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whateveriwant · 1 month

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I'm still in a girl dad!Simon mood, so here's some thoughts about girl dad!Simon during bathtime :)

Simon Riley who artfully herds his rambunctious three year old towards the tub as it comes time for her nightly bath.

Simon Riley who double – no, triple – checks the temperature of the water because he can't have it being too hot or too cold for his little Goldilocks.

Simon Riley who (jokingly) exclaims “Pee-yew!” as he helps her strip out of her dirty clothes.

Simon Riley who lets her bring her dolls in the tub with her even though he knows you hate it because it makes her toys smell like mildew afterwards.

Simon Riley who uses only the softest of washcloths and gentlest of soaps when washing his daughter's delicate skin.

Simon Riley who spikes her hair up into a tiny mohawk because she gets a kick out of the way he refers to her as “Uncle Johnny”.

Simon Riley who folds all too easily when his little girl requests he play her favorite song while she bathes.

Simon Riley who, under no circumstances, will get that bloody tune stuck in his head. Nuh-uh. No way. Absolutely not going to happen.

Simon Riley who– Baby shark doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo. Baby shark doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo. Baby shark doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo. Baby shark. (Goddamnit.)

Simon Riley who has to wrangle her like a slippery eel when it's finally time to remove her from the tub.

Simon Riley who confirms she looks, “Just like Princess Ariel, love.” (If Princess Ariel resembled a drowned rat, that is.)

Simon Riley who's extra careful not to snag on any knots as he runs a comb through her dripping hair.

Simon Riley who has her jammies already set up on the counter, helping her change into them once she's all dry.

Simon Riley who gives her a little pat on the butt when he releases her back into the house, hearing her run and shriek with her post-bath zoomies.

Simon Riley who prays she'll stay relatively clean in the next hour or so before she gets put down for bed.

Simon Riley whose shirt is drenched in dirty bathwater, his back killing him from being hunched over for so long, one eye burning from when he accidentally flicked suds into his face.

And Simon Riley who already has plans to play hide and seek with his baby girl in the garden tomorrow, just so he has an excuse to do this all over again.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

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targaryenluvs · 3 months

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— UNCHARTED WATERS

pairings: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader, percy jackson x sister!reader

summary: four months of keeping percy in the dark were over, you could only hope he’d understand your reasoning for keeping him there. or the one where percy finds a polaroid of luke and a girl eerily similar to his sister, donning not a lot of clothing.

warnings: suggestive content/photos, poor percy’s eyes, arguing, confrontation, makeups, hugs & motherly reader, protective percy

a/n: the end has come 😭 i’ve absolutely adored writing this series and i’m glad it’s here sad it’s here and sad it’s over.

taglist: @songofthesun @gayforyelena @taloulalila @honeydanny @7s3ven @sssi-nr @percabethtears @gr1mes-cc @2hiigh2cry @10ava01 @ahh-chickens @fangirl-swagg @anotherblackreader @midmourn @lovelyforesst @urfavpogue @lilacspider @mysteris-things @whoreyzontal @lunalixya @dangelnleif @wordsarelife

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv

iv. uncharted waters

luke’s mouth was currently held hostage by your hand, tightly clamped over his as you waited for the kids to pass by. you were currently hidden behind large rocks in the pond, and half-naked. “if you lick my hand i swear i will drag you under the water, and you know i can.” you whispered to him. luke’s amusement was no where near yours, you could tell by the fact that he jabbed your side which caused you to shout.

the two campers turned at the sound of distress, eyes frantically scanning the area, before turning around and continuing their way back to camp. “that was close.” luke grinned whilst you hit him, “that was all your fault! now come on, before the sun sets.”

“why, is my girl scared of the dark? don’t worry i’m right here baby.”

“am not!”

“are too!”

“am not!”

“are too!”

“you’re so annoying luke.” the two of you made your way into the cold, clear waters. the day had been pretty busy and the idea of swimming before showering all the paint and grime was nothing but appealing to you. but your peace would only last so long around your boyfriend.

“what’s that shark movie y/n? and what does the music sound like?”

“jaws? and the sounds like, dun-a, dun-a.”

you should’ve seen it coming. luke repeated the sound, as you closed your eyes and faced the sun, he waded through the water before you looked his way. he was gone.

“luke? luke where did you—,”

you screamed as luke came up from below you, tipping you face first. “what the hell!” as much as you loved to hear luke laughing all you wanted to do was drown him. “it’s one thing to mess with me above ground, but in the water?” luke’s grin was wiped off as a wave came from behind. “wait hold on—,”

it was officially your turn to laugh as luke resurfaced, gasping for air. “not cool.” you covered your smile with both hands, “kinda cool.” you murmured as he made his way to you, hands around your waist as you looked up at him. “you think that was funny?” you meekly nodded as his hand tightened, another wrapped around your neck to draw you in.

the night was fast approaching and the two of you were currently laying on the shoreline. “i knew i brought this for something.” he whipped out the camera, “you look perfect as usual, would you do me the honour of modelling for me?” you grinned, “of course.”

luke wouldn’t stop staring at the picture, the whole way back to camp. so instead of allowing him to ogle the photo the whole night you tucked it into your jean shorts. claiming the decision to be for the greater good.

if there was one difference between you and percy, it was tidiness. he wasn’t terrible but he wasn’t as obsessive as you. so imagine his surprise when you passed out, towel, shorts and swimwear laid around. “kids these days, i tell you.” percy muttered as he picked up the clothes to be washed the next day. but as he did, a certain polaroid fluttered to the floor.

“what the?” he turned it over, and then had a heartattack.

“WHAT THE F—,”

“ow! why on earth are you shouting? and no swearing.” you groaned out loud. percy stomped his way over to you then waved the picture in your face, “what on earth is this? huh?” you snatched the picture from his hand before sitting on it, “nothing, what’re you talking about?”

percy clutched his head, before dramatically flopping down on his bed, “i think my eyes need to be rinsed.” you rolled your eyes, “stop being so silly, it’s a cute photo. just not a lot of clothes.” percy quiickly sat up, “exactly! and some guys hand tucking your hair behind your ear. i didn’t even know you were dating someone y/n, let alone taking weird photos.”

you’d been caught out, it was bound to happen sooner or later so you might as well tell him. your feet hit the floor before moving over to him, “i’m sorry i didn’t tell your perce, really. i just— i didn’t want to freak you out. i wanted you to continue getting adjusted to camp and all before i told you anything about it. it happened recently, and i didn’t mean for it to but feelings… are the one thing you can’t control. i’m sorry, i really am. and i’m so grateful i have such an amazing little brother who feels like he needs to protect me but you are my little brother. i’m eighteen, and more than capable of making my own decisions.”

percy didn’t want to understand what you were saying. he wanted to go find this guy and let riptide work it’s magic. but annoyingly enough, everything you said did make sense. “fine, i won’t go maiming tonight. i’m still mad you kept it from me, don’t you trust me?” your eyes teared up at the notion, “oh god no! i mean, yes, yes i do. i trust you with every bone in my body and that’s why i knew you’d try and hurt the poor guy. you’re so incredibly strong that you’d send him packing perce.”

percy’s lips twitched, a grin forming, “i am pretty amazing arent i?” you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “that you are brother, that you are.” he hugged you so hard that it knocked you both back onto the bed.

“i guess i won’t hunt him down today.”

“thank you percy.”

“there’s always tomorrow.” he muttered.

“no perce!” he smiled up at you before wiggling out of your arms, “who is it huh?” you covered your face before sighing, “luke.” percy’s shoulders dropped, “stuff tomorrow.” he charged out the door as you ran after him, “no wait!” coincidentally the two of you rammed right into luke, “i heard shouting, i was concerned. are you okay y/n?” you smiled as he percy huffed, “no yeah, forget about the 12 year old you pummelled over viciously. continue focusing on my sister please.”

“he knows, i told him.” luke’s eyebrows raised, the reasoning behind percy’s jabs and stare revealing itself.

“oh.”

“you’ve got ten seconds castellan.”

“for what?”

“to run.”

“what did i do?”

“that photo didn’t take itself.” percy pulled out riptide, tapping it against his other hand as you stood behind him, watching luke laugh. “he’s, he’s kidding right?” you shook your head, “he’s giving you a head start castellan, i’d advise you to take it.” luke’s smile dropped as he began to step back, “i… you’re kidding.”

“ten, nine, eight—,”

luke’s shoes collided with the floor as percy shrugged, “countings for losers.” you reached out for him but it was too late, “cheater!” luke kept looking back as you sat down infront of the cabin, you officially had two idiots to look after.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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lovebugism · 3 months

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Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait.

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you.

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington.

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched.

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet.

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face.

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could.

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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awearywritersworld · 9 months

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tell me you don't want me

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo adds falling in love with his dead best friend's little sister to the list of things that keep him up at night w/c: 1.8k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. gojo takes care of reader when they have a migraine. they watch shark week together, so shark haters beware. arguing, but nothing super harsh. protective!gojo. reader is referred to as a sister but there are no pronouns. gojo is around 27, reader 23. curse words. no out right smut, but a heavily suggestive ending so lets say 18+ a/n: i've been writing purely fluff for gojo, so it seems about time to return to my angst/fluff roots. today's epi made me had me feeling some type of way. may write a part two to this? idk lemme know what you think! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

after you arrived at jujutsu high as a first year, everyone wore the same expression when they looked at you, their eyes full of pity and apprehension. you really couldn't blame them though. after what happened with suguru, you were left a shell of yourself, paranoid that you were destined to the same fate as your older brother.

however, the boy that suguru called his best friend held something different in his gaze whenever his eyes fell on you. understanding, maybe? gojo knew that if there was anyone in the world who missed suguru as much as he did, it had to be you.

for most of the year, the two of you really only talked in passing, dancing around a discussion neither of you were brave enough to initiate. then your brother's birthday rolled around and you found yourself drenched in rain, sneaking into the boys' dormitory to knock on gojo satoru's door.

he wasn't surprised to find you standing there.

"that idiot always refused to let me celebrate his birthday," you blurted out, damp hair sticking to your forehead.

he laughed. it was just a breath, but it was still genuine. "right? he couldn't stand being fussed over for one day."

and as you both stood there, rain pattering against the window, you felt months of unspoken tension melt away. "well, come in. i bought cake."

after that day, gojo took on the roll of your older brother and he really leaned into it. flicking your forehead to annoy you, threatening anyone he thought had a crush on you, giving you advice whenever he deemed you needed it.

you weren't sure if he was aware, even after all these years, that he'd saved you— pulled you away from the brink. you became like the little sister he never had, while he tried his best to fill the hole suguru had left in your heart.

gojo spends more time in your apartment than his own, so it's no surprise when he barges in one afternoon, singing out your name (rather terribly, one might add).

"i have a migraine, 'toru," you groan from the couch, pulling the blanket up over your head as the bright light from behind his figure worsens your discomfort. all of your blinds are shut, the curtains pulled together. "can you please close the door?"

he hums, stepping inside and pulling the door shut quietly. "you seem to be getting them a lot lately."

"probably because i spend so much time with you," you whine facetiously.

he gasps, hand clutching at his heart. "i come all the way here to visit you, only to be ridiculed. my devastation is untellable."

after grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, he pads over to the kitchen sink. you peer at him from under the blanket as he runs it under cold water, noting how the veins in his forearms become more prominent once he wrings it out.

you're laying across the entirety of the couch, but you scoot away from the edge and he situates himself in the space beside your hip, his body facing you. the corner of his mouth is turned down, evidence of the worry swirling in his chest. he presses the back of his fingers to your forehead before folding the cloth neatly and laying it there.

"you should mention the migraines to shoko," he suggests earnestly.

"they just flare up sometimes, you know that. it's really not a big deal."

"yeah, maybe.. but i still worry about you."

you can't help but notice how close he is and while it feels casual, it also feels... intimate? the cold cloth does bring some relief to your head, though you'd have preferred it if his hand had remained there instead.

"have you eaten?" he questions after a moment, pulling you from your thoughts.

"not yet."

"then i'll go pick up some food," he offers, rising to his feet. "do you need anything else-"

"no," you say a little too quickly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. "i mean.. can you just stay?"

he suddenly looks very smug. "oh, what's this? are you sure spending more time with me won't make your head feel worse?"

you attempt to roll your eyes but the movement sends a sharp pain through your skull, causing you to grumble. "don't make me hurt you satoru. i was joking."

"i know," he smirks, decently self satisfied. "but you do have to eat, so-"

"there's leftover egg drop in the fridge, can you just warm that up for me please?"

"'course! anything for you, (y/n)-chan!"

his tone makes it sound as if he's teasing you, but he knows it's the truth. he's painfully aware that there isn't a thing you could ask of him that he'd deny. he tries not to think about that though, because he can't bring himself to admit what it all means.

once your soup is ready, he joins you on the couch. you move to sit up and while that makes plenty of room for him, he still lifts your legs, sitting so that they lay across his lap. one of his hands is resting on your shin, the other on your knee.

"shark week?" he suggests as you reach for the remote.

you nod eagerly. "yes."

the two of you have never fought before.

well, maybe that's not entirely true. it isn't uncommon for the both of you to argue over video games, the latest chapter of a manga, or other things of that nature. but you and gojo have never had a genuine disagreement.

that is, until you mention wanting to challenge a decision made by the higher ups. he's well aware of how they deal with people they deem troublesome, so he can't help the vexation that bubbles up in his chest at your words.

"absolutely not," he tells you. his voice is low, not one hint of amusement to be found.

the tone leaves you narrowing your eyes, and you sound a bit misbelieving when you ask, "what do you mean 'absolutely not'?"

after everything that happened with geto, the higher ups have been wary of you. honestly, they're probably just looking for an excuse to pull another stunt like the detention center and he can't risk that. he can't risk losing you.

rather than express any part of that sentiment, however, he just goes all stone faced and vague. it's weird, so naturally it's followed by a bit of back and forth that goes nowhere, the conversation growing unreasonably volatile with each passing second.

why can't you just listen to him? why can't you give him the benefit of the doubt? he's earned that by now, hasn't he?

"i don't understand!" you hiss, your chest heaving with indignation. "why are you acting like this?"

because i love you. because i need you. because you mean more to me than everything else in this world put together.

he can't possibly say that though.. can't lay his shame bare for you to see.. can't bring himself to admit the feelings he has for you.

he's in love with dead best friend's little sister and it's wrong. it keeps him up at night. claws away at his self respect.

"i'll take care of it," he promises, sounding a bit defeated. "just please stay out of it."

"quit treating me like i'm a child, satoru. you're not my father."

your assertion makes the air in the room shift, and the feeling that forms in the pit of gojo's stomach is not unlike a cord being pulled too taut before snapping.

"so what am i then, huh? what am i to you?" he interrogates, taking a step toward you.

his eyes burn with intensity and the conviction in his voice is dizzying, especially since it's meant only for you. he immediately notices the way you stiffen, suddenly unable to meet his eye.

he swallows thickly, any restraint he has left ebbing away once he hears your small, nervous voice. "'toru, w... what do you-"

you're cut off when he takes another step in your direction, your back meeting with the wall after you attempt to maintain the space between the both of you.

one of his palms presses to the wall beside your head, though the other remains at his side. he doesn't want to trap you there, not when he still doesn't have a clear idea of how you're feeling.

his breath fans across your face, your mind struggling to process what was happening. you whisper his name, unsure of how else to respond.

"i want you." he nearly chokes on the words, the pain of admitting them evident in his voice. "want you more than anything."

and he does. he wants you more than the sleep he never gets. more than he wants to honor suguru. more than he wants to be a good man.

his head dips down, your breath catching in your throat when his lips find the spot on your jaw just below your ear.

"please, tell me to stop," he begs, sending a shiver down your spine.

your hands move to his chest, the rise and fall of it uneven and sporadic. god, you make him so fucking weak it's almost pathetic.

his lips shift to your cheek, closer to your mouth, and his hand reaches up to cradle the other side of your face. he sounds irrevocably desperate now, "tell me you don't want me."

your heart's beating so loudly in your ear drums, you can hardly hear yourself speak. "satoru, please."

"please what?" he asks, and for a moment you're unsure of the answer.

you try to open your mouth once more, but the words are lodged in your throat. confusion and frustration rattle around in your head, making it difficult to string together your thoughts. finally you just give in, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling his lips against your own.

he let's out a strangled noise, some unknowable mix of pleasure and relief. his hands land on your hips at once, greedily pulling your body against his own.

his lips are chapped, but they're perfect in the way they move against yours. the kiss isn't clumsy, nor is it unsure. it's ardent and comfortable, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

you pull away first, each of you holding the other's gaze. you're both hazy eyed, your mouths curved into giddy, lovesick grins.

gojo doesn't hesitate when you glance down at his lips, your words easing that bitter self loathing he'd been enduring for longer than he cares to admit. "if you want me... then make me yours."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst

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