Piscesatthesea - *°☆•°

lets love the flowering trees with papa

werewolf!konig x human!fem!reader pt4

series masterlist

18+ minors dni!! if you have no age in your bio i will block you immediately, no excuses.

this one is 3.1k!!! ayyy part four y'all!!! hope ya like it cause i've been getting lots of messages and asks abt it!!

-konig finds himself frozen when you pull back after he kisses you, replaying the moment over and over and over in his head and he doesn't notice you're walking away until it's too late and you're almost out of the clearing

-he's on a high for the next few days, strutting around and grinning wildly, stupidly happy about everything because he kissed you, and you seemed to like it

-the first day after, he keeps touching his lips

-he can't help it, he's working on fixing the creaky front gate for the cottage and he's so distracted his mind is just filled with the memory of your soft lips on his and he keeps brushing his fingers over his mouth, trying to almost recreate it

-he touches himself every day, too

-promises himself he wouldn't but fuck, he wants to kiss you again so fucking bad, wants to kiss down your jaw and your neck, suck on your pulse point and scent you and bite down and worship you

-but he can't, so he settles for rutting into his hand and palming himself through his sweats, tightening his hand around his knot and breathing in your scent as he comes

-after a few days though, he's antsy

-he keeps fidgeting, he can't keep still, he keeps looking around and searching the trees as if you're going to walk out of them and greet him with a kiss, even though you're not due here for a few more days yet

-konig is restless toward the end of the week and he spends most of the time in wolf form, using the energy to hunt more and more, earning a couple of questionable looks from price as he drags yet another animal carcass into the den for the other wolves, before slinking off into the forest to hunt again

-he's just so hungry, but nothing seems to be satisfying him. he knows what he wants though, what he needs, he just needs to touch you again, to be close to you and feel you and scent you

-so that's why when you walk into the clearing again finally, konig can't help but envelop you in a tight, warm hug again

-he doesn't let you go for a long time, just staying there in the front garden of the cottage, swaying a little with you safely in his arms and breathing you in once again, letting his eyes close and pushing his nose into your hair

-eventually he lets you pull away, but keeps his hands on you because he just can't bear to not touch you after a whole goddamn week pining and yearning, even more than usual considering your kiss

-and that happens to be why he can't hear anything you're saying, just staring at your mouth as you talk about your week and your day and your job and everything

-of course, he's not being subtle at all so you notice, and konig only startles out of his trance when your mouth stops forming words and instead curves up in a grin

-sheepishly, his eyes raise to yours again and his cheeks warm, pressing his lips together as he tries to put last week out of his mind and pay attention to you properly, tries to tell himself he will treat his mate properly, he's not some mutt who just discovered how his dick works and needs to hump everything in sight

-but then

-then you take a small step forward into him and his eyes widen, and you just go 'can I kiss you?'

-and konig doesn't think he's breathing anymore, nodding almost violently and not daring to blink in case you disappear somehow, heart beating out of his chest when you smile even wider at his response

-just like last time, one hand comes up to cup his cheek and one rests on his chest, and he swallows nervously as he realises you can probably feel his heartbeat and how fucking fast it's racing under your touch

-he stays stock still as you lean in further, not wanting to scare you or disrupt the moment in any way shape or form, and then your lips brush his and he lets out this almost pathetic little whimper, immediately losing himself and propelling forward to bruise his mouth on yours

-he vaguely registers a yelp of surprise from you, but he's far too preoccupied to analyse it properly, too distracted by your plush lips on his and the taste of your mouth and how much stronger your scent is

-he kind of forgets you both have to breathe as well, and whines when you pull back to gasp in oxygen, raising a hand to cup the back of your neck and pull you in again, licking greedily into your mouth and groaning when you moan in response

-konig also doesn't realise that he's basically pushing his hips into yours either, until your hands push lightly on his chest and he separates your mouths with a heaving breath, staring hungrily at your pink and swollen lips, slick with spit bcus fuck he's a messy kisser-

-one of his hands grips your waist tightly, fingers flexing with restraint every now and then, his other hand still on the nape of your neck and it is so fucking difficult not to just pull you back and kiss you until neither of you can breathe at all

-but he sees the look in your eyes, the little bit of hesitancy there and a pit opens up in the bottom of his stomach, so worried that he's taken too much, so scared that you meant on the cheek again and he's somehow forced you into this and-

-you manage to stop his worries, just going 'i'm-i'm sorry i'm not quite-i don't think i'm ready yet-still-for-for that-'

-the timid statement is punctuated with a glance downward, to where konig knows he's definitely tenting his sweatpants, and he grimaces at it, shifting his hips away slightly and cursing himself for making you believe he was angling for that

-not like he would ever deny that and fuck he is literally gagging for it, but he would never force you, he wants you to take the initiative for that, he needs it to be your choice not something he pushes you into

-so he shakes his head vehemently at you, desperate to make you believe he would never force you. he hates it when you make those types of comments, it hurts him, honestly, the way it seems like you've had experiences like this with people who didn't care for you nearly as much as konig does

-he reassures you as much as possible, loosening his grip on you and trying to comfort you as best he can that he would never, it's always your choice he would never make you do something you wouldn't want to, especially with something like this, he just wanted to kiss you very badly but he can stop if you want him to (though his heart aches at the thought)

-that gets a giggle from you, a little chuckle that has his brows furrowing in confusion, and you clearing your throat and smoothing your features before going 'like horny teenagers? like we're in the back of your truck in a layby somewhere?'

-unfortunately, the barrier between human experiences and konig's werewolf upbringing is still rather large and he's never been more confused in his life, gaping at you before gingerly reaching a hand up to poke through your hair, feeling for horns

-when he doesn't find any, he's even more confused. he takes one of your hands and raises it, still with that adorable clueless look on his face, to brush through his hair, then dropping it and shaking his head lightly, confirming 'no horns' to you and wondering what the hell you're going on about

-and of course, you're speechless for a couple of seconds before turning and doubling over, deep laughter bouncing from you and making his cheeks warm

-he's still unsure of what's happened, but he likes that he's somehow made you laugh like this, vowing he's going to try and do it as much as he possibly can from this day forward

-after a few minutes you straighten up again, wiping your eyes and coming back to stand in front of him, putting your hands back on his chest and chuckling through your words as you tell him you'll explain another day, but for now, you definitely feel the same you also want to kiss him very badly, so maybe for the near future you guys can just do that and ignore the..other parts?

-it seems to be all the encouragement he needs because he lurches forward before you even finish speaking fully, capturing your lips a little awkwardly for the angle

-another little yelp of surprise comes form you before you pull back again, leaving him whining and chasing you until you're almost bent backwards

-you manage to squirm from his hold though and stumble a few steps backward, laughing at his forlorn expression and tugging on his hand until you're both stood in a pretty patch of the garden, near some beautiful flowers and where a warm ray of sun always hits it

-konig just stares at you with so much fucking affection in his gaze it would be impossible to deny him anything-he's got the puppy dog eyes down to a science

-so you kneel on the ground and tug on his hand to get him down with you, and he has to try and discreetly adjust his sweats as he sits cross legged

-it doesn't really work, and when he looks at you again with his face burning, he finds your gaze fixed on the explicit outline of his cock straining against his sweats, which makes it twitch a little and his face gets even hotter, knowing there's no way you didn't see that

-but then your gaze snaps up to meet his and your cheeks are a little pink as well, giving him a bit of relief as he realises he's not the only flustered one here

-and then your face is crinkling up in a sweet smile, his favourite sight in the world, whispering a small 'hi' through a chuckle at his face, and he has to jolt forward again-forceful kisses seem to be his preference

-and that's how the rest of your day goes, pretty much just making out with konig like you're a couple of horny teens who've snuck out of the house

-occasionally you pull back to catch your breath and he takes the opportunity to ask more about you, desperate for anything he doesn't know already, that he hasn't manage to find out over the past couple of months

-and then he won't be able to resist, he'll have to lean in again and catch your lips. he's not the best kisser in the world, inexperienced as he is (you're his first kiss, would you believe) but he's so eager for it. wolves don't do it, they don't kiss like this and he wants more so badly

-naturally, the next couple of times you visit are spent the same way, sitting comfortably with konig in the garden, with him exploring your mouth and barely letting you breathe in his haste to get his mouth on you again

-it's getting harder and harder to let you walk off every week now, like part of him is missing each time, like you carve a bit of his heart out and take it with you. but no, he won't push, he won't press, so he lets you go even though it physically pains him

-he hates that usually by the evening on the days you leave, his lips aren't swollen anymore, he can't taste you any longer and it always leaves him whimpering as he mournfully searches for where your scent is strongest that day

-after a few weeks of this, you lead him inside instead of sitting down in the garden like he's expecting again

-you lead him over to the sofa and konig is having a hard time breathing properly, feeling like his heart is about to burst out of his chest and land in your lap

-of course, you just make out for a little while again and he's so stupidly happy, so satisfied and warm and he can almost ignore the throbbing of his cock

-and then you pull back and stroke his cheek with your thumb, mumbling that you want to show him something, try something on him you don't think he will have done before if that's alright?

-konig's eyes are so wide at this, swallowing and nodding intently at you, scared to move too much in case it jostles your hand off of him or makes you move further away on the sofa

-but instead of moving away, you use your hand to tilt his chin up and you place a soft kiss just under his jaw, and he gasps

-cause fuck, you were right, he's never experienced this before and though he's seen humans do it, he didn't know it would be like this, he's seen other wolves nuzzling in the neck and flank of their mate but this? this must be a million times better

-and his eyes feel heavy and he's wondering how your kisses could feel even better than this, so he almost loses it when you open your mouth a little and suck

-a sweet little half gasp half whimper escapes him when you keep sucking, flicking your tongue over the spot and sucking harshly once before letting go with a wet pop

-when you look at him again he's staring at you in wonder, breathing heavily and eyes all wide and there's a wet spot above the head of his cock

-when your eyes flick between his face and the wet patch, he smiles sheepishly at you and you hesitantly ask if he-did he-did that make him-is that wet patch from-

-and he's shaking his head at you, trying to reassure you that he can last longer than that, that he can please you if you want him to it wouldn't be over that quickly he promises!

-he's greeted with a slightly curious, slightly wondrous look at his face and back down to the tent in his sweats, and a confused question about the wet spot being just-is it just like...all precum...? bcus it's-well-that's a lot-

-and he nods happily at you, not noticing that it's not exactly...human

-it is a...lot, of precum, a hell of a lot. it literally looks like he's already come-

-and he doesn't get what your curious look is for, what you're so confused by, does this not happen to human men? do they...produce more? less? is he abnormal? do you not like it?

-he's busy contemplating this worriedly and almost doesn't hear your next question, which would have been a tragedy bcus it makes him lose his mind a little, the way you lay a hand on his thigh and quietly ask to...look

-his breathing almost cuts off as he stares at you, and it must look like hesitation because then you're cursing and stumbling over your words, trying to rationalise it by saying you wanted to know if that part of him was wolf like too or compatible with humans, he has a tail so why would that not be different-but of course if it makes him uncomfortable you don't have to you can leave if he wants-

-his hands finds yours and squeeze them tightly, licking his lips and trying to contain himself at least a little bit

-he doesn't really trust his voice though so he takes one of your hands and just leads it to his waistband, nodding at you again and smiling shakily

-konig thinks he's going to lose his sweet mind when your trembling fingers pull at his waistband and slowly inch it down, the material chafing over his sensitive cock making his hips buck a little and making him clamp his lips together

-he's fighting to remind himself nothing is going to happen, it's not a sexual situation, you just want to look at him and see what his...anatomy is like

-there is a little sneaky voice in the back of his head that reminds him he could have just told you that he's in human form of course he'll have a human dick, and that there's been multiple human and werewolf pairings in the past who faced no problems-apart from size sometimes when the wolves got too close to transformation

-but he can't listen to that voice, he pushes away the guilt at not simply telling you and shame pulses through him, but you want to look at him, his mate wants to pull down his sweats and he cannot for one second find it in himself to stop this from happening

-with another shift of your hands, his sweatpants are pulled past his cock and it bobs in front of your face, thick and heavy and throbbing for you

-konig watches you hesitantly slide your hands up past the material of his sweats and settle on his spread thighs, your touch light but curious, and he can't stop his shaft jerking, precum dribbling from the slit and dripping down the side of his length

-and fuck, you lick your lips as you watch him

-konig whines at that, forgetting he's trying to keep quiet so he doesn't scare you off, and his head falls back on the sofa, cock jerking again as it pulses out more and more precum for you, a steady drip that wets his shaft and pools in the hair at his base

-his eyes are so heavy at this point and he's blinking sluggishly, unable to think of anything but his pretty pretty mate staring at his cock and licking her lips as she does so, so it takes a little while for your words to get through to him when you start talking again

-eventually, he registers you telling him that normal human men don't produce this much it's not...it's slightly odd but not unappealing!! it's just a different sight, one you're not used to-

-with his chest heaving and his breathing ragged, he manages to reply and tell you he didn't know it wasn't normal, it just always happens so that he, or his species, are able to prepare their partners properly, to ease the slide of their cocks into them

-with great difficulty, he manages to lift his head again, cheeks bright red and mouth open and eyes dark, breathing shakily at the sight of your face so close to his member and your hands on his thighs, and he informs you that also-also helps with-to breed your mate-

want a part 5??

plz plz comment or reblog if you liked this cause likes don't share work unfortunately!!! <3333

tags!

@mehidontknkw @0-ramen-0 @divine--serenity @oobeesstuff @beeding @radiorainy @jasmineandmatcha @traurig-maus @potatoknight @ilivefircidmen @ang3lsp0re @ultrahugakitten @jinuaei @poohkie90 @barbiepink6 @skelletonscloset @spookiedghoul @lantanaaa @purpleflamebluesparkles @bookobsessedram @lungrot @bewitching-lavender @soft-pwincess @tunnel-snakesss-rule @deatoldstar @gummyfang @paranoid-borderline-insane @cassiecasluciluce @cumikering @kenz-ee @Nanamis-bunny @rockcollector3000 @rilamon @keenzinemugstudent @jinuaei @mery-side @tumblinginoz @thesoundofrayne @jasmineandmatcha @marriedtoeddie @vscojoon @ghostslittlegf @that-fangirl-1106 @konigs-whore @lexi-zsy09 @coldhologramcrown @raventrancy @squidsal @nanasnook @channelsoph @perfectus-in-morte @chainsprophet @transopossum17 @iluvoaldmen @thatmusedhatter @happyxdayxbitch @deatoldstar

SEMMM !! what are you thoughts on hard dom villain zuku ?? 🥺 he makes my pussy cream <33

i want to write an entire series on this bc there’s stages, i feel

at first, you’re collateral damage—some friend of a friend of a hero. you’re bait. tied up to some villain lair chair all pretty. he probably thinks you’re stupid for trying to fidget free. even if you did, he’d just toss you over his shoulder and drag you back.

but then, you won’t shut up. you’re chatty when you’re nervous. asking deku all these questions about where he’s taken you, his villain name, his suit—you’re dumb if you think a little conversation is g’na stall him of what he plans to do with you. but in the least, he’ll entertain you. but it’s more like he’s entertained by you.

mmm thinking of something like beauty n the beast—he’s had you in his clutches for a while now. you rarely see him, but when you do he treats you fairly well. he’s not violent—with you, at least. but you’ve seen him trudge in covered in blood and muck. you’ve, by complete accident, you swear, seen deku rip his suit off and let the water rinse him clean.

he’s not violent with you. but he is dastardly. you fight often, both of you get heated so quickly. and it’s his villain instinct to antagonize you. he’s mocking. he’s cruel. it makes you want to hit him. and maybe one day, you do—uncontrolled, seething, your hand’s slamming into his cheek before you even know it.

n’ then it’s his turn—wild green eyes and a grinning mouth are all you see. his hands wrap around your wrists, n then back, back, back. he’s folding you down, holding you still beneath him as he mounts you. that’s the first time you realize how much strength he could lord over you, if he really wanted to.

things take a nicer turn when he comes stumbling in after a particularly bad ass whooping. and, while watching deku grunt and growl in pain brings a smile to your face, something soft in you wants t’help him. so you do. coo at him real gentle while slathering his cuts in alcohol, heh. it’s supposed to be a small justice for your dislike of him—but this is when it strikes you that he’s a marvel. a sight to behold. you’ve been holding your breath since you realized how much bandage it takes to fully wrap around his stupid arm. the expanse of his back, the thickness of his waist—nearly every inch of skin covered in scars and scratches.

you’re so painfully attracted to him. the worst man on earth. what does that say about you? and even still, you can’t help the way your mind drifts. when the two of you are alone—it’s hard to not think of what he could do with you, what you want him to do with you. by your lonesome, in the dark of night, your fingers wander—pinch at your nipples and rub sweet circles into your clit. mouth opened in silent pleads for izuku to come do it for you. his hands are bigger. his fingers are thicker. rougher. he’d feel so good.

n’ while you put him back together (he never really fell apart), deku revels in everything you give him, even if it hurts. eyes fluttered shut under the soothing press of your little fingers against him. he adores your attention. i’m sure of it, as touch starved and lonely as he probably is. and he knows you’re talking to him, your nagging swirls in the back of his mind. there’s so much of you to focus on, to enjoy for himself.

even on his deathbed (not really) he’s still so condescending! doesn’t even spare you a look when he sighs, “can’t you tell daddy’s too tired to talk right now, sweetheart?”

i hate him <\3

i think the fucking wld happen gradually.

the first time, he comes home crazed and desperate. stalks around until he finds you in his room, on his bed. not doing anything particularly incriminating, but then you let it slip that you’ve missed him. you’ve been missing him. and you can only gasp when deku gets a hand on your pants and tugs em up to your knees. you roll back as presses his other hand against the back of your thighs, keep your legs in the air—out of my way.

being vulnerable like that, it makes izuku wanna ruin you.

gahhh deku moans when he gets his first taste of you. mind cloudy with the quirk of some stupid villain he had a scuffle with—because everyone has it out for the number one. heroes and criminals, alike. his body’s on fire and all he can think about is you. you, in a hundred different positions, making a hundred different faces. nose scrunched up and mouth watering with drool while izuku drags his cock in and out of you. on your side, your leg raised up to his chest like an animal. on your back, ankles over his shoulders. on your tummy, hips reared back like you’re in heat.

izuku makes you cum in his mouth until fat tears roll down your cheeks. until you’re tugging at his hair n’ trying to roll away—and even then, izuku catches you by the hip and licks you out just like that, while you tremble on your side, torn between bucking down against his face and writhing up to escape the merciless sucks to your clit.

then he’s dragging you to eat it from the back. then, he’s sitting you on his face. deku holds you still so he can eat in peace, and if you try wiggling away, the palm of his hand smacks right along the curve of your booty—fast, and hard, and cruel. and he’ll keep spanking you until you settle down >:(

it’s baby steps with him, i think. weeks after weeks of bein’ defiled by his tongue in so many different ways. n’then he works you up to bein’ split open and stretched on his stupidly big fingers. takes a while before he’s ready to fuck you. call it chivalry, if you will.

h-hard dom deku does have some toys for you, though 🥺 likes to mess around with bondage, i think..

My dearest love(AO3) has gone of to war(server maintenance), and I fear I shall never see them again(it’ll be up again in a few hours)

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on. 

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend. 

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned. 

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast. 

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up. 

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek. 

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand. 

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway. 

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that. 

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake. 

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.” 

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit. 

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself. 

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness. 

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench. 

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him. 

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.” 

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself. 

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with? 

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him. 

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded. 

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings. 

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too. 

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well. 

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend. 

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings. 

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted. 

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself. 

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on. 

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole. 

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands. 

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know. 

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn. 

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff. 

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away. 

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here. 

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him. 

“why did you leave me?” he asks. 

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists. 

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love. 

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days. 

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly. 

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out. 

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead. 

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head. 

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying. 

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight. 

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper. 

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.  

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray. 

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion. 

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could. 

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt. 

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you. 

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating. 

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known. 

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him. 

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

he looks like he works with his hands (part 2/2) | part 1

pre-outbreak!joel miller x reader | 2k words

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v sex, size kink, joel has a big d!ck, breeding kink (it’s me like come on), from the back, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, dumbification, reader is down BAD, it’s just p0rn no plot i fear

your back bounced against your soft mattress, the lamp in your room illuminating joel’s face as he stared down at you, unbuckling his pants. you were adorned only in a crop top as joel pulled down his jeans and it felt like hours passed by before joel was leaning over you in his boxers. your hands found the hem of his shirt tugging at it and joel removed it in one swift movement. you gasped, your cheeks impossibly flushed already as your eyes roamed his bare chest. the hair on his chest made you dizzy, your hands pressed against the firm muscles and softness in places. it felt like heaven touching his bare skin, and joel couldn’t even begin to understand the adoration in your eyes.

“did you think about me over the years?” joel growled out, when your small fingers brushed his nipples. the incessant thought that you had wanted him for years was burrowing a deep hole in his brain and even if he didn’t admit it, his heart. joel pulled you out of your head, his thumb brushing the skin of your hip, lighting your skin on fire. the man had just eaten you out like a starved man but the gentle touch alone made you squirm.

“more often than not.” you whined out, arching into him as his hands cupped your ass, his rough hands held on tightly, as if you were going somewhere. joel slapped your ass lightly, asking for more, wanting you to spill the dirty secrets of your little crush. “i thought about you at night, mostly,“ your words fell dead on your tongue as joel groaned at your words, his eyes narrowed as he shoved his boxers down and his cock slapped against his stomach. it was too big, there was so much of it, your mind raced with thoughts that made you flush further.

“did you think about me when you touched yourself sweetheart?” you nodded, your mouth watered at the sight of joel’s huge cock lining itself up with your entrance. joel could imagine it, your smell pretty fingers fucking into yourself as you whined his name out, he felt his ego boost at the image. his dick twitched as he swallowed down the need to make you his, as if you hadn’t been for the past couple of years. your eyes widened at the sight.

“joel s’too big.” joel’s grip tightened at that.

“you can take it darlin’, i’ll go slow.” he reached for your bedside table, seemingly looking for a condom and you shook your head, tugging on his strands.

“no, wanna feel you.” joel thought he might just cum from the words spilling out of your mouth, or the whine to your voice, or the dazed look in your eyes. he was losing his patience. he swiped his tip along your entrance, collecting the arousal that was forming again and you whined at the feeling of his thick head grazing your clit. joel was seeing stars. he pushed the tip in and your cried out his name, reeling for the stretch of his thickness. joel let you get used to it, pressed kisses to your cheeks and whispered encouragements, “good girl, you can take it, doing so well for me.” you felt your heart swell at his encouragements, it helped you relaxed as you nodded for him to keep going.

joel moved slowly, pushing inch by inch, praising and guiding you through it until his tip kissed your cervix and you groaned at the feeling. you were so full of him, you could feel his veins, could feel him pulsing and desperate to move within you. as he dragged against your walls, it felt he was molding you to his shape and it made you dizzy. you pressed a chaste kiss to joel’s lips, “fuck me joel.” and joel didn’t hesistate before pulling out and fucking back into you, robbing the air from your lungs as your hands flew from his hair to his shoulders. he fucked into you like he’d die if he didn’t turn you into jelly underneath him, every time his head brushed against your cervix or touched that spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

joel was losing himself to the way you were sucking him in every time we fucked into you, like he was in danger of ever wanting to stop. you were so fucking tight, surrounding him and he could feel you practically dripping onto him, coating him with your need for him. he was brutal as he set a pace that made his balls slap against you, the room filled with obscene sounds. you clung onto his back, your hands slipping as he began to sweat. you were crying out his name every time he made your back arch, you felt close again. finally when joel pressed a kiss to the side of your head you came around him, clenching and suffocating joel, making him groan at the feeling. the feeling made joel lose control and he stuffed himself into you, filling you to the brim as he came. he was coating your walls, making you his, when he moved to pull out, your nails dug into his back, holding him there and joel fell a little bit in love with you.

even as you slowed your breathing you wanted him inside, you loved the feeling of being filled by him, never wanting it to end. you hated the fact that his cum was spilling out, coating your thighs but it was better than being empty. joel’s arms were getting tired from holding himself over you and as you came back to your senses you moved to shove his shoulder, joel didn’t know what you wanted until you shoved him onto his back. joel had no doubts, he was in love.

you frowned as more cum spilled out of you in the movement, but you let yourself slowly sink down on his cock, not being able to take it all even now. joel could feel his own cum spilling over his cock and he threw his head back, not able to understand how he had never experienced anything hotter than this in his entire life. joel propped a pillow under his head and brought his knees up, against your ass and you put your hands on his stomach for support.

“go on sweet girl.” joel murmured watching your pussy stretch around him as you sank down more. your back arched at the feeling, you had lost count of how many times you had come. you wanted more, you wanted joel to fill you up so you could leak his cum for days. you were probably losing your mind but in your haze, it was the only thought you could make out. joel watched as you ground yourself on him, cum spilling out every now and then, joel wished he could take a picture to make it last forever, wished he could record the noises you were making so he could listen to it whenever he wanted. the scene in front of him was making a familiar heat crawl back into his stomach, his dick twitching inside and your movements halted. joel watched as you looked down at him with a smile on your lips, he didn’t answer you just reached out to two fingers and wiped up the cum dripping down your thighs and tried to push it back inside you. you whined at the feelings of his thumbs against you, joel smirked.

a few more desperate movements made him hard, you gasped at the feeling of him so deep inside you you felt tears sting your eyes. joel tapped your thigh that was straddling his own, silently asking you to move. obedient as always, you moved slowly up and down his cock, your legs aching at the feeling. joel could see you losing your strength, his fingers shoving more cum back inside, before he planted his feet on the matress and fucked up into you. you cried out his name, your hands flying to his hips to found yourself as you felt him fuck his cum deeper inside you. “fucking insatiable.” he growled out as you arched your back and felt yourself grow close again, clenching around him.

“come with me darlin’” you nodded, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers. it was such a sweet act in contrast to the sinful image in front of joel he didn’t think he’d ever forget you. you were ingrained into his memory, like his first kiss or his first heartache. he fucked up into you, spilling into you even more and you let him fill you up, beaming at the fealing, joel’s free hand found your clit, using the mixture of his cum and your arousal to lubricate his fingers as he massaged it.

you twitched at the feeling and like it was the only word you knew you moaned at his name when you came, slumping forward, cum spilling onto both of your bodies. you groaned at the feeling and joel laughed at your reaction, you both were sweaty and filthy but it didn’t matter. joel pressed a kiss to your head, bringing up your intertwined hands to kiss your fingers and you melted into him. although joel appreciated your soft and warm body against his, he wanted to clean you up before you slept. he gently moved to his side, brushing your hair out of your face until you peeked at him. the warm smile on his face gave you butterflies.

“gonna grab a towel to clean you up,” you nodded slightly, letting him go as you removed your hands and joel left after covering you with a blanket. if he kept treating you like this you might never move on from him. after what felt like hours, joel returned with a towel, water, and back in his boxers. although the last part was a little disappointing you thanked him as he cleaned you up and let you drink the water.

as if he wasn’t already the best partner you’d been with, he helped you change even asking you where your pajamas were. when joel didn’t make any motions to leave you felt yourself your throat close, were you about to cry? oh god you were truly gone for him.

joel got under the blanket and you turned fully towards him. you wanted to say something, wanted to confirm this was real, that it would be real when you woke up, but you couldn’t find it in you. joel could see doubt and fear swimming in your mind, could see the storm brewing behind your eyes. but he thought you were regretting this.

“we can pretend this never happened,” it was more of a question and you swallowed down the anxiety that spiked from his thought. you controlled your voice as spoke next.

“do you want to?”

“no” joel didn’t hesitate, moving closer to you by a fraction and it was all you needed, your anxiety vanishing like that. a small smile creeped onto your lips and slowly joel was starting to understand.

“i don’t either, you’re stuck with me miller.” you said before you moved closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. joel let himself get lost in your taste, for the first time he felt like there was no rush. he had time with you.

taglist: @jasminedragoon @brie-annwyl @graciebeanss @carlottalhn @xxlilyxx90 @queerponcho @teenageloser28 @mxtokko

FEELS GOOD TO BE THE BAD GUY

ft. baji, taiju, ran, draken

tags. basic smut, mention of cervix fucking, size kink, mention of blood + fear play, slapping

note. hii i finished my exams yesterday more time to write 😚 title from peaches by kai

BAJI

keisuke never thought about his physicality until adulthood. until he really looked in the mirror and saw himself. sharp teeth and sharp eyes and all sharp angles. like he could eat a pretty lil thing right up. he’s the big bad wolf, it’s no wonder girls get a little scared of him— his brutish ways, heavy hands and bruised knuckles. his ma taught him to treat girls delicately, but sometimes he doesn’t mean to get so rowdy. laugh so loud. kiss so rough. fuck so hard.

but you - well you like ‘em a little mean. you’re softer than the breezy linen you wear, sweeter than that strawberry lipgloss you don and prettier than any jewel that twinkles on the chain adorning your neck. today, you’ve switched it out for something else, and as he fucks you - mean and hard and rough and passionate all at once - his initials glitter against your skin. the golden letters of ‘BK’ clatter into one another as your tits bounce up and down with the force of his thrusts.

his pace is relentless, cock throbbing and pulsing as it kisses your cervix. the pain is honeyed but the pleasure that comes with being stretched and stuffed full beyond your limits, his calloused fingers on your clit. there’s no need to worry when it comes to you. keisuke knows you can take whatever he dishes out.

TAIJU

there’s something therapeutic about watching your tits bounce up and down as you struggle to take taiju’s cock, thighs quivering as your hands grip onto his broad shoulders tight. he’s laying back, enjoying the view, a soft grunt escaping his lips when you sink down to take him fully - you whine sweetly, and he drinks the noise in like it’s nectar straight from the gods.

you’re tiny. the more he looks at you, the more his disbelief settles deep inside - your cunt gaping as it takes him. but he likes this. likes being big and strong and hard to handle. taiju finds satisfaction in the struggle you face when fitting his cock into your little hole, or even sucking him off - to get past halfway is quite a feat for you. it’s this carnal desire that fuels his need for you, and when he’s able to watch you - the fire is quelled, the hunger satisfied.

“tai…ju…” even his name is hard to utter in this state, and it’s cute, when you need his help - some assistance as your legs have gotten tired and you’ve gone back to being his lazy little princess.

RAN

justification is not needed when it comes to ran. he does bad shit for the sake of it. he can’t explain it. he just wants to do it cause he can. and then it’s you— and then you give him meaning. make him feel all mushy and gross, make him feel like a big, strong man when he holds you at night.

“you’re scared of me, aren’t you?” ran asks when he looks into your bambi eyes, wide and watery, lashes fluttering and wet with tears. there’s blood dripping down his temple, some on his fingers, there’s no sign of injury so it’s someone else’s.

“i’m not,” you shake your head, retaliate in your shaky voice and allow him to undo the crushed velvet ribbons which hold the front of your nightdress together. “i love you.” you add quietly, a soft sigh falling as his blood-stained fingers find your bare cunt, the pads of his fingers pressing to your slit and circling your clit.

“you’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” ran whispers, but the way your pussy clenches around his ringed fingers is enough of an answer.

DRAKEN

“you’re not a bad guy at all,” you reassure ken almost every night, when he silently wonders if he is simply not good enough for you - you’re the beauty and he’s the beast. he feels as if he might crush you with a single touch. as if he should treat you delicately. “I love you, ken,” you coo, and tug him to lay on top of you.

you don’t mind the weight - in fact you seem to enjoy it. your lips are swollen when he pulls away from a kiss, spit dripping down your chin - and fuck, you’re already so ruined. you don’t mind when he gropes your tits a little too harsh, you moan sweetly and your toes curl and you beg him to do more. hit you more. slap you and throw you around like a doll.

and who is he to say no? what you ask for, you’ll get. draken no longer frets over hurting you, instead you take it like a good girl, knees pulled to your chest as his cock pounds into your - the wet slap of his balls against your cunt.

fearless 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which satoru makes you a little more fearless 

an: no one will stop me from writing satoru one shots based on taylor swift songs. no one. 

- 

You watch the manager get in her car, waving her goodbye as you sit on the bench. You pull out your phone, shooting fast text messages to all of your friends. It was time for this godforsaken night to be over. 

satoru. favor pls pls pls. 

beg :P 

i was on a date but i got stood up. i need a ride back home and shoko has night shift :0 

alsoooo….the restaurant closed and i’m kinda standing alone in the rain :( 

wtf. address. omw now. 

faster. im freezing to death as you speak. 

stfu. 

You can feel the rain coming down harder as time goes on and you huddle under the wall of the building. You’re trying to avoid getting wet or contracting hypothermia in the twenty minutes it will take Satoru to get here. 

The rain is…surprisingly refreshing. You can see puddles forming in the divots of the pavement, the glow of the sign overhead reflecting in them. The air smells clean, the streetlights making the entire road glow. If your date had actually showed up, it could make for a very special memory, like the Notebook or the Titanic. You could walk in the rain, hand in hand getting drenched and jumping in the puddles. 

See. This was your problem. You curse your sweet little romantic heart in moments like this. It would kill you one day. The real world is not like your romance novels. Or your favorite movies. Or the songs you love to listen to. 

In the real world, people don’t respond to your texts, they leave you stranded at a restaurant in the middle of a god damn monsoon. People don’t ask you on dates, or spill coffee on you in restaurants, or stay in love with you after years of dating. 

You shake your head, dispelling the thoughts from your mind. You’re not going to think about that tonight. 

You see a car pull into the parking lot and recognize it immediately. The black car has music blaring from it, the front bumper entirely gone. When you told Satoru he needed to get his driving under control since he’s driving two kids around all the time, all he said was “hot girls can’t park” in response. 

Satoru smacks the door shut, an umbrella in his hand. You watch him run over, noting that he was in a fancier outfit than usual. He pulls you under the umbrella, the two of you standing closely underneath it. 

“Well, there’s hardly a point for that now.” you say, looking up at the umbrella. 

“You could have checked the weather forecast and kept an umbrella with you.” 

“Victim blaming is a horrible look on you, Satoru Gojo.” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes as he secures his arm around you, leading you back to the car. 

“I’m glad to see your horrible night has done nothing to kill your attitude problem.” 

You ignore the comment, ducking into the car. It’s nice and toasty, the heater being cranked to the highest setting. Satoru runs to the other side, jumping into the car as well. He backs out of the parking lot, the two of you heading home. The two of you drive in silence for some time, the only sound being Satoru’s music blasting from the stereo. 

“So…you were on a date?” 

“Well, he didn’t come. So no, I wasn’t on a date.” 

“Shut up. You’re so annoying.” 

You smile, putting your hands under your thighs to warm them. 

“But actually. You’re dating again, Y/N?” 

“Trying to. Figured it was time to get back out there and all.” you whisper, the car enveloping in silence again. Your head mulls over the events of the night again. 

You got ready. You took out your nice curling iron, spent an hour on your makeup, and took out your best party dress. All to sit in the restaurant eating the free bread and eating dinner alone. 

“Sometimes, I think I expect too much. I’m too shy to love for real.” 

“What do you mean, Y/N?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not making any sense.” 

“Tell me what comes to mind. I’ll piece it together, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling the blood pulsating in your neck. 

“I just…want love so bad. The real kind. Like throwing pebbles at the window, stereo over your head, running to the airport, dancing in the rain, kind of love. But, I’d never really do that. I’m too scared to say I want that and too much of a coward to actually do it myself. I just wish someone would come around who wanted to do it all with me.” 

Satoru is quiet, his hands still placed on the steering wheel. He doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched. 

“Nevermind. I’m being silly, Satoru.” 

At the sound of your dismissance, he stops the car, pulling it over on the side of the road. You turn your head, confused on why he was stopping in front of a Walgreens that was already closed. 

“Satoru. Why are you stopping?” 

He looks over, his eyes peering into yours. His hand reaches for the stereo, turning the volume all the way up. You’re about to protest but he jumps out of the car before you can. He’s standing outside in the pouring rain, getting drenched. You scoot over to his seat, rolling the window down to talk to him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you nearly scream, the sound of the rain and the wind obscenely loud. 

“Get out of the car, Y/N!” 

“It’s pouring. And my clothes will get wet.” 

He leans over the side of the car, his veiny hands resting on the window you opened. You look down, the water tracking into the side of his car. You look back up, his eyes boring into yours. You’re unable to place the look in his eyes. 

“Get out. I’m not asking. I want to dance with you, right here and right now.” 

He pushes off the car and extends his hand out, the rain pouring down on him. His hair is a matted mess, his shirt sticking to his torso. Fuck it. You peel off your jacket before joining him in the rain. 

The drops are cold against your bare shoulders, the curls you spent hours doing wilting in the rain. You put your hand in his and smile, the water dripping down both of your faces. He spins you around, holding you against his chest. 

He hands you his phone, placing his head on your shoulder to look at the screen with you. 

“Pick the song, peaches.” 

You turn your head, his lips a few inches from yours. 

“Peaches?” 

“Your shampoo. It smells like peaches.” 

You nod, turning back to scroll through his phone. You can feel his arms snaking around your waist, holding you tight against his back. You pick the first song you can find - Lover by Taylor Swift - and press the button. 

You can hear the opening notes start to blare out of his car. Satoru snatches his phone back from your fingers and spins you back around to face him. His hands readjust to interlock with yours. The two of you take turns spinning each other around and swaying in the rain, the song whistling in the back. Satoru tries to dip you and horribly fails, the two of you nearly tumbling onto the pavement. 

“Okay, maybe I’m not the best at dancing, but the thought is still there.” 

You laugh, your cheeks sore from smiling so hard. You slow down your swaying and press yourself against Satoru, digging your face into the crook of his neck. You feel like your heart is about to burst. You could die right here, in Satoru Gojo’s arms. You feel him slow down at the contact, his hands pressing you even closer into him. 

The two of you sway in silence, enveloped in each other’s embrace for what feels like a long time, before you break apart to actually go home. You move first, murmuring how Tsumiki and Megumi were probably worried sick. He responds that they could care less but heads back to the car nonetheless. 

You settle back into the car, the two of you tracking rain all over his seats. As he backs out, he interlocks his fingers with yours, squeezing your fingers twice before driving on. You lean your head against his shoulder, his minty smell overwhelming your nose. 

When he pulls into your driveway, the two of you get out, the rain finally stopping. There are puddles in the pavement as you make your way up the driveway, you and Satoru stomping in them on your way up. You can’t tell if you’re trembling from the cold or from his hand in yours. 

He stops at your porch, turning back over to face you. 

“Did you want to come in? I can find a change of clothes.” you whisper, breaking the silence. 

He shakes his head, grinning at you. 

“Kids are waiting at home with Nanami. I’m sure he’s already pissed at how long I’ve been gone.” 

You smile, nodding at his words. His hair is damp now, lying messily against the top of his forehead. You resist the urge to reach up and touch it. 

You’re not sure what it is, maybe something in the air but…you want to kiss him. You want to kiss Satoru Gojo, right here right now. Drenched from the rain, freezing cold, on your dingy ass porch. 

You ignore the shaking in your hands and swing your hands around his neck, your faces inches away from each other. You can see the hesitance in his eyes, the confusion at what you were doing. 

You close your eyes and lean forward, sincerely hoping he won’t reject you. And just like you wished, he didn’t. His plush lips press against yours, his hands snaking around you to pull you closer. He tastes sweet, the mint you were smelling earlier present on his lips. He breaks apart, pressing soft kisses all over your face - the side of your cheek, the bridge of your nose, the top of your forehead. 

You’re interrupted by Satoru’s phone ringing, Nanami’s contact flashing against the screen. Before Satoru can speak, you shake your head, telling him to head home. He presses another peck to your lips before leaving. 

You lock the door behind you, flicking on the lights as you head up to your room. As you peel out of your soaked dress, you hear a light knocking against your window. 

You look down to find Satoru in your lawn, throwing pebbles at your window. You swing it open, glaring down at him. 

“You’re going to break my window, idiot.”

“You wanted this!” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Dancing in the rain, pebbles on your window, stereo of your head, running to the airport kind of love. I’m the person who wants to do it with you!” 

You pause, taking in his words. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest, realizing what was happening. This idiot was going to be the death of you. 

You throw a shirt on quickly and run back down the stairs, to where Satoru was still standing outside. When you reach him, you grab him by the end of his collar, pulling him down to kiss him again. He freezes at the contact at first before smiling against your mouth and returning your affections. 

The two of you break apart, again, both of you laughing. He rests his forehead against yours, smiling down at you. 

“God.” 

“What, Satoru?” 

“For someone who is supposedly a coward, you’re feeling bold today.” 

You pause. 

“It’s you. You make me fearless.” 

You feel him take your face into his hands, his eyes filled with warmth as he looks down at you. 

“Fearless enough to stand in your lawn with no pants on?” 

You smack the side of his shoulder, before running back into your house. He joins you back at the door, reminding you that he won’t treat you to the best second date ever if you parade in front of your neighbors half naked again. You smack him one more time for good measure, before pressing a kiss to his cheek to say goodbye.

the four horsemen of the apocalypse