?" It was clear from his voice that this was foreign territory for him too; there was an uncertainty lacing every syllable.

You pause for a moment, trying to remember the pamphlet about healthy sexual relationships. "What if.....what if we help remove each other's clothes?" You finally manage to recite meekly as you fiddled with your thumbs.

At your suggestion, Legosi's eyes lit up slightly as he nodded eagerly. "Yeah," he murmured softly, "that sounds good."

With a snail's pace, he began reaching out to gently grab hold of your shirt hem. With a hesitant look in his eyes, he began to tug lightly, urging you to move closer so he could pull it off properly without letting go entirely. As he did so, he took note of your reaction—whether you were uncomfortable or enjoying the contact between them. You nod timidly and lift your arms up.

As soon as Legosi felt your permission through your lifted arms, he quickly grasped onto the idea and began pulling your shirt upwards with newfound confidence. His fingers brushing against your skin sent shivers down your spine. Once fully off, Legoshi started at your bare torso. He shifted closer as if wanting to take in the sight.

As Legoshi moved closer, his hot breath danced along your neck sending shivers down your spine. He couldn't resist taking in your scent, trying to commit it to memory forever. The way his nose grazed against your skin ignited a spark inside him, awakening primal desires that he didn't know existed until now. His heart raced faster as adrenaline coursed through his veins—this was intoxicating!

This set the pattern.

One of you would take off the other's article of clothing, then stare at their body. As the two of you progressively shed layers of clothing, the air between you became charged with electricity. Every brush of fingers against skin sent ripples of pleasure through your bodies. Even though you were both nervous and unsure, something about this exchange felt right.

Finally sitting face to face in nothing but their underwear, Legoshi couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He traced delicate patterns over your chest with his fingertips, marveling at how soft your skin felt beneath them. Meanwhile, you reached out to feel his soft fur.

Both of you blushed deeply as you realized where this was heading. Neither of you wanted to make the first move, fearful of crossing boundaries or being rejected. But despite your hesitations, neither could bring themselves to break eye contact either.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Legoshi reached out towards your boxers, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered just above the fabric. With bated breath, he slowly pulled down the waistband of your boxers, revealing your erect cock beneath. Your member twitched slightly at the sensation of cool air bathing it. After a few minutes of Legoshi staring in awe at your dick, You decide to return the favor and pull his briefs off.

As you pulled Legoshi's underwear off, exposing his hardened cock tentatively, he let out a soft moan of relief. Feeling increasingly bold, he reached out to touch your cock once again, stroking it slowly with his palm while looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Taking courage from his touch, you leaned in close, wrapping one arm around him to pull him close for a kiss. Your lips met in a tender kiss as your bodies pressed flush together. Your tongues tentatively explored each other's mouths as you began grinding your hips together in sync, rubbing your cocks against each other.

You shifted to lay in the bed. Legoshi didn't stop kissing you as he followed your movements. Fortunately, you had prepared for the next part since you didn't want to waste precious time. You had already lubed your hole prior. But it was still worrying to think about Legoshi's knotted cock fitting into your ass.

As you lay back on the bed, Legoshi couldn't help but stare at your ass, his heart pounding with desire. He knew that this was going to happen eventually, but seeing it right here in front of him made it all the more real.

His brow furrowed in concern when he saw the expression on your face, worry written all over it. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured softly, his voice full of regret.

You shook your head reassuringly, trying to calm him down. "It's okay," you whispered back, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. "We can take things slow."

With a deep breath, Legoshi nodded slowly, still uncertain but willing to trust in your words. Together, you guided him closer, positioning his tip at your entrance. He had a strong grip on your hips and you placed your hands over his.

"Are you ready?" you asked quietly, meeting his eyes for reassurance. He nodded again, biting his lip as he prepared for the inevitable penetration. Slowly, carefully, he eased himself inside you, groaning softly at the tightness surrounding him.

As Legoshi pushed further into you, a sharp stab of pain shot through your body. You winced and let out a small cry, causing him to freeze midway. "Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly, pulling back slightly. Closing your eyes tightly to block out the pain, you forced yourself to relax and breathe steadily. When you opened your eyes again, you saw the genuine concern reflected in Legosi's gaze. He looked truly frightened at the prospect of hurting you.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek gently and smiled reassuringly. "No," you said softly, "just a bit of discomfort. Keep going..." Your voice trailed off as he resumed his thrusts, slowly pushing further into you. Despite the pain, you couldn't deny the intense pleasure mixed with it. The sensation of being filled by your boyfriend was overwhelming. As Legoshi picked up speed, his hands entwined with yours.

As Legoshi's pace quickened, sweat dripping down his fur, his movements became erratic yet powerful. Drool slipped past his parted lips, trailing down his chin as he lost himself in the motions. His eyes were glazed over, focused solely on you and the rhythmic movement of their bodies. His muscles tensed with each thrust, the sounds of fur slapping against skin filling the room.

Every time you cried out in pleasure or arched your back, it drove him even harder, his cock throbbing with need inside you. He lost track of time and place, consumed by the primal desire pulsing through him. All he could see was you and all he wanted was more.

Legoshi's voice cracked as he tried to speak, the heat building up inside him making it difficult to form coherent sentences. "Mmm... God, you feel so good," he moaned, his tongue tangled in his attempts to express himself.

As he continued to pound into you, his hips slapping against your ass, he managed to gather enough strength to whisper, "Please... tell me how much you love this... Tell me it's amazing!"

Despite his plea, he doubted anything could have prepared him for the wave of emotion that crashed over him when you finally answered, your voice hoarse with passion, "Yes... yes, it's incredible. Don't stop."

Legoshi's hand slid down between your legs, his rough fingers curling around your cock as he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts. Your moans of pleasure echoed off the walls, driving him wild with lust. Unable to contain himself any longer, he threw his head back and roared, the sound reverberating throughout the room.

Legoshi's moans grew more intense as his pace increased, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his climax. "I love you," he chanted between ragged breaths, his voice breaking with emotion. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you too," you replied between heavy pants as you felt your world spinning. Your body quivered with each thrust, the sensations overloading your senses. You clung to Legoshi and wrapped your legs around his waist for dear life as he stirred your guts with his cock. Before you knew it, your entire body tensed up as you came with a loud moan.

As you came, your body convulsing in pleasure as you spilled seed onto your stomach, Legoshi growled low in his throat. The sound vibrated against your skin. Seeing your release only fueled his desire further, and he continued to pound into you, determined to claim his own release.

Legoshi's entire body tensed up as he felt his orgasm approaching, his movements becoming more frantic as he neared the edge. Just as he felt like he couldn't hold back anymore, he let out a loud, primal yell. In one thrust, he slammed his knot into you, locking into place with a wet popping sound. He released himself inside you, filling you up with his warm cum as his knot kept you in place. You whimper as you feel it coat your insides. His body shuddered violently as he let out a long, drawn-out moan.

Legoshi stayed buried deep inside you, his body still trembling with excitement. He nuzzled against your face affectionately, soft kisses scattered across your neck and shoulders. "I'm so sorry if it hurts," he whispered softly.

You ran your fingers through his fur gently, offering reassurance as you spoke, "It's okay." You paused for a moment before adding, "Besides, maybe it won't be so bad having us stuck together like this for a while." You gave him a playful smirk which only served to make him flustered even more.

You both spent the rest of the night cuddling closely together, occasionally shifting positions to ease the discomfort caused by his knot. As sleep claimed you both, you drifted off happily knowing Legoshi was connected to you, physically and emotionally.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

#beastars #beastars x reader #legoshi #legoshi x reader #male reader #male!reader #legoshi x male!reader #legoshi beastars #beastars legoshi #scumtober #scumtober 2023 #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #knott

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sluttyminghao · 4 months

Note

I love your work!! Could you write an overstimulation wonu fic or blurb???

wonwoo's whimpers fill the air as you pump his cock steadily with your hand, a grin etching onto your face at the sight of him; cheeks red and tears pooling in his eyes, his chest turning pink and heaving with each breath.

"whats wrong wonu, cant handle a little overstimulation?" your hand moves slightly faster, resulting in him whimpering louder. you chuckle to yourself as you admire the precum beading on the top of his cock, and an idea forms in your head.

when he screws his eyes shut, you take the opportunity to bend over and let your lips envelop his tip, sucking gently. this makes wonwoo moan and buck his hips up helplessly, cum pouring into your mouth from the stimulation of your lips and tongue.

"f-fuck!" his voice is hoarse and weak, and his body is trembling from the multiple orgasms he's already received. you can only grin and watch as he rides out his high once again, your hand slowing to a snail pace on his delicate skin.

"are you feeling good baby? i think we can get one more orgasm out of you, don't you think?" your voice is dripping with lust and it only makes him whine at the thought, his body tipping towards numb from the pleasure coursing through his body.

"don't think i can take it..."

"oh is that so? well, let's find out shall we?"

#sluttyhao smut #sluttyhao reaction #sluttyhao scenario #sm: masterlist 2024 #kpop smut #kpop reaction #wonwoo smut #wonwoo scenario

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luveline · 2 years

Note

I’m begging for more Golden Retriever Girlfriend with either Steve or Eddie- scraped knees? Doesn’t even notice, just too excited to tell their boyfriend about the butterfly they saw on their way over to see them…

I chose Eddie again cos I like him ♡ gn!reader | 1k words

The walk to Eddie's house is long but not boring. The trailer homes are dispersed over long stretches of green grass, so sometimes you see bugs. Mostly caterpillars, sometimes spiders, snails and slugs, ants, crickets if you're quiet enough.

Today, two butterflies. They swing through the air beautifully as if orbiting the other, pure white with wings as unremarkable and delicate as tulip petals.

They're distracting. You follow them for a short while until they fly too far to see and hurry the rest of the way to Eddie's home, rushing on toes up the steps into his trailer.

"Eddie?" you ask into the empty living room.

The bathroom door opens but he doesn't emerge. "In here."

You stride over and peer inside. He's spitting toothpaste foam down the sink, his hair in a tie, his eyes still droopy with fatigue.

"You get up way too early, you know that? I don't know how you can already have walked here when I got up five minutes ago."

"The weather's great," you say easily, pushing into the small bathroom though you shouldn't to wipe sleep from the corners of his eyes.

He bats your hand away. "Stop."

You stop and frown for the five seconds that you feel scolded until he grabs your fingers to give you a quick reassuring squeeze.

He drops your hand in favour of washing his face, cupping hot water in his hands to scrub at his nose roughly. You ramble mildly about the journey here.

"They were dancing, Eddie. I've never seen anything like it. They were really pretty..." you detail, distracted by his face, his lashes heavy with wetness.

He dries off with a towel. You reach around to the back of his head to pull his hair tie free and he sets his hands over your waist, a casual proximity as you run your hands through his curls. You're careful. You know how prone to tangles he is.

"I can feel you looking at my face," you say, trying not to breathe too heavily.

"Sure am, sweetheart."

You feel as radiant as a marigold under his appreciative gaze. "There. Perfect again," you mumble.

"Thanks."

You nod and move out of his reach, back into the cooler space of his living room. You do a little spin as you go, an unbearable amount of happiness in your chest as you pose in front of the couch, one hand at your hip and the other pointing at your still-tired boyfriend where he follows you.

"We have the whole day! What are we gonna do first?" you ask.

"Baby, what the fuck have you done?"

The smile slips off your face. He sounds mad enough to startle you and you drop your hands. "What?" you ask weakly.

His eyes flit from your face to your knees and he gestures to them. He looks wide awake. "You're bleeding. Sit down." When you don't move he takes your shoulders into stern hands and guides you backward. "Sit down! Jesus, sit."

You drop onto the couch and look down at your knees, surprised to see them all bloody and scratched. When you'd slipped on leaf litter walking down the main road into the park you'd assumed everything was fine despite the stinging pain, and by the time you'd seen the butterflies you'd forgotten altogether.

"When did you do that?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I forgot," you say, eyes blinking owlishly at his fierce expression.

Eddie spins on his heel to dig through a kitchen cabinet for his first aid kit, popping it open by the sink. "Piece of shit kit," he mutters, piling foil wrapped bandages into his hand.

He looks less formidable as he kneels on the floor between your knees, thumb probing the edge of your grazes one then the other, very gentle.

"You didn't tell me what happened," he says quietly, eyes on your knees as he sprays a small bottle of disinfectant over your knees with no warning and you flinch.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he says.

You blink back tears. "Stings," you say, giggling wetly.

He wipes your grazes with precise, almost calculated movements. One hurts worse than the other. "Sorry," he says again as he drops the bloodied wipes to the floor and rips a sterile packing open with his teeth – which is all types of wrong – and unrolls a length of white bandages.

"Hold the gauze, honey," he says.

You move your hands as he instructs, wondering if he's ever called you honey before. You're still deciding by the time he finishes, his hands in twin position just below your knees.

You brush your bandages together and smile. "They're white. Like the butterflies."

"Is that why you fell? Watching the butterflies?" he asks, sounding curious.

You laugh and weave your fingers into the soft hair at the back of his neck, dropping your face down. "I'm not that stupid. It was all the fallen leaves by the turning."

He smiles and clasps your wrists. "You're not stupid at all."

He doesn't give you time to argue as he stands and cleans the small mess he'd made fixing your bloody knees. You stand too, always trying to follow him despite limited places to go. Eddie's more than used to it by now.

"For future reference," he says, a certain roughness to his tone. "Don't wait ten minutes to tell me the next time you split your knees."

"Sorry."

He throws an arm over your shoulder and tugs you into his side, giving you a good shake. "Stop. I'm serious, stop. Be sorry about how you've been here twenty minutes and haven't asked for a kiss yet."

"I wanted to, but you got all scary about my legs!"

"I can be scarier."

"No you can't."

"No, I can't."

You share what feels like an especially private smile despite being on your own and drop your head into his shoulder. He rests his cheek atop your crown.

"You had blood down to your ankle," he murmurs. "You scared me."

"Can I have a kiss now?" you ask.

"You'll have to let me think about it," he bluffs, already leaning in.

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #x reader

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osaemu · 8 months

Text

WHEN YOU GO OUT ON A DATE — BSD MEN ✧ feat. osamu dazai, nakahara chuuya

details: bsd men x reader headcanons. no warnings but i reference the french president in chuuya's part,,,?

a/n: i wanna go on a date with dazai and chuuya too!

✧・OSAMU DAZAI

"are we even allowed to be down here?" you breathe, following dazai through a dark alley littered with stray cats. "where are we even going?"

dazai pauses for a moment, looking back over his shoulder at you and smiling. "you ask too many questions, darling." he nods toward what looks like the end of the alley and beckons you with one of his hands. "we're almost there, c'mon."

you scrunch up your nose suspiciously but don't object, accepting the hand he offers and letting dazai lead you onward. "you really won't tell me where we're going?"

"you'll see soon enough."

after another minute of walking, the two of you exit the shady alley and the setting sun greets you, reddish-orange rays of light illuminating dazai's grinning face.

stretched out in front of you is the ocean, blue ripples turned red from the sunset. it's been a long time since you've seen the beach, and it's been even longer since you've been on it.

"told you," dazai says endearingly as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. the salty sea air flirts with dazai, making his hair flutter in the breeze. the sun touches the horizon behind him, basking the two of you in colors you can't put a name to.

dazai smiles at your silence, warm eyes barely sparing a glance at the view. he's focused on you, your awestruck expression, and how you fit perfectly between his arm and his chest.

he dips his head, pressing his lips to the side of your face and suppressing a laugh. "nothing you wanna say to me?"

no response.

"really darling, a thank you would be ni—"

you cut him off with a kiss, savoring the way his eyes widen with surprise. a little hm? slips from his lips before he's wrapping his other arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer and smiling against your lips.

you pull away after a few seconds, a sheepish smile on your tingling lips. "thanks, daza—"

it's his turn to interrupt you with a kiss, and this time he doesn't let you pull away.

✧・NAKAHARA CHUUYA

"chuuya, this is all in french," you groan, gesturing to the menu and glaring at him. "how am i supposed to know what i'm ordering if i can't understa—"

"shut up," chuuya mutters from across the table, gray eyes studying the menu intently. "i'm craving lobster, d'you want to share?"

"really? lobster?"

chuuya eyes you critically over the menu, raising an eyebrow. "you have a better idea?"

you scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back into the chair. "how about something that isn't a glorified crab?"

"you did not just—"

you mostly tune out his long explanation of the difference between a crab and lobster, instead taking the time to observe the restaurant around you.

it has an elegant atmosphere — candlelit chandeliers, vintage wine racks, soft violin music — perfect for a night out with your sophisticated boyfriend.

but of course, everything had to be in french. you don't even know how chuuya knows french — although, since he has to go overseas a lot, you should have expected it.

"chuuya, what does any of this mean?" you huff, turning your menu around and gesturing vaguely.

he grins, taking off his hat and resting it on the inner corner of the table. "you're pointing at escargot."

"which is?"

"ah, i believe they're cooked snails."

you blink, turning the menu back around and ignoring chuuya's smug grin. "erm, i think i'll just order based off of the pictures."

the waiter comes right as you continue studying the menu, greeting the two of you in french and mostly chatting with chuuya.

surprisingly, chuuya's accent is on point — when you look back up, you half expected to see emmanuel macron in his place.

chuuya and the waiter continue chatting, and after a minute or two the waiter nods his head and leaves.

"what'd you order?" you ask, setting down your menu and looking at chuuya curiously. "i hope you didn't order the snails...."

chuuya laughs, shaking his head and beckoning you to come and sit next to him. "just some wine to start us off. c'mere, i'll teach you some french. then you can order for yourself, yeah?"

a/n: umm i wrote that in twenty minutes + chuuya's part was very self-indulgent bc me personally i don't like snails 💯💯

reblogs very appreciated!

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boyfiejay · 3 months

Text

Enhypen : Telling them a story but it doesnt make sense

PAIRING : OT7 x gn! Reader

GENRE : established relationship, fluff, crack

Warning : curse words

Author's note : this is requested, why do i get the motivation to write in library? Of all the places, the place where im supposed to study...

Heeseung

●'Babe you know the other day i went to walk my fish but the baby started to bark and i realised that it was the wrong day!'

●Looks you dead in the eye

●Just stares at you even after you finish talking

●'I cant tell if im sleep deprived or you arent making any sense'

●Would take him him 1 2 3 4000 business days to understand it was a prank

●You woukd just tell him to go sleep lmao

Jay

●'So I was planting the book and the turtle drowned so i put the heater in the frigde.'

●Bro just freezes trying to understand what you're saying

●'Excuse me?'

●Just confusion on his face and youre laughing your ass off

●Also would not understand how that prank works but it worked on him so...

●Would make fun of you 100% 😭

Jake

●'So tell me why when the cat was barking and my ears went blind so i put the curtains in the dishwasher.'

●Baby is so confused, like he has imaginary question marks floating around his head

●'What do you mean baby?'

●Trying so hard to not seem rude incase hes the one who doesnt understand you :(((

●Breaths out a sigh of relief when he realises it was a prank

●But then lowk gets mad that he was tricked lol 😭

Sunghoon

●'Hey, remember when me and my grandma went to mop the ocean and the cat had puppies so i blow dried the air?'

●Already knows its some kind of prank but hes still confused

●'What the fuck?'

●Cue your hysteric laughing because why does he look cute with that confused expression???

●Impressed by your randomness lowk but will not say it

●Will get back at you for this💯

Sunoo

●'You remember when i couldnt hear in my nose and i woke up and the dog laid eggs?'

●Is concerned for you more than hes confused

●'Are you okay, baby?'

●You cant even laugh at him he genuinely looks worried

●You tell him its a joke and he gives you the nastiest side eye

●But then laughs at how random that sentence was

Jungwon

●'Tell me why, when i was walking my penguin and i lost my toes so i watered the fish.'

●He is the most confused by far but also judging you at the same time

●'Baby, what the heck? What penguin?'

●Hes concerned about penguins more than your mental state and toes😐

●Starts laughing when you tell him its a prank

●'Stop watching those tiktoks.'

Ni-ki

●'Remember when the snail barked and my leg cut off because i had a headache so i preheat the ice.'

●Just stares at you with 🤨 face

●Is judging you so hard it makes you want to take back your words

●'Whats that supposed to mean, baby?'

●Can NAWT understand why people make pranks like this

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Text

Ravenous

Masterlist Here

(Image Source)

Synopsis: Luffy is hungry, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He doesn’t care where it happens, how it happens, or what exactly happens - all he cares about is the who and when. The who is you, and the when is right now and until his hunger is fully satisfied.

Warnings: Luffy x afab!reader, established relationship, no gendered terms used, NSFW, smut, overstim, Luffy is hungry, Luffy is eating, Luffy is persuasive, Luffy is dominant - do not read if you are not fond of Luffy in this way, afab!reader, without plot, no penetration, oral afab!reader receiving, MDNI it's not meant for you.

Notes: This is a gift for my moot-wife, @sordidmusings. In light of the post directly below this one, this is without much plot at all.

Tag List: @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @vespidphoenix @i-am-vita @sexc-snail @since-im-already-here sssssssorry...

Fingers absentmindedly sought out the scalp of your captain, his head reclining in your lap, his straw-hat lying beside you both while enjoying the mild heat of the afternoon. You hummed a small melody, joining your other hand in his dark curls and tugging lightly on a few key locks. You soothed his skin, fingers circling down and massaging the scruff of his neck and behind his ears.

As you both sat on the top deck of The Sunny, enjoying the cries of gulls and crashing waves against the wooden hull, you felt the creak of wooden slates dipping slowly as Luffy turned in your lap. Placing his hands on the floor, his knees rising beneath him to hoist his body up: he slowly stalked towards you. Before you even turned your head to acknowledge this change in demeanor, you knew the sight that was awaiting you. When he prowled that slowly toward you, he was a beast consumed with a lust that was truly insatiable.

He was ravenous.

There was nothing you could do about him when he got in this mood but take what you were given, with a smile on your face and a hot flush swelling in your cheeks. You elected not to look at him, angling your face away as he prowled on all fours towards you across the wooden planks lining the floor beneath you.

“Luffy,” you shot him in a warning tone, “We’re on the deck.” You heard a soft humming melody from the kitchen, along with a small stream of cigarette smoke wafting from the kitchen bay window. A clack of bolts and powders shifted from a metal cylinder into a glass orb, Usopp’s latest craft being siphoned into a bolt.

“Don’t care,” he growled in a feral growl, his hot breath tickling at your shoulder as his grabby hands pulled at the hemline of your shirt, “‘M hungry.” A clatter of a porcelain teacup meeting its dish had your attention splitting over to the tangerine grove aboard the ship, a wisp of Robin’s ebony hair blowing in the gentle breeze and reflecting the risen sun.

“Luffy,” you again uttered, shifting your body away from his and scuttling over to the mast, “Someone will see.” A small coughed grunt littered the air, a rumbly snore following as Zoro rolled onto his side: blissfully and soundly slumbering while basking in the sun.

“Hungry,” he repeated, his arms surrounding your shoulders and caging you against the base of the crowsnest. You squeaked as his lips connected to the exposed point of your neck. A trail of desperate nips, licks, and bites littered your collar, pulse and jaw.

“Luffy,” a breathy call of his name pricked his ears and encouraged him to continue peppering your body with insatiable kisses. “Luffy, somewhere else. Anywhere else. Please, Lu.”

“No, ‘please, Lu’,” he taunted, his lips curling into a taunting smile as he continued to consume your flesh, “Please, you. Need you. Please, please.” His mocking chant growled at you, “‘M so hungry.” The way his lips hummed against your throat, the way his eyelashes fluttered into your skin, every aspect of his insatiable touch shot sparks into your flesh and raised your follicles to stand alert in anticipation.

When Luffy said he was “hungry,” like this, you knew it was never a hunger for food. Although his appetite for meat was vast, when he said “hungry,” in this tone, what he truly meant was: “hungry for you.”

“Lower decks?” you breathily sighed at him, his lips curling in contact further against your skin, “Bedroom, bathroom, the map room, Lu,” you listed, inching away from him in a last ditch effort to halt his advance, “Anywhere, but here.”

Luffy hissed out a dark chuckle into your neck, nuzzling the flesh with his nose and grinning into your throat. He pressed a chaste kiss against the center of your throat before rising to his feet, hoisting you into the air, and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Knew ya’d see it my way,” Luffy chuckled, his palm meeting swiftly against your ass cheek in a crisp clap before pawing at the flesh below, “I’m gonna eat ‘ya until you’re all dopey in the head,” his chuckle grew darker, his voice lowering in that feral rumble you knew meant trouble.

“You’re gonna sit back and take it until I say you’re done,” his tone turned serious the longer he walked below decks, kicking the door to crew quarters open with his heel, “Gonna’ have ‘ya regrettin’ stopping me and makin’ me wait.”

As soon as the door clicked behind you, your clothes were flung from your body and piled in careless heaps on the floor. Your body was flung onto the mattress, Luffy’s arms hooking over your thighs and raking you down to the bed where his famished lips awaited you.

He was ravenous.

Your left hand clapped over your lips, your eyes widening almost beyond their natural capacity, and pupils going black as your world came crashing down around you. Your toes curled, thighs shaking and caging Luffy’s head deep against your gushing pussy, writhing and squirming against his face as his tongue greedily lapped your glistening core.

Luffy was a messy eater, a common feat he wore as a badge of honor each time he ate like this. If his face was not covered by your slickened arousal from the sheer number of times he had you whimpering and sobbing for him, he would not stop until it was.

Lips, nose, tongue, chin and teeth were bobbing, weaving and slobbering over your throbbing cunt. Your stiff clit was prodded, sucked, nosed at, rubbed, and licked: Luffy’s saliva mixing with your slick juices and coating his face and your thighs with its sheen. As he paid attention to your quivering entrance, pistoning his moist muscle in and out with the precision you had seen showcased with his heavy punches in battle, he growled into your core.

“L-Luffy p-please. No more, please,” you begged him, writhing and grinding against his head in an attempt to pull away. His arms caged you in, feeling the way your walls gripped and beckoned him in with its throbbing and squeezing.

“Nuh-Uh,” his muffled voice taunted you, his lips open and mouth wide as he slurped and bobbed his head. Luffy’s eyes rolled back as another wave of your arousal snapped, an orgasm coaxed and ripped from your body with a particularly sloppy circle of his tongue over your aching bud. He continued rolling his tongue, repeating that movement as you screamed his name.

He was ravenous.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping onto the curled locks and holding his face against your throbbing core as your hole clenched in an attempt to draw in further contact. It was hypnotizing Luffy with its rhythmic summoning, calling his name in a beckoning chant of fluttering walls as waves of release washed over your body.

After fully riding through your high, your body fell limp in his arms. Each part of you felt empty of substance: your lungs, your mind, your pussy - everything numb and dumb of all thoughts as the hazy fog swelled throughout your afterglow.

“One more, ‘kay? One more and I’m done,” Luffy panted, his eyes dark with his pupils black to cover his caramel orbs, “Just one more,” he kissed at your thigh, “I need one more from you. Just one more, and I’ll be all full.” You had no energy to move your lips, no air in your lungs to form words as you felt him maneuver your body up onto the bed further. He flipped you over, ass up and shoulders firm against the mattress as he dove in behind you.

He slunk you down into the bed, hooking his arms around your ass beneath your thighs, as he rocked you against his face from behind. Laying his torso down onto the bed, his clothed cock made twitching contact against the mattress as he felt your walls flutter around him. He moaned into your pussy, thrusting his tongue into your entrance while using his chin to stimulate your clit.

You couldn’t take much more, exhaustion hanging over you as no words strung into cohesive sentences. Babbling his name, mewling and keening for him, as he ate you from his position behind your body, had tears prick at the corners of your eyes and threaten to spill through another release. Your body responded almost against your will, your aching cunt rocking against his chin as his tongue fucked into you.

Luffy’s ravenous appetite was insatiable, him eating at the sweetest nectar he had ever sampled while subconsciously rutting into the mattress at each drag of his tongue against your walls. You cried for him, shoulders shaking as you felt the tight swell within your stomach threaten to teeter over the edge again. Your brain fog had each moment seeming as if it were to be your last as Luffy spat and slobbered against you.

His deep growls vibrated through your walls, his soft hum hitching as his knob ground beneath him. His precum beaded at the slit of his cock, his veins throbbing and velvetty shaft desperately thrashing and grinding against the mattress as he felt you near your release. You whimpered for him, hands gripping the fabric of the mattress and squeezing the material hard enough for it to fray.

“L-Luffy I-I-... ngmm-a-ahhh-... I-I’m g-g-,” you couldn’t make it through your sentence, lightning striking within your stomach as you ground against his face. Your toes curled and legs shook with every radiant shock sourced from your clit to your spine, stomach, eyelashes and down your legs. You gushed in his face, mixing your arousal with his saliva connecting to his tongue in hot strings.

Moaning into your fluttering walls, Luffy’s cock wept through his shorts as hot ropes of sticky cum shot through his throbbing slit. His eyes rolled back at the taste of your cunt, propelling a long and encumbering orgasm to shudder through his own body. He ground his understimulated cock against the bed, shifting and stuttering through his orgasm as he held onto the flesh of your ass more.

As you both rode through your bliss, Luffy licked another stripe along your overstimulated walls, a flutter from your entrance enticed him to kitten-lick another small kiss against your bud. Flipping you onto your back, he was mesmerized by your flushed cheeks and puffed lips, bruised by the amount of times you stifled your more violent cries within your mouth.

“O-One more?” Luffy asked, kissing your thighs and nodding against your groin, “One more, okay? Just one. One more and I’m done.” His dark eyes glowed up at you, his face coated with the glistening sheen of your arousal smearing over his lips, nose, cheeks and chin. His greedy smile rose against his damp cheeks as your hands reached for his, lacing your fingers in between each of his digits.

He couldn’t get enough. He loved you like this. His appetite sprung up once more, leaning down and beginning the slow and sensual roll of his tongue against your body: consuming more of your essence until he drank his fill and stifled his hunger. He was ravenous.

#one piece #x reader #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy #luffy x reader #op smut #luffy smut #luffy x reader smut

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