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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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you are somebody that i want to keep ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

word count; 6.7k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, colleagues to friends to something unlabelled, you love each other though!!, fluff, hurt/comfort, very very soft, reader falls first but gojo falls harder, both of u are afraid of intimacy lol, a lil angsty if u squint, satoru gojo cherishing u for ~7k words straight <33

a/n; basically just a collection of moments between you and gojo throughout the years <33 (a significant amount of time has passed between each part!!) hes an emotionally repressed loser but i love him and he is smitten w u.

in the soft luminescence of daybreak, your kitchen looks something like a dream.

tainted with a hazy sunshine, simmering with warm colours and pleasant scents, it almost seems to sparkle in the peripheral of your vision. brimming with that feeling of home, a home you’ve broken your bones building, desperate to shape it into something safe — and you think you’ve done a pretty good job.

it’s soothing, comforting, all of these sensations. bleeding into each other like smudges of paint on a canvas; hyacinths blooming by the windowsill, espresso-flavored steam wafting up to the roof, soft meows stemming from the cats by your feet. absolute bliss.

indulging in a peace yet to be shattered by the strain of the working world, you rub the sleep from beneath your weary eyes. blinking and yawning like a drowsy child.

beyond the translucent glass of your windows, glimmering with the light of a sun soon to rise, the world is painted pink and indigo — save for that one hint of gold, a streak of honey slathered across the surface of the sky. fluffy clouds drift through the chilly air, melting in the wake of a new day, and you think they look a little like tufts of cotton candy. soft enough to sink your teeth into, if only the glass wasn’t in the way. keeping the cold out.

it’s a new day. a pleasant morning, sitting comfortably on the brink of dawn, before the city has a chance to rouse from its slumber.

a kind of solitude you so rarely get to bask in.

a false solitude, really. because, for once, there’s another human being in your home — one you don’t know nearly as well as you’d like, for him to be fast asleep on your couch, cheek smushed against the leather. snoring softly.

satoru gojo.

like this, he looks very… human. vulnerable. hair just slightly tousled, from tossing and turning on your not-so-comfortable couch, blindfold only covering one of his eyes and close to slipping off entirely. his expression has melted into one of something vaguely resembling relaxation, as close to unguarded as you assume he can physically get.

even in his sleep, he looks a little stiff. not entirely at peace; like a stray cat sleeping under the hood of a car.

(you’re curious. fascinated, maybe, by the loneliness that clings to the strongest person in the universe. by the paradoxical innocence of his grin.)

honestly, everything from last night is kind of a blur. you remember accompanying the strongest sorcerer on a mission, one long enough to leave you completely and utterly spent, fatigue nestled deep into your bones. remember gojo getting a sudden migraine, so earth-shattering that you thought he was going to keel over and throw up in the middle of the street.

then you remember bringing him back home with you. very hesitantly, only after he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he didn’t have much of a choice. because you were fucking exhausted, and so was he, and your apartment happened to be conveniently close. you remember him practically passing out on your couch, still somehow managing to crack a bad joke you can’t recall, while you went to collapse into the comfort of your bed.

and now you’re here. dyed in half-transparent sunbeams, caffeine bubbling in your veins, gazing at your sleeping coworker from your spot by the kitchen table. waiting for the world to open its weary eyes.

it’s still early. some part of you expects him to sleep a while longer, but you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when gojo begins to stir.

a splotch of sunshine splatters across your living room window, staining the floorboards, falling over the contours of his pretty face. in the light, he looks positively holy; white lashes, pale skin, plump lips. like a goddess.

when he opens his eyes, it’s even worse. a single iris cracked open, pooling with unbridled brilliance. eyes so blue they seem to cut through the stillness of the air.

(— and the world wakes up.)

a little groan slips from his lips, barely audible. with groggy movements, he brings a hand up to his face, obscuring the grating light of the sun flitting in. you think you can almost see the gears of his mind turn, as he takes notice of his surroundings, remembering what transpired just hours before.

faster than you thought, he regains some semblance of composure. huffing under his breath, as he forces himself into a sitting position.

it feels a little wrong, to see the closest thing this world has to a god act so human. be so human. morning-fatigued, just like you, wearing droopy eyelids and a soft, sleepy pout. a little disheveled. groggy with lost dreams.

when his gaze meets yours, you can’t control the breath that hitches pitifully in the back of your throat. a meek skip of your heartbeat, like you just saw something you shouldn’t have. oops.

gojo cracks a grin.

“.. watchin’ me sleep?” he calls out, cheeky. paired with a drowsy yawn. composed, unbothered, but there’s something almost performative about it, something you’re sure you’d miss if he wasn’t still in the process of collecting himself.

“good morning,” is all you offer him. ignoring his teasing remark. he doesn’t push it, to your surprise. “sleep well?”

a hum. absentminded, jovial. one of his large hands goes to adjust his blindfold, the other to fluff up his hair. kicking off the blanket you just barely had the energy to throw over him last night. your fluffiest one, warm enough to protect him from the chill gnawing at the windows. hopefully.

“like a log,” he quips, stretching idly, muscles straining under his baggy uniform. they must be sore, after that mission. or maybe he’s above such things.

choosing not to comment on his obvious lie, you put your lips against the ceramic of your cup. sipping from the bitter brew, a tinge of hazelnut on your tongue. letting him gather his bearings without you scrutinizing him. a little favor, one liar to another.

“thanks for letting me crash,” he grins, lazy. toothy. stumbling to his feet with a low groan, gaze flitting around the room — looking for the exit. “i’ll get outta your hair,” he mutters, and you raise a brow.

“not staying for breakfast?”

gojo stills. your question rings out, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, into the living room.

his smile twitches, ever so slightly, in what you think must be surprise. then it’s back to normal; like putting on a mask, not allowing a sliver of weakness to slip through the cracks. he exhales a raspy chuckle, a sound that flows through the air and crawls down your spine.

”generous, aren’t you?” he hums, voice rich with amusement. dappling sunlight licks at the white locks of his hair.

you shrug. “i wouldn’t mind the company.”

the words climb up the walls of your throat, a little reckless, eager to catch a glimpse of the miracle before you. satoru gojo, framed by the simplicity of your home — somewhat hard to let go of. sunkissed skin, restless hands. a little out of tune. shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away.

(a little like a frightened fawn, you amuse yourself by thinking. he’s really more like the fox who scared it.)

you think he must be bit uncomfortable. forced to spend the night in a coworker’s apartment, one he doesn't even know that well, one he probably doesn’t have any intention of getting to know. still trying to politely excuse himself. persistent, stubborn.

maybe he didn’t expect this. maybe he was convinced he could sneak away, before you had a chance to wake up. maybe he thought you’d be all too eager to let him leave, and never speak of this again. maybe he’s not used to being wanted.

“ha… i’m flattered, believe me, but —“

“what do you usually eat?” you ask. cutting him off, gently, tapping your fingertips against the edge of the table. “for breakfast, i mean. i’ll whip something up.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you can’t put your finger on it, but something about it bothers you. “really, there’s —“

“if you’re worried about inconveniencing me, don’t be.” you pause, unsure of what to say. but the words end up spilling out of your throat, oddly honest. ”it’s been a while since i had the chance to make breakfast for someone else.”

it’s strange, really, how intent you are on seeing this through. how much effort you’re putting into making him stay. you barely even know him. actually, you don’t know him at all — all you know is that his smile makes you happy and his strength makes you envious. that you aren’t afraid of him, even though you probably should be.

something about him just feels safe.

“i’m pretty good at making pancakes,” you hum, a small smile playing at your lips. polite, jovial. pale light flits in through the window and slips into its curve. ”do you want some? before we go to work.”

(something in his fingers twitch, when you say that tiny word; pancakes. a little tell. you just barely catch it, before it sputters out. before he reels it back in.)

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, a rubber band bound to snap.

gojo stands there, a very subtle contemplation etched into his features. behind him, your cats begin to scratch at the couch, but you don’t scold them. just waiting for something to happen. beyond the glass of your windows, the sun unfurls in the sky, stretching its arms to envelop the world.

he grins, suddenly. soft light reflecting off the white of his teeth. cocky, composed. not quite performative, a little more natural.

“well, if you insist.”

he strolls over to your side, just a tiny bit sluggish, lazy steps and comically long limbs. he must still be tired. but he takes a seat, right across from you, plopping down on the chair with an effortless air of confidence. lighthearted, leaning his elbows on the table, crossing his legs under it. comfortable. settling into his role.

you’re pleasantly surprised.

“how would you like them?” you ask, and you think some of your excitement may have spilled out with the question. if it did, gojo doesn’t comment on it. ”your pancakes.”

“with chocolate chips, please!” he shoots you a sweet smile. “and whipped cream on top.”

so demanding. for some reason, it makes the corners of your lips quirk up. kinda like a bratty younger brother.

“got it.”

the smell of dark chocolate hangs heavy in the air as you get to work, shuffling around the open space. all while gojo waits, patiently, tapping his foot under the table and staring out the window. leaning his jaw on the heel of his palm. listening to the humming of nightingales on the branches of the apple tree down on the ground, and the buzz of your old radio.

the kitchen fills with motion, sounds, smells. life. splotches of sunlight, crinkled cartons of orange juice. the clinking of plates. two tired adults, seated at the same table, indulging in a fleeting peace and the promise of something new. something almost concrete.

a small, precious moment. enough to make your fascination shift into something you know must be fondness. or close to it.

gojo grins at you, mouth full of pancakes, eagerly telling you about something the kids did last week. wolfing them down, chocolate smeared over his bottom lip. you laugh, and suddenly the world feels a little safer than it should. a little more intact.

you wonder what it means. where it’s going to lead. this feeling of something wonderful beginning, something you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

a budding connection.

the city lays blanketed beneath a layer of thick snow. blurry pale dots dancing in the wind, obscuring the sky, frost engulfing every building in a bone chilling hug.

with a slight shiver, you dig your hands into the comfort of your pockets, seeking the fleeting warmth you find. admiring the frozen landscape before you, the hustle and bustle of people going about their day. the saffron light of the lamp posts, the glittering snow by your feet, the skeletal apricot trees and their bare branches. this monochrome city you find yourself in.

gojo exhales. strolling cheerily down the street, in tandem with you, a frosty breath to your left that scatters and melts into the open air. it smells minty.

today, he’s wearing black shades — like he usually is when you meet outside of work. it’s kind of nice. when you angle your face a certain way, you can almost see the blue pooling in his eyes, the white of his eyelashes.

he’s beautiful. he always has been. but like this, you think his beauty is simply unfair, highlighted by the winter wonderland you find yourselves in. mesmerizing, the red flush of his cheeks, how he hums along to some jolly tune playing from a little corner store further down the street. all bundled up, in a stylish overcoat and a nice scarf, untouched by the snowflakes fluttering about.

protected by his infinity, always. the silly god you call a friend.

he looks content, despite the cold that keeps nipping at your bare skin, smiling widely. blabbing on about the movie you’re about to watch, how he saw it back in high school but never thought it’d get a remake. how his friend thought it sucked but that friend always had bad taste so his opinion is irrelevant. how he has faith that you’ll like it.

(cute.)

distracted by the pretty man so close by, close enough to touch, you don’t look ahead. maybe just a little bit entranced. which would be fine, if you didn’t happen to be walking on the right side of the street —

crashing straight into a lamp post.

”owch!”

it’s sudden. and it’s a harsh collision, enough to leave your nose stinging, an ache that makes you whine. cursing under your breath as you take a couple steps back, hands reaching for the part of your face that took the brunt of the hit.

and gosh, is this embarrassing. you dance on the edge of death for a living, and here you are — whining over walking into a fucking lamp post. because you were too enamored by the beauty of your own coworker to pay attention to your surroundings.

a coworker who is currently looking at you, silently. having failed to warn you in time, stuck in his own memories, caught up in his in-depth, spoiler-filled review of a movie he’s been waiting to watch all week.

for a moment, all he does is blink. long eyelashes fluttering, like a dove flapping its wings.

then he starts laughing.

scratch that — gojo is downright cackling, thoroughly amused by your clumsy mishap, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. laughter ringing out into the cold air, white breaths to compliment the red of your burning ears.

asshole.

with a harsh furrow of your brows, you attempt to look angry; but before long, your lips are curling up. infected by his joy. a soft punch to his shoulder is all you manage, biting back a little puff of laughter. you’re embarrassed.

(so embarrassed you don’t even notice how he puts his infinity down.)

”don’t laugh, you piece of shit!” you hiss, grinning even still, flushing and trying to ignore the curious glances you get from passersby. ”it really hurt!”

but gojo doesn’t stop. doesn’t even attempt to. you think he just grew even more amused, if anything, practically bending over from how hard he’s laughing — clutching his stomach.

”sorry, sorry — ’m just…” he tries to speak, taking deep breaths in between bursts of giggles. ”how the hell — how’d you —”

he stops trying. laughing, again.

and it’s a genuine laugh. a little wolfish, spilling out from his pretty parted lips, showing off his sharp teeth. from the very bottom of his gut, clear and bright, deep and infectious. melodic. shades close to slipping off the bridge of his nose, eyes tearing up behind them. trying to collect himself, muffled giggles turning to soft vapour in the cold air. dimples visible on his rosy cheeks.

and suddenly you can't think, can't speak, can only look at him and wonder how a human can be so very beautiful. how it’s metaphysically possible. like a crushed cluster of stars was given human form, a body of celestial light.

he looks so young, like this. a millenia younger, no weight on those broad shoulders, no immovable wall to separate you both. he looks like one of the guys you used to hang out with in middle school, running through corridors and play fighting and holding back shared laughter in the library. before the bite of the world left a mark in your skin.

he looks like himself. like someone pulled the mask off, and all that’s left is the human. none of the godhood he was saddled with at birth.

while you’re busy staring, gojo finally finds his composure again. wiping at his glassy eyes, a chuckle slipping out here and there. distracted by the breathtaking sight, you begin to forget the sting of your collision — until you feel something warm trickle down your chilled skin.

searching for it with the pads of your fingers, you feel a trail of wetness beneath your nose. and when you bring them down, to get a look, all you see is red.

”ah.”

gojo moves closer. maybe just a little alarmed, by the blood dripping from your nose, staining the white of the snow beneath your feet. a chilling contrast, one you’re frighteningly used to. it’s almost comforting. blood on your skin, that sting of pain clogging up your nose, enough for you to get lost in. colours melting together, memories rising to the surface —

when suddenly, something touches your cheek.

one large hand goes to keep your jaw in place, gentle. smooth leather, sneaking under your chin, lifting your face up ever so slightly. warmth trickles from his fingertips through the fabric, and you can smell a hint of his perfume. strawberries and vanilla.

gojo looks at you fondly. wiping the blood from your nose, smudging his expensive gloves. from this angle, you can see his eyes, a blue shimmer in an evening painted white and gray — the sole flicker of colour in this monochrome city. they’re crinkled at the edges.

he looks awfully amused.

(you stay still, not breathing, like any slight motion could have him pulling away.)

”careful,” he croons. so low you barely hear it, almost a purr. the word has a soft underbelly, something you don’t need to dissect to feel.

a sentiment that seems to simmer in the air around you, drifting past the little corner store, a dog tied to a lamp post, your reddened cheeks. past the blue of his eyes, a peripheral that stretches to cover the city before you. words too heavy to speak aloud.

stay safe for me, silly.

then he’s letting go. sudden, the bite of the air replacing his hand. it lingers on your skin, like a memory, like the ghost of a memory. but it’s there. strawberries and vanilla, leather and warmth. something kind. warm.

and it stays there, even as gojo takes a step forward, no longer facing you. walking confidently, the wind bending around his tall stature. long legs and large steps, leaving an imprint in the snow for you to follow. a northern star.

he turns his head, and grins. hair tousled by the breeze, white locks glittering with snowflakes. ”you coming? it’s starting soon.”

a moment passes.

”or do you need me to call shoko?”

you puff out a breathy laugh, at that, stumbling forward. reaching up to wipe more of the blood sticking to your skin. sniffling, but smiling, teeth peeking out between your lips.

”yeah, yeah,” a roll of your eyes. ”’m right behind you.”

gojo’s eyes crinkle, disappearing behind his shades when he straightens his back and raises his head. moving forward, while you follow; his back turned to you, snowy hair melting into the white all around you. like something out of a painting.

with a pep in step, you catch up to him. eager to hear more of his voice, his memories. still basking in the warmth of his hand on your jaw.

a touch from the untouchable.

gojo’s lying on your couch.

he usually is, to be fair, so it shouldn’t be surprising. kicking his legs up, watching tv — or sleeping, snoring loudly, like the couch belongs to him. like your home belongs to him. like he pays rent, and doesn’t just laze around and devour all the sweets in your kitchen cabinets.

(he’s there so often that you’re starting to wonder if you should give him a copy of your keys, or something. but you have a feeling that’d be just a smidge too intimate for him to ever accept.)

this time, however, gojo is doing neither of those things.

he’s on your couch, but he isn’t manspreading, or draping himself over the leather with a lazy grin. he doesn’t have that air of effortless confidence. and it’s palpable, in the air, the open space, enough that you can feel it. an itch on your skin, a lump in your throat. you could practically feel it as soon as you walked through the door.

he isn’t wearing his blindfold, or his shades. he isn’t even smiling. and gojo is always, always smiling.

you think he might be having a rough day.

even the cats are noticing that something’s off. jumping up in his lap, trying to comfort him, brushing against his legs. purring, when he cradles them close — always so gentle with them. hands petting down their backs, softly, the same hands he uses to rip out the throats of curses and curse users alike.

then they mewl and run away. and for once you wish they wouldn’t, wish they could keep clinging to him like they always do. just to make him feel better. right now, in the state he’s in, you wouldn’t even mind gojo’s usual smug declarations of how does it feel to know they like their papa best?

you can’t help but feel unsure of yourself. gojo isn’t doing anything, and he isn’t saying anything. he’s just lying there, on his back, eyes closed. letting the darkness of the room engulf him. drowning in his own thoughts.

he must know that you’re there. he must have heard you come in. but he isn’t saying anything, and you wonder if that means he wants you to leave him alone.

you’re reminded of that one morning. when he woke up on your couch, and looked more human than you’d ever seen him. how you wanted to avert your eyes, how wrong it felt to see a god rouse from its slumber.

(but you know better now.)

hesitantly, you begin to inch closer, step by step. quiet, floorboards barely creaking beneath your weight. tentative, as you settle down on the couch. brushing against the infinity between you.

gojo’s eyes flicker open. like an old tape beginning to play. they still shine with that same brilliance, they always do, but now you think they look just a little dull. a little red.

a moment passes. agonizingly slow.

before you can properly think it through, you’ve done it. almost on instinct, jumping the gun before he has the chance to cover everything up with jokes and laughter. opening your arms; a silent invitation.

gojo only stares.

his gaze moves down to your outstretched arms, and then up to your face. your pursed lips, nervous eyes, worried crease between your brows. one second passes. two, five. you stop counting.

for a moment, you’re almost certain that he’s about to get up and leave. that he’ll flash you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, walk out the door and then never return. like you flew too close to the sun, just another icarus too mesmerized by the glow of his grin to notice your melting wings. like you stepped over the fragile line that separates his bones from yours, his heartbeat from your greedy hands.

— but then he sluggishly gets into a sitting position, and doesn't look at you.

when gojo collapses into your embrace, you’re so surprised that you almost forget how to breathe. almost forget your own name, forget whose home you’re in, why your arms are wrapped around a pale man. all you can think of is how warm he feels, how he’s like a weighted blanket against you. how he trusts you enough to come so very close.

cheek pressed against your chest, arms loose around your waist. no infinity, no barriers. just a single touch shared between two damaged human beings.

a brief inhale gives you the composure that you need. air flowing into your lungs, your brain, as you settle into a comfortable position. no words leave your lips; you just continue to hold him, one hand on his back, testing the waters. letting him hear the echo of your heartbeat. unsure, the both of you, but something about this feels right. close to right. almost there.

gojo is stiff. when you strain your ears, you hear a sharp intake of breath, and a full body shiver courses through him. a tremble of his spine. like he’s itching to run, like he doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. so painfully unused to a proper embrace.

(a little like a frightened fawn.)

a tender something unfurls within your chest, and you feel almost devoured by the fondness rooting itself into your beating heart. delicate, as you begin to brush away his tousled bangs, leaning close. pressing a kiss to his forehead, glistening with sweat. letting your lips linger on his skin.

he’s pale, shining in the bleak moonlight cast from the translucent curtains of your living room windows. pale like a ghost. and there are dark crescents beneath his dull eyes.

nightmares, you surmise. they haunt him too, don’t they? of course they do.

eyes brimming with emotion, you gaze at him; quiet as a mouse, closing his eyes. leaning into your touch, ever so slightly, breathing out a sigh tinged with pure exhaustion. and a certain realization washes over you, akin to a tidal wave, sudden and inevitable. so obvious it’s funny.

you’re not a god at all, are you?

a coo slips from your lips. barely a sound, more like a soothing breath. warm against his cold skin.

you’re just like everyone else. just as fragile.

one of your thumbs goes to smooth over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. so, so gentle. like one wrong touch could have him crumbling into little grains of stardust, spilling out over the worn leather of your couch.

there are so many things you wish you could say to him. so many things you’ll never be able to say, because you’re afraid that if you give him too much it’ll scare him off. like love could burn him if it were to leak out too fervently. like it’s burned him before.

so you don’t say anything. but you think it, you repeat it inside your mind like a prayer, and some part of you thinks that’s enough. i’ve got you — a whisper that you don't dare to voice.

one gojo still manages to hear, somehow, if the way he tugs you closer and snuggles into your neck is anything to go by. a shaky exhale brushing against your collarbone.

(if you feel something wet touch the skin of your shoulder, you don’t mention it.)

you simply hold him, and don’t even think the thought of letting go. even though it takes him hours just to fall asleep, hours you spend anxiously wondering if he’ll change his mind and pull away. but he doesn't leave, even though his body may want him to, and that's enough, and you don’t let go. not even once. he stays cradled to your chest the same way you’d hold a tiny puppy, something fragile. something you need to handle with care.

and when his heartbeat finally mellows out, when you hear little barely audible snores flow from his lips, you finally begin to relax. melting into the couch beneath you, watching him get the rest he deserves. praying that any nightmares of his will be given to you instead.

sleep comes, eventually, to the both of you. tangled up on the couch, him on top of you, comforted by the flutter of each other’s heartbeat. by the warmth of another human being. safe in each other’s arms.

(the next morning, through hazy sunshine and the clinking of coffee cups, he teasingly tells you that just satoru is fine.)

it’s barely daybreak when satoru wakes you up.

a rude awakening, to say the least. he pulls out all the stops, intent on not letting you sleep even a second longer; poking at your cheek, pinching them when that doesn’t work. tickling you, blowing cold air into your ear, flopping down on top of you like a big dog. anything to rouse you from your deep slumber.

and he just will not give it up. no matter how hard you try to ignore him, no matter how many times you swat him away with your duvet pillow or turn to bury your face into the sheets. that’s how satoru always is, how he’s always been, how he hopefully always will be — an absolute pain. one you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

so, when he starts whining for you to just wake up already, voice tinged with a sadness that tugs at your heartstrings, you find yourself opening your tired eyes. all while he murmurs on and on about something unintelligible, still trying to bribe you.

”i’ll make you coffee, okay? just get up. c’moooon.”

”… what time is it, satoru?” is all you mutter, voice leaving your lips in a raspy, disgruntled fashion. stirring a little at the promise of coffee.

he cracks a grin. ”don’t worry about it! just come with me.”

despite your grumpy attitude, and the ungodly hour at which satoru shakes you awake, you find yourself letting him scoop you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. placing a hot cup of coffee in your hands, made just the way you like it, before grinning mischievously in a way that has you feeling ill at ease.

and ten minutes later, you find yourself on top of a hill. overlooking the woods, and a big lake below you, no city lights visible no matter where you turn — god knows where he’s taken you, but it’s pretty.

breathtaking, even. all frost and wildlife and peace, sweet solitude, tiny flowers blooming on the patches of grass around you. a murder of crows takes flight in the distance, scattering into the indigo of the sky.

gojo grins, boyish and bright, excited breaths turning into vapour as he speaks. awfully proud of himself.

”i can’t take you on vacation, but —”

he drags you with him, arm looped around your own, plopping down on the ground. not before taking off his jacket, to cover the ground beneath you. grass tickles the skin of your palms, as you comfortably spread your legs, making sure to sit as close to him as possible.

and your heart softens a little.

because he’s mentioned it, before; how it’d be nice to go on a road trip, someday, just the two of you. all around the world, wherever the wind takes you. basking in that feeling of freedom. it’s no more than a fever dream, though, with how busy satoru is, the responsibilities you both shoulder.

so this’ll have to do. that’s probably what he’s thinking.

”the sun’ll rise soon. it’ll be pretty, i promise,” he beams, so close that you feel his warm breath on your skin. that you can see the dimples on his cheeks, his barely visible freckles.

”oh, so that’s why you woke me up so early.”

his smile widens. ”nice, right? i wanted to surprise you. d’you like it?”

a smile blooms on your lips, in tandem with his, honeyed and content. indulgent. gojo looks at it, and immediately knows your answer.

”yeah. it’s really pretty out here,” you face forward, taking a deep breath, fresh morning air entering your lungs. cool and crisp, stirring your sleepy mind. ”kinda nostalgic.”

satoru hums, and follows your lead. looking ahead, admiring the beauty of an empty world.

the big lake looks like a mirror, from here, glittering in the peripheral of your vision. the sun licks at the frozen sky, not quite breaking through, not entirely ready to rise — but it paints everything a rusty gold and you can almost feel spring shining through, taste it on your tongue, that promise of something better, something more concrete. a warmth you don’t have to question.

a warmth that’ll stay with you for a long time to come.

it takes about ten seconds for the man by your side to start speaking, again, shattering the peaceful silence. but you don’t mind. his voice is nice, a mellow melody to your morning-fatigued brain.

side by side, you wait for the sun to rise. sharing hushed whispers and laughter, like two kids having a sleepover. like nothing exists but the space that cocoons you, wraps you up in a nostalgia so palpable the entire world feels like a fond memory.

(it makes you feel a millenia younger.)

satoru giggles like a child, telling you about something shoko said, or something megumi did, and you don’t miss a single word that spills from his glossy lips. hanging on to every word he’s willing to give to you.

he looks so unbothered, like this. eyes crinkling, humming some tune you don’t recognize, like a little nightingale ready to take flight into the skies.

you part your lips, admiring his features. every patch of skin you can see. words making themselves manifest, hungry to see inside his brain, to know more about him. a fascination that’s never quite left you — though now you think it may be better described as love. ”hey, satoru?”

at the sound of his name, he turns to you. the weight of his eyes feels so light, like this. those blessed eyes staring into yours. he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips. ”mm?”

”if you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be right now?”

satoru blinks.

he looks at you, a mild surprise flitting through the lines of his face, as he takes you in. measures the weight of your words.

then he smiles, again. lopsided, almost a smirk, rich with amusement. a hum buzzes in his throat, like a butterfly itching to break out.

”.. you teasing me?”

a huff fills the air. ”it’s a genuine question!” you insist, moving your leg to nudge his own. ”c’mon. anywhere in the world. i’m just curious.”

another hum. he narrows his eyes, playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle when that makes you grumble. pouting softly, tilting your head. he’s amused, you can tell.

but he closes his eyes, lashes fluttering, glimmering with morning dew. and you can tell he’s taking you seriously. tasting the question on his tongue.

something shines in his eyes, when he opens them again; crinkling at the corners, soft lines of crows’ feet. you can almost see that burst of aquamarine, breaking through the black glass of his shades. like the laws of physics can’t contain it. and he smiles, as always, a smile so beautiful you wish you could live on the curve of his lips. flimsy, no teeth peeking out, no dimples to admire. but sweet. slathered with honey, as sincere as can be.

his voice comes out a little raspy, tainted with a tinge of fatigue, a smokey residue that sticks to the walls of his throat. but it's genuine, like he just woke up, like he's too sleepy to be dishonest. like every word he says can be no more or less than the absolute truth.

and when he turns to face you, tilting his head enough for you to see that shade of blue you love so dearly, his eyes shine with an honestly so palpable you feel like you’re being devoured.

satoru parts his lips.

”right next to you.”

a moment passes. silent, endless, no sound to be heard but the beating of your own heart.

at last, the sun breaks through that layer of frost, peeking up from the boundary of the world — and the morning begins to thaw. streaks of sunlight cascade down the contours of his handsome face, painting him a mellow gold, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the warmth of his hand finding yours.

for a moment, satoru looks unsure. smile shifting in the light, into something slightly stiff, and you know that means he's nervous. silent, as he wets his glossy lips. pink tongue tasting strawberry chapstick.

then he’s leaning forward.

it’s chaste, the kiss he plants on your forehead, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. but it lingers, even after he’s pulled back — a warmth on your skin. a silent declaration.

he doesn't have to say anything. when you look up at him you can see the red flush of his ears, and when you strain your ears you can hear all those unspoken whispers. the sentiment neither of you will ever have to say out loud, because you know. it’s there. and it means everything.

and you know that for as long as you live, you’ll both have this. one single thread of normalcy, in your unorthodox existences, one single glimmer of something almost entirely good. something that heals, something that isn’t a blessing and a curse all in one. something soft to the touch.

there’s no need to find the right words for it. there never was.

”kinda looks like melted ice cream.”

the words pull you out of your stupor. satoru’s looking at the sky, and you follow his gaze, watching the sunrise in tandem with him.

it’s beautiful. soft clouds melting into pinks and oranges, dappling sunbeams lapping at the trees, a saffron shade washing over the empty world in front of you. a world that may not be so empty, after all, because you hear crows in the distance, and someone’s fishing by the lake, and you think you spot a squirrel in the tree closest to you.

and you have someone, right next to you, right by your side. someone who won’t ever leave.

sometimes, loving satoru gojo feels a little like strolling on the edge of a cliff. like one wrong step could have you tumbling down, a mess of broken bones and unspoken words. but if you do stumble and fall — you know he’ll be waiting at the bottom of the precipice. arms outstretched, wearing that same innocent grin, ready to hoist you both back up.

so you know it’ll be fine.

swallowing down a bout of fresh laughter, like a flower unfurling in your chest, petals brushing against your ribcage, you give in. opting to bask in the moment, in his presence.

”yeah,” you puff out a chuckle, head slumping against satoru’s shoulder. he makes a little noise of approval, and your grin grows. ”it does.”

he doesn’t say anything. smiling, wordlessly, admiring the way the sun kisses up your collarbone. lighting up your face. and you bask in his warmth, how right it feels to be tucked into his side. how safe he feels, even now. how safe you make him feel.

you look at the man to your left, and he looks back at you, and that wonderful unnamed something unfurls inside your chest again. and, without having to speak it aloud, you know it will continue to do so.

many, many years later, he’ll still be satoru, and you’ll still be you. the distance between you will be what it always was; breachable.

and that will be enough.

#someone sedate me i giggled while writing this. im so in love w this stupid weasel #this is rly just my attempt at writing a more canon-aligned gojo and the kinda-sorta relationship i could see him having in canon #i firmly believe that he’d feel most at peace w a love that sits somewhere right between platonic n romantic !!#”me n the bestie <3” (selfie of u wearing matching rings)#its the kinda love that u dont need to label bc its just There. its just love !! a love that comes easy #im happy w how this particular gojo turned out i think!! :'3 hes my lil baby #in other news hes so bambi coded ☹️ i need to nurse him back to health #listen to capable of love by pinkpantheress btw its so gojo to me #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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bcyhoods · 1 month

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WITH FIREWORKS! STEVE

synopsis : after a date at the carnival, steve gives you your first kiss! (prompt: “was that your first kiss?”)

word count : 1.6k

author’s note : repost from my old blog! i fixed her up a little bit, endured changing past to present tense just for you so….

“Those games were totally rigged,” Steve huffs as he prods at the small teddy bear clutched in his hands.

You’re situated on the hood of his car, smiley lips tinged blue thanks to the half-eaten cone of cotton candy in your hands. Steve stands in between your legs with a pout as his free hand rests beside your thigh, finger itching to graze your skin as it taps the metal of his car. The summer sun has just dipped below the horizon, but his face is illuminated by the multicolored lights of the fair behind you. Even with a sullen attitude, he just looks so pretty.

It was only your third official date — excluding the weekly, hour-long visits to Family Video, which Robin made sure to tease him for — and Steve figured it was time to rattle his feathers, so to speak. He wanted to impress you by showing off his athleticism, and carnival games provided an exemplary opportunity to do just that.

He envisioned your arms full and occupied by the array of giant prizes he won for you. You’d watch with an endearing grin on your face every time he beat a game. The night would end with your arms thrown around his shoulders and the perfect kiss that had you both swooning.

With fireworks in the background, obviously.

But luck had strayed far away from Steve Harrington’s side. Far, far away.

“Oh, they were, were they?”

“Definitely. ‘You can only throw it with an underhand,’” Steve mocks the game attendant with a husky voice — a terrible impression, really, but he knew it’d make you laugh. “That’s a made up rule. For sure. I’ve never heard that rule before. Ridiculous.”

The boy sighs defeatedly, letting you take the bear from his hand before running his fingers through his, now disheveled hair. The brown locks had endured the torment throughout the night as he increasingly became more and more stressed. And he didn’t want to admit he was embarrassed, it felt entirely dramatic and silly. But he was, and the way he avoided your gaze while his teeth worried his bottom lip was enough of a tell.

He laughs meekly at himself and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I was trying so hard to win one of those gigantic bears — too hard.”

You hum as your eyes scan over the stuffie. It was no bigger than the length of your hand. Its body was stiff and straight and a tuft of cotton spilled out from under its right arm due to a couple frayed stitches. The ribbon around its neck was barely being held together with a glob of hot glue.

“I like this one, it’s cute.” At his scoff, you double down, “I’m serious! It’s got a lot of charm to it. It’s perfect.”

You move your attention from the bear to Steve only to find that he’s already looking at you. His gaze is incredibly soft, smile lines decorating the corners of his lips as his tongue is coyly tucked into his cheek. His eyes are brimming with love, you think you might burst the longer they’re on you. He finally lets himself graze the skin of your thighs as a subtle thank you. The attention was all-consuming, it made it hard for you to focus. It was hard to do much of anything really, with him looking at you like that.

Quickly, you clear your throat and look up into the sky in abrupt thought. “I think I’m going to name him…Eve.”

“Eve? Eve the bear?”

“Mmhmm,” you affirm with the wave of the cotton candy, “Eve ‘The Bear’ Bearington.”

A huff resembling a short laugh leaves his mouth as he drops his chin down. Lowly, he mutters, “You’re unbelievable,” before looking up at you again with a doting grin. He moves to shake the bear’s hand gingerly, holding it between his thumb and his index, and bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Eve. You’re looking a little rough, bud. Bad hangover?”

You scoff and protectively pull Eve into your chest as if it were a child. The chuckle that reverberates through his chest encourages your heart to dither as heat rises to the tips of your ears. “That was very rude, Harrington,” you reply, feigning shock while trying to fight off the smile creeping onto your lips. It doesn’t work.

“What? No, Eve didn’t think it was rude. I’ve been there before, I’m sure he appreciates my empathy,” Steve argues, eyes momentarily flitting to the cotton candy that sat untouched in your hand for the past few minutes. As he nonchalantly stretches his hand out to pull a piece of the sweet, you move your arm out of his reach.

He glares at you with a tilt of his head. You raise your eyebrows to challenge him.

“Bullies don’t get sweets.”

A small gasp emanates from him before his lips are twisting into an impish lopsided smile. He tsk’s and takes a small step back. “Well, that’s too bad…because it just tastes so,” he looks away innocently, “…much,” he pauses.

”…Better!” He lunges forward earning a yelp from you as one arm wraps around your waist while the other moves to grab at the cotton candy. His fingers curl into your sides, eliciting a fit of laughs and giggles to fall clumsily from your sugar-coated tongue which makes it that much harder to fight against him.

Albeit, you don’t cease, pushing against his shoulder and still trying to stretch your arm as far away from him as possible. But it was no use as he slightly lifted you up off the car for just a moment to pull you flush against him. Your legs reflexively wrap around his hips and once you drop the bear, your unoccupied hand grips a handful of his polo for stability. The action had taken you by surprise, being too distracted to push him away when he ducks his head down to take a bite of the candy floss.

“Yup, just as I thought. Ten times better,” he preaches, letting it dissolve on his tongue to savor the flavor.

You’re sure you look a mess. Your eyes must be glazed over complimented by your lips still parted in shock. Your chest is rising and falling in a quick, inconsistent pattern as you try to collect yourself. Again, Steve has thrown your train of thought completely off course.

“You suck,” you manage to say. It was a lame attempt at an insult. But the words were practically dripping with adoration, all he could do was smile.

“Yeah?”

You nod meekly.

You’re certain he can feel your heart thumping wildly against your ribcage, certain that even through the background carnival noises and both your uneven breaths, he could hear it, as well.

And despite being so sure of your dumbfounded expression, Steve thought you looked so beautiful like this. In disarray, your sweater fell off your shoulders to hang loosely on your arms and your hand is holding his shirt so tightly like it was a lifeline. His eyes dart to your lips to trace over your cupid’s bow before glancing back up to find your eyes.

And you thought he looked just as pretty. His nearness was entirely disorienting. You could smell the saccharine hint of stolen cotton candy mingled with his ever-prized Calvin Klein cologne. His hair had fallen handsomely over his forehead. The moles and freckles scattered across his face are more fascinating than ever as you count them until you reach his lips. How soft and inviting they looked.

You’re so completely enamored, you don’t even register when he leans in, brushing his lips against your own in a feather-light kiss. Your breath hitches in your throat and before you can even bring yourself back down to earth, he begins to pull away.

“Sorry, I thought…”

He moves to step away from you, but your legs tighten around him to keep him in place as your fingers wrap around the wrist on your waist.

“No! I’m sorry, I…it was nice, it’s just I haven’t…I mean, I’ve never…” You swallow down a lump in your throat as you feel your eyes start to water.

The second you glance up to gauge his reaction, you regret it. You watch his eyes widen in realization and feel his grip on your waist go slack. Hiding your face behind clammy hands, you groan and drop your head to his shoulder. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“Was that your first kiss?”

You nod timidly, dragging your hands down to your lap to wring out your fingers, your gaze immediately following. And Steve is not malicious, he’d never laugh at you, but you feel just a little mortified that you froze up.

“Hey,” he cooed, delicately cupping your cheek and lifting your head. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.” The words are hushed and soft, a sweet reassurance that causes your insides to melt.

“Was it…was it good?” he asks.

The question makes you giggle, “I dunno, I didn’t really get a chance to return the favor.”

He nods, the beginnings of a wide smile slowly making its way onto his blushing face. “Right…do you maybe, wanna try again?”

You mirror his expression before you’re the one leaning in this time, a kiss that he reciprocates feverishly. His lips slot against your own as his arm tightens around your waist once more. Your fingers dip into hair and he hums against you at the feeling before pulling away.

You giggle at the dazed look on his face and his kiss-bitten lips.

“How was that one?” he asks, eyes shamelessly journeying over your face.

“It was perfect.”

#the return of eve ‘the bear’ bearington!!#ᝰ cece’s scribbles #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things #joe keery

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ohnoitstbskyen · 2 months

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I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

#tb answers #hazbin hotel #character design

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animeshotsh · 2 months

Text

Life in heaven | Various x Kid!Reader |

Alternative universe and events - How does kid!reader live in heaven -

Kid!Reader has their memories from their life in earth and hell erased. They only know their name and that they died.

Emily its the one who shows them around, she is soft, friendly and wants to help kid!reader adapt to heaven life. She notices how confused they are so it makes her personal mission to help this soul.

She felt a bump in her heart when they took her hand and called them "big sis" because something in the back of the mind of Kid!reader tells them Emily reminds them of someone.

When showing around heaven Emily ends introducing him to other winners, Kid!Reader has to do a double check in when they notice a pink and white winner....

Emily decides Kid!Reader must meet Saint Peter.

When meeting him Kid!Reader stood there not saying anything, making Peter sweat, Kid!Reader its stuck seeing the blonde hair and light blue eyes.

Next thing they know Kid!Reader has jumped into Peter's arms and huggs him like their afterlife depends on it.

After it, Kid!reader wants to stay at the gates with Peter. No one knows why, and they tell them, they need to rest.

"Then, i will be back tomorrow"

And thats what they do. Its a routine now, when a new winner arrives Kid!Reader its on Peter's shoulders welcoming them. Sometimes Peter has problems fiding the name of the newcomer so kid!reader helps him.

Peter smells like cotton candy and Kid!Reader never tried it before. Peter takes a few hours free to go and enjoy some with Kid!Reader

When walking around heaven Kid!Reader avoid the exterminators, specially one that has no arm and gives them the most cold look ever.

Emily seems to have a sixth sense because she is there to back them up and take them to a safer place.

Emily does not know who kid!reader was in hell, only some high rank angels does, thats the reason they removed their memories and they feel shame for kind of sent a kid to hell when they did mean to go to heaven.

One day Emily tells kid!reader she wants them to meet a centrain newcomer.

Sir.Pentious almost faints when seeing you. But he soons sees that you dont remember a thing and its devasted because of it. He adopts you as his new lil relative. Uses his tail to carry you around, buys you sweet and does go with you to visit Peter.

He also begs that you can live with him (something you accept a full floor was making you feel lonely) and Sir.Pentious its in cloud nine.

The first night he ends cuddling you with his tail. He knows how much you mean to Charlie and the rest, so he is going to protect you and care for you from now on.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Down in hell

Charlie has been depress since you died, Vaggie has tried to cheer her up, to make her continue her dream.

"How can i offer salvation when they killed (Y/N) like they were nothing? They dont care about us"

Lucifer has go back to his castle where he passes his time making ducks, crying and playing the violin. He stares at the photos he took of you and cries more. He cant forgive himself for letting you die.

Alastor its like his old days. Hunting whoever and whatever comes near him. He causes chaos in the city. Decides that he had enough of the stupid TV specially when they show footage of his fight and your death. The empery of the V's its destroyed in one day, and Alastor gets stronger after he consumes their bodies and souls.

No one can mention your name. No one can enter into one of your rooms. They are devasted and broken.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #sir pentious x reader #Emily x reader

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tojisun · 5 months

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i love bimbo!reader!! <3

she is smart too, just a little ditzy! she’ll hyperfixate on the most random things, like maybe she knows a lot about penguins! and simon is just listening to her ramble on and on about them with a goofy smile on his face because he loves his girl so much :)

YES!! oh my goddd!! anon my beloved u understand <33 hhhh i love bimbo!reader so much!!

its- i feel so happy writing her yk? shes so refreshing; she trusts simon to steer her when she gets floaty in her mind, trusts that simon doesnt judge her — and he doesnt!! — and just overall is such a sweet girl. she loves having fun, loves having cute things. she loves her man the most.

and just. the episode about penguins was on in animal planet and then you went n researched everything you can. sat in front of simon and started rambling, “they secrete oil from their tails and they spread it all over so they keep warm, aint that so sick, simmy!? the males gift their female partners with rocks as courting gifts, and the female can choose to accept it — which i guess then shows that she’s letting him know that he can keep courting her? — but not just that! the female uses the rocks to make nests! they’re also usually monogamous and, si, get this, some penguins choose to… kill themselves if their mate dies.” simon’s gotta pull you to his lap and comfort you because you’re all teary-eyed and upset about that. he rubs your back soothingly and tucks you underneath his chin. you snuggle to him, long acrylics bunching his jumper in your fists as you sniffle.

and god the way you take care of simon lots!! make a new skincare routine for you and simon when simon’s back from deployment. the two of you end up smelling like peach and cotton candy, soft skin and glossy lips.

or just the way you spoil your kitten. buying mittens (your cat) little soft jumpers for winter or new chokers that don’t jingle because the vet told you that mittens’ ears are sensitive.

just. bimbo!reader <3

#anon #ask #smthn about bimbo readers girliness makes me so happy #simon ghost riley x reader #bimbo!reader #suns

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jacqlovesxiao · 1 month

Text

Right in the Ferris Wheel?!:

Scaramouche smut is back again!!

Seems like Scaramouche couldn’t resist taking you right then and there in the Ferris Wheel, oh my… (College au, praise kink, public sex, slight degradation kink too, word “daddy” is used thrice to address Scara, dom!scara, sub!female!reader, spanking, doggy-style, !!Scara and user are both 20!!)

Pairing with your classmate for a field trip to the amusement park, Scaramouche, wasn’t so bad after all. The both of you have tried out so many things like the ring toss game, shooting games, Whac-A-Mole and even eating a huge cotton candy! Winning prizes like a huge pink teddy bear, a black bat that represented Scaramouche and lastly, a mole with a silly grin spread across its face. Now, the last on the list was the Ferris Wheel which was the one you were excited about since you could see a breathtaking view of the whole amusement park from above.

Though, Scaramouche did confess to you earlier, realising that he was in love with you after spending half a day with you at the amusement park. He didn’t expect to have this much fun with you, and you had to admit, you didn’t either. So you accepted his confession and returned it, nodding as a sign that you’d now become his lover. Arriving at the entrance, you quickly snatched a Kuromi and Melody plushie when the attendant mentioned they were the last two on the hook for free. Chuckling, Scaramouche praised you for your quick instincts and thinking, accepting the Kuromi plushie that you handed to him because it apparently represented him more than the Melody one. Cute, now you’re matching with your boyfriend!

The two of you boarded the cart, you sitting on Scaramouche’s lap as he pulled you down while he sat on one of the seats, both of the plushies sitting on your lap. Once the Ferris Wheel started to move, you looked in awe at the breathtaking view of the whole amusement park from high up, relishing in the vibrant colours and the crowds of people. Though, you suddenly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt something poking your inner thighs. Then, a blush crept up your cheeks as well as a tiny, soft gasp escaping your throat when you realised what it was. Was Scaramouche seriously hard right now? But oh, if only you knew the thoughts running through his mind right now. He wanted to bend you right over the seats and take you right then and there, perhaps a quickie in the Ferris Wheel wouldn’t hurt, right? No one could see the both of you because the windows were built with a special type of glass, no one could see you two from the outside while you two could see from the inside. Besides, you were wearing such a short skirt, how could he resist?

————-SMUT!!—————

Scaramouche let his hands wander all over your body, feeling every curve through the fabric of your skirt. The sights of the amusement park was nothing compared to the thrill of having you squirming on his lap. Your soft gasp was music to his ears, and you could feel his cock twitch in anticipation against your inner thighs. “Fuck, love, you feel that?” He whispered huskily, his breath hot against your neck. “That’s how hard you make me, just by being this close to me.” His fingers danced up your thigh, teasing the hem of your skirt, his voice dripping with desire. “You wanna play a riskier game than Whac-A-Mole, sweetheart? ‘Cause I’m game for a round of ‘hide the cock’ right here, right now.”

Scaramouche’s hands were bold and unapologetic as they slipped beneath your skirt, his fingertips lightly brushing against your panties. “Look at all those people down there, clueless about all the filthy things we’re gonna do up here in our little sky-high fuck pod.” He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle… At first. But you and I both know you’ll be begging for it harder by the time this ride is over.”

With a deft movement, Scaramouche pushed your panties aside, his fingers finding your wet, ready pussy. He teased your clit with a rough stroke, his other hand gripping your hip to pull you closer against his throbbing erection. “Shit, you’re soaking through your cute little panties,” he hissed, pleasure lacing his voice. “You want my cock that bad, huh? Want me to fuck you right here, with all these people below us none the wiser?”

Scaramouche didn’t wait for you to answer; the hunger in your eyes was all the confirmation he needed. Lifting you up slightly, he unzipped his pants with his free hand, freeing his hard cock. With a swift movement, he guided you down onto him, his eyes locked with yours as he filled you completely. “That’s it, ride me just like that,” he urged, his voice a low command. “Bounce on my cock and make those plushies dance.”

Each movement of the Ferris Wheel mirrored the rhythm, the cart creaking softly with the combined movements. Scaramouche’s breaths were heavy, mingling with your gasps as the both of you moved together in a frenzied, covert coupling. The thrill of the potential exposure only intensified the experience, each thrust a promise of pleasure and danger, passion soaring as high as the wheel itself. “Fuck, you feel so good, so tight around me,” Scaramouche panted, his grip on you tightening. “I’m not gonna last long with you clenching around me like that, darling. But let’s see if I can make you cum before the wheel goes down, hm?”

You moaned, leaning forward to rest your arms on the opposite seats as you arched your back, riding Scaramouche like there was no tomorrow. You could feel his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you, his thick length completely filling you up. The plushies rested near your arms on the opposite seats too, their innocent expressions a huge contrast to the passionate lovemaking. Your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the space of the cart, the windows fogging up with the intensity of the passionate lovemaking. Your breasts bounced with each and every thrust through your top, the sight heightening Scaramouche’s arousal even more, your hips moving and grinding on top of him. He could see the way his thick length showed through your tummy as a bulge, the way your walls tightened around him whenever he praised you.

“Oh, God, Scara… More, fuck me harder, faster, make everyone know who I belong to. I’ll be so fucking good for you, I’ll be a good girl. Make me scream your name in this Ferris wheel, cum inside me and mark me as yours. Please, spank me, Daddy.” You managed to choke out between your moans, your voice cracking into a plea. Your walls clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth, signalling your incoming orgasm. You continued to ride him relentlessly, your ass bouncing and jiggling against Scaramouche’s pelvis. You’d gasp every time he squeezed and spanked you, Scaramouche was an ass guy, so the sight of your ass cheeks already reddening beautifully with his handprints was so fucking hot it threatened to push him over the edge as your grip tightened on the opposite seats. Your flexibility was a god-sent, your legs embracing Scaramouche’s hips as you arched your back. You would for sure have a hard time sitting down now! Not that you were complaining, of course…

Scaramouche's eyes darkened with lust as he watched your body move in rhythm with his own, your moans a siren's call drawing him deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The sight of your tits bouncing through your top, straining against the fabric, was enough to drive any man wild—and Scaramouche was no exception. "Shit, you're such a filthy little thing, aren't you?" he snarled, his hands moving to grip your hips, guiding your movements to meet his fierce thrusts. "Begging for it, just like a good slut should. You think you can handle me going all out? 'Cause I'm not holding back anymore." With that, he started fucking you with renewed ferocity, each thrust punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. The cart rocked violently with the movements, the Ferris wheel oblivious to the carnal act taking place within.

"You want to be spanked, huh? You want Daddy to turn that pretty little ass of yours cherry red?" Scaramouche’s hand came down hard on your cheek, the sound echoing in the small space, your skin stinging delightfully from the contact. "That's right, take it like the good girl you are. You're mine, sweetheart, all fucking mine," he growled, his voice laced with possession. As your walls clenched around him, he could feel your orgasm approaching fast, your pussy milking him like it was made for his cock alone. He reached around to your clit, rubbing it in rough, fast circles, determined to send you over the edge. "Come on, baby, cum for Daddy. Let go and let everyone hear who owns this tight little pussy," Scaramouche commanded, his fingers working you mercilessly. "Scream my name so loud that everyone below wonders who the fuck is making you lose your mind."

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your back arching as you screamed his name, the sound of your pleasure filling the cart. Scaramouche wasn't far behind, feeling his own climax building at the base of his spine. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna fill you up so good," he hissed, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a few more powerful strokes, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his load, marking you as his with each spurt of cum.

Breathless and spent, the two of you clung to each other as the Ferris wheel continued its lazy rotation, the outside world none the wiser to the debauchery that had just taken place. Scaramouche nuzzled into your neck, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Best fucking ride of my life, indeed."

————-THE END————

Jacq’s notes: helloo, sorry I haven’t been posting much lately I’ve been rlly busy with my work. Thanks for reading till the end, the next fanfic might be a possible Xiao one so please don’t hesitate to request. Until then, stay tuned sillies :3

#genshin impact #dom scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #sub reader #sub!reader #dom!character #scara x reader smut

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jihyoruri · 2 months

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↳❀warnings: yn is a member of lesserafim, this is the yn from paparazzi(firecracker!yn) you can find more in the masterlist, fluff, swearing

as hanni let out a deep sigh, the warmth of the sun enveloped her, its rays gently caressing her skin. she laid on the soft grass, feeling its coolness beneath her, contrasting with the warmth above.

looking up at the vast expanse of the sky, hanni noticed the clouds drifting lazily by, each one taking on a unique shape. some resembled fluffy pillows, inviting her to rest her head and drift off into dreams. others were long and wispy, like tendrils of cotton candy stretching across the blue canvas.

a gentle breeze brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers from a nearby garden. hanni closed her eyes, allowing herself to be fully present in the moment, soaking in the sights, sounds, and sensations of the peaceful afternoon.

birds chirped melodiously in the distance, hanni felt a sense of calm wash over her, the worries and stresses of the day melting away in the embrace of nature.

she loved days like this

“this is so fucking itchy.” yn grumbled, scratching at her arm as she lay on her stomach beside Hanni. despite noticing her discomfort, hanni couldn’t help but smile at the cute scowl on the girls face.

hanni, always the nature lover, had convinced yn to join her for some outdoor relaxation, promising a peaceful afternoon in the sun. but the reality of itchy grass was proving to be a challenge for yn, whose hotheaded nature made her intolerant of such annoyances.

yn had reluctantly laid down on the grass next to hanni, knowing how much it meant to her, but not without a string of curses muttered under her breath. she tried to focus on the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the sky, but the itching was driving her mad.

hanni glanced over at yn, amused by her girlfriend's predicament. she reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from yn’s, smiling when the girl didn’t move her hand away, “wanna get up?”

“no, I know it’s relaxing for you, I’ll live.” yn says moving to lay on her back, her words make hanni’s heart feel full and she smiles wide, “that’s so cute of you.”

“shut up.” yn grumbles.

hanni chuckled at yn’s grumble, finding her girlfriend's stubbornness endearing. she watched as yn shifted to lie on her back, trying to find a more comfortable position despite the itching grass.

"you're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" hanni teased, nudging Yn playfully with her elbow.

yn rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips but she immediately erases it "says the one who dragged me out here in the first place."

hanni laughed, enjoying their banter. "I just wanted us to spend some peaceful time together, away from the chaos of our schedules."

"yeah, yeah, sure, you're just obsessed with me," yn teased, trying to hide the warmth that spread through her cheeks at hanni's affectionate words

"maybe I am," hanni replied softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement and love.

"shut up," yn grumbled, but there was no real heat behind her words. she was too busy feeling overwhelmed by the depth of hanni’s feelings for her.

hanni laughed at yn's reaction, finding her girlfriend's embarrassment utterly adorable. "I'm just agreeing with what you're saying," she teased, reaching out to playfully tousle yn's hair.

yn swatted hanni's hand away, trying her best to hide her smile, “yeah, well now I’m saying shut up.”

hanni grinned, feeling a surge of affection for the girl in front of her. She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from yn's face, her touch tender.

"you're so cute," hanni said, her voice filled with affection, causing yn to feel a mix of embarrassment and warmth.

"I'm actually going to fight you,"

hanni laughed at yn’s playful not so playful threat. "aw, my taekwondo champion," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

It was true; before becoming an idol, yn had been a taekwondo champion, and hanni loved teasing her about it.

“I will take you down right now.”

“you would never, you love me too much.” hanni says flashing a smile.

yn didn't respond, but the truth in Hanni's words was undeniable, so all she did was shove hanni’s shoulder lightly, which made hanni let a giggle at the girl.

"I wonder if your members know about how soft their hotheaded yn is for me," hanni teased.

"I am not soft!" yn protested.

hanni laughed, reaching out to gently poke yn's side. "you are! you're all tough and fierce on the outside, but deep down, you're a big softie for me,”

yn doesn’t reply and hanni couldn't help but laugh in victory, pleased with her teasing. she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to yn's cheek, causing the girl to scrunch up her face in mock annoyance.

"hey, none of that," Hanni teased, lightly poking Yn's cheek. "You know you love my kisses."

“you love me so much, you’d change your sakura unnie photocard at the back of your phone to one of mine.” hanni says confidently as she picked up yn’s phone and looked at the photo card of the eldest lesserafim member but yn just side eyes her.

“too far, I don’t love you that much.”

#firecracker!yn #new jeans x reader #hanni #hanni pham #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader #lesserafim #new jeans #new jeans hanni #girl group imagines #girl group fluff

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maxellminidisc · 2 years

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Love "Aurora" by Jonghyun cause my synesthesia is like YES BLLISSS!!! SOFT PINKS EVERYWHERE!!!

#its like super soothing #i also see colors with textures which might be why a lot of my work has texture even when im not trying lol #so just very soothing shades of pinks with touches of light purple and it looks like cotton candy almost when youre just starting at it #if i get really into it I basically feel like napping inside a big fluffy pink cloud in a way?#really cool i love that song so much #another song of late thats really fun to see is yeowoobi by onew #its so spikey and weird its like gun metal grey and black silvers with touches of almost neon green #i listen to that one pretty regularly cause its such a cool color and shape #its like a mix of industrial pallets and the soft texture of graphite #i should start painting this shit honestly lol

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harrysonlylover · 10 months

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Could you do something with sub!harry sucking on y/n’s nipples and rutting into her so she pulls down his boxers and fingers him making him even more crazy

Needy Boy*

In which your boyfriend is feeling needy.

Trope: Any boyfriendrry AU

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: fingering (m receiving) , titty worship basically

Main Masterlist

Saturdays are reserved for lounging in bed and cuddling with your lover.

To be precise, all of your days consist of cuddling and melting in each other’s touch at any given moment, whether it be in the morning as the coffee aroma from the shop down the street sneaks its way inside your window with Harry’s legs intertwined with yours. Or in the afternoon when he presses himself against your back as you cook a meal for both of you.

But you must admit that your favourite ever is walking around in your shared bedroom doing mundane routines, then cuddling in bed and whispering sweet nothings along with small stories you share with each other.

You had already brushed your teeth earlier and washed your face, you’re just resting in bed and stretching your limbs as you wait for Harry who offered to wash the dishes on behalf of you despite it being your turn.

You were rummaging through the novel Harry bought you when he twisted the doorknob and quietly shuffled his feet inside. He tipped you his baby smile that you never get tired off as you opened your arms for him to nestle in.

“I’m checking out this book you got me” He hummed as you took note of his startled expression when he set eyes on your laying body.

With the ongoing heatwaves it was impossible for you to wear something that is long or thick. Besides your breasts have been feeling sore for the past two days which required wearing your comfort flimsy cotton shirt paired with one of Harry’s new unworn Calvin Klein boxers.

He was never one to shy or hide his obvious staring, he proved to you on many occasions how obsessed he is with your body, let alone finding you laying like that half naked in your shared bed.

You made some room for him, and he didn’t waste time in resting his head right above your sore breasts causing a hiss to come out from your mouth. He is aware of your mild pain and immediately pressed a soft kiss to your nipple above your shirt muttering a low ‘sorry’.

You swiped your hand through his curls and began scratching his head, you could’ve sworn he was purring like a cat but again that’s your Harry who would sell his soul for some scratches. His soft chocolate curls covered your fingers as you gave him a relaxing head massage working through his scalp.

Your other hand held the book as you read the lines of the first chapter. Harry’s leg was draped above yours and his crotch was pressed into your hip. He was humming in approval and rubbing the side of your waist with his thumb.

Just as you got to the third page you felt him shifting and pressing himself further into you as if he’s able to morph your bodies into one. His hand sneakily found its way under your shirt while his fingers slowly danced along your bare soft skin.

You didn’t comment on his actions knowing damn well that he has this tendency to touch you 24/7. He has an urge to always have his hand on you or kiss places you can’t even reach.

But most importantly he did express his utmost devotion to your breasts. He was a boob guy and you can’t really tear him away if he decides to have some fun.

Your mind was busy with thoughts about him that you didn’t notice how your shirt is now raised above your breasts exposing your chest as Harry stared with eager puppy eyes at your sore swollen tits.

“I was... th-thinking maybe I could help with the soreness.” He couldn’t hide his eagerness no matter how much he tried. His suggestion is like a kid attempting to strike a deal with his parents for candy.

How could you look at his baby face and refuse?

You smirked and took off your shirt, throwing it to the side with the new book as you shifted your body and guided your nipple to Harry’s mouth watching him immediately latch on it.

His face of content was to die for. He started sucking on your perky nipple and wrapped his arm around your waist bringing you closer to him.

Despite feeling a bit sore, you always got better when Harry sucked on your tits. The graze of his teeth and the warmth of your tongue mixed with your pain kink can make you go brain dead.

He eagerly drooled as he moaned and switched from one nipple to another while you tugged at his hair letting out shallow breaths. His grip on your waist got firmer as his chest heaved with need for keeping his mouth close to your bud.

“M-more… more.” He whined wrapping his mouth your extremely swollen and red nipple before sucking harshly making you let out screams of pain and pleasure.

You laid there on the bed as your head turned from one side to another with your legs spread as an instinct, while Harry licked at your wet nipples like a hungry primal man. He shifted his body and was now rutting into your clothed pussy making you feel his extremely hard cock.

He kneaded one breast while sucking on the other like his life depended on it. He barely stopped to catch his breath resulting in loud panting mixed with whining and moaning.

If you pulled his head right this instant you’d be met with his puppy eyes, swollen raspberry lips, wet chin and whiny sounds for daring to separate him from your bud.

He continued grinding on your pussy and biting at your erect nipple. The feeling alone made you arch your back and join his whimpers. As painful as it may sound there was nothing more erotic than your boyfriend being obsessed and drunk on your boobs.

“Wanna suck.” He frantically kept switching from one bud to another afraid that he’ll miss out. He’d also massage one breast and pinch the nipple while he sucked on the other like newborn babies do.

“Oh baby you’re so hard. Want me to play with your bum?” You felt his cock twitch at your question as he nodded feverishly afraid to detach from your nipple.

Your chest was rising up and down due to his neediness and his lips’ attachment to your breasts. You shakily took off his sweats and boxers with one pull as your heels dug into the mattress from the pleasure he’s giving you.

You managed to snatch the lube bottle that is luckily near you on the dresser and squirted a good amount on your fingers, before asking him to spread his legs more so you could have better access to his hole.

He complied immediately and you’re genuinely not sure how you were able to move or speak as the biting and sucking on your puffy nipples made you whiny. You’re pretty sure he’ll be leaving red marks for you to see tomorrow.

Although you’ve pegged him countless times and played with his bum, even watched him get fucked in threesomes. You always wanted to make sure he’s prepped hence the lube.

You slowly pushed a digit inside his tight hole feeling him immediately clench around you and pull your finger in.

“Fuck babyboy.” Besides being infatuated with boobs, he was a whore for getting fucked in the ass. You only have one finger in and he’s already pushing his ass against it while latching on your bud.

You pushed another finger in that slid easily as you began fucking him slowly hearing the wet sound of the lube and his loud moans.

“Getting fingerfucked and sucking on my tits even if they hurt me. You just need someone to play with your cock and you’d be over the moon.” He pushed his face even deeper into your chest as he tried to hide the blush creeping up on his cheeks but not forgetting to fuck his ass against your fingers.

You curled your fingers inside his hole making him arch his back and bite roughly at your nipple as he whimpered and began to sweat.

“I feel full.. w-wanna cum.” His bare cock was twitching and leaking on your thigh as you moved your fingers in and out of his rim making him drool over your tits then lick it all up with his mouth connected to your bud as you swiped your hand through his hair and fucked him with the other.

“Cmon baby just lay there and suck.” You pushed his head into your chest and picked up the speed of your thrusts feeling him whither beneath you and beg you to continue as you reached his spot.

“Yes there- fuck me” You reached your other hand to stroke his rock hard cock as his eyes rolled to the back of his head eliciting high pitched moans from his throat.

Although you were extremely wet, you knew that you won’t need any rubbing or fingering to cum. Just having your boobs sucked on and played with, along with Harry rutting into your crotch and fingering him was enough to make you cum without any contact. It was a “gift” you had considering some can’t cum even after being touched.

You and Harry’s brain went numb in the next few seconds. It was truly an erotic scene from a third point of view. Your body completely covered by your boyfriend whose lips refuse to detach from your swollen tits as your fingers fucked his hole mercilessly with your other hand stroking his thick hard cock.

Harry’s whines were needy and pathetic as he let out incoherent words about cumming making you grind harder and him and deepen your fingers inside his ass. It was no surprise that you came from doing that alone besides having your tits sucked on.

Harry probably made it known to the entire building that he came with his loud moans and whimpers as he ejaculated on your thighs and leaked on the sheets but continued to slowly push his ass against your fingers.

You gently removed your fingers and laid in bed as you and Harry tried to catch your breaths with his mouth still so close to your breast.

“This reminded me of the fun we used to have with others.” His ears perked up at your words which wasn’t a surprise knowing how much he loves submitting his body to you and other people.

“We could do it soon.” You removed some of the curls that fell on his forehead and pressed a long kiss to his forehead.

“Of course baby but for now, let’s clean up.” You suggested to urge him to get up as he gets sleepy after cumming.

“Can I stay latched to your nipple as we sleep? Please?” He asked with a low eager voice and hidden puppy eyes.

“Hmm you’re so needy.”

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Divider from @firefly-graphics

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